Michael decided to take the night off from his escort work, as a night out on the town was just what he needed to recharge his batteries after a really hectic week.
Pier 22, was an old warehouse refurbished into a recently opened nightclub which was situated on the banks of the Manchester ship canal. It was close to the town centre but far enough away not to cause any disturbance to any of the neighborhoods close by. Boasting a rooftop restaurant looking out over the Lancashire / Yorkshire moors, a casino with a cocktail lounge and one of the largest dancehalls in the UK, Pier 22 offers customers a wide choice of venues, which also included a sports hall and gymnasium.
Michael arrived around 8 ;30 PM. It was quite early and their were not many punters at the tables or in the cocktail lounge. He sat at the bar drinking his Budweiser just taking in the atmosphere and sereneness of the place, when a girl caught his eye over by the roulette table. She deliberately dropped a handful of chips onto the floor, stooped to pick them up, allowing him to see down her ample cleavage. She was wearing a long glittery cocktail gown, split at the side right up to her thighs, that would be more fitting to a scene from Dynasty. She threw him a sexy smile, placed the chips onto the table and continued with her game.
Michael watched as she teasingly rubbed a chip seductively along her tongue before making her bet. She looked up and smiled his way and gave an excited wiggle as her number came up. Michael thought he’d try his luck too, either he would win a few pounds or maybe get a rather attractive consolation prize if he lost. He bought a handful of chips from the counter, sauntered over to the roulette table like someone out of a James Bond movie and slinked along beside her. He placed two chips on the red and watched excitedly as the little white ball circled the wheel.
“Thirteen, black,” said the croupier.
Michael shook his head disappointedly. The girl had bet on black and on an odd number too, raking in a pile of winning chip.
She threw Michael a smile. “The law of averages predicts it will fall into red sometimes, just keep trying.”
Michael doubled his bet and put four chips on red again, but the out come didn’t change.
“Black again,” the croupier announced.
Michael’s face contorted in frustration “Oh, well, shit or bust,” he said, placing what chips her had left on red again. He closed his eyes as the white ball spun around the edge of the roulette bowl, before the tinkling sound of the ball dropped into the middle.
“Black, twenty three!”
The girl scooped another pile of winning chips into her hands. “Maybe you’ll be lucky in love,” said the girl, “let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I can do.” She scooped the chips into the hem of her dress before walking towards the bar.