M. and we were all still sitting here losing money for some damned reason. My friends and I only came to King’s house when there was nothing else going on, and then, it was only because of Hearts.Hearts was King’s impossibly hot Asian wife. We called her Hearts because she made everyone’s heart flutter, just like we called King … well, King, because he acted like a fucking King. Hearts was a petite and gorgeous Asian dream. She was about 5’8” with long straight black hair, a perky chest, just enough to fill out a low-cut shirt, which she always wore, and her tight ass filled her stylish jeans. What she married King, nobody knew. She couldn’t have been more than 23, and I was at King’s 40th birthday two or three years back. The rumor at the pub was that he was on the board of her college and had plucked her right off of the campus. Sometimes Hearts would deal cards for King when we got started, but she usually got bored after an hour or two and then went off to do something. When I return her neighbor instructs me to deliver the coffee for Mrs Sophia via the rear, I see that her shop has closed. I thank the old man and follow his instruction. A high fence, an open gate, a clay path with palms, a rose garden with in its centre, in the full sun, a whirlpool with foam and the Greek lady I just met with her head just above the waterline in the very middle of it, her hair up, silver sunglasses, another cigarette. I put the coffee next to the pool and feel self conscious. We drink and there’s a silence that I feel uneasy about.‘You can shower over there’, she points. In the other corner of her garden, I indeed see the shower. She feels my reluctance fed by shyness and says ‘My husband has passed away three years ago. I haven’t been with anyone since and honestly was just hoping for your nice company. Whatever happens is good. Now let me admire this young Adonis, please undress for me and hit the shower then’. Tshirt, fliplops, swimming pants and I stand there.
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