Chapter 1

Three of hearts, nine of spades, five of diamonds, seven of clubs and two of spades. Another rotten hand. The cards weren't coming my way. I'd only won one small pot. Stan wasn't doing much better. He hadn't won anything, but he'd only lost once. I'd lost 4 times already; with the next loss, somebody would claim my blouse. I was by far the biggest loser. I had a choice, put in the chips and stay, probably lose the money, but maybe keep my blouse, or fold and probably lose my blouse. I put in two white chips.

This was an interesting trip, and a very different poker game.

I came home to San Diego from a business trip to Idaho. I'd been stuck there three months, and had to go back to Post Falls in a couple of weeks.

Stan picked me up at the airport; I spent the night at his place. The next day, on a whim, we went to Yuma to see the Padres in spring training. En route, we decided to skip Yuma, and kept driving. We spent the night in Phoenix, the next night in El Paso. All we had were the clothes on our backs and our Visa Cards. It looked like we might be gone for a while, so we went shopping in El Paso. We each bought a couple of casual outfits, clean underwear, some toiletries and a suitcase to share. Day three ended in White City, New Mexico. We spent day four in Carlsbad Caverns. Today was Saturday, day seven, our second day in Dallas. We were staying with Gary and Laurie, friends from college, who had taken us to this party.

There were five couples present. All of us in our mid to late 20s. It was a casual gathering. We barbecued steaks at about 4 P.M., then sat and talked until about 6. The topic got around to poker.

As I sat there barefooted, looking at probably the worst hand ever dealt, I concluded the poker game was the main item on the agenda for the evening. Stan and I are both good poker players. We enjoy the game, and end up winners more often than not; it required no convincing to get us to agree to a "friendly little Texas poker game."

We adjourned to a big game room, with lots of couches and pillows and a big, low, round glass table that wasn't even knee high. It cost a minimum of $100 each to buy in to this friendly little game.

I only had $80 on me, but Stan had $155. He loaned me $35, put $5 away in case we needed gas to get to the ATM machine, and we each bought $115 of $ .50, $2.50 and $5 chips. We sat boy, girl, boy, girl, directly across from our spouse/date/SO. Most people bought a little more than $100 of chips, one couple bought $150 each. We were talking about a pot of nearly $1,200. As I was soon to learn, that was not all we were talking about.

Fred, the host, was seated to my right. "Roxi" (God, I hate it when strangers call me that. I always go by Roxanne, except for very close long time friends. Even Stan usually calls me Roxanne, and I've known him all my life) "and Stan, we play our poker a little bit differently here. Of course, we are playing for cash, but to make it more interesting we play strip poker at the same time. If a woman has the best hand, she gets a piece of clothing from the man with the worst hand, and also from any other man who can't beat the worst woman's hand. If a man has the best hand, it's the woman with the worst hand who gives up clothing -- maybe more than one woman -- any other that can't beat the worst man's hand. With ten people, we use two 53 card decks, joker's wild, dealer's choice, and other cards wild if the dealer wants them wild. At the end of the evening, you've got to negotiate with whoever has your clothing to get it back."

Strip poker is an interesting game; one that Stan and I had played before. We had played it with Gary and Laurie when we were neighbors at the university. It is really a chance game, not a skill game; at least every time I'd ever played it before. As I grew up, the concept of strip poker had grown boring. It was more or less a game of hurry up and strip so we can fuck. If that was the group's ultimate goal for the evening, there were faster ways to get naked, and keep the cards cleaner. Tonight's game intrigued me however, with the cash on the table and the strangers sitting around it.

"I won my ex-husband in a strip poker game, the terms are OK with me, but I'm probably not going to be exchanging any body fluids with folks I don't know very well."

One of the women, Melissa I think, said, "That is all right. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't. Nobody gets forced."

I looked at Stan. I raised my eyebrows. He knew I was looking for his agreement that there would be no body fluids exchanged with strangers. He nodded yes.

"Deal the cards," I said.

This hand was deuces wild. (Most hands were deuces wild except when Stan or I dealt. I hate ALL wild cards; that isn't real poker.) I kept the deuce, and drew four cards. Seven, five, king, five. Three fives. Not a good hand with all those wild cards and two decks, but probably good enough to keep my blouse. When the bet came around to me, I folded. I'd never played with two decks before -- it was a different game with strange strategy -- and bluffing was harder, because everybody had to show their hand to determine who won and who lost. Once so far, the woman who won the pot bluffed the man with the best hand. She got the pot, but he got my left sock and Melissa's shoe. Melissa had the worst hand that time, but I couldn't beat Bob's worst male hand.