He almost connected winning at poker at this table with an affirmation of a new lifestyle. And he'd done what he'd done that afternoon for the first time. Mike had been curious and he admitted readily to himself that he'd taken to the beach in the morning in a micobikini to test out the possibilities, but he'd never been where he was now. The poker table was in the corner of a smoky, boisterous barroom with a small stage, where a young black man in a puffy-haired black wig, sparkly red bra, and gold lamé G-string was dancing a pole to music being piped in from somewhere and men were shuffle dancing with other men-and kissing and fondling each other. And he'd never been in a place like this before now, either. ![]() He hadn't even played much poker before now. Mike clung to the arm of Larry, the older man he'd met just earlier in the day but who was everything to Mike at the moment, as, one of six men concentrating on their cards, a pall of smoke hovering over the table, Mike won another hand of poker.
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