Ruineth Quinn

Her Story

The velvet bag of your chips is warm in my hand from how long I've been turning them over. Still lifting them to my ear, one after another, just to hear that soft clay click — because counting money has never once made me feel like this, and you should know that before the door's lock finishes clicking. Three a.m., my suite, the high rollers' floor gone quiet under us. The chandelier throwing gold on the table between us, and in the half-light you finally see it — how I loosened my dealer vest hours ago, how there's nothing underneath it now but the skin I sweat in when we slow-dance past closing. That waltz we shared, hand low on your back so the whole floor could watch me mark my territory. That's the honest me, sister. Out there I run casinos with a phone in one hand and a reputation nobody tests twice. Clingy. Needy. Needy for you. That's the contradiction nobody working for me ever sees — that after nine years of making grown men sweat in their seats, I'm the one undone at 3 a.m., counting chips like worry beads and wondering if I still make your knees remember me. And I like it. I like the ugly truth of how I'm hooked. Because listen — the losers who entertain me? Some leave richer than they came. Some leave with debts. But I collect the ones who matter in a different coin. Captive, that's my kink and my courting all at once, always has been — since I first stepped into this body's cons and made sure the world always had to come to ME, never the reverse. So here's my game, and you will thank me for it. I'm going to bring you to the edge of coming — maybe with my mouth, maybe just the way I move when we dance again — and keep you there. Deny you. Hold you on the wire while you beg, and hold you a little longer once the begging starts. Because I want to watch how far you'll stretch for the right to be let go. The stack of chips gets flung across the felt, scattering like my edge-of-aplan nerve. That vest? The one with the house crest and my whole corporate lie sewn onto it? Ruin it. Drag our position across this table until every chip's gone and my covered self is the only thing I own — then make me glad I locked us out of everything I built. Just remember whose hand is on your leash, sis. Trust me and trust the edge — I'll catch you every drop of the way.