The Non-Conformist Club

The Non-Conformist Club Part 7

Chapter 13—Stella

The pot was enormous, almost $550 dollars in real money. I knew my full house was good, and the Alpha Sig knew it too, but he couldn't fold, he only had forty bucks left. This pot was going to wipe out the game, but since all the money was coming to me, I didn't mind. He threw in the last of his money and whined, "OK. I'm all in. Show me your boat." I flipped up my two cards and he mucked his immediately. The drunk Teke who was also all in showed a straight, but that wasn't good enough either. Toss in the guy who was all in pre-flop with a pair of 10s, and I raked the whole thing.

I cashed out my chips, quietly slipped my connection, Dave's brother John, 40 bucks for the heads up, as proper poker etiquette demanded, and decided to partake in a few adult beverages to celebrate. I wasn't much of a drinker, and hadn't eaten for hours, so I was already feeling pretty good after the second bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade. This gave me the liquid courage to walk up to a Delta Upsilon, the only person besides John and myself who didn't end up broke after that pot and strike up a conversation. He was at least 6'4" and 300 pounds, mostly muscle, and black as my usual outfits, although I was in costume tonight too, City College sweatshirt and the only pair of blue jeans I owned. He wasn't particularly handsome in the face, but I thought he might appreciate a girl he wouldn't snap in half.

I stuck out my hand, "Hi. I'm Stella."

He took it in his meaty paw, "George. You're quite a poker player."

"No, I just got lucky." I couldn't believe it, here I was chatting up this college guy like I was some normal girl.

He barked out a laugh, "Ha! I don't think so, but I'll go ahead and say I believe you if you promise to stay here and talk to me."

"I think I would like that." Holy shit, I'm blushing! What the heck is the matter with me?

"I'm about three beers away from the drunk I want to be, can I get you one too?"

"I don't drink beer."

"I'll find ya something fruity, OK? Don't move."

While I waited for George I looked around the party, actually bopping my head and smiling. I was starting to sicken myself, but I was feeling so good I didn't want to stop either. Just then I noticed Dave and Roland at the other end of the party. Dave was chatting up a Tri Delt, while little Roland just seemed to be admiring the triangles on her chest. I wouldn't have suspected him to be a boob man, but I guess he was just a kid; I shouldn't expect too much.

George came back with a drink he told me was called a fuzzy peach and we made small talk while I sipped it. It was way stronger than I was used to, but tasty. George was very sweet, if a little dumb. Not my type, that's for sure, but it's not like I had a line of suitors out the door. As we chatted, we leaned against the staircase heading to the rooms upstairs. I watched Dave strike out with every girl in the place. Clearly, his charms had their limits. But he just kept dancing and bopping around; no amount of rejection seemed to slow him down.

I finished my drink and was feeling pretty good, a little fuzzy around the edges, but mostly fine. It must have been even stronger than I thought. George came back with a refill, "This is good, but a little different."

"What's it called?"

He looked down at the floor, "I don't wanna tell you."

"Don't be embarrassed, I'm a big girl."

George smiled and licked his lips, not the most unsexy move, frankly, "It's called a Black Ball Lick." He looked down sheepishly.

I snorted a laugh, "Why is it called that?"