My Super Tiny Teeny-Weeny Ex - 11

I'd had so much fun hanging out with Quinton, I dreaded going back home to the drama Sydney and I shared, which now seemed ten times magnified. After spending about a week with someone who was actually doing something with his life, had money to spend on luxuries, had a great sense of humor, and intelligent, (and I’d be remiss if I left out sexy) Sydney seemed lazier and less ambitious than ever, and on top of that, had become increasingly insecure. Every little thing I did, he scrutinized and questioned. Every day after work, he wanted to know who I’d talked to and who came in the bank and who did I wait on and who tried to flirt with me. It was sickening. And yeah I did pretty much spend a week in Vegas with a man who was not my husband but I did exhibit enough self-control to keep my clothes on. We did kiss a little bit though, but the way it happened was completely innocent.

Quinton was standing behind me as we took turns placing varied bets on the Triple Sevens slots.

“You can't always bet the max,” Quinton coached, playing just twenty-five cents and winning back fifteen. “You have to trick the machine by betting low sometimes.”

“Low risk, low return,” I chimed just before smacking my hand on the max bet button sending the reels into a spinning frenzy. Then like magic, three triple red sevens backed by pictures of flames stopped on the screen one at a time. The machine started blasting music and repeatedly clanked a mechanical sound of coins falling onto metal, which kept going for what seemed like forever. “That's how you do it baby!” I shrieked, slapping Quinton a high five.

“Yeah!” He hollered in excitement. “Make that paper girl!”

We jumped, screamed and slapped hands until the machine stopped at a whopping $43,000. And in the middle of our celebration, somehow our lips met. As if a slow motion button was pushed, we came together, his arms circling my waist and our eyes focused on each other. There definitely was a spark that instantly ignited flames inside my panties. In reality, all of a quarter of a second passed, and I acted as if had no effect on me whatsoever, turning back to the machine and hitting the ‘cash out’ button. Seconds later, I held a slip of paper that was worth more than my annual salary.

“You know you have to split that with me right?”  he quipped  with a grin.

“Split it? Who won it?”

“Who paid for it?” Quinton asked, reminding me that it was his money that led to the win.

“You gave me the money, remember? So technically, I did,” I answered, cabbage patching my way to the cash cage.

“Well I guess I'll just have to blackmail you to get my half.”

“And just how are you gonna do that?”

“Call your husband and tell him you were out with me all night long.”

“Whatever. You can't black mail me if I tell on myself.” I stuck my tongue out at him and kept dancing.

“Yeah right,” he chuckled.

“But you're lucky I like you 'cause I don't believe in giving money to grown men.” The last thing I needed was him trying to tell Sydney on me. 

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Tune in every day this month for another segment of  "My Super Teeny-Tiny Little Mini Ex"  Excerpt that is...taken from my novel Spoonin'.  Pre-order your copy of Spoonin' today!  (releases 5/31/2011)

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