She Pointed To Her Crotch

A few months ago I was seated one seat away from this dark haired gal.  Hard to to tell her age, I bet she was younger than she looked, I'm thinking she had partied pretty hard in her life and that had made her look older than she was.  She was semi-attractive and fairly skinny.  And she was wearing a very low cut top that would have exposed a lot of cleavage...if she had any thing to cleave.  But as I said, she was fairly skinny.

One thing she was was noisy.  Noisy and loud.  She talked non-stop. She would not shut up to save her life.  Now she had been drinking which no doubt contributed to her verbosity, but I'm quite sure she would have been talky anyway, and nothing on earth could shut her up.  She was also exceptionally loud when she got excited, like over a winning hand, or even an interesting, dangerous card falling on the board.  She would sometimes scream at cards hitting and bets other people made.  I have actually seen players warned in the poker room about being too loud (rarely, but I've seen it) but I'm guessing they didn't bother with this gal because she was female and they like have women in the room.  At one point she was so noisy, the thought occurred to me that if you were having sex with this gal and you found her g-spot, you could create a sonic boom or a small earthquake.

She was borderline annoying but mostly highly entertaining.  She raised a lot, way too much, which was annoying when I wasn't getting really great cards.  And she sometimes rubbed it in to the players she beat.  But she was a trip, and I was mostly laughing at her (and sometimes with her).  She was more fun than anything else.

Suddenly she noticed that I had not one but two little notebooks in my shirt pocket.  She became obsessed with them.  I use these notebooks to keep track of my wins/losses, to keep track of my poker comps, and to write notes to myself to remind me of anecdotes like this one.  I had two because one was almost full and if I had had a lot of wait time before getting into the game, I could do notes while waiting.  She asked what I had in the little notebooks.  I sarcastically said, "little notes."  This set her off.  She began pestering me to reveal what the notebooks contained.  I joked that it was my little black book.  Didn't stop her.  The more she became bugged by it, the more I resolved to say nothing and drive her crazy.  This was fun.

At one point I took out the totally blank one and handed it to her.  "Ok....I'll show it to you"  When she saw it was blank, she got more pissed.  I was really having fun now.  She speculated that it had notes on how to get women!  Lori, one of my dealer pals got curious and asked me about the notebooks.  One of the players said to me, "why don't you just tell her?"  With her listening, I said to the player, "Cuz it's so much more fun driving her crazy."  She didn't seem to mind.  Later, Mike, another dealer pal of mine was waiting to push a dealer at the next table over and leaned over into my shirt and touched the notebooks (which he'd probably seen a million times and never given a thought to about) and asked what I was keeping notes about?  I am guessing that after her turn at my table Lori had asked Matt if he knew what my notebook was for.

Anyway, she was a wild player.  There was actually another gal at the table when I got there, on the opposite side of the table. She also raised too often but was physically the opposite of this gal....she was very heavy and had major, major cleavage hanging out.  She was also pretty chatty, but nothing compared to the skinny gal next to me.

So, I lost a hand to her.  In this hand, she "check-raised" me....a rather cut-throat move that is perfectly acceptable and recommended in all poker books....but a move you don't see from most players at a 2/4 game.  I gave her a hard time about that.  It was at that point that I asked where she was from.  When she said L.A. I asked her what part and she said Venice Beach.  I told her I used to work in Marina del Rey.  I told her I lived in the valley and she referred to it as "the dark side."  Now I mentioned the low cutness of her top.  It was also sleeveless.  So I saw a lot of skin and it was ink-less.  That's when I said to her, "You can't live in Venice Beach, you don't have any tattoos."

Without batting an eye, she said, "Oh you just can't see them.  I have one here....."  And she pointed to her crotch.  Not quite her crotch.  More like her extreme upper thigh (she was wearing jeans), very close to the promised land. Based on the location, you would have to know this gal really, really well to see this tattoo.  At that point, I instinctively said, "OK, ok....I don't want to pry."

Why did I say that?  I guess because I didn't want her to throw my secret note book in my face.  I was actually thinking she might just reach over and grab my notebook out of my shirt pocket.  In hindsight, what I should have said was, "I'll show you my other notebook if you show me your tats."  I am sure I could have gotten away with that.  I think there's at least a 20% chance she would have agreed to it!  But I didn't think of it at the time.

She left to play blackjack, talking her hidden tats with her.  I do regret that I never asked her name.  I suppose I feared that if I had, she wouldn't tell me without showing her my notebook!