Once there we all sat at different tables and never really got fully assembled in one game. I was one table away from Ginger, and in fact, she and I were facing each other at the two different tables when this incident happened. A young woman walked in front of my field of vision, in between our two tables. The woman was quite short and was rather oddly proportioned.
Oh screw it. She had an absolutely enormous rack. I mean humongous. Now, the slang term “rack” to refer to a woman’s breasts is not one of my favorites. It doesn’t offend me, and I certainly enjoy making the occasional double-entendre using the word (see here), I just don’t think it’s a very apt description. I’ve never see an attractive bosom that made me think of any kind of “rack” I’m familiar with (other than when “rack” is used in this very context).
But this gal immediately made me think “rack.” I mean, you could definitely hang clothes off of it. It was huge, and it was really attention getting because the girl was, as I said, so short. This gal was basically a walking, talking bosom.
My assumption is that her chest was the result of plastic surgery gone terribly wrong. Because quite honestly, if this chest is solely the responsibility of Mother Nature, I would actually feel sorry for the girl, having been cursed to carry such an enormous rack on such a small body.
I know my readers are totally shocked that such a woman would get my attention. But somehow, she did.
The girl was wearing a tight-fitting top, which I’m sure is a description of all of her tops, unless she uses a circus tent to make her clothes. No top off the rack (so-to-speak), could possibly fit this girl loosely. Of course there was mega-cleavage exposed, but not really because the top was all that low cut; it was more due to the fact that, with her chest, anything but a turtle-neck is going to show major cleavage.
She walked to the side of the poker table and said hello to the woman in seat 7, an attractive girl (but built normally). Presumably they are friends, and I later learned that the woman in seat 7 is also a friend of Ginger’s, which plays into this tale a little bit, as you’ll see. Anyway, any player sitting down at that table, near this young woman would have no choice but come face to face with her bosom. Seriously, it just took up so much space, vertically, horizontally, laterally. And because of her height (or lack thereof), I’m pretty sure if she stood right up against the poker table, her tits would touch the table, even with industrial strength bra she must have been wearing.
Anyway, the gal she came over to say to hello to, in seat 7, stood up and—I swear this is true—gently rested the side of face on the gal’s right breast. I believed it touched both clothing and bare skin. She was smiling as she did this (who wouldn’t be?). I was way too far away to hear anything being spoken, or if any of the players at that table were noticing or commenting. Just as I was about to convince myself I hadn’t seen what I had just seen, she did it again.
And then a third time. Each time she let her face (or head) linger a little longer on the gal’s tit. OK, now I’m wondering, do they know I’m here to see this? Do they know about my blog? Did someone put them up to this, just for my benefit? I had to wonder.
Needless to say, I found this a bit distracting. I couldn’t take my eyes off the two of them (I mean the two girls, that is). So much so that I was dealt pocket Aces and immediately folded them pre-flop without a second thought. OK, that’s a joke. I didn’t really do that. But….I might have, if it had come to that. Just kidding. I think.
Anyway, just as I was finally convincing myself I was actually seeing this, seat 7 went all in. This time, she didn’t just rest her head or the side of her face gently on the mostly clothed portion of her friend’s breast. She turned her face directly at the enormous bosom and, facing the cleavage dead on, stuck her face right in said cleavage. I didn’t hear the noise, if there was any, but yes, she was essentially motor-boating her friend. Right in the poker room. Of a locals casino.
I point that out because it seemed even more out of place at the Red Rock, which is located a long ways from the Strip, where drunken tourists are known to inhabit. I know that people visit Vegas, drink too much, and do things they later regret when they sober up. You see a lot of wild things at the Strip casinos.
But I had to assume that these two gals were both locals, and I should also point out that the average age of the poker player in this room is a lot older—by 20 years, easily—than the players in the rooms on the Strip. Let me put it this way. When I enter the Red Rock, I always lower the average age of the folks inside, just by being there.
I immediately texted Prudence, telling her of this rather unusual event. She was sitting at the next table over, with Tom, and was quite close to the backside of the young lady who had just been motor-boated by her friend. In fact, in order for the gal to not have smothered everyone at her friends table with her tits, she probably had her ass up against Prudence, or damn close. So she had seen it too, or at least some of it. It probably didn’t interest her quite as much as it did me.
She responded, “yeah, they’re friends.” I said “friends makes it ok? Do you greet your girlfriends like that?” I didn’t get a chance to add, “If so, I wanna watch.” Actually tho, I think she was telling me that the person sitting in seat 7 was Ginger’s friend, not that she was a friend of the girl she had just molested. I would hope they were at least friends, if not a lot more than friends.
Then I texted her back, “And the author of my blog was there to see it. What are the odds?”
I swear I don’t go out of my way to find these stories. Somehow, they just find me. Of course it reminded me of the story I told here, about the cleavage photography I witnessed at the poker table.
The large breasted woman left the poker room. I watched her walk by, marveling at how she managed to stay upright on her own.
A few hours later I got up to leave. I had won a little more than $100, so I had a rack (no, not that kind) with 3 rows of red chips and a few left over. I said goodbye to Prudence and then Ginger, who was still at the same table as before, as was her motor-boating friend. Ginger asked me how I did and I showed her my holdings, telling her I did “pretty good.” Seat 7 (who had moved to Seat 3) saw this and said, “That’s it, that’s what you won? Ten bucks?”
Actually it was $120, and I told her that. Now I assume that it was only because she saw that I was her friend’s friend (meaning Ginger) that she felt it ok to basically mock me like that. On the other hand, having seen what she thought was ok to do in public just a few hours before, perhaps this gal has no inhibitors on her whatsoever.
So she said, “Oh, I didn’t see the other stack” and turned back to her hand (she actually had cards at the moment). OK, fine, if she’s gonna tease me about not winning “enough,” I’m gonna mention her motor-boating activities.
I told her that I saw how she was greeting her friend a few hours before, and that I enjoyed the show. She looked at me confused for a second, then laughed nervously and said, “Oh, yeah. That.” And turned her attention back to her hand. I resisted the temptation to ask her when the next show was.
And with that, I cashed out and left the Red Rock, with $120 profit and blog post that is right up my alley.