A Beautiful Loser

By Lizzy Eliot

On a gambling trip to Reno Nancy loses big. To keep her husband from finding out she agrees to pay off her debt, coming back to screw Paul, the casino manager, or whoever he chooses. He”s rough and sexy, and she experiences the worlds of bondage and kink as he, his friends, and clients do her in every way. She starts looking toward her visits and longs to escape her ‘regular’ life.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

I knew I’d catch hell. George had a thing about gambling being for stupid people and we couldn’t afford to buy another car. He’d have to borrow the money. I knew he’d treat me like I was an idiot for a long time.

Now I looked at Paul, hoping my sad story was in my eyes. “I can’t tell him.”

Paul shrugged. “Okay. How do you think you’ll avoid that?”

Not knowing made me feel weak. I sat back in the chair. “Couldn’t you give me a little time to get the money? I mean, you keep the title, just let me drive it home. I’ll sign a note that says it’s yours. You can notarize it. If I don’t get the money, then it’s yours. If I do, then everyone is happy.”

Paul shook his head. “This casino is owned by a corporation. The books are settled at the end of the week, every week. That’s tomorrow. The money has to be in the bank or the title to an asset in the safe. They don’t loan money and there are no exceptions.”
I felt like I was going to cry.

Paul got out of his chair and came around to sit on the desk, looking at me. “Think about it. If I agreed and you decided not to pay, we’d have to hire someone to repo the car. That increases our losses and I don’t get paid to lose the casino money.” Paul leaned forward and touched my hair. “I’ll bet you could get a personal loan. Such a beautiful loser must have friends.”

“What?”

“Get someone to loan you the money. Call friends or whatever.”

“At three in the morning?”

He grinned.

I looked at him. The guy seemed to like me a little. At least he wasn’t being an asshole about this and he knew how things worked. I couldn’t accept that there wasn’t some other way to work this out. “My husband will be home late tomorrow and I don’t dare go home without my car. Please, Paul, could you help me? You, not the casino?”

He tipped his head to the side, giving me a sly look. I think he was evaluating his leverage. “I suppose that might be possible.”

I grabbed at the straw he held out. “Would you?”

“Well, as it turns out, I got a bonus check last week and it’s sitting in the bank right now.” He touched his cheek and let his eyes run over me. “We might work something out.”

I knew I might be digging the hole I was in deeper. He could demand some outrageous interest rate or some shit, but I was desperate. I had to get through this. Later I’d work out how to get money to pay off the loan. But for now...

I gave him my most flirtatious smile. “Please?”

“We’d need to sign an agreement that you would pay the money back in twelve monthly installments...in cash.”

“Okay.” I’d expected that.

He sat there on his desk, thinking. “I won’t charge any interest as such, but there is a loan initiation fee and a payment requirement.”

“That’s no help, Paul. You know I’m broke.”

He leaned forward and put his hand under my chin, tipping my head up. “You have lovely olive skin, dark eyes, black hair.” The back of his hand touched my cheek in a gentle caress.

“My mother is Italian...I’m half Italian.”

“Italian.” He said it in a dreamy way. “The thing is, Nancy, a beautiful loser like you has assets that you can convert into cash.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Sep 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370288229

Lizzy Eliot

Lot's Cave presents Lizzy Eliot; riverboat pilot, banjo player and deviant who loves erotic situations and people. Especially the kind of hot, steamy situations you don't talk about with your parents, unless, of course, they are in on it. Lizzy Eliot writes about the darker side of sex and gets wet doing it.

Book preview

A Beautiful Loser

by

Lizzy Eliot

Copyright 2016, Lizzy Eliot

All Rights Reserved

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely, and sadly coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

We don’t run a charity, the man behind the desk said gruffly.

Paul, I thought. The guy’s name was Paul. He had a nice face, sandy brown hair, and brown eyes. He looked nice enough that if I hadn’t been so rattled, so nervous, I’d be able to remember his name. Right now it was hard to remember anything. I was in trouble.

I looked down at the paper he’d put in front of me. It was the title to my car. I put on a brave face. I know that, I assured him. I wasn’t asking for charity. I was just wondering…

Pau tapped the title to my car. It sat in front of me like an accusation. You were sitting there wondering how you could get out of signing the title of your car over to us.

Well…

There’s no way. You lost the damn thing, lady. We have your note using it for collateral. Based on that we let you gamble and you lost the money. You either redeem the note, which means coughing up some cash, or sign over the car.

I took a deep breath, trying to stall, trying to think of some way to get out of signing my Toyota over to the casino. The problem was that he was right. I owed them money. Short of finding a few grand in my purse that I didn’t know I had, I couldn’t think of a damn thing I could do. It wasn’t the greatest car in the world but I needed it.

It was a casual casino, this place. Not glitzy like downtown Vegas, but Reno has a different vibe anyway. Still, sitting in this shabby office I felt oddly undressed in my short shorts, a tank top and heels. It didn’t help that Paul made no secret of checking me out. He ran his eyes over my legs and breasts as we talked. Look, Nancy, it isn’t the end of the world. We’ll give you a bus ticket home, he said. It’s standard casino practice. We aren’t heartless, you know. You get a free meal and a bus ticket home.

And when I’m home, how do I get to work? I looked at him. He had a decent face. He wasn’t bad looking at all. He had short blond hair and was a few years older than me. Under other circumstances… I tried to read his face and got confused results. There was something behind the business face. What do I tell my husband?

I guess you tell the old man that you suck at gambling. Tell him you are a loser.

The words stung. I guess it showed in my face, because his expression changed slightly. Just a little.

It bothered me because he was right—I am a loser. I’d never done anything right in my life. I dropped out of high school to get a job, thinking I was smart. That didn’t work out so well. After a while I saw I was going nowhere. Being a waitress isn’t much of a stepping stone to success. So when George came along, this wealthy guy who had a crush on me, I married him.

I even managed to fuck that up.

George isn’t a bad guy, but he’s ten years older than me and he acts more like a daddy than a husband. When I fuck up he can be so damn self righteous that it pisses me off, especially when he’s right. He acts like I’m some bimbo who can’t do anything right, that I’d be helpless without him. What makes it really bad is that he’s right. What the fuck would I do if he dumped me? I couldn’t live on my income.

It didn’t help my self esteem that after our marriage I found out that George wasn’t as well, not rich like he pretended. He was well off, but the company he worked for was on the ropes and he was sinking with it. So I had to go back to work again—as a waitress, of course.

George was trying, traveling a lot, working to close deals, but finding it harder every day. He’d bought me that damn car so I could work, so we could maybe put some money aside. And now I’d lost the damn thing.

I hated my life.

With George traveling I was bored sitting home alone. Trudy, my girlfriend, talked me into squirreling away tip money, hiding it from my husband the way she did. A girl needs to break out sometimes, she said. That takes mad money. So I did and we’d driven to Reno to have some fun, maybe win some money. It’s only an hour away.

She lost her money the first few hours, got