The cards were slick and stiff in my fingers. They smelled new. I took a long pull from my sweating bottle of beer, feeling relaxed and happy to have people over. A few days ago I read an article about how American men often don’t have close friendships. They get lonely and the loneliness makes them sick. Well, I was determined to nip that in the bud and that same afternoon, when a few of the guys from work were talking about their weekly poker game, I jumped right in and offered to not only host it, but cater it. I needed an in, and I was willing to bet that food would do it. Well, I can tell you that the bet paid off, and I was feeling luck on my side again right then as I looked at us all seated around the card table in my basement. I might win more than just a few friends tonight.
“Adam, the big blind is you.”
“Huh?” I turned to Rafael, seated to my right.
“The big blind. I just threw down the small blind, now it’s to you.”
“Oh. Yeah of course. My bad.” I hesitated. I looked at my cards.
“A quarter, Adam. Put twenty-five cents into the center of the table.” Zach, who was seated directly across the circular plane of brown vinyl looked at me with concern.
“The fuck?” began Big Tony, “I thought you said you’d played poker before.”
“Totally,” I lied, as I tried to recall what color chip a quarter would be. “I love poker.” I tossed a white plastic disc onto the tabletop with panache.
The camaraderie was intoxicating. Cards were laid upon the table. Bets were made, jokes were followed by laughter. I brought more beers from the mini bar and filled people’s plates with sandwiches. I admit I sometimes didn’t follow exactly what was happening with the game, but I got along pretty well just repeating whatever Rafael had done before me.
Earlier in the evening, my wife Cynthia kissed me on the cheek and told me to have tons of fun. She was off to Jackson Hole to visit an old friend from undergrad, so it was just me and the boys. Yep.
“Adam, it’s your turn. Are you going to fold?”
I looked up to match eyes with Zach, who, once again, was shepherding me through a rough spot in the game.
“Oh yeah – thanks! Sorry.” I looked at my cards. I had two Jacks, and there were two Jacks on the table in that place that they said was fair game. Even I knew that I was going to win this hand. Fortune favored me. I was in the zone.
“I’ll raise.”
“Adam, you’re out of chips.”
“Huh?”
“Dude, you’re done,” said Rafael, with much less patience than Zach. “You’re busted. You can’t play anymore.”
“Hold on Raf,” Big Tony leaned back on his folding chair and his gaze tilted downward to keep eye contact with me. “What if Adam wants to stay in? I mean, surely we can make some kind of… accommodation for him. What do you think Adam? We could find some alternative currency and you could stay in the game.”
I felt grateful that Big Tony was willing to be my advocate. I’d always found him a little narcissistic, but now I can see that I just misread him. I’ll feel bad taking his money when my four Jacks bring it on home. “Yeah,” I nodded. “That’s cool. Thanks Tony.”
“Let’s say…” Tony’s thumbnail picked absent-mindedly at the bits of dried mustard in his cuticles. “Let’s say that I’ll float you the cash if you win - which it sounds like you will – and if you lose, you’ll go upstairs and put on Cynthia’s sluttiest outfit.”
He raised a hand quickly: “Not saying Cynthia’s a slut. Don’t want to cause offense. But the outfit. It’s the outfit that’s from whoretown.”
I was a little baffled by Big Tony’s offer. It sounded juvenile, but it really didn’t matter. He could ask me to go upstairs and grow wings – I still had four Jacks. I was solid.
“You’re on, Tony. That sounds fair.”
Tony beamed. “I like your style, Adam. You’re a competitor.”
Zach’s expression of concern deepened, but I shot him a reassuring grin while the sound of more chips hitting the pile blended into the sound of the music (I’d made a playlist for tonight right after entering the date into my Outlook calendar). I felt like Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood and the Destroyers was an omen. It was a harbinger of my victory.
“If you’re in, you have to raise, Adam.”
“Huh?”
“This is why you can’t play without chips, dude.” Rafael seemed irritated now.
I stammered.
“No, no – it’s cool,” Tony interjected. “We can add to the alternative currency. It’s easy.”
“Thanks Tony.” I beamed.
Big Tony threw down three chips on my behalf. “It looks like you’re going to be pocketing all this anyway,” He sipped slowly from his beer. “But in the off chance you don’t, well then while you’re down here in Cynthia’s getup you can suck my dick.”
I admit I was a little jostled by that last bit. I couldn’t tell whether there was an edge to Tony’s voice, or if he was just thinking hard in order to find a fair unit of exchange. I looked at the pile of chips. I looked at Big Tony. I avoided looking at Zach, who I knew was trying to get my attention. I looked at my cards. Four Jacks.
Poker Night Part Two: Payment
“Now… what’s a straight flush, again?” My frontal lobes felt clouded by beer and by the stress of trying to take in new information while everyone was talking over the top of one another. Rafael was explaining flushes, including some sort of royal variety, and Zach was trying to convince them that this all wasn’t fair for some reason. In the chaos it was becoming clear that I’d miscalculated. I looked at Big Tony.
“Looks like you’re headed to the dressing room, Adam. Tough break.” He punctuated this by looking downward. I’m assuming at his crotch. I was still a little fuzzy on where it all went wrong, but a deal is a deal and I asked the group if they needed anything while I was up.
“You might just bring us all another round when you come back,” Tony suggested. That seemed sensible.
I dug around in Cynthia’s closet. I knew she had a lot of clothes but this was the first time I needed to interact with them in this particular way and I felt overwhelmed by the choices. Slutty, I thought to myself as I dug around in her drawers. I came up with a black lace thong that I really liked on her. I sifted some more and found a pink camisole. Was this a top or was it underwear? Fuck it – if I don’t know, then Tony won’t either. Oh – and these thigh-highs. My Lord, I love when she wears these.
I stripped down and put on the thong. It felt different, for sure. And it was hard to keep my junk contained. This wasn’t built for testicles and no matter what I did one or the other would spill out and just loiter in space. I pulled the stockings on and found them even more challenging. They got hung up on my leg hair and when I was able to roll them all the way I noticed that the seams were all over the place up my calves and hamstrings. It looked ridiculous. I worked furiously to align them.
“Hey Adam!” Big Tony’s voice boomed from downstairs. “Let’s get moving! This cock isn’t going to suck itself!”
Duh, I thought. Tony’s not exactly limber, if you know what I mean. “Hold on,” I said – I’m working on the seams!”
I heard a distant “What the fuck did he say?”
By this time, I’d selected the shortest skirt I could find. Black with a lace pattern overlaying a sort of satin. It was nice. I dug around for makeup in her drawer and I can tell you firsthand that the learning curve on this shit is steep. I don’t know how many times I tried to color within the lines when I was doing my lips, but at least it ended up being good practice for the eyeliner. I really overshot the left eye but I pivoted and did the whole cat-eye thing to them both. To be fair, it wasn’t bad. Eye shadow felt pretty straightforward after that and I found a wig from three Halloweens previous in a plastic storage bin. It looked a little tousled, but way better than my own hair which was desperately in need of a trim.
I gripped two beers in each hand and descended awkwardly down the last few stairs into the basement. Heels turned out to be a challenge, and the "slutty" requirement dictated the tallest pair that Cynthia owned. I felt a little like a newborn giraffe and I was embarrassed when I saw my three friends turn to look at me. It went quiet. They looked me up and down – mostly down and I could see that they noticed I was erect. I’d hoped that they wouldn’t. Something about dressing this way was deeply erotic to me. I felt a kind of exhilaration I’d never imagined and admittedly, it was difficult to hide. Tony seemed speechless, which was new – and disorienting. Finally, Zach came up and took three of the beers out of my cramping fingers.