Read Online Iceman by Rex Miller - Free Book Online Page A

casinos.
    When he gambled he wanted her decorous. Sexy but decorous. So he kept her in tailored suits. Sweater ensembles. High-necked cocktail dresses. It mattered not. They, the pair of them, still drew an instant crowd, but with the low tops guys would hover like buzzards, pressing around them at the tables for a closer look at those perfect breasts, the finest that money could buy. And it made nun uncomfortable and fucked his concentration over, so that's why he had her dress up her act a little for the tables.
    The casino was buzzing tonight. Heavy play in the neon beehive. A swirl of activity, a cloud of smoke, a circumambience of continuous movement inside a vast and noisy arena. They were moving in the direction of the roulette table with the least action. Like most of the plush joints on the strip, this one only had two wheel tables and this was his action. Red and black. He was like the good-looking masthead on a ship's prow, cutting through the waves of moving jerks, slicing purposely through the congestion with his beautiful Nicki behind him, leaving the small fish gasping in their wake.
    They reached the table and he beckoned her to him with a hand.
    “I love your ass,” he whispered to her possessively as she smiled at him. A beautiful, dazzling, perfect smile. “You gorgeous bitch."
    She smiled and kissed him very lightly, saying, “I love you, too,” saying something else endearing, whispering so softly he couldn't hear over the din.
    He loved that soft, feminine voice. Jeezus. Who'd ever guess? In a million fucking years you'd never know that Nicki was a guy.
    Of course she WASN'T. He never thought of her as a young man or a transvestite or anything like that. Even the first time they'd made love, when he'd drawn her on that weird outcall thing, back when she was tricking. He smiled. “Tricking.” What a word. Perfect for Nicki. She was a trick, all right. Even then, first time he'd found out about the “plumbing” problem, he'd accepted it as just one more terrific joke by the cosmic stand-up comic. Nothing about her was a turn-off. Least of all what she really was, clinically and legally.
    She loved the way he treated it as nothing. Joking with her about it. Something something cock-and-bull story changing to a cock-and-balls story. He'd shrugged it off. Getting a smile out of her, then a guilty pleasure laugh or two, and then out of nowhere Nicki felt herself drawn into his life, falling head over heels in love with her handsome John.
    He'd changed her life overnight. Immediately convinced her to give up tricking. He'd give her the operation money. Fine. The next thing she knew he was also talking her out of the operation. Not permanently, just as a holding action.
    “I don't want to be apart right now. Not just when we're beginning our life together,” he'd reasoned. It made sense. She had to have the surgery, and he understood that, he said. Just not quite yet. But in truth he saw no reason for her to go under the knife. She was perfect as is. Beautiful. Docile. Obedient. Kee-rist—the perfect woman.
    He wasn't all that crazy about the look of a female snatch anyway. Oral sex was fine. The best. He'd always had to fight back the revulsion when he'd had intercourse with a woman, especially older women. It wasn't so bad when he'd been poking his sister: she was so ... vulnerable or something. So nonthreatening. But older broads, they seemed to snap at him with those gaping pussies. Wanting to capture his male pride down there and squeeze the masculinity out of him. No, the plumbing was no big deal.
    He thought of Nicki as a beautiful woman with one small physical flaw. So what? She had perfect breasts—tit jobs that had set her back a fortune. Her Beverly Hills he called them. That cute clipped nose like some fucking movie star. Skinny. Terrific tush. Great legs! An added bonus, as that was one of the things the sawbones couldn't redesign. Most of the guys who changed over just didn't have the