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Wild Cards by Stuart Stromin

#1
[Image: 61ChHUtHvWL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg]

Author: Stuart Stromin [Stromin, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Close To The Bone Publishing
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Description:
She was the prize, he knew, she was the perfect little tramp every man wanted. Steve was flattered that she was adored from far, and he was the one who had her. He liked the way they both looked when they strutted into a room, all arm candy and power. She was a sexpot, and she looked the part, no doubt about that. She made him look like such a winner.

He had enjoyed the talents of so many women, and there was something different with each of them.

But there was so much more to Shannon, she made the whole thing such a piece of ambience. She had his attention, he had to admit, she knew just how to get it. Whenever she was around, everything was lit up with such a charge it felt that the world was on the end of a burning fuse. She oozed sex appeal, she had electricity. In all his conquests, he never knew any woman to compare with Shannon. Oh, Shannon! He was riveted by her. She was the only woman in the world who had ever had the balls to stand up to him with that rough tongue and that attitude. Sometimes, it seemed like she could get right into his head.

You had to be dead careful with a woman who had a knack for politics. Especially politics of the sexual kind. She could be quicksand. To make sure that a woman like that stayed in her place, you had to make sure she was kept in her place. You could threaten her, and intimidate her, but, once in a while, like all coercion, when the time was right, in some dark place without witnesses, you had to do a little bit of work to make your point. Bluffing would only make you seem weaker. If fear was your bludgeon, you had better make sure that a girl like that knew that the repercussions would be real.

He did not like the way she had been listening in at dinner. He could tell from how she was staring into her pie that she was eavesdropping. Or she was reading something printed on the cheesecake. She was no snitch, he figured, but she was the kind of girl who could find a way to hold you up for ransom. Blackmail, troublemaking, betrayal. There was always something that she wanted, she had ambitions. Hustlers never quit. She was a snoop, sifting for tidbits of information; she had her eyes open for advantages. You had to let her know the hard way that her scheming would be costly.

He knew that he had done the right thing to her that night on the Sunset Strip. A long time ago, he had made a decision that he was going to be a gangster. From then, every aspect of his world was effected totally by that choice. He could not let a Hollywood pop tart like her make him look like some cunt-struck weakling. People expected him to do something. He had a reputation that was implacably enforced.

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