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Casino Night	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 4263 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Loud House or its characters. I made no money writing this story. I have never actually visited Earth 17.2, but I've read all the guidebooks.

Chapter List
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- 2
Casino Night
by George Glass
Summary: In the free-love alternate world of Earth 17.2, Royal Woods Middle School holds a casino night as a fundraiser. The two grand prizes: a cutting-edge graphics card, and a night of sex with Judy and Stella Zhau. Which means both Lisa and Lincoln will do just about anything to win big.
Note: This story is technically a sequel to "Big Lincoln, Little Lincoln” (https://cartoon.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600096759). However, the two stories are mostly unrelated, so you don't have to have read that story to understand this one. You just need to know that in that story, Lincoln impregnates Ronnie Anne while their families watch.
Note 2: If you are kind enough to review this story, I will respond to your review here: https://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/65986-george-glass-fanfic-review-response-thread/
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Chapter 1: Games of Chance
Lincoln was grinning when he came home with a flyer in his hand. Royal Woods Middle School, which Lincoln was now attending as a sixth-grader, was holding its annual fundraiser. And having gotten home before Lynn, who was still at field hockey practice—and, per her team’s tradition, would probably join the other girls in fucking the guys from the baseball team afterwards—Lincoln would get to be the one to make the announcement.
"Check it out, everybody!" Lincoln called, slapping the flyer down on the dining room table. "Casino Night!"
Several of Lincoln's sisters gathered around to look. Lisa, being the shortest of them, clambered up onto a chair and used her tablet to scan the QR code on the flyer to pull up more details. The five-year-old prodigy's eyes grew large behind her glasses as she looked at the list of prizes.
"Newton's apple," she breathed. "Shomeone donated a CX28 graphics card to the prize pool! Thish component will not be commercially available for months. I must have it!"
“Dude,” Luna said, “I thought graphics cards were for gamers.”
Lisa snorted derisively. “Perhapsh, but this card is of such quality that it will enable me to render my mathematical model of the human genome in exquisite visual detail."
“How are you gonna win it?” Lana asked. "They banned you from Casino Night last year for counting cards."
"Indeed," Lisa replied petulantly. "It was an abshurd accusation; I used a sophisticated mathematical algorithm to determine the likelihood of cards of any given number remaining in the deck. 'Counting' is for kindergartners."
"Uh, Lisa?" Leni said. "Weren’t you a kindergartener last year?"
Lisa rolled her eyes, then turned back to Lincoln. "I would have been perfectly content to abshtain from this year's fundraiser, but I cannot imagine that I will be presented with another opportunity to obtain a graphics card of such sophistication in the forsheeable future." Her tone was tinged with bitterness as she added, "Not since my grant funding was revoked, that is. 'Informed consent,' my eye."
Holding up the tablet in front of her brother's face, she said, "Lincoln, I will require your assistance to obtain this device."
She showed Lincoln the Casino Night web page on her tablet, and Lincoln's white eyebrows rose—not at the picture of the graphics card, which Lincoln could not have cared less about, but at the other top prize: a night of sex with Stella Zhau and her hot mom, Judy. Lincoln and Stella had boned several times, and Lincoln knew his fellow sixth-grader was good in bed. He could only imagine what kind of skills her mother would have.
"Ah," Lisa said, noticing the direction of Lincoln's gaze, "I see that your primitive urge to copulate is dominating your behavior as usual. I therefore propose the following arrangement: If you will serve as my proxy at Casino Night, I believe we can garner the five hundred chips required to obtain both the graphics card and your desired liaison with the Zhaus. Do we have an accord?"
"Maybe," Lincoln replied. "Once you tell me what 'proxy' means. And 'accord.'"
Lisa sighed.
***
On the night of the event, Lisa called Lincoln—who had just put on his blue suit and a red tie, because Casino Night was a dressy affair—to her room to prepare. She showed him two unfamiliar items: a black contact-lens case and a white, oblong capsule about the size of a vitamin pill. Lincoln hoped Lisa wasn't expecting him to swallow it.
"These contact lenses," Lisa said, handing him the case, "will allow me to see everything that you see." She held up the white capsule and continued, "I will send and receive audio communications via this earpiece, which I have miniaturized to reduce its visibility. Just take care not to push it too far into your ear, or I will need to retrieve it surgically."
Lincoln shuddered, then replied, “Okay, but what's the plan?”
"You will participate in one or more of the games of chance available at the event. I will use predictive algorithms to direct your wagering, thus greatly enhancing your odds of successh."
"Okay. But just so we're on the same page here…This is cheating, right?”
"Most certainly,” Lisa conceded. "But as the old shaying goes, all's fair in love and hardware upgrades."
***
"Have fun, kiddo,” Lincoln's dad said as he dropped the white-haired boy off in front of Royal Woods Middle School. “And good luck! I'll be back to pick you up around ten-thirty, unless you call to tell me that you ‘got lucky,’ wink wink."
"Thanks, Dad!” Lincoln replied, ignoring the dad-joke.
It was a little weird to be going to Casino Night alone, but that was just how things had worked out this year. Lisa and Lynn were both banned from the event (Lynn had learned the hard way that shoulder-checking wasn't allowed in blackjack), and Lincoln's other sisters all had other things to do. Except Luan, who was already at the school, setting up for her comedy act in the lounge.
Lincoln passed through the double doors of the school's main entrance and walked up to the booth where Casino Night participants could buy chips with which to gamble. Lincoln was pleased to see that Stella was one of the volunteers at the booth, along with school secretary Meryl Farrel. Instead of her usual pink blouse and purple skirt, the chubby woman was wearing a dress so poofy that she looked like a bright-yellow cloud with a human head. Stella, in contrast, had on a red silk cheongsam dress with flowers stitched in golden thread; the dress fit her developing tween body snugly, showing off its every curve.
"I'll take twenty dollars' worth of chips, please," Lincoln said, smiling at Stella as he slapped a bill on the table between them. Lisa had suggested that two hundred dollars would be the “optimal initial value," but Lincoln pointed out that a middle schooler spending so much on chips would attract suspicion. Never mind that Lincoln didn't have anything like that kind of money; he'd had to empty his piggy bank and then search under his bed for change just to come up with twenty, plus an extra dollar to pay Lola to exchange the coins for a bill. He hadn’t wanted to show up at Casino Night with two sagging, clinking pocketsful of change.
"Hey, Lincoln," Stella said sexily. Taking the money and counting out twenty chips, she went on, "I hope you're gonna try and win the night with me and Mom. Ever since I told her about the first time we fucked, she's been dying to try out that big dick of yours. And I'm always up for another round with you."
She placed the chips in a small plastic bucket, and as she slid the bucket over to Lincoln, she leaned over the table and murmured, "Maybe even without protection this time."
"Wow, Stella," Lincoln said, his cock rising in his suit pants. "You've got a heck of a sales pitch."
"You've seen how low the school is on art supplies; they really need that money," Stella replied. "And I really need you to empty your big balls in my pussy. So try and win big, willya?"
"Will do!" Lincoln replied, snapping Stella a two-fingered salute. She blew him a kiss in return.
Lincoln entered the school's main hallway. All the classroom doors were open, and there was a sign next to each door indicating which game was being played inside.
"We should proceed to the blackjack tables," Lisa said through the earpiece. "Since last year, I have shignificantly refined my deck-assessment algorithm, so we are most likely to have success there."
"Sounds good," Lincoln murmured in reply as he glanced down into his bucket. The twenty one-dollar chips in there barely covered the bottom. Parlaying that into five hundred chips—two hundred and fifty each for the graphics card and the night with the Zhaus—seemed like a very tall order.
He went into the classroom that was serving as the blackjack room and sat down at the nearest table. As Casino Night was just getting started, the dealer hadn't arrived yet, but some players had. Lincoln knew one of them: Clyde's dad Harold, who was in the chair next to Lincoln's.
"Hey, Mr. McBride!" Lincoln said.
“Hello there, Lincoln!” the portly Black man said in his usual affable tone.
“Where’s the other Mr. McBride?”
“Oh, blackjack is a little too much for Howard,” the man explained, pointing through the classroom door. “He’s across the hall playing a different game.”
Lincoln looked and saw the slim, White Howard McBride in a different classroom, sitting around a colorful game board with three kids who didn’t look older than six. One of them was Lisa's kindergarten classmate Darcy Helmandollar, who looked a bit impatient as she spoke to the man.
"You hafta either go in the Corn Syrup Swamp or lose your turn."
"I can't decide! This is too much pressure!" Howard McBride cried, pulling at his red hair.
Lincoln's view out the classroom door was suddenly obstructed in the nicest way possible when Judy Zhau appeared in the doorway. Like her daughter, she was wearing a red silk cheongsam that was decorated in golden flowers and that clung to her every curve. The only difference, visually speaking, was that Judy's dress had more curve to cling to.
Lincoln felt like he was in a dream—possibly a wet one—as Judy walked straight toward him. But he was shaken out of his reverie when she abruptly turned and went around to the dealer's side of the blackjack table. She reached under the table and pulled out a thick deck of cards, which she placed in front of herself.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she said to the five players at the table. “My name is Judy, and I'll be your dealer. Everyone ready to play?”
"Oh, yeah,” Lincoln breathed, gazing raptly at her.
I can see everything, he thought. God, her nipples look so thick and suckable. Is she even wearing a bra?
"Lincoln," Lisa said into his ear, "please turn your point of visual focush away from Ms. Zhau's well-proportioned bosom and toward the deck of cards."
Reluctantly, Lincoln tore his gaze away from Judy's chest and looked at the deck on the table. It was clearly much larger than a normal deck.
"Given that the stack of cards is approximately three-point-eight centimeters in height," Lisa said, "I eshtimate that the dealer is using three decks, for a total of one hundred and fifty-six cards. No doubt, this is a precaution against card counting, but my algorithm can easily compensate. Just be certain to look at all cards on the table so as to provide the algorithm with adequate data."
"Um, okay," Lincoln murmured.
As an avid reader of Ace Savvy comics, Lincoln had learned a lot about various card games. So even though he hadn't played much blackjack himself, he was familiar with the rules.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen," the sexy dealer said. "Place your bets."
At Lisa's direction, Lincoln placed a single chip on the table. Then Judy dealt two cards face up to each of the five players, plus a face-up card and a face-down card to herself. Lincoln had a jack and a six, giving him a sixteen.
The player farthest to Lincoln's right, an eighth-grade girl whom Lincoln had seen in the hallways but whose name he didn't know, said "Hit me.” She received an ace and stayed with her seventeen. Harold McBride, who had a king and a seven, stayed without asking for any more cards. Then it was Lincoln's turn.
"It is probable that receiving an additional card will result in a busht," Lisa said. "However, it is even more probable that a sixteen will be insufficient to win the hand. I therefore advise you to requesht another card."
"Uh, hit me," Lincoln said, taking one moment to look at Judy's lovely face before forcing his eyes back down to the table.
She dealt him another card: a three, giving Lincoln a total of nineteen.
"That was fortunate," Lisa said. "Stay with that."
The dealer had eighteen, so Lincoln won his chip back plus another. He was happy about that, although he was rather less happy when he busted on his next two hands and failed to win with a seventeen on the hand after that.
"Do not be dispirited," Lisa said. "Each hand you play is providing the algorithm with valuable data. Thush, I will soon be able to provide you with more useful guidance."
During the next five hands, Lincoln lucked out once and got blackjack with a jack and an ace. He also had one push—a tie with the dealer—and simply left his bet on the table for his next hand. The other three hands he lost, including one in which he initially received two jacks and split his hand into two, both of which lost.
On the next hand, Lincoln received a queen and a seven.
"Double down and requesht another card," Lisa instructed.
Is she crazy? Lincoln thought.
Seeing Lincoln hesitate, Lisa elaborated, "According to the algorithm's count, a great many face cards and other cards of high numeric value have already been played, leaving a disproportionately large quantity of low-number cards in the deck."
Lincoln was at least reasonably sure he had understood all that. So when his turn came, he doubled his bet and then said, "Hit me."
Sure enough, he was dealt a three, giving him a total of twenty. Lisa unnecessarily advised him to stay, and Lincoln won the hand.
Lisa now advised Lincoln to place larger wagers—two chips, then three—and with Lisa's guidance, Lincoln won five of the next six hands, which was more than any of the other players at the table won and which left Lincoln with twenty-eight chips.
Then, having exhausted all three decks' worth of cards, Judy reshuffled, and Lisa and her algorithm had to start over from scratch.
Nonetheless, after another nine hands on which Lincoln placed progressively larger bets, he had a stack of seventy-seven chips in front of him in white, red, and blue denominations. Passers-by seemed to be taking notice—including the school principal.
"Seems like you're having quite a streak of good luck, Lincoln," said Principal Rivers. Then, drawing closer, she murmured, "Time you moved on, young man."
Lincoln normally didn't find Principal Rivers terribly threatening, given that her purple headscarf and beads gave her a retro hippie vibe. But tonight, she was wearing a black evening gown, and she seemed to have a bit of an edge to her. Not to mention that she was flanked by two of the school's burliest eighth-graders.
"Yeah, I'll just, um, move along," Lincoln replied with a weak chuckle, backing away from the table and Principal Rivers. "Lots of other games to play."
"Thish is an unfortunate development," Lisa said as Lincoln stepped into the hallway. "But it was not entirely unexpected. Principal Riversh was similarly vigilant at last year's Casino Night—hence my ejection from the event. Let us proceed to the roulette tables."
Lincoln went down the hall, passing by a classroom that had been turned into a lounge. Inside, several people were sipping overpriced non-alcoholic drinks while Lincoln's sister Luan did her stand-up routine on stage.
“...So the rooster says to the cat, ‘You know what they say: For every wet pussy, there's a happy cock!’"
The people in the lounge burst out laughing. But Lincoln, who had heard Luan tell this joke dozens of times before, just groaned and continued down the hall.
He arrived at a classroom where a pair of rented roulette tables had been set up. Two teachers were serving as croupiers: Lincoln's anger-management-impaired homeroom teacher, Mr. Bolhofner, and the school's gym teacher and girls' soccer coach, Coach Keck. Bolhofner wore an ill-fitting tuxedo, while Keck had on her usual yellow track suit, baseball cap, and whistle despite the formality of the event. Lincoln wondered whether the woman owned any other clothes.
"In roulette," Lisa said, "the outcome of each shpin of the wheel is largely random. However, according to my research, some croupiers are conshistent in the force with which they spin the wheel and release the ball, thus making its landing site at least shomewhat predictable. Ergo, to determine whether this game presents an opportunity for profit, we should observe both croupiers to determine whether either of them operates with this type of consistency."
Lincoln stood there for a couple of minutes and just watched the two games that were underway, moving his gaze back and forth to observe each croupier as they spun the wheel and released the ball.
"Hey, Lincoln!" said Liam, approaching him from the side.
Lincoln turned to look at his friend. The red-haired country boy had on a fringed suede jacket and a bolo tie.
"Hey, Liam!” Lincoln replied. "How's your Casino Night going?”
"Lincoln,” Lisa said, drowning out Liam, "please return your visual focus to the roulette tables. I am shtill gathering vital data."
“... but this game looks fun, and I'm feelin’ lucky!" Liam concluded. “You gonna give it a whirl?" he asked, then chuckled at his inadvertent pun.
Lincoln, his eyes fixed on the roulette wheels again, replied, "I, uh, haven't decided yet.”
"Well, c’mon, there ain't no harm in it,” Liam replied. "All the profits are goin’ to our own school, after all.”
"One second,” Lincoln replied, holding up a finger and looking directly at it—a signal to Lisa to hurry up.
A moment later, Lisa said, "My physiokinetic analyshis of Mr. Bolhofner’s technique of imparting motion to the wheel and ball indicates that he duplicates those motions with near exactitude on each spin. I conclude that, by noting the position of the wheel before the spin, I can estimate the ball’s landing site with sufficient accuracy to make the game profitable for us.”
Lincoln said to Liam, “Yeah, let's play. At Mr. Bolhofner’s table.”
"Well, alrighty, I guess,” Liam replied dubiously. Even among students at Royal Woods Middle School who weren't in any of Bolhofner’s classes, it was generally agreed that the man needed to get laid a lot more.
Lincoln and Liam stepped up to the table just as a round of betting began. Per Lisa's instructions, Lincoln took a good look at the starting position of the wheel.
“Place four chips on nineteen,” Lisa said, “and four on Odds.”
Lincoln did as instructed, noting that 19 was flanked by 15 and 4 on the wheel; thus, even if Lisa's prediction was a little off, Lincoln still had a better-than-even chance of winning the Odds bet. Liam, choosing far more randomly, bet one chip on 12 and two chips on Black.
Once all bets had been placed, Mr. Bolhofner spun the wheel in one direction and tossed the ball in the other. Lincoln watched the ball like a hawk.
After several tense seconds, the ball landed on 33 Black, which was adjacent to 4 and only two slots away from 19, so Lisa's calculations had only been a bit off the mark. But at least Lincoln had won the Odds bet and thus would break even.
Bolhofner swept up many of the chips on the table but left the ones placed on Black and Odds. He gave Liam two additional chips and Lincoln four. Not that Bolhofner looked happy about it.
Liam, having bet on Black, cheered, “Hey, we won!"
“I will use the visual data you just collected to tweak the algorithm further," Lisa said. "I will also exshpand the scope of our wagers to enhance profitability.”
Lisa now told Lincoln to bet four chips each on 11 Black, on Odds, and on Red. This time, the ball landed on 7 Red—right next to 11 Black—and Lincoln won his Red and Odds bets, for a net gain of four chips.
"Congrats, buddy!” Liam said, slapping Lincoln on the back.
Over the next two rounds, Lincoln netted eight more chips from his low-risk bets. Then, after Lincoln bet four chips on 8 Black, the ball landed right in that slot.
"Yes!” Lincoln shouted. He was so elated that he scarcely noticed Mr. Bolhofner's scowl as he pushed a pile of 140 chips—the odds for single-number bets were 35 to 1—toward Lincoln.
“Ha-ha!" Lisa cried. “This gives us a shum total of two hundred and twenty-nine chips, a substantial leap forward in our progress."
So Lincoln kept playing. It helped, Lincoln thought, to be at a table run by Mr. Bolhofner: It was easier to focus on a game run by a gruff middle-aged man rather than a hot MILF in a tight silk dress. Lincoln didn't hit any more exact numbers, but he did net twelve more chips from low-risk bets.
“All right," Bolhofner suddenly said, apparently looking past the group of bettors. "My shift's over.” He put down his little rake and stepped out from behind the table.
And then, before Lincoln could even turn his head to see what his stubble-chinned homeroom teacher had been looking at, a new volunteer croupier took the man's place behind the table.
Why do I always have to jinx myself? Lincoln thought.
Lincoln hadn't actually seen Ms. DiMartino since he moved from elementary school to middle school, but he'd heard that she sometimes substitute-taught there. Many a boy in Lincoln's class had been hoping, if not praying, that one of their teachers would get sick or take a vacation so that they could again lay eyes on what they considered the hottest woman ever to stand in front of a chalkboard.
In Lincoln's estimation, Ms. DiMartino still held that title. She was as gorgeous as ever: flawless tan skin, a perfect hourglass figure, and that sweet yet sexy smile.
She had always looked faintingly hot even on regular school days, when she typically wore a tight red skirt and a low-cut pink blouse that she often tied in a knot just above her navel. Tonight, though, she had gone all out. She wore a black cocktail dress so short and strappy heels so high as to show off her magnificent legs to great effect. Then there was the heart-shaped cutout in the front of the dress that exposed about four inches of cleavage. Her necklace drew further attention to that area: the heart-shaped pendant that dangled from the thin gold chain nestled in the split between her breasts.
“Lincoln," Lisa said, “having a new croupier at the table changes everything. You must desist from placing wagers and observe Ms. DiMartino until I can determine whether she has a predictable shpinning and throwing style."
“But…but…perfection…” Lincoln murmured, staring.
Lisa sighed. She should have known that her brother's limited capacity for reason would be overwhelmed by his lust for this particular female. Not that Lisa herself was entirely unaffected by the woman's beauty and radiant sexiness; it required some force of will for Lisa to tear her bespectacled eyes away from Lincoln's view of the woman's body and focus on resetting her roulette-prediction program.
Being unable to convince Lincoln to leave the table before play resumed, Lisa instead had him place the safest possible bets: Red or Black, Odds or Evens, and 1-18 or 19-36. This was unlikely to be profitable; such bets paid only even odds, and the odds were slightly less than even because the green 0 and 00 slots on the roulette wheel earned no payouts for anyone except the house. But at least this strategy would enable the hormone-addled Lincoln to lose chips at the slowest possible rate while Lisa collected data on Ms. DiMartino’s spinning style. Although Lisa repeatedly had to remind Lincoln to look at the woman's hands and not at her face or breasts.
After five spins of the wheel, Lisa was pleased to discover that Ms. DiMartino did indeed have a somewhat predictable spinning style. So Lincoln was soon back on his winning streak. As before, he earned a few chips on the low-risk bets first; then he hit an exact number.
“Yesh!" Lisa shouted. “That brings our total to three hundred and eighty-one! One more such win and we will have accomplished our goal."
“Congratulations, Lincoln!" Ms. DiMartino said with a big smile that could turn any boy's heart soft and his cock hard. Then she leaned over the table and gave Lincoln a slow, smoky kiss before using her croupier’s rake to push a pile of chips in front of him.
By this time, every spare seat at his table had been filled by other boys anxious to gaze at Ms. DiMartino in her sexy Casino Night ensemble. Those boys were now jealous of Lincoln both for his gaming success and for receiving a kiss from their hot substitute teacher, and they all glowered at him.
"Uh, Lincoln?" Liam said, "I think yer attractin’ the wrong kind of attention, here. Maybe ya oughta go try a different game.”
Lisa, her attention solely focused on generating her next prediction, said, "Pay him no attention. This is a perfect opportunity to collect the profits necessary for-"
Lisa paused when Lincoln turned his head and looked at the other boys at the table. One of them, who looked like he had about twice Lincoln's body mass, smacked his fist into the palm of his hand, while another subtly drew his finger across his neck. A third one mouthed, "Get out, or we'll take you out.”
Lisa sighed. She knew Lincoln could take a beating like a champ—as Lynn had demonstrated on several occasions—but Lincoln being hustled outside and pounded senseless would put an end to hers and Lincoln's scheme.
"Upon further analyshish," Lisa said, "I recommend that we adjourn to the hallway and evaluate our situation."
Lincoln left the roulette room and walked up the hall, looking through the doors of various classrooms where gaming was taking place. He saw one where an adult volunteer in a black tuxedo was rolling a pair of dice on a green felt table.
"How about this one?" Lincoln murmured.
"I do not recommend playing craps," Lisa replied. "Although I could readily develop an algorithm to predict the outcome of die rolls that are underway, I have no means of predicting the resultsh before the roll begins. Let us examine the remaining optionsh."
There weren't terribly many. But in a room next to the one where Harold McBride had been playing his high-stress round of Cookie Kingdom, Lincoln saw some younger kids playing another familiar game: Go Fish.
"I'm pretty sure I know how to win this game on my own," the boy murmured.
"Very well," Lisa sighed.
Inside the room, two adult volunteers were monitoring the games that were currently underway at the room's four tables. As soon as Lincoln entered, one of the volunteers—the father of Lincoln’s classmate Cristina—came over to him.
“You can bet up to five chips per hand,” he explained. “Whoever wins the hand gives one chip to the house; just put it in the little wooden box on your table. You can keep playing as long as you want unless you run out of chips.”
“Thanks,” Lincoln said.
A young boy had just gotten up from one of the tables, where a blonde girl in an aqua-colored tank dress was sitting. She looked to be six or seven years old, and Lincoln thought she seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.
The girl was clearly waiting for another player, so Lincoln sat down across from her. She immediately shuffled the deck.
"Hi, I'm Lincoln," the boy said.
The girl, all business, answered, "Kitty. Cut the deck and draw a card.”
She slapped the deck down on the table, and Lincoln cut it. Then he and Kitty each drew a card. Kitty showed Lincoln hers: the five of diamonds, to Lincoln’s two of clubs.
“I go first,” Kitty said.
She put the two cards back in the deck, reshuffled it, and let Lincoln cut it again. Then she dealt five cards to each of them and looked studiously at her hand before speaking.
“Do you have any threes?"
"Um," Lincoln replied, scanning his cards, "go fish."
As Kitty drew a card from the pile, Lincoln could hear rapid typing through his earpiece. He wasn't sure what that was about.
"Do you have any kings?" he asked Kitty.
The little girl handed him a king from her hand. She scowled at him for a fraction of a second; then she gave him a sexy little smile.
"Would you excuse me for a moment?" the girl said. "I need to freshen up my lip balm. It's so dry in here."
Having no opinion on the relative humidity of the room, Lincoln replied, "Um, sure."
Kitty placed her cards face-down on the table and stood up from her chair. Lincoln now saw that the hemline of the girl's aqua-colored dress was well above her knees. And when Kitty turned around and bent over to reach into her little purse, which sat on the floor, that hem rose up until Lincoln could clearly see the pink thong panties that the little girl wore underneath. The petite strip of fabric that ran down between her cute little buns clung tightly to her puffy, hairless pussy, showing its contours almost as clearly as if she had been wearing nothing at all.
By this point in his life, Lincoln had fucked plenty of girls who were younger than him, mostly his younger sisters and their friends—Haiku, Darcy Helmandollar, and some of Lana's cycling buddies, among others. But none of them had an ass as glorious as this girl's tight little derriere, nor had any of them worn panties that showed off their backsides half so well. As a result, Lincoln felt his cock spring to attention inside his pants.
"Lincoln!" Lisa barked, her voice hitting him like a bucketful of ice water. "She is trying to divert your attention. Maintain your focush!"
Lincoln nonetheless kept looking at Kitty's perfect buns until the girl finally straightened up and turned back around, lip gloss in hand.
"Ah, here it is," she said, holding up the tube.
That was when Lincoln realized who the girl was: one of Lola's competitors on the beauty pageant circuit. Lincoln hadn't remembered her name, but he definitely remembered her attitude. And her ass.
That explains a lot, Lincoln thought. Pageant girls are all exhibitionists and super-competitive. She’s probably not even in this for the prizes; she just wants to win games and show off her body.
The girl parted her lips and slowly ran the tip of the stick of lip gloss around them.
"A clever bit of theater," Lisa grumbled, "no doubt intended to put the male viewer in mind of fellatio. Do not be dishtracted by her coquetry."
I'm not sure what 'cock-a-tree' means, Lincoln thought, but my cock feels as hard as a tree.
"Now, where were we?" Kitty said, picking up her hand of cards. "Ah, yes—do you have any sixes?"
"Go fish," Lincoln replied.
For a split second, the girl scowled. Then she gave Lincoln a sexy smile as she pulled her hand of cards very close to her chest.
After she drew a card and tucked it into her hand, Kitty began to languidly circle one finger around a spot on her chest. Lincoln wasn't sure what she was doing until her little nipple became visibly erect beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
"Your turn, cutie," Kitty said.
Distracted, Lincoln looked at his hand and said, "Uh, do you have any kings?"
"Lincoln!" Lisa shouted in his ear. "You asked for kings last turn!"
"Go fish," Kitty replied, still ostentatiously toying with her nipple.
As Lincoln drew a card—the nine of diamonds—Lisa said, "It would sheem that your primitive mating inshtincts have again gotten the better of you. From this point on, I will direct your game play."
Kitty asked for jacks, and Lincoln gave her the jack of hearts from his hand. She responded by giving him a silent air kiss with her glossy lips and by moving her hand over to her other nipple to tweak and toy with it.
His eyes glued to the seductive six-year-old, Lincoln waited for Lisa's instructions. But all he heard through his earpiece was more sounds of typing. He cleared his throat so that Lisa would hear.
"Forgive me," Lisa said, continuing to type rapidly, "if I didn't think to devise a predictive algorithm for Go Fish, of all things. I have been endeavoring to modify my blackjack program accordingly."
Not wanting to rouse suspicion by waiting for Lisa to finish writing her new code, Lincoln said to Kitty, "Do you have any twos?"
"Go fish," Kitty replied smugly.
Lincoln drew an eight, which did not help him.
"Do you have any nines?" Kitty asked.
"Yes," Lincoln sighed, handing her two of them.
Kitty, with a sincere smile, stopped toying with her nipple, took a set of four nines from her hand, and placed it in front of her on the table. Then she slid her hand down her stomach and under the table. She kept her eyes on Lincoln and gave him a breathless little smile that the white-haired boy took to mean that she was playing with herself.
"Viola!" Lisa shouted, startling Lincoln out of his lustful reverie. "The new algorithm is up and running! Lincoln, ask for fours."
Lincoln did so, and Kitty was clearly suppressing a frown as she handed Lincoln a four from her hand. But when Lincoln took the card, she recovered her smile and ran her fingertips suggestively down his wrist before sliding her hand back down under the table and between her thighs.
With Lisa's guidance, Lincoln soon turned the tables on Kitty, ultimately winning the game. He received five chips from her and put one in the slot on top of the table’s little wooden box as the house’s cut.
Kitty got up, shot Lincoln a nasty look, then swiftly left the room. Lincoln began to look around for new opponents.
“I am afraid,” Lisa said, "that we, too, must depart this room and seek another gambling venue."
Lincoln went to the classroom window and pretended to be looking outside so that he could turn his back to everyone in the room before he whispered, “But we won."
“Successhful though we have been, I now see that playing Go Fish will not generate winnings at an adequate rate for us to achieve our goal within the remaining two hours of this event."
“But we could earn more if we play against more-”
"Even with three opponents," Lisa interrupted, “which is the maximum number allowed, our rate of earnings would be inshufficient. Let us move on to a different game.”
Lincoln went back out into the hallway and looked at the few remaining options. He had already been booted out of blackjack, and if he tried to go back, he might well be ejected from Casino Night entirely. Roulette posed its own threats, and Lisa had already explained why craps was a non-starter. Cookie Kingdom took a while to play, and according to a sign on the wall in that room, the maximum bet was two chips. Lincoln may not have had Lisa's mathematical skills, but it was nonetheless clear to him that his path to success, if there was one, would not be paved with snickerdoodles.
Lincoln went down the hall, beyond the classrooms he had seen so far, wondering if maybe there was a game he hadn’t found yet. All he discovered was a half-lit classroom where Lincoln's redheaded classmate Penelope was sitting on the edge of the teacher's desk, moaning softly as a kneeling boy ate her out.
“C’mon, Chandler," Penelope breathed. “You only get those fifty chips if you make me cum…"
Well, Lincoln thought, I suppose whoring myself out for chips is an option.
But he quickly dismissed the idea. There was no girl in his class who liked getting eaten out more than Penelope, and she was already taken.
Moving farther down the hall to a place where he wouldn't be heard, Lincoln said, “Lisa, what do I do now?"
"Unclear,” Lisa replied.
It occurred to Lincoln to wonder where some of his friends were. To his knowledge, Lincoln had seen every room in the school that was being used for Casino Night, yet he hadn't laid eyes on Clyde. This was odd, because Clyde had said that he would be volunteering at the event. Lincoln also hadn't spotted Rusty or Zach, who had both said they would be there.
Lincoln, feeling thirsty, was heading down the hall to the water fountain when he heard a loud whisper.
"Psst! Lincoln!"
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Casino Night