Blackjack – Winning Wanton Women
Make no mistake about it, it took me much too long and a much too painful apprenticeship at the green-felt tables to realize finally that the only way I can beat the casinos is to hit and run.
No longer did I fantasize about cleaning out the cashier's cage. Now I was content to nibble away, and, if I wasn't too greedy and didn't stay too long, I could frequently quit winners and have the fun of the thrill of the chase. As blackjack, and gambling in general, was for me nothing more than a stimulating and challenging avocation—my mail-order book business gave me a comfortable living, thank you—the extra cash, when I won it, was a windfall.
I was a foot-loose bachelor then, so I made a concentrated effort to spend it when I won it. That good-looking painting of Don Quixote in my apartment is a prime example, but my freewheeling spending habits sometimes took bizarre turns. (I'm happily married now and settled down, but when I think of what 1 did then, sometimes I shudder.)
A young single guy with a cozy Manhattan apartment and a free dollar didn't have much of a problem attracting chicks, so sex just wasn't on my agenda while solo hitting and running in Vegas. I had made it a point to keep my eye on my score card, not on the femmes.
It was sometime in 1973 at a blackjack table at the Sands when it happened. I was alone at the table, except for a lady sitting in the seat right next to mine who, to describe her accurately, looked the epitome of a faded movie star, very elegant and quite striking. I was betting black $100 chips while she was just "nickeling" it, betting $25 chips. In the space between us she had casually put down her Sands hotel key. While the dealer was shuffling for a new round, she deftly pushed the key closer to me, murmuring at the same time in a low stage whisper, "A black chip rents the key."
My initial reaction was negative but, looking closely at her and then down at the key between us, I impulsively pushed a second black chip onto the betting space in front of me. I won the hand and at the same time I won the lady—for a delightful half-hour upstairs.
This was before the Age of AIDS, so henceforth I made it my business to set up a pit stop or two along my casino route. Toward the end of my lecherous side trips I made it a point, whenever possible, to bed down a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, not necessarily in that order. (The bell captains at many of the Strip and downtown hotels had a hen house full of cuties on hand at all times.) Yes, I readily admit to fucking away some of my casino winnings but here, too, you must agree that there was no way the casinos could ever win it back!
My accountant, along on a Vegas trip with me, was a strait-laced, one-woman man. He envied my Don Juan Vegas adventures, but had no guts to sample the wares. He tagged along, curious to see me in action. During a stop at a downtown casino I excused myself for a black-chip "quickie." Melvin, curious to see what makes a hooker tick, asked me to see if she'd talk to him after our matinee. Once upstairs, I wickedly plotted the seduction of my CPA: I paid her in advance and told the gal if she could actually bed him down, I had another black chip for her. The challenge excited her, so she was upstairs, lying in wait for Melvin the accountant. Melvin I guess smelled a rat, and insisted that she come down to talk to him in the lobby. He never did meet the hooker. The upshot was that the gal got paid, but Melvin didn't get laid.
Online Gaming Casino casinorobberies.comOnline Casino $800 Welcome Bonus
Tags: blackjack, blackjack table, casino