She was fifty-five and sex was pleasurable, but have a heart, baby. Don’t make it so hard to sit down the next day. Right now, she was eating lunch at the restaurant on the gaming floor. Employees of Prize’s got food at a discount, and since casino buffets cost practically nothing, she could have loaded up on starch, beef, and rich desserts, but she chose wisely, going for lettuce, soggy fruit, and two cups of hot black coffee. At her age, you had to make a choice, sex or food, and she chose sex. She watched the gamblers’ numbing routine. Not long ago you put in quarters and pulled a lever, watched the rows roll for a while, watched them clack clack clack one by one. These days, you inserted a money card and punched a button. The machine gave a digital approximation of sevens rolling along for about two seconds, then lights insisted on another punch, preferably of three quarters, not one. Bells used to blare when even a small pot hit. These days the casinos played it cool and quiet.
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