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“Call it. Odds, or evens?”
Zoe moved swiftly, actions practised and cracking whiplike. Just enough panache to draw the old man’s gaze as Mio prepped to switch their dice.
“Evens,” the mark growled out, hand stilling above his bills and eyes laser-focused just where Zoe wanted them, right between her tits while she blared green-use-green .
Her hand brushed Mio’s thigh, soft and light, her sunglasses sparkling beneath the chandelier. Mio's spin was a blur as she swapped the little cubes between her hands, the cast evolving from quick spins to fancy twists, Lady Luck riding high in her pocket and the mark all but done for.
Zoe was ready to say amen and thank you God for sending them this poor sucker out of all the rich old fucks who could’ve been parted from their money tonight. Easy to goad, to guide, the tricks so simple she hardly even paid attention to her movements.
“Ah,” Zoe twittered, voice light and airy as his face began to droop. She threw a note of sorrow in the mix, something like a half-whine in Californian lilt, English accent buried beneath the sweetened tones. “Better luck next time.”
“Lovely doing business with you, though,” Mio saluted as she rose, pocketing the cash and then the dice, her thin limbs untangling as she stretched away from the table.
“Really, it was lovely meeting you, sir, we had a great time.”
‘You’re hamming it up, Z,’ Mio whispered just between them, voice sibilant as it threaded in Zoe’s head. ‘Anyone following?’
Of course there isn’t, because she’s been looking out for them this whole time. Shades do wonders amid the shamelessness, and a quick break for a cigarette is more than enough time to case the place and figure out who really needs to lose a few bucks, and who they should definitely avoid.
They pass by throngs of partygoers, philanthropists and self-made millionaires, the tinkling glasses and lukewarm voices skewed to everything and anything that doesn’t involve them. She taps the back of Mio’s hand when an opening presents itself, a group shifting away and dissolving, pulsing go-go-go while the man behind them starts calling out their fake names.
Mio’s being a cad though, shoving back the sensation of being at half-mast and rising, as if skimming a few thousand bucks off a rich old fucker is better than viagra and a weekend alone with a backlog of porno mags.
‘Because it is, you weird little freak,’ Mio transmits, sitting at the edge of Zoe’s mind as they dash away, the sounds growing louder, hurried, people starting to notice that they weren’t really on the guest list.
Oh, those voices are angry now, higher pitched and there’s footsteps behind them but they’ve got a head start, feet pounding out the front entrance and off onto the sidewalk.
“Fucking move it,” Zoe laughs, prodding at her better half with one last glance behind them.
Three men in dark suits, an older woman holding a piece of paper like a weapon.
Easy as stealing candy from a baby.
Their saving grace is the crowds milling about outside the museum, the throngs who wished to see the famous and influential as they funded some charity or another. They’re a cover to blend in, pass through, melding and in tandem as they weave their way back and forth.
“Book it,” Mio giggles back at her, off to the races and her suit unbuttoned and flapping in the wind, the polished shoes on her feet allowing her to pull away from Zoe.
‘You’re a fuck,’ she sends electric lime and spiky, kicking and trotting to undo the strappy heels digging her feet into a painful mess.
She’ll just get new ones or con some old man out of a pair or two at the next state they visit. She’s content for now to send speed-speed-speed in loops, like chanting when they fall away and she’s left barefoot sprinting on the concrete, sending the sensation of it straight to Mio’s brain.
Then a conundrum and a choice.
Left? Right?
The intersection is busy but it won’t be soon enough, and there’s still someone game enough to pursue them back there.
‘Follow the first car,’ Mio says inside, her eyes darting wide and her grin feral.
‘Bet it goes left,’ Zoe sends back, flashing strobing images like lightning bolts pointed that way. ‘Bet on it?’
“You’re a loser, Zoe, and you’ll owe me the usual. Red car, four door. Turning…” she stops talking, waiting and watching because the idiot doesn’t use turn signals and could make either from his lane.
‘Right!’
When Zoe’s got her head nestled between Mio’s thighs and mouth full up later that night, held still by straps and bindings, she knows she wouldn’t have it any other way.
---
‘Mio? My lovely dearest?’
Oh, she knows that tone like the back of her hand. Far too sweet, saccharine, already suspicious of it and whatever's brought it out before she’s even in the door.
“What’d you take, you heathen?” she asks idly, dropping off the key in an otherwise empty hotel room.
It doesn’t bother her to take some moments for herself and wait for Zoe to remember how to respond. She fills it by rolling up the sleeves on her hoodie, tying her shoes, just idling as she searches their shared backpack for a breath mint.
‘Bathroom, please. Took two pills, thought they were valium. But they’re not. I don’t, uh, think.’
“Well, you’re right about that,” Mio says as she opens the bathroom door and greets a smiling Zoe stretched out on the ground.
Zoe’s sliding sorry-whoops into the meat of Mio’s skull and grinning more, mostly dressed up in torn jeans and a shirt too tight for decency. It isn’t the first time one of them took something they didn’t recognise and ended up boneless on the ground, but it’s a little more annoying since they were supposed to be leaving.
Like, thirty minutes ago.
“Oh Zoe, my insane little lady,” Mio says as she crouches down and pokes Zoe in the tit, grin a little manic when her girl just flops over. “Come on, share the load.”
Zoe’s fucking quick with that; the high slams into Mio’s spine and she’s unsteady, blinking and rocking back and forth as her mouth goes dry. It feels like a downer but not one she recognises, and she half-wonders if maybe they should put the brakes on drowning themselves in synthetic feeling.
‘No,’ Zoe says as she regains enough motor control to rise. ‘Makes it fun. Not like it’ll stick anyway.’
‘Yeah, but you mind waiting for me next time? Maybe after we’re in the car?’
‘Oh,’ Zoe pokes at her mind, rising to her feet and sweeping back her hair into a ponytail. ‘What’d you pick?’
High speed, low drag.
A cherry red Viper splashes from Mio to Zoe, air filled with an appreciative hum. Ostentatious? Yeah, because that’s the point, and if it’s anything at all like the other ones she’s lifted it’ll be fun .
The bag rocks up on her shoulder and Mio has to hold still a second to get her bearings back, unapologetic as Zoe taps her nonexistent wristwatch.
It isn’t the first time they’ve skipped away past checkout, probably not the last either. Just a revolving series of ‘Show up, wreck shit, skip out,’ leaving behind a credit card Zoe’d magicked from a man who’d stared at Mio’s ass for too long. No one’s caught them yet, or picked up on those pretty cars all seeming to disappear when mysterious ne’re-do-wells strike public galas and charity functions for politicians, each night of chaos followed by two obvious lesbians sucking face in the elevator of a nearby hotel.
Good enough for Mio, good enough for Zoe.
“Where’re we off to next, Cap’n?” Zoe slurs, her voice low but giggling as they trot down the stairwell.
“Utah? Maybe go play up some Mormons and see how far into their pockets we can get.”
“Oh, that’s foul.” Zoe rocks back against her, held from falling down the stairs by Mio’s quick grasp. “I’m not playing sister-wife with you.”
“Aw, but we could play up the incest kink. Blackmail! Haven’t done that yet.”
‘Shut up! Shut your trap, you degenerate.’
‘You like my degeneracy.’
‘I like your tits, not your foul mouth.’
Mio glances around them and makes sure the coast isn’t clear, watching as some old lady is puttering below them by half a flight of stairs.
Then she lifts her shirt for Zoe to oggle, cop a feel for just a second and barely holds back giggles that eventually spill out to full-throated laughter.
‘You like both,’ Mio says inside as she drops her shirt. ‘Now, where do you want to go?’
“Minnesota!” Zoe shouts, all lack of vocal regulation sending her voice echoing along the stairs until that old woman stares back at them with narrowed eyes.
‘Wager for it?’
Because everything’s a wager between them nowadays, because letting any decision be real means they have to confront what they’d lost to Rader.
And admit to any harm they’d done, a confession that Mio isn’t quite ready to deliver.
“If that batty old fuck turns around again we’re going to Minnesotta.”
And of course the woman does, Zoe’s voice so loud she has no choice in the matter, her mouth open like she’s about to yell for help.
Right, yeah, because two semi-drugged-up lesbians are such a threat.
“You stacked that one,” Mio says as she hauls Zoe through a door to the second floor. “Doesn’t count.”
“Does too, we stack the deck all the time!”
‘I’ll stack your deck if you don’t quiet up.’
‘Oh?’
Zoe slams her against the wall with a grin, nails sharp on Mio’s arms. They bite through a kiss as Zoe’s hands cup the length of her cock and squeeze, slow and gentle through the fabric of her jeans and oh, someone is definitely going to find them if they keep this up.
‘Save it for the car,’ Mio answers as she steals another kiss and pushes Zoe away.
‘I suck at road head. You’re too good.’
Mio just pulses the memory of Zoe’s lips stretched around her and tugs her along, bats away the hand trying to slap her ass.
They get to the car park without further incident and then from there it’s just time to settle into the new-to-them ride; slinging their backpack to the floor and turning up the volume on an old Kenny Rogers song as Mio lets the beast hum, bodies shaking as she revs it up.
“Alright,” Zoe says as she takes back the high, letting Mio the space to peel out and leave rubber smoking on the asphalt. “Delaware all done. That finishes the eastern seaboard. Where to?”
“Minnesota, right? Or did you not win that bet?”
Zoe blinks back at her like she’s lost, fog filling the inside as Mio stretches out to sense her.
By the time they blaze into Virginia the high has faded, and Zoe’s happy to receive praise for how well her technique has improved.