This story was originally written to stand alone, and posted on another site. Readers told be they wanted me to carry the story line further, and that eventually led me to write the Poker Plot series.
One of my favorite authors, Lubrican, also saw that story and asked if he could develop it in his own way. I was delighted to have him do so, and you can see where he took the idea in his story, "Scamming the Wives" which you can read at:
I recommend it - after, of course, you have enjoyed my version. grin
Poker seems to be a guy kind of thing. Three of my buddies and I love to play it but, even though we're all married, none of us has ever been able to get our wives interested in the game. So the four of us used to get together whenever we could to enjoy an evening of banter and wits and deception.
Over time we've settled on Tuesday nights, and now the ladies have come to accept that every Tuesday night is poker night. So long as we are attentive to them the rest of the week they don't seem to mind. To keep things fair we rotate hosts, so about once a month each of the gals has her home invaded for what can become a rather boisterous evening, ending with beer bottles scattered around the dining room and scraps of food on the floor.
The hostess usually sticks around, keeping us supplied with drinks and goodies, but hiding in the bedroom the rest of the time. And we make it a point to remind each other that the host is supposed to share cleanup responsibilities with his wife. It all works out pretty well.
None of us are really serious gamblers. We're there for the fellowship, not for the money. On a given evening we can figure that we're not likely to win or lose more than five or ten dollars. So we start the night out buying ten dollars worth of chips at ten cents a point, and divvy up the cash at the end of the evening. If one of us ever runs short we'll kick in another ten spot.
One night we were at Tom's house, and his wife had, for some reason, gone out for the evening. That left Tom with all the hostess duties, but it also gave us an opportunity to get a bit more ribald than we normally would when there was a lady in earshot. We always do a fair amount of good-natured teasing, and at some point we started laying into Tom.
"Hey, Tom, how come Karen didn't stick around tonight. I always enjoy watching her bod when she brings stuff out for us."
"Yeah, and even better is watching her go back into the kitchen. I don't have to worry about her catching me, and boy does she have a nice ass."
Tom was starting to get a bit flustered, but that only egged us on.
"Do either of you two guys ever have the kinds of fantasies I have?" I threw in. "I love to imagine Karen very seductively undressing herself in front of me, and then saying, 'If you want it, come and get it.'"
That was too much for Tom. "Two can play that game, Dick," he burst out, looking straight at me, "Let me tell you some of the thoughts I've had about your Nancy."
That did the trick. Bob chimed in, "Oh, yeah, Nancy is one hot chick, isn't she."
"You said it," Pete threw in, "I'd fucking love to get her in bed some time."
'My Nancy?' I thought. 'No way am I going to let any of these guys get close to her.'
But now the floodgates were down, and the stories started pouring out. It turned out we all had fantasies about our buddies' wives, and in fact we had each fantasized at one time or another about all three of the other women.
When the torrent of sexual dreams finally subsided, Bob leaned back in his chair, looked at all three of us, and said, "Holy shit!" That about summed it up for all of us. We came to an unspoken consensus that it was time to drop the subject, and we went back to the game.
But it kept eating at me as the evening progressed, and I'm sure the others were feeling the same sort of thing. Sitting around the table I couldn't tell about the other guys but I, for one, had a hard-on to end all hard-ons. So when Bob finally said, "I've got an idea," we were all pretty sure we knew what the idea was about.
Sure enough he did have an idea, which involved the next four poker nights, and since it included each of the gals one of those four nights, we couldn't complain about its fairness. Jealousy was another matter, but I figured three nights of sexy possibilities could make up for one night of jealousy. Apparently the other three guys came to the same conclusion.
Since it was Bob's idea, and his turn to host the next week anyway, he proposed that we could start the plan at his house. We then spent some time going over the details, but rather than explain all that to you, I'll just tell you what happened the next week.
Before the night arrived, Bob made a point of bitching to his wife about what Karen had done to us.
"Can you believe it, Cindy, Karen took off for the evening and left us stranded. No one to bring us drinks, no one to make that special Chex mix -- you remember how much I like it, and how you can never get her to give you the recipe. Well, anyway, we all said we really wished she was there. She was the hostess, for god's sake, she should have been there."
Naturally Cindy took the hint. When we got to Bob's house she not only greeted us, but was ready with a generous supply of tortilla chips and the home made salsa that she's famous for. We settled down and started playing, but during the third hand the phone rang, just as we had been expecting.
Cindy took the call, then came out saying, "I hate to bother you, Bob, but it's somebody named George, and he says it's urgent, that he has to talk to you."
"It's always urgent with George," Bob grumbled, "I guess I'll have to get rid of him. Sorry, guys."
We were impressed; he really put on a good act, like he didn't know the call would be coming. So, anyway, Bob went out to talk to 'George', and came back in a couple of minutes looking totally shaken.
"This time it really is urgent," he reported. "We've got a hell of a disaster at the office, and I'm going to have to go in. But I hate to break up the game. What do you think, Cindy, would it be OK if the guys stayed?"
"Shit, no," Pete said, "we don't want to bother Cindy, and it wouldn't be the same without you, anyway."
But Cindy said, "Please, guys, you're more than welcome to stay. Besides, if you leave, what'll I do with all the chips and salsa?"
We finally let her talk us into staying, as we had planned all along. Bob kissed Cindy, and told her he knew he'd be gone for at least four hours, so don't wait up for him. She told him she understood, and it wasn't like this happened all the time.
As soon as he was out the door we settled down to play again, but we had a problem.
"Cindy, we were in the middle of a hand, and it was Bob's turn to bet. Can you sit in long enough to finish it for him?"
"Gee, I don't know much about poker, but I guess I could."
She picked up Bob's hand, studied it for a while, then frowned and said, "Would it be OK if I bet this?" pushing out a blue chip.
"Sure," Pete said, "you needed three to call, so you just raised by seven points."
Tom was next around the table, but he shook his head. "Pot's too rich for me. I fold."
"Me, too," I said tossing my cards face down on the table.
"Not too rich for me," Pete proclaimed, "I'll match you and raise you three more," pushing out a blue chip of his own.
We all looked expectantly at Cindy. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked.
Tom explained her choices. "You can fold right now, and lose what you have put out, or you can match Pete's bet and then compare hands to see who has the better one, or you can match, and raise again, to see if Pete is willing to go even higher. But to tell you the truth," this in a stage whisper with his hand cupping his mouth so Pete couldn't read his lips, "I think he's bluffing."
"What should I do if he is?"
"Well, you definitely don't want to fold. Either put in three white chips to call his bet, or raise him. If you call and he has a better hand than you do, you lose. If you raise, and he gives up, you win even if he does have a better hand."
"OK, I'll raise. Here's three to match you, and three more to raise," pushing out six white chips.
Pete shook his head. "Tom's right, I was bluffing. I don't want to pour any more money into this shitty hand, so I'll fold."
This was all exactly as we had planned it. Let Cindy win the first hand, and hope we could keep her interested. Now for the hard part.
Tom grinned at her. "I don't know if you realize what you just did," he said, "that pot was worth at least four dollars."
"And," I threw in, "we'll promise not to tell Bob you won it, so the money's all yours."
"Of course," Pete added helpfully, "four dollars isn't all that much, but if you'd like to keep on playing, you might be able to walk away with a whole shitpot full of money."
"Hey, that's a good idea," I tried to sound as if I'd never thought of it before that moment. "I mean, not that Cindy walks away with a lot of money, but that we let her play."
I turned and looked directly at her. "You see, Cindy, poker's a lot better game when four are playing than when just three are."
"You better believe it is," Tom nodded. "Please, Cindy, won't you play with us? I know you probably don't care about the money, but it would mean a lot to us if you would."
.... There is more of this story ...