Summary: Lauren, a bartender at the Rochester Airport Marriott, is stranded by a snowstorm and encounters Tyler, a former classmate who now makes his living through professional gambling. After sharing drinks, Tyler places a large wager on a Singapore horse race and invites Lauren to bet as well. The horse wins, and she receives two thousand dollars in winnings. Later, she brings cookies to his room and the two share an intimate encounter that leaves her feeling renewed. Lauren was singing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” in her head. The part about John at the bar kept looping. He thought he could be a movie star if he just got out of this place. She looked around the empty bar at the Rochester Airport Marriott, wiped the counter for no reason, and watched the snow fall. Two feet since six o’clock. What a long day, she thought. Now it would take at least an hour to get home. Stranded at the Bar “They closed Riverton Road,” the barback said as he clocked out. Fuck me. Make that two hours. She could not drive her shitty minivan in this mess, so she texted Jake. Snow’s bad. Can you come get me in the truck? No answer. She tried again. Finally he wrote back. Can’t. Been drinking with the boys. Ask the hotel for a free room. They don’t comp us. They make us sleep in the lounge. I don’t want to sleep on a couch. I feel ya. But you can call in sick tomorrow and sleep in. Lauren rolled her eyes. Not worth replying. Calling in sick meant no pay, and which job was he talking about anyway? The grocery store or the bar. Fuck it. She would risk the drive. If she died, maybe the guilt would kill him. She was about to close when she saw a man at the end of the bar on his laptop. “Can I get you something?” she asked. “We’re closing soon.” The guy looked up. “How about a coffee? Anything strong?” “Coffee? It’s like midnight,” Lauren said. “You pulling an all-nighter?” “As a matter of fact, I am.” “Well, I’ve got some serious high octane. Let me heat it up.” He gave her a sweet, knowing smile. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Handsome in a plain way. Almost like he tried to look that way. Lauren stared a second longer. She knew him. “Wi-Fi is better down here than in my room,” he said. “You must be on the west side,” she replied. “It’s better on the east side. No idea why.” She poured two coffees. He asked if she was staying up all night too. “Long drive home,” she said. “You’re not going to drive in this weather?” “I’ll be fine. I grew up here. Snow country.” “I know,” he said. She gave him a confused look. “You know it’s snow country, or that I grew up here?” “Both,” he said. “You went to Fairport High School, right?” Lauren stared harder. He looked familiar, but she still could not place him. “You from around here?” she asked. “I was. We went to school together. You were a senior when I was a freshman.” “I’m sorry, it’s been twenty years. I don’t remember—” “You wouldn’t remember me. Geeky freshman. Video games. D&D. Tyler Brooks.” Lauren smiled. “Well, go Panthers. I’m—” “Lauren Thompson,” he cut in. “I remember you well. The best-looking girl at Fairport. All the guys in my class were in love with you.” “That was a long time ago,” she said and blushed. “And maybe you’re remembering me wrong. I think I might have been a mean girl.” “No, you weren’t. You might have tried, maybe to impress Carly Higgins or Heather Keston, but you were never a mean girl.” “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you,” she said. “You still in Rochester?” “No. I was on my way to Hawaii from Nova Scotia and we landed here because of the weather. They put me on a six a.m. flight to Seattle if the snow breaks.” “So you got stranded in your hometown. Why not stay with family?” “Well, there’s the early flight, and other issues.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Good coffee,” he said. “Got anything to give it a little kick?” “I could add some Baileys.” “No, let’s skip the sweet stuff. What’s your top-shelf whisky? Best you have.” “I have a Macallan 18-year double cask single malt. Fifty bucks a shot.” “I’ll take it.” She pulled the dusty bottle down and started to pour it into his coffee, then stopped. “I can’t do this. It’s a crime to pour something so perfect into a mediocre cup of coffee.” “OK, fine,” he said. “Pour me a shot instead.” Lauren set a whisky glass on the counter. “Two glasses,” he added. “Two?” “Well, I don’t like to drink alone, and I figured you wouldn’t mind sampling a Macallan.” She knew the last thing she needed before a two-hour drive was whisky. “Sorry, can’t drink while I’m on the clock.” He looked at the clock. “When do you get off?” “In like thirty seconds. But I’ve got to drive in the snow.” “You were always the type who made the right choice,” he said as she poured his glass. “Shows how little you know about people,” she replied. She looked at him, the snow, the bottle, and the door to the employee lounge. Fuck it. Getting killed to make Jake feel guilty probably would not even work. She poured herself a glass. Even the smell was rich. The clock hit midnight. “I’m officially off the clock,” she said and knocked the drink back in one shot. Fuck, that was smooth. That was what money bought you. Smooth. The warmth spread through her. She felt the pleasant burn and the quick rush. She turned to close out the bill. “Charge it to my room. 1633,” he said. “You know what, I’m not done drinking. Charge the entire bottle to my room.” “The entire bottle? From a hotel bar? That’s like a thousand dollars. You could get it for half that at a liquor store.” Tyler looked at the snow, then back at her. “Yeah, I’ll stick with hotel prices. Besides, I’m celebrating.” She rang it up and set the bottle on the counter. “Room 1633 comes up as Lawrence Milton,” she said with a small smile. “You trying to scam me?” Tyler smiled. “No, that’s me.” He pulled out his wallet and showed his ID. Tyler Brooks, age 38, Springfield, Massachusetts. “That’s my name. The one I use. I only told you my real name because I hoped you might remember me.” Lauren felt bad. “Oh, sorry about that. Frankly, I don’t care what the name is, as long as I can count for the bottle and not have it taken out of my paycheck.” She always followed the bartender code. Don’t ask too many questions, just listen. So she changed the subject. “Celebrating what?” she asked. “Victories,” he said. That was a non-answer, and she knew it. If he wanted to say more, he would. No need to push. He looked around. “The sign says you’re open until one.” “Well, with the snow, I don’t think the cheaters are coming, so the boss said close at midnight.” “Cheaters?” “Hotel bar. People who live locally and need a place to drink and fuck. This is where you go. Odds of running into anyone you know at an airport hotel bar are pretty slim.” “Then we just defied the odds,” he said. “God, it must be fun to watch them operate from your position.” “They tip well, always trying to impress the woman they’re with.” “Who are they?” he asked. “I mean, do you talk to them?” “Two parents from the playgroup. Maybe the wife of a coworker. Some work together. Sometimes a boss and their employee. Neighbors. All types.” Tyler poured himself another glass and moved to pour her one. She covered her glass with her hand. “You can’t possibly drive in this weather,” he said. “I know, but I just want to get home, take a shower, and get into bed. I’ve been working all day.” “How long are the shifts here?” Tyler asked. “Oh, I work at Kroger as a checker, then I head over here for this job,” Lauren replied. “Two jobs? I’m impressed,” he said. “I do what it takes.” “Is it really worth it to have two jobs?” he asked. “I mean, are you giving up on having a life?” “Worth it?” she laughed. “Well, rent doesn’t pay for itself, and neither does…” She stopped. She was not about to unload on a guy she did not remember from high school, no matter how nice he seemed. He’s just being polite. He does not need to hear my problems. “Neither does?” he asked. “Nothing,” she said and splashed a little more Macallan in her glass. She took a sip. “Fuck all, that is good.” “I think you were going to say, neither does my…boyfriend?” he added. “Husband. He chose to retire from a shitty job at forty, and his pension pays for his truck, and that’s about it.” “So you took two jobs to cover the rest,” Tyler said with real interest. “I like work. I like people, so it’s OK.” She took another sip instead of saying more. “I remember you were going to go to New York City. Didn’t you get into NYU?” “Wow,” she said. “Were you stalking me back then? Yes. I was.” “Not stalking, but as I said, kind of a big crush. I’m guessing you never went?” “No, I got married instead,” she said wistfully. “Jake Hofferman. Remember him?” “Unfortunately, I do,” Tyler said. “And you’re still married. Congratulations.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “He’s not like he was in high school,” she said. “He’s mellowed.” “So much you have to hold two jobs? Sounds like an excuse not to be home.” “You’re wrong,” Lauren replied. “I just told you I’m looking forward to getting home right now.” “And that’s why you’re on your third shot of whisky?” Tyler said. Lauren looked at him, poured another shot, and knocked it back. She loved the burn. “Four. Too much snow. I’m just going to crash in the employee lounge.” “The hotel won’t comp you a room?” he asked. “They won’t even comp me a meal. The lounge is fine.” There was a long silence. Tyler sensed he had gone too far. “I’m sorry about what I said,” he said. “I’ve got no right to analyze your relationship.” “It’s fine. I’ve been analyzing it for fifteen years,” she replied wistfully. “Sounds like you’ve been overanalyzing it then. Maybe you need to do something. Make a change.” “Sure, I’ll just leave Jake and get a new life. I wish I had thought of that sooner,” she said with obvious sarcasm. Tyler realized he had touched a nerve. Lauren did not want to talk about her useless husband or her failures to leave him. “You hungry?” she asked. “Everyone’s gone, the kitchen is mine for the taking. Let me see what I can grab for us.” “I’m starving. You need help?” “No, I’m just grabbing anything. Do your work, I’ll be back in a few.” Tyler watched her head to the kitchen, then went back to his laptop. He had come to the bar for better Wi-Fi and to finish his work, but he was distracted now. Distraction was not going to help. He decided to leave so he could focus. He was folding his laptop when Lauren brought a charcuterie board of meats and cheeses. She set it on the counter. He casually reopened the laptop and chose to stay. After all, she had gone to the trouble. “So, what kind of work do you do?” she asked. “Working nights and all?” “I’m a gambler. Well, kind of a gambler,” he said. “What, like arbitrage? Foreign markets?” she asked. He was surprised she knew the word. But she had always been smart, so maybe not a surprise at all. “No, a real gambler, like the Kenny Rogers song.” “Oh, but that song was sad and pathetic,” she said. “I’m neither sad nor pathetic,” he replied. “I’m just very good at what I do.” “And are you gambling now?” she asked. “I will be,” he said, looking at his screen. “There’s a horse track in Singapore, The Turf Club. Looks like the eighth race is about to go. I’ll be placing a bet soon.” “How often do you win?” she inquired. “I do well,” he replied vaguely. Lauren’s interest was piqued. But if he did so well, why was he staying at the airport Marriott? There were better hotels in the city. He studied his screen. “I also tip well,” he said. “It’s something I’ve always done.” “Oh,” Lauren said jokingly, “and is my tip going to be what horse to bet on?” “No. Your tip is two hundred dollars.” Lauren’s eyes went wide. Two hundred was a hell of a tip. “But if you want to bet it,” he said, “you’ve got thirty seconds to place a bet.” “All of it?” she asked. “Yup. All or nothing at all.” “What would it pay if it wins? How much?” she asked. “Well, in this race, we would bet it on Fat Charly. And if that horse wins, you win two thousand dollars. He’s ten to one.” “I don’t know much about betting,” she said nervously, “but that’s a long shot, right?” “Sure is,” he replied. “And that’s the only way to get the thrill.” “The thrill?” she asked, curious. “There’s something I can’t explain. You have to feel it. When you make a bet, something big. Big for you. And you watch the race, the fight, or the game, there’s a rising tension, and then when you win… It’s the second-best feeling in the world.” “That sounds like an orgasm,” she replied with a laugh. “No,” he replied flatly. “An orgasm is still the best feeling in the world, but this is right up there. Fifteen seconds. I need your choice.” “Do it. Bet it all,” she said. Then she reconsidered. “No, don’t,” she fretted. She reconsidered again. “Do it, just do it,” she said, more determined. He typed a command and looked up with a devious smile. “Fat Charly in the eighth,” he declared. “Wanna watch?” Lauren lifted the bar opening and came around next to him to watch the race on his laptop. The race started, and it was clear she was confused. “Fat Charly’s in yellow,” Tyler said, pointing at the screen. “The number nine horse.” Fat Charly was in dead last. “Fuck me, he’s losing,” Lauren said, thinking about how much she could have used two hundred extra dollars. “Patience. Give it time. It’s a mile and a quarter course.” The race went on, and Fat Charly kept falling behind. Lauren grew sadder with each furlong. Then Fat Charly began to move up. “He’s moving,” she said with excitement. “Of course he is,” Tyler replied as if he knew this would happen. Lauren could not believe what she was seeing. Fat Charly was moving through the pack, picking off horses one by one. Now, on the final stretch, he was within striking distance. She felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her. Her heart rate quickened, and she felt like she had to pee. She could not remember being this nervous. “There’s not enough track left!” she shouted. “Sure, there is,” he replied. Lauren watched in awe as Fat Charly charged the final furlongs and… “He won! Fat Charly won!” she screamed with excitement, then covered her mouth. Tyler tried not to notice how her nipples had become rock hard from excitement. Even through the boring Marriott blouse, they were hard to miss. “Did I win? Did I just win two thousand dollars?” she said with a huge smile. “You sure did,” Tyler said. Up to His Room “Oh my God. I felt it!” she said with a huge smile. “I felt what you described. My heart was pounding, and then, when he won, it was like…” Her face turned red. “Yeah, I know,” Tyler said. “The second-best feeling ever.” “How do I get paid? I’m sorry to ask this, considering I didn’t put down any cash.” “I’ll get paid for the bet. Here’s your action.” He took out his wallet and counted out her winnings in hundred-dollar bills. Lauren grabbed them up. She had never held so much money in years. “Thank you, Tyler, thank you!” With that, she gave him a tight hug, pressing herself against him, then stepped back. “So, you’re going to stay up all night betting?” she asked. “All night,” he said, studying the screen. “There’s a track or a fight or a game of some kind going on as we speak around the globe. I can choose any of them.” “And you claim you’re successful at this?” “I do well.” “Then may I ask why you are staying at the Airport Marriott?” she said boldly. “We’re like the Walmart of all Marriotts.” “Well, I told you, I’ve got an early flight. And you guys have the warm cookies I love so much at check-in.” Lauren knew exactly what he was talking about. They were great cookies. She could also tell he did not really want to give any extra details, so she veered. “You going to tell your husband about the two thousand dollars?” he asked. She felt like he was reading her mind and wondered if all gamblers had a sixth sense. “I’m not sure. It pays some bills. Maybe I hold back a few dollars. I would love to just go to a spa and treat myself like a queen.” “You should,” he encouraged. “That’s your money, not his. You earned it.” “Did I?” “That was your tip for being the best damn bartender I’ve met, and then you parlayed that into more. You earned it.” Lauren could not remember being this excited or happy in years. Again, another awkward moment. She wanted to give him a hug, not even for the cash, but just because he was kind. Instead, she shook his hand. “Thank you, Tyler Brooks. You just might have saved my life tonight.” “Really?” Tyler asked. “Well, you convinced me to drink, which convinced me not to drive, and you somehow turned two hundred I didn’t have into two thousand, which I sure could use. This might not be much to you, but it’s big for me.” This time, she hugged him. Tyler was unsure how to respond, so he gave her a polite hug in return. “Well, I’ve got a long night ahead,” he said. “I hope you can get some sleep.” With that cordial statement, he took his laptop and headed out. The last twenty minutes had been so much fun, Lauren did not want it to end, but he had work to do, and she needed to close up. She double-checked the bar, secured the till, turned off the light, and then noticed the half-full bottle of Macallan whisky Tyler had paid for. She thought about taking the bottle home, but quickly changed her mind. The last thing she wanted was to bring something so special back to Jake. She put on the top, grabbed a few glasses, and went to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, took out the Marriott cookie dough, turned on the oven, and quickly baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies. When they finished, she placed them on a plate, took the bottle and glass, and headed to room 1633, planning to leave the plate of cookies and the whisky on the doorstep, knock, and then go. She rapped gently and turned to leave, but was not five feet away when the door opened. “Lauren?” Tyler said. She turned to look back, acting surprised. “Oh, hey,” she stammered. “You left your bottle at the bar. You paid for it, and I didn’t want someone walking off with it, so I…” This was awkward, so she quickly switched gears. “Hey, I made you those cookies you love. Hot and fresh,” she said with a smile. “My thank you for the bet.” Tyler picked up the plate and smelled the cookies with an almost orgasmic face. “Oh, my God. You are the best. Come on in and have one with me. I’ve got a race coming up, so I need to get back to the laptop.” He went into the suite with the cookies, leaving the door open and the bottle behind. Lauren picked it up and followed inside. She was surprised by how little hesitation she showed in entering the room of a man she had only known for an hour. But since he claimed to have known her for the past twenty years, maybe it was okay. Once inside the door slammed shut behind them. Tyler set the plate down and pulled her close, his hands sliding down to grip her ass. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this since I saw you behind that bar,” he growled. Lauren moaned as his mouth found her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. She felt his cock harden against her thigh through his jeans. “Take it out,” she breathed. “I want to suck that dick right now.” She dropped to her knees, unzipped him, and pulled his throbbing cock free. It was thick and veined, already leaking precum. Lauren licked the head, savoring the musky taste, then took him deep into her mouth. Tyler groaned and thrust forward, fucking her throat in short strokes. “That’s it, suck it harder,” he demanded. She gagged but kept going, spit dripping down her chin onto her tits. He reached down and pinched her nipples through the blouse until they stood out stiff. The wet sounds of her sucking filled the room. Lauren’s pussy was soaked, slick dripping down her thighs. She stood up, shoved her pants down, and bent over the desk. “Fuck me, Tyler. Ram that cock in my cunt now.” He slammed into her from behind, stretching her tight pussy with one hard thrust. Skin slapped against skin as he pounded her, his balls hitting her clit with every stroke. “Harder, fuck me harder,” Lauren gasped, pushing back against him. He grabbed her hips and rammed deeper, the slick friction making obscene wet noises. She reached between her legs and rubbed her swollen clit, feeling the heat build. Tyler slapped her ass, leaving red handprints, then pulled her hair so her back arched. “Your cunt feels so fucking good,” he hissed. “Gonna fill you up.” Lauren’s orgasm hit like a freight train in the final stretch. Her pussy clenched and spasmed around his cock, cum gushing out around his shaft as she shuddered and cried out his name. Tyler thrust once more and exploded inside her, hot jets of cum flooding her soaked cunt. They collapsed together, bodies slick with sweat, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Lauren smiled against his chest. For the first time in years, she felt alive.