Brian G. Murray: High Stakes


My name is Edd Dowser and I’m a gambler.

I stared at the cards my opponent had just laid on the table – three aces and two kings.  My bluff had not worked and now I was up to my eyes in thick, gooey shit.

“I’ve called,” cooed my opponent, a gorgeous brunette, who wore a tight, figure-hugging black dress that could only be described as a wide belt – nice – with thin straps that strained to control her large, firm breasts.  She wore a sparing amount of make-up; she did not need much, she was beautiful enough.  “So, let’s see your cards, handsome.”

I looked down at the five cards I held in my hands.  ‘Three threes, a jack and a queen,’ I mused silently.  ‘Three threes.  What was I thinking?  I’ve just given away everything for what…  Three flaming threes!’

I took a deep breath, looked up and held the woman’s steady gaze.  Her stormy grey eyes, guarded by long eyelashes, would normally cause me to melt – I have a soft spot for grey eyes – but my bladder, feeling weak from my error in judgement quashed any desire.  An error in judgement, who was I kidding, I owed this woman, and not just the large pile of chips lying in front of us.  Our game had taken a serious and provocative turn so we had adjourned to a private room.  In here there was only me, the woman and a mute dealer, so our bets could, therefore, be placed in secret.

It now feels like a life time ago when I pushed my pile of chips into the middle of the round, green felt covered table, my balls as hard as brass.  I remember the adrenaline coursing through my veins when we further upped the pot.  And now…  Now my hands were shaking and my mouth was dry.  I threw my cards onto the table face down – no point in showing them.

“So do I take it that I win,” the woman said softly sitting back.  I nodded.  “In that case, dealer, please cash in my chips and add them to my account.  You can take a hundred pound chip for yourself.”

The dealer bowed and we both waited for him to slowly remove the chips.  Each clink of the chips being stacked into their correct denomination grated against my nerves – a lingering insult.  Finally, he finished and with another slight bow, silently backed out of the room.  For a moment, the thunderous noise from the casino’s main floor blasted into the room.  Then almost instantly, the man closed the door and silence regained control.

The hiss of sheer stockings sliding over each other gave away that the woman had uncrossed and re-crossed her legs to get comfortable.  The sensual sound touched a nerve but again I suppressed the feeling.

“So,” she began with a smug expression, “shall we discuss the other part of my winnings.”

I swallowed.  How could I have been so nonchalant about something as important as …

“I believe the amount we agreed upon was your body and soul,” she confirmed.

At the time, it seemed like such a good thing dead.  I mean I had three threes and more cards to come, so the thought of spending time with her, making love when ever I wanted, how ever often I wanted appeared easily winnable.  I was up and on a roll – my confidence bordering on colossal arrogance.  Oh what a dream, I mean, what a nightmare – what was I thinking.  Thinking, oh yeah right, the little head telling the big head what to do – a man’s folly.

The woman smiled, showing off her perfect white teeth.  “I tell you what, I have no need for your soul; it’s of no use to me.”

I sighed with relief, but my reprieve lasted a matter of a heartbeat as I looked into the woman’s smouldering eyes.  They glinted with dark intent.

“Oh, do not get me wrong, handsome, I do expect a tribune, but just not your soul.  However, as I can do what I want with your soul, payment will not be any easy task.”  She smiled again, this time a condescending expression like a predator toying with its cornered prey.

“W– What do you want me to do?”

Her smile broadened.

“Let’s set a little challenge and if you succeed, all bets are deemed settled.  But if you fail…”  At that moment, I’m sure I saw flames flicker in the woman’s eyes.  “… then you will suffer excruciating pain for a long, long time.”

“Who are you?”

“Does that really matter?”

I shook my head.  “No, I suppose not.”

“Right, I will give you forty-eight hours to find what I want.”

“And that is?”

If at all possible, the woman’s smile grew broader, her white teeth gleaming in the dim, almost romantic lighting.  Any other night, in fact, earlier tonight, I had openly flirted with the woman, the mood getting to me.  To be honest, romance, no, the thought of bedding her got me in the right mood.  Her stocking hissed again as she uncrossed her legs then leaned forward onto the table, revealing more of her ample cleavage.  She must be enjoying the moment as I could make out the shape of her nipples pressing against her black dress.

I licked my lips.  For a moment, I thought of what I could have won and the pang of hot lust surged through my body.

“Let me drop my guise, just to ensure you understand how serious I am.”

I frowned.  “Pardon?”

The woman sat back and held out her arms.  My lust instantly disintegrated to emotional dust.

The sound of cloth tearing was only the prelude.  The noise that followed caused my stomach lurched.  The woman’s flawless skin started to rend and her bones snapped and twisted.  Her body contorted this way and that, splitting, grinding and shredding as her mouth gapped in a silent scream.

After a long moment, an old woman stood up and her sagging breasts slumped against her bulging pot-belly.  Her cackling laugher filled the room as she shivered with pleasure.

“That’s better.  Do you still want to take me to bed now, handsome,” she croaked, running her fingers over her leathery skin, scraping scab topped warts that erupted and oozed pus.  I could not mask my nauseous expression.  “Guess not.  You should be impressed.  It takes quite a lot of magic to maintain that guise.”  She waddled around the table and stood next to me.  She smiled, revealing yellowy-brown stumps.  She leaned towards me and her foul breath caressed my neck.  Then I felt her rough, leathery tongue press against my cheek as she licked the side of my face.  Her hair, hanging in congealed slimy rat-tails, rested on my shoulder and arm.  Within moments, grease began to stain my shirt, leaching into the fabric.

“Tasty,” she said.  “Maybe I should…”  She paused in thought and stood up straight, planting her hips on her flabby thighs.  “No, no, no!  I tell you what I want…  But before I do, let me tell you the rules.  Firstly, as you may have gathered, I am a witch, a powerful one at that, so do not think you can escape me.  I have tasted you and I can now track you to the ends of the world and beyond.”  The old hag smacked her lips and giggled like a child.  “Secondly, as I said, you have forty-eight hours to return my prize to me here.  If you fail, I will expect payment in full and that will be your soul.”  Suddenly, her right hand shot down and grabbed my manhood.  “Maybe I should ride you for a little while, take an advance payment to see if my juices still flow.”  She cackled again and groped me harder.

“Do we understand each other?”

My face was flushed with pain when I nodded.

“Good,” the old hag squealed and leant in close again.  “I want…”

The old woman told me then, after nipping my earlobe, she began to laugh.  The creepy, scratchy sound chased me from the room.




I wandered outside, my mind reeling.  The cool night air seized my body and I shivered.

A fang!  The old hag woman wanted a fang and not just any fang, she wanted a vampire’s fang.  Where the hell was I going to get one of them?  I thought of the old woman, and I could not help the image of her naked body, mapped with blue veins and erupting warts filling my mind.  I shivered again, this time the chill of revolution ran down my spine.  She was utterly grotesque.  I stumbled away from the casino towards the marina in St Helier to consider my options.  I did not like any of them.

Jersey was a strange island.  It housed not only humans, most of which worked in tourism or the finance industry, but also other creatures.  For the last couple of centuries, it had become a haven for vampires, lycans, witches, sorcerers and other macabre beings.  The vampires, the stylish creature they are lived in an exclusive area known as Longueville, the opposite side of the island as their loathed enemy the lycans.  That being said, none of the factions liked each other and even though an uneasy truce hung over Jersey like a heavy shroud, bickering, squabbles and confrontations were always kept out of the press – bad for tourism.

Shaking my head, and out of options, I headed towards Longueville to see a friend who owed me a favour.




My name is Dawson De Gruchy and I am a vampire.

“You want what?” I exclaimed in disbelief, staring at the human sitting before me, my anger building.  Candles illuminated and warmed the room, releasing smoke that thickened the air causing my guest sweat.  The warmth had no effect on me, but the conversation made my temperature rise.

“I know it sounds crazy, but my life depends upon me getting one.”

I heaved a heavy sigh and shook my head.  “This is not the easiest thing to get.  I will rephrase that, it is virtually impossible.”

“Listen to me, Dawson, I owe a witch and she’s not the type to meddle with.  So I need to call in my favor.”

I slammed my hands against the desk and rose to my feet.  I towered over my guest, and even the room, like my mood darkened.  The candles around the room fluttered at the sudden movement as though cowering from my building wrath.  “You listen to me, Edd, we may have spent time gambling, drinking and whoring together, and yes I may owe you, but what you’re asking for is impossible.  I cannot take another vampire’s fang.  I am from old blood, a true descendent of our true master, Dracula.  What you ask is sacrilege.  A vampire losing a fang would be like you getting your bollocks cut off – impotency.  I will not do it.  Never!”

“But you owe me,” the man insisted.

“Do not go there…  This is between you and your fucking witch!” I roared menacingly.

Edd lowered his eyes.  “Please,” he pleaded.

My fiery gaze mellowed.  I did indeed owe him, but what he was asking for, I could never deliver.  I slumped back into my padded leather chair and swore aloud.  I could not defile another vampire, yet I owed this human for saving my life – what was I to do?  If I completed the task, I would be punished by the elders and they would find out.  The only way to get a fang is to pull it from a living vampire, and the vampire has to live after the extraction so the fang does not turn to ash.  Only then can the vampire be killed.  But by then our victim could psychically communicate with other vampires, sealing my death warrant.  Even having old blood would mean nothing for such a heinous crime.

I studied the man opposite me, and while wondering what his blood would taste like, I had an idea.  I smiled.

“So this witch of yours, what would she do if you did not give her a fang?”

“She will kill me,” Edd announced miserably, shaking his head.

My smile grew, revealing my gleaming fangs.  “In which case, I have an idea.”  I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my antique, leather inlaid mahogany desk.  “I can give you what you want,” I began then told Edd my idea.




My name is Ruth Worthington and I am a witch.

It had been two days since I won my bet, and now I wanted my prize.  I knew the odds of the idiot getting it would be slim, but as I had not heard anything about a death by a vampire, I believe he may have a chance.  He did seem resourceful.  It would, of course, give me power over the vampires.  If I wore it around my neck, then it would ward them off.  I could walk among them unopposed.  Thinking about the magic I could wield using their blood made me shiver with pleasure.  I decided that if the man got me my prize, then I would treat him.  I mixed a potion and morphed myself back into a beautiful woman.  The pain was excruciating, but it was easier to travel through St Helier in this guise, rather than as a hag.  I decided this time I would be a shapely blonde.  My bones snapped, reshaped, by flesh, muscle and skin tore and ripped then twisted, tightened and knitted back together.

For a long moment, I stood before a full length mirror and admired my reflection, groping myself and squealing with pleasure – the agony quickly forgotten.  Holding each leg, in turn, in the air, I rolled on sheer black stockings and smoothed the sticky tops to my slender thighs.  I decided against underwear as lines would be seen under my strapless, crimson, short, tight dress and that would not do.  I did up the straps on my matching stiletto shoes and applied some make up.  Again, I stood before my mirror and nodded at my reflection.  I would use this body tonight.

With that thought, I grabbed a small black Mulberry handbag, a thin black shawl to cover my shoulders then headed out.  The evening was warm, but not too hot and as I walked through St Helier, I could feel lustful eyes watching me pass by, both male and female.

I reached the casino, entered through a members’ only door and sat at the bar.  Within five minutes, I had two rather rotund, balding men offering to buy me a drink.  I turned both of them down and ordered myself a bottle of Don Perignon.  Tonight, I wanted to celebrate and I loved the bubbles.  I gazed down at my diamond encrusted Rolex; I still had a couple of hours to wait.  Again, I shivered with anticipation then gazed around the room people watching.  I finished my glass of champagne so placed the empty crystal flute on the bar and tapped it with my perfectly manicured, red painted fingernail.  Instantly, a barman appeared and filled my glass, trying to look cool as he ogled my breasts.  I did not mind, in fact, I smiled at the silent compliment.  That’s why they were there – for show.




I entered the casino feeling good, wearing a new dark blue, designer suit, pale blue shirt, no tie and polished oxford shoes.  I paused at the door and prayed that our plan would work.  After all, my life depended upon it succeeding.

I took a deep breath and, with a faked confident swagger, I walked towards the bar.  There I spotted the witch sitting at the end of the bar.  This time she was a blonde, but there was no mistaking the witch’s disguise – the woman appeared too perfect.  Every man in the building stared at her, so what I did next made me feel good.  I boldly walked over to the woman, leant in close and whispered into her ear.  Rising an eyebrow, I held out a hand and helped her to her feet.  As we walked the short distance to one of the private rooms, her leading the way, me, like every other man in the casino, watched the way the woman’s tight buttocks jiggled inside the confines of the dark red dress and her hips swayed sexily from side to side.

Inside the dimly lit room, we waited for the barman to bring in the champagne with two glasses.  He poured the fizzy liquid into the flutes then silently left, closing the door quietly.

“So, do you have it?” the witch cooed, leaning forward so her ample cleavage nearly spilled over the top of her dress.

I picked up the crystal flute and sipped the drink.  To be honest, I hated champagne, it gives me heartburn.  I nodded in reply to her question and put the glass back down.

The witch chuckled.  “In which case, I think a little celebration is called for.”  The woman rose, walked around the table and stood in front of me.  “Do you like what you see?” she asked, smoothing her dress over her hips.

I knew the witch was an ugly hag but what stood in front of me was well…  Damn, my lust was building.

The woman looked down at my crouch and licked her full red lips.  “I see you do like what you see.”  She glided forward and, hitching her dress, sat down on my lap straddling me.

I could not help myself.  I reached round and, with both hands, groped the woman’s bare, firm buttocks.  The witch’s real image grew in my mind as she licked the side of my face.  I held the picture in my mind so not to get too distracted.

“I do like the way you taste,” she said, then frowned and smacked her lips.  “A bit sweater this time, but still very yummy.”

“I’ve changed,” I added.

“Let’s do it,” she added huskily, while gyrating her hips gently against me.

“Patience,” I said.

“I want it now!” the woman demanded, her thrusting become harder, faster.

“Do you want the fang as well?”

“Yes, let me see it while we shag.  Yes, yes.  Yes!”

I grinned and squeezed the witch’s buttocks harder, causing her to squeal with pleasure.  She closed her eyes and threw her head back.  “Take me!  On the table.  Now!”

I leaned in closer to the woman and smelt her sweat, musky scent.  I knew it masked the foulness of her true being, but it was still very intoxicating; no doubt a spell to entice men.  I kissed her neck and smiled.  It was now my turn.  Just then I remembered Dawson’s final question which began our plan.

“Did she say if the fang had to be detached?” 

Slowly, I opened my mouth to reveal my fangs and chuckled.

My name is Edd Dowser and now I am a vampire.

by Brian G. Murray

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Spiffycats Magazine, a men's magazine featuring pictures of beautiful women and articles in entertainment and other interests.

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