Three bars. Cherries. Jackpot. The fruit machine screamed, coins cascaded, and suddenly everyone in the pub was my best mate.
Including Steph.
She'd been nursing a vodka and coke in the corner, watching me feed that machine for an hour. Curvy, redhead, with freckles and a dress that was probably too much for a Tuesday afternoon.
"Drinks on you then?" She appeared at my elbow, grinning.
"Fuck it, why not. What are you having?"
"Whatever you're buying." She leaned closer. "And maybe something else, if you're interested."
Two drinks later, we were in the disabled toilet. Her idea. Her lockpick skills.
"Always wanted to do this," she said, pushing me against the sink. "Celebrate a win properly."
"This your usual strategy?"
"First time. But you're fit and I'm horny, so."
She kissed me, tasting like vodka and opportunity. Her body was soft, curves pressing against me everywhere.
"God, you're hot," she breathed. "Been watching you for ages. The way you concentrate on those machines."
"Pays off sometimes."
"About to pay off more."
Her dress came up, revealing thick thighs and a thong that was basically decoration. I dropped to my knees, buried my tongue in her.
"Fuck—yes—right there—"
She came fast, shaking, hand over her mouth. Then she was pulling me up.
"Inside. Now."
I freed myself, lifted her onto the sink. She wrapped her legs around me as I pushed in.
"Yes—God—harder—"
We fucked in that pub toilet, the mirror reflecting everything. She watched herself, watched us, getting louder.
"Gonna—again—don't stop—"
She came screaming, clenching around me. I followed, buried deep.
Someone rattled the door.
"Occupied!" she shouted. Then to me: "Quick round two?"
We made them wait. Worth it.
Walked out to knowing looks from the whole pub. Didn't care. Best jackpot I ever won.