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Her name was Magdalena. He didn't know her last name or where she was from. Estonia, Croatia, Bosnia...one of those former Soviet block countries where the women, even the blue-eyed blondes like Magdalena, were somehow exotic and mysterious. She was straight from a Bond movie.
She wasn't nearly that fascinating, however, as beautiful as she was. He had never even heard her speak except for the robotic, "Cocktails? Coffee?"
She was a waitress in the private game,living off a $1 tip here and there. If you slipped her a $20 she was good for an unsatisfying massage.
Didn't matter, Primy was in love anyway.
The board read 973 2. He was facing an all-in on the turn and quickly called with his two pair, proudly tabling the 72 that he had flatted with preflop. His opponent, furious, tabled two red Aces. The river flashed a small black card -- sick sweat -- but it was the
Primy had doubled up. He had rent money, and maybe even enough to take Magdalena out for a drink.
He called for a rack immediately and cashed out his $1100 in winnings.
His opponent was still steaming. "I rarely, if ever, get PMS....but you better watch your back."
Primy, feeling emboldened by his huge win, grabbed Magdalena by the arm and pulled her close, leaning in for a passionate kiss.
He didn't notice the small knife until it was 4 inches deep into his rib. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Magdalena winked at the poker player, and quickly pocketed her share of the cash.
The poker player walked calmly to the door, knowing his partner would be in the alley waiting in a getaway car. He flicked a single card over Primy's body as he walked out.
It was the
Alargeprimate was
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