Lane exhaled smoke through his nostrils and raked his cold eyes over the blackjack dealer's lush ass. Third offense could mean hospitalization, but if they'd been caught too many times or especially if they'd stolen too much from the house… Well, the desert was an awfully vast and desolate place. No tombstones, just bye, bye thief. You simply did not fuck with the big boys' money so lightly.

Lane glanced at his watch. She'd only been on shift about an hour or so and still had seven to go. She was so dumb and anxious to steal she didn't even wait to get into her work-shift, the greedy little bitch. He knew instinctively this would be her first offense. For one thing, she'd been spotted too easily and for another, an experienced thief would wait until later in the evening when the action got heavier, so they'd be much harder to spot.

Okay. The film would be done in about five more minutes. But there'd be no gentle slap on the wrist for this juicy little honey. Not while he had this terrific hard-on. Lane picked up the phone and told the operator to get his home. His wife's slurred voice answered.

"Listen, you ripe-titted little slut," Lane muttered, "I want you sober in exactly one hour understand? Nothing but black coffee. And get the ropes and the whip and the dildo out."

Her squeal of excitement rang in his ear.

"Ooooo! You're bringing home something nice, Lane? Something hot and juicy for Vera?"

"Bet your sweet ass," he pinned, watching the young dealer's curves sway as she flicked out cards like a machine. "A real honey, Vera. And she needs a lesson too. Now I want you sober, Goddamnit! It'll be anywhere from an hour to two hours."

"I'll be sober, I swear it!" Vera breathed, alert and urgent with excitement now. "Oh God, honey, I'm so hot! You sure she's pretty?"

"Sexier than a mink in heat, baby. Now get some coffee, take a shower and put plenty of perfume on your wild pussy. This girl is gonna eat her heart out. Move!"