An End to Your Means

Shahrazad; had a sweet spot for gambling. Every night from 8 to 10 you could find her at Foxwoods, MGM Grand, or Treasure Island. She was slick, brilliant,.. whatever,— either this woman had amazing luck or a killer rack (I happen to know she had both), never bringing more than a ten and always leaving with a grand. She got far, like a succubus should, tempting married men with pungent whiskey and a good fuck.

And god, was she a good fuck.

Shahrazad was a looker; a 36-26-39 and with rosy lips (today they were stained with a lipstick resembling spoilt rum). She was small—around 5’4” with smooth and hairless thighs and a perfect ass. Shahrazad was soft seducing many with her exotic (but diluted) olive-toned skin and wet-look emerald eyes. Guys have a thing for them Asiatic girls; I understood the allure in her daintiness. After all, we used to call her “Sahara” because she was hotter than fucking hell.

Too bad now heh, she’s cold as ice.

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