GAMBLER’S DEBT

I first saw Isabella Guerrra in the foyer of the Ocean Sun Casino, Panama City, as she walked elegantly down the staircase. I was there as my firm was the Casino’s legal representative. I was never one to gamble, as any good lawyer only bets on sure wins. Isabella was about average height with the usual long, dark hair of most Hispanic women, and it was expertly styled, framing her face and her plump red lips, that were under a cute little button nose. She wore a low cut dark green dress with cleavage showing her ample breasts and a hem line cut three or four inches above her knee. It was enough to suggest that she had a shapely pair of legs. In fact, she was altogether an attractive young woman, probably, in her mid-thirties I guessed. A gorgeous Latina MILF, the staff treated her as though she was a regular, and that got me thinking.

She walked past me to the gaming tables and I got a second look at those brown eyes and a pretty face, before a whiff of her expensive perfume assailed my nostrils. I turned, just in time, to see her hips sway back and forth inside her tight fitting dress. The wolf (me) watched until she disappeared around a corner. Now the little head was doing the thinking, heh-heh.

I wandered into the gaming room and saw her standing at the roulette wheel. Her modest pile of chips seemed to be dwindling fast. I stood and watched her for a bit, until her last chip was gone. Every time she lost, she seemed to go a shade whiter in the face. I had seen that same look of desolation and loss in this Casino before, and now I had a plan.

I casually followed her, as she walked, defeated, out of the room. Isabella sat down heavily in the nearest chair and started to search frantically through the contents of her cocktail bag. I knew what she was looking for, a chip or the like, anything that would get her back to the table. I knew then that she was well and truly hooked on gambling.

She hung her head in defeat and closed her bag. The answer to her problems wasn’t in there. It was a good moment to approach her.

“Hey, don’t look so down, need a drink?” I asked. “You sure look as though you could use one.”

She looked up at me was about to politely give me the brush off, when she saw me toying with a few high value chips (I just so happened to keep handy), and changed her mind.

“Sure, why not,” she sighed and accompanied me into the bar. I sat her in a corner booth and ordered drinks. Then, I introduced myself (Jonatan Roberts, wolf @ large, heh-heh) and she told me her name was Isabella.

“Gambling sucks,” she said, bitterly, as she took a heavy swig of her gin and tonic.

“You’ve had a bad night, then,” I probed gently, to see if she would open up.

She said nothing at first, but, after a second drink, it all came out. She had been gambling for weeks, and, after a few wins, was now into some heavy losses. Then, she had borrowed some cash and had tried to win it back, without success.

“How heavy is heavy?” I enquired.

“About $3000 or so.” she sighed. Then, she sang the usual sad story, of how her and her husband had moved here to open a restaurant in Panama City Beach. At the end of an expensive refurbishment, Covid and it’s lockdowns hit. They had gotten back up & running, but never seemed to make enough to cover overheads, the interest on the bank loan and make anything of a profit. Isabella had a few good nights here, but tonight, it came crashing down, and she just wasn’t sure what to do. With that, she finished that drink in one large gulp, and asked for another.

She babbled a bit more after the second drink. Apparently, none of her friends or relations knew of their financial plight. It was amazing what a drink would do to loosen the tongue. And, to be fair, she’d had such a poor night’s gambling, that she just had to unload onto somebody. I had seen it all before.

“I don’t suppose you could help me,” she implored, thinking of the chips she knew I had in my pocket. “I’m rather desperate, I’m afraid.”

Her dress had ridden up her thighs and her ample bosom was heaving with her anxiety. I could see she had assets in abundance. “Well, Isabella, there is a way I could help you,” I said. The little head was really doing the thinking now. “desperate times call for desperate actions, you know.” To that I saw her hang her head and glance away. It was too much, my offer, but I was feeling generous “I’ll give you one third of what you need, or $1000,if you’ll spend the night with me, upstairs.”

I saw the anger flare up in her eyes and felt a painful slap on my face.