Poker Game

Mike stubbed out his cigarette. Stud, he said, and dealt the cards.
I poured a glass of whiskey and hoped for a very good or very bad hand, glanced in the kitchen at Mike’s wife Susan.
She smiled. I winked, looked at my cards, moaned and took a sip of my drink.
Susan brought a bowl of peanuts to the table and massaged Mike’s shoulders.
I folded and went to the bathroom and did a line of coke.
Susan opened the door and smiled. I cut her a line.
Why do you play that bloody game? She asked. I had no answer.
She kissed me. Not now, I said. When? She asked.
Maybe never, I said but knew that was bullshit. We would get together as soon as possible.
Are you afraid of Mike? She asked.
Sort of, I said. If he catches us screwing around he'll be pissed and I wont be and that gives him an edge.
Passion, she said. Yeah passion, I agreed.
Well anyway you being afraid to fuck me is not a turn on.
I brushed away some debris she left under her nose. What would you do if Mike walked in here right now? She asked.
I’d offer him a line, I said. I have to get back to the game, I added.
Yeah, she said. You do that.