Sami's Dilemma

By Isabella Lamont

Recently graduated Dr. Matt MacTaggart and three buddies cut loose in Vegas for a raunchy weekend. Late at night he meets a fascinating woman at the blackjack tables in Caesar’s Palace, but he’s too intoxicated to make a connection.
He and Sami meet again soon and sparks instantly fly.
Matt lives on a small ranch just outside Pheonix, AZ. Sami moves in with him and over the next year everything is perfect. But their fortunes change in a heartbeat—Sami's life is in danger.
Will she survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isabella Lamont
• Release date: Jul 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311726322

Isabella Lamont

Isabella Lamont is a professional who has been published in several scientific and environmental journals. This writing was terribly dull technical mumbo-jumbo, guaranteed to cure insomnia. A few years ago she and her SO exchanged some highly erotic letters, which they both enjoyed immensely. Isabella decided to experiment with romantic erotica. Here in Smashwords, she publishes her inner self -- highly erotic stories based on her life to date. Let her know what you think.

Book preview

Sami's

Dilemma

By

Isabella Lamont

Copyright 2016

Isabella Lamont

License Notes

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Disclaimer

This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, specific settings, and incidents, are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual peoples' names, business establishments, or private locales; is entirely and utterly coincidental.

This is an adult themed story containing explicit erotica. All of the characters in this story involved in the erotic scenes are over 18 years of age.

Chapter 1

The redhead sitting by herself at the thousand dollar ante blackjack table was not movie star gorgeous, but would stand out as quite stunning in any roomful of beautiful people. She wore a designer black sheath dress, suspended from her lightly tanned shoulders by nearly invisible spaghetti straps that encircled her neck. At the bodice, a deep vee plunged several inches below her breasts, barely covering her slightly swollen areole at either side. The material was shear; her unrestrained nipples pressed against the filmy material, causing gentle bumps in the front. The hem rode halfway up her tanned thighs. There was not a man in the room, including the dealer, who'd not noticed her and fanaticised about bringing this amazing woman to his bed.

She'd been slowly and methodically winning all evening. Neither the dealer nor his pit boss, who'd been watching her carefully on a closed circuit TV monitor, could detect any kind of cheating. She'd won almost $8,000 over the past three hours but was now preparing to call it a night—gathering her purse and requesting a basket to carry her chips to the teller's cage.

She stopped what she was doing as four young men wandered into the room, checking out the various tables and dealers. All four were clearly intoxicated, but one who seemed intent on playing some blackjack, flopped himself down at her table. She knew this guy was making a big mistake; without your wits about you in this room, you could lose a bundle of money in a heartbeat. She decided to stay a few more minutes and watch the fun, signalling the dealer that she didn't wish to be dealt a hand. Sitting back, enjoying the last of her wine, she was having difficulty not smirking as the drunken young man lost hand after hand; each loss another $1,000 to the house, thank you very much.

Then she noticed one of his friends, a big guy with tousled dark hair staring at her like a drunk will do; obviously enamored with her breasts. She liked to have lots of cleavage on display when playing; it tended to distract the dealer and other players. She stared at the big guy until he finally looked up and realized he'd been caught. His face started to glow in embarrassment.

Then the strangest thing happened. As their eyes locked and they stared intently at one another, she could feel her pulse quickening; her heart was beating so rapidly, she was actually feeling a bit faint. She could tell he was experiencing the same thing as they continued to stare into one another's eyes. Part of being a good card player is being a fast and accurate judge of character—his eyes radiated intelligence, integrity, discipline, and sensitivity. He was a good looking son-of-a-bitch, too.

Just as the young man appeared to be overcoming his initial inability to talk due to his fascination with her boobs—and far too much alcohol—his drunken gambler buddy decided he'd had enough. He went over to the good looking guy, suggesting that it was time to get the hell out of here before he was bankrupt. Their other two drunken friends joined them, distracting the young man who'd seized her attention.

On a strange impulse that would leave her confounded for the next day or two, she found a thin felt pen in her purse and wrote her cell phone number on the back of one of her chips. After gathering her things she quickly left the table, walking directly behind the group of young men, now drunkenly discussing where they might go next. Without being noticed, she carefully slipped the chip into a pocket of the good looking guy's jeans.

She walked out of the room, thinking that she must have finally gone completely and utterly bonkers.

***

The week that Matt MacTaggart graduated, he and three buddies cut loose and drove up to Vegas for a weekend of drinking, gambling and debauchery.

On Monday at 6:00 AM, he would start his residency at Saint Margaret’s Hospital in Phoenix—known to all who worked there as ‘Maggie Hall’. In two years he'd be a fully licensed MD and could hang his shingle anywhere he liked.

He’d already worked thousands of hours at Maggie Hall—most of his courses had required ward experience with real live breathing patients instead of the cadavers he'd spent so much time practicing on in medical school. He was for all practical purposes a ‘General Practitioner’ now—but he had to polish his skills and prove he was safe to be unleashed on the innocent citizenry of the great state of Arizona.

His best friend, Raif Carson had just bought a whale of an SUV—a Ford Expedition. It was like riding in a luxurious minibus, which suited them all just fine. They arrived at Vegas in four hours—they'd taken turns driving, stopping for burgers along the way, washing them down with ice-cold Coors, right out of the can. Within five minutes of checking into the Golden Nugget in Fremont, the party was on. Matt's buddies insisted this was the raunchier end of town.

Raif exuded an aura of wealth and prosperity. He was already two years into his surgical residency and had lots of money; the rest of them were broke flatter than piss on a plate. But they'd all come up with a few bucks for the weekend and planned to blow it all.

The next two days were fuzzy for MacTaggart.

The eastern sky was glowing pink just before sunrise when they staggered back to their rooms that first morning. He had a vague recollection of numerous nightclubs, casinos and strip joints where they drank countless beers, chasers, and shots. The pungent odor of weed seemed to be everywhere. And everywhere were girls—exotic beautiful girls. His last memory that night was of a strip club called Glitter Gulch; dancing with two topless showgirls. They were both blond, slim, heavily made up and each had large, surgically enhanced breasts that bounced impressively as they danced to Springsteen.

He awoke around noon in a strange hotel room trying to remember how he'd got there. The phone rang and he grabbed, knocking it to the floor. Raif’s voice boomed out from the speaker.

Hey, you fucking pussy—how come you’re not down here?

They had apparently agreed to meet for brunch. A half hour later he joined them, unable to eat much, of course—just a few pieces of toast and a half-gallon of coffee. Then they headed to some grubby dollar-ante casino with slot machines whose cranks and spinning drums still worked mechanically. Topless waitresses brought a continuous supply of free but tasteless watery beer. By dinner time he was actually up a few hundred bucks but once again, royally shit-faced.

In a greasy little club next door they ordered steaks and beers, brought to their table by a plump topless waitress at least forty—maybe older—still looking pretty good. She called them ‘Hon’ and ‘Sugar’. Their bill was a hundred bucks—they left her a fifty dollar tip.

One of the guys, Archie Bass, a recent graduate of dental school with eighty grand in student loans, announced that he wanted to try a richer room. They caught a taxi down to Caesar’s Palace on the main strip. MacTaggart had the good sense not to gamble there and switched from beer to scotch. A half hour later, Bass was down ten thousand bucks at the blackjack tables. MacTaggart was glad he wouldn’t receive Bass's next MasterCard bill.

His last recollection of the night was meeting a really pretty redhead—a tiny woman about his age, just over five feet tall with long flaming red hair spilling down over her shoulders. Her mouth was wide and sensual with bright red lips and even white teeth. She had a slim, killer body with gorgeous breasts, provocatively framed in the plunging bodice of her black silk cocktail dress. He could hardly tear his eyes from them. When he did manage to look up, her dark green eyes were laughing at him, full of intelligence and humor, enjoying his embarrassment at having being caught, ogling her stunning bosom.

She was alone, playing blackjack at the same table as Archie. She was obviously humoring Matt, understanding that he was utterly drunk. When he finally focused his eyes on something other than her spectacular breastworks, he noticed a large stack of casino poker chips in front of her—most of them worth a thousand dollars apiece. There was a stack of five thousand dollar chips, too. After twenty minutes as Bass hemorrhaged money to the dealer; even through his stupor, Matt thought he felt a connection. It was probably just the booze.

At one point their eyes locked and they simply stared at each other. It was like he could see deep inside those emerald eyes to the person inside—it was spooky. The next time he looked in her direction, she was gone.

The next day her face was the only thing he remembered clearly from the previous night.

He was dragged out of bed around noon on Sunday by his buddies. They’d hauled him back to the hotel at 2:00 AM; then carried on drinking and chasing women all night long. He had another cruel hangover that he moaned would kill a normal person.

As he struggled to remember all they'd done, the vision of the striking red-head with the spectacular boobs kept seeping to the front of his mind. God, she’d been beautiful. What an asshole he was—there had been a connection and he'd been too hammered to do anything about it.

He'd slept in his clothes which were now so foul, a quick shower was in order. While transferring the contents of his jeans to a fresh pair of cargo shorts, he felt a disk at the bottom of a front pocket. He pulled it out—it was a thousand dollar chip from Caesars with a phone number written on one side with a Sharpie. He felt his pulse quicken.

His buddies were keen to get going—they all had to work the next day. Being the only one sober, MacTaggart drove.

While it had been a hell of a weekend, it was ‘all over but the cryin’.

Chapter 2

The following Monday morning at 5:15 AM, Matt still felt like shit as he pedaled his bike to work in the dark. There was a storage room at Maggie Hall where staff could lock up their bikes. They wouldn’t last five minutes outside with all the street gangs, miscreants and assorted druggies skulking around Phoenix these days.

He arrived early and drank two stale coffees in the staff cafeteria, along with a waffle. By the time he reported to his station, he was feeling semi-human again. He was assigned rounds for the day and off he went, visiting a range of patients with a multitude of ailments. The time flew by; suddenly it was 12:30 PM—no wonder he was so hungry. But there was no time for lunch; his six hour shift in the Emergency Ward had started thirty minutes ago.

He rushed into the cafeteria and grabbed a large coffee and a doughnut to take with him. A big screen TV on the wall was blaring live breaking news. There had been another