Trading Purgatory (SatWE)

Challenge: Using prose or poetry, write something (fiction, nonfiction, or essay) about getting revenge. Try not to make it serious, but aim for lighthearted fun.

Had a little trouble with keeping it lighthearted, but it is fiction so that helps, I hope.

Gryson cleared his throat, skimming the rim of his cards. It had been a while since lady luck abandoned him to impossible inside straights, and the sudden flash of red gems took his breath away. He chewed the inside of his cheek to stop his surging grin. Fingering the corners, he folded the fan of cards and placed them on the table. 

"I'll see your four and raise you two."

Anastashia eyed him suspicioulsy.

"A wing and a prayer, Gryson?" She asked with a toss of her chestnut hair and a twinkle in her clover eyes.

Gryson watched her milky fingers dribble the coins into the pot, remembering how cold those fingers felt clawing through the heat of his back when he returned from the battle fields of Honan. He flinched as his manhood threatened to flair.

Not now, Wilbur!

The mental command directed beneath the table just as Anastahia exhaled.

"Call ya, Gryson. Let's see what you got." The witch cocked her head to the side and smiled devilishly.

Gryson felt his blood boil. Lifting the corner of his cards with regret, he abandoned Lady Luck at the alter.

"Fold!" He let the pretense of anger voice to ignite her dancing laughter.

"I knew it. You never could bluff." Anastashia flittered from her chair into Gryson's lap, the warmth of her lips instantly pressed to his.

Gryson shifted in his chair to dispell Wilbur's intrigue, and continued his facade by gently pushing her away.

"Don't be a sore loser." She whispered in his ear until his eyes closed. Her fingers moved like quiet snakes to his cards, peeling back the corners quickly to reveal his deception.

"No, you never could bluff." She spit the words into the air as she drove her dagger down, determined to put an end to Wilbur's reign.

"Ummf." Gryson gurgled a bloody reply before slumping to the floor.

"Damn you, Gryson." Anastashia wiped her blade across his shirt. "Damn you!"