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The community hall smelled of cheap beer, stale pretzels, and the damp wool of winter coats. A few months had passed since the potluck, and the garden now lay dormant under a layer of frost. The poker night fundraiser was a welcome distraction, a noisy, brightly-lit pocket of warmth against the cold.

Ethan felt comfortable, a beer sweating in his hand, a respectable pile of chips in front of him. He was a good poker player; the game's logic and calculated risks appealed to the academic part of his brain. Nora sat beside him, an easy, warm presence, her thigh occasionally brushing against his under the table.She'd chosen her outfit with a quiet, devastating precision. She wore a deep emerald green silk blouse that shimmered under the hall's cheap fluorescent lights. A few extra buttons were left undone at the collar, creating a narrow, shadowed V that offered a tantalizing glimpse of the soft, pale upper swell of her breasts. Her jeans were a dark, expensive-looking denim, and they hugged her lower body like a second skin, the fabric stretching taut across the full, round globes of her ass, cupping them perfectly and accentuating the dramatic curve of her wide hips. To Ethan, she just looked incredible, a vision of casual elegance. He felt a familiar surge of pride.

Across from them, Gus was a study in loud frustration. He was losing badly, his bets growing more reckless with every hand he lost and every plastic cup of beer he drained.

"Alright, alright, that's it!" he boomed after losing another pot, slapping the table with his meaty palm. "I'm sick of this nickel-and-dime stuff. I'm putting something real on the table." He puffed out his chest. "A full weekend of my expert landscaping services this spring. Best damn gardens in the county, guaranteed."

A wave of laughter went around the table.

"Careful, Gus," someone called out. "The professor here might take you up on that."

Gus's watery eyes swiveled to Ethan, a belligerent spark in them. "You think so? You think you got the stones, Professor?"

Ethan just smiled, a calm, noncommittal gesture. But the table was already egging them on.

"Forget these chumps," Gus said, his voice rising. He gestured grandly at the chips. "You and me. One hand. High-stakes."

A hush fell over their small corner of the room. Gus leaned forward, his gut pressing against the edge of the table.

"Here's the deal," he said, his gaze flicking from Ethan to Nora and back again. "You win, I spend a whole weekend breaking my back in your yard. For free. I win..." He paused, a leering grin spreading across his face. "...your lovely wife here cooks me a private, gourmet dinner. At your house. Just the three of us."

The air went thick. The proposition was so bizarre, so completely out of bounds, that no one knew how to react. Ethan felt a cold knot form in his stomach, immediately followed by a hot, familiar prickle of excitement. He felt Nora's hand come to rest on his arm, a light, unreadable pressure. He was trapped. To refuse now would look like fear, an admission that Gus had gotten under his skin.

He looked at Nora. Her face was a perfect picture of supportive concern, her eyes wide. But he saw the challenge there, too. A silent dare.

"Fine," Ethan heard himself say, his voice steady despite the frantic pounding of his heart. "You're on."

The table cleared, leaving only Ethan and Gus. The casual chatter of the hall seemed to fade into a dull roar, the world narrowing to the green felt of the table and the cards in his hands. The dealer laid out the final card on the river. The community cards on the table were a King of Hearts, a Queen of Spades, a Ten of Hearts, and a Four of Clubs—a dangerous board, rife with potential straights and flushes.

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