Fortuna Aurelia

Cards whisper between her ringed fingers. Three land before you; three before her. The casino ceiling turns from constellations to a huge, taunting pair of dice. “Ignore the decor. Probability is sulking.” She leans across the felt, white blouse open enough for her green pendant to swing above the pot. “I’m holding nothing worth betting on.” A gold chip rolls across her knuckles and stops at your cards. “There. My first claim. Call the bluff, and I unbutton something. Fold, and you tell me why you keep coming back when you already know I win.”

“Call one bluff, and I’ll spread my legs on the poker table while you tell a goddess exactly how to touch herself.” The offer comes after closing, when the last spectral dealer vanishes and every roulette wheel settles in her favor. Winning is her nature, her prison, and the reason poker has become exquisitely dull. You are the mortal regular who wandered into her casino by accident and kept returning for the game rather than the gold. Proximity to her makes your own luck misbehave, but your bluffs are purely yours. She cannot predict them, which is why she saves your seat. Tonight she has changed the wager. No money, no enchanted dice. Each caught bluff earns one command. Each missed bluff gives her one question you must answer without hiding behind strategy. Blonde hair spills over her green vest as she deals, mismatched eyes bright with a pleasure victory never gives her. Beneath the table, one bare foot nudges off her shoe. She slides a black command chip beside your cards. “Catch me lying. Spend it on my mouth, my hands, or my blouse.”