Sparks in Cosmic Dust Read Online Free PDF

before, but the following sleaze-heaver had also forced a security intervention. An elderly man, probably spending his last clips just to buy into the game, had swallowed a suicide capsule after winning four garments from Varinia. At least he’d died with a smile on his face, his last vision one of a half-naked fairytale princess. Looking back, it was a little sweet, a lot creepy, and not something she wanted to go through again anytime soon.
    The guest door swung open while she readjusted her long pleated blond hair over her left shoulder. It fell onto the purple sand. Rapunzel at ground level.
    She sighed. A year and still counting—the gig was never-ending and her contract was binding until she lost five matches. Five times naked. Five times had by a complete stranger. She shuddered, suddenly missing her hope chest in her bedroom long ago, the pink and girly knickknacks cluttering her dresser.
    The next player strode in with real purpose, aiming to prove himself. She’d seen the type a hundred times—insecure, egged on by his drinking buddies, reckless at cards. A few early wins, a few glimpses of her bare curves and he’d bet the farm on a whim. In and out in no time. But…
    When he drew closer, she liked what she saw. Clean-shaven, handsome with wide blue-gray eyes and a cleft chin, black hair wet and parted, altogether rather dashing. He also wore one of those bargain travel suits that rolled up easily into one’s carrier, good for church or dinner out among the mid-to-lower strata of civilized folk. Ten times smarter than anything she’d seen on the other side of her glass since the toffs had migrated back to 100z weeks ago.
    “Morning, gorgeous.” She meant it for once.
    The notion gripped her and wouldn’t let go. What if she…no, that was jumping the gun. A debonair sleaze-heaver was still a sleaze-heaver.
    “Hi,” he replied.
    Varinia blew him a kiss. “If you want me, it’s a fifty-credit buy-in each round, maximum twenty rounds. Ten wins will make me yours, gorgeous—and you can have me anywhere, any way you like.” He nodded, loosened his shirt collar. “Shall we begin, handsome?” She beckoned.
    The stranger rested his questing glance on her hands—again, unusual for a client—then found her eyes with a piercing stare. Not a leer, mind—a look of genuine curiosity and wonder. He was lovely, broad-shouldered and quite young, mid-twenties. A fine male specimen to brighten up her day.
    “Ready whenever you are.” She pressed the shuffle button on her console.
    He sank his first credit disc into the slot, swallowed hard and hit the button for deal. Varinia counted eleven remaining discs in his stack. Damn. Unless he doubled a bet, he could only afford to lose three rounds before he lost the chance to have her. So what? More earnings for her. But she fidgeted on her stool, unable to settle into that familiar breezy mindset.
    This game was different. Her morning had been so shitty, the job had wearied her so much these last few weeks, this fleeting encounter shouldered more opportunity than was healthy. But damn it, she had to lose sometime, if only to escape this place. If she was still under contract when Archie relocated, he’d drag her with him to some other back-of-beyond rock. No question. The guy was nothing if not fecund when it came to his assets.
    What if she let the stranger win?
    The idea dangled between them, a tempting counterpart to the key hanging on her side of the glass. Hmm. It would require careful execution. Arch would be notified if she lost more than seven or eight rounds in a row, and, knowing him, the fire alarm would accidentally go off just before she slapped down her final losing hand. But what if it didn’t? What if she lost the last few hands quickly, without fanfare? Her breath hitched. Butterflies in her stomach shot to her fingertips, electrically charging them. Could this be her chance…?
    Click. The cards surfaced. Her first hand was a complete dud.