Baccarat Quotes

Sobering to think how one accursed night of baccarat can alter a man's social standing so irreversibly.

The owner of the Agut d'Avignon had the air of a 1920s dandy who had ruined himself with one mad night of gambling at baccarat and had only been saved by this restaurant, which he seemed to cherish as if it were his wife or a good fountain pen.

As a matter of habit, I stop and pick up seashells that interest me, and I always put the ones I really like in a lovely Baccarat bowl in my living room. It's my way of remembering that I once was young and carefree.

Be that as it may, it is here that Le Chiffre will, we are confident, endeavour on or after 15 June to make a profit at baccarat of fifty million francs on a working capital of twenty-five million. (And, incidentally, save his life.)

The two cards slithered towards him across the green sea. Like an octopus under a rock, Le Chiffre watched him from the other side of the table. Bond reached out a steady right hand and drew the cards towards him. Would it be the lift of the heart which a nine brings, or an eight brings? He fanned the two cards under the curtain of his hand. The muscles of his jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. His whole body stiffened in a reflex of self-defence. He had two queens, two red queens. They looked roguishly back at him from the shadows. They were the worst. They were nothing. Zero. Baccarat. ‘A card,’ said Bond fighting to keep hopelessness out of his voice. He felt Le Chiffre’s eyes boring into his brain.

My dad at the baccarat table, in the air-conditioned midnight. There’s always more to things, a hidden level. Luck in its darker moods and manifestations. Consulting the stars, waiting to make the big bets when Mercury was in retrograde, reaching for a knowledge just beyond the known. Black his lucky color, nine his lucky number. Hit me again pal. There’s a pattern and we’re a part of it. Yet if you scratched very deep at that idea of pattern (which apparently he had never taken the trouble to do), you hit an emptiness so dark that it destroyed, categorically, anything you’d ever looked at or thought of as light.

Fuck you. You told me to dance with him and then choked me because we danced. Yo’ ass gon’ burn in hell!

Itching, itching. Skin on fire. Nausea and splitting headache. The more sumptuous the dope, the deeper the anguish—mental and physical—when it wore off. I was back to the chunk spewing out of Martin’s forehead only on a more intimate level, inside it almost, every pulse and spurt, and—even worse, a deeper freezing point entirely—the painting, gone. Bloodstained coat, the feet of the running-away kid. Blackout. Disaster. For humans—trapped in biology—there was no mercy: we lived a while, we fussed around for a bit and died, we rotted in the ground like garbage. Time destroyed us all soon enough. But to destroy, or lose, a deathless thing—to break bonds stronger than the temporal—was a metaphysical uncoupling all its own, a startling new flavor of despair. My dad at the baccarat table, in the air-conditioned midnight. There’s always more to things, a hidden level. Luck in its darker moods and manifestations. Consulting the stars, waiting to make the big bets when Mercury was in retrograde, reaching for a knowledge just beyond the known. Black his lucky color, nine his lucky number. Hit me again pal. There’s a pattern and we’re a part of it. Yet if you scratched very deep at that idea of pattern (which apparently he had never taken the trouble to do), you hit an emptiness so dark that it destroyed, categorically, anything you’d ever looked at or thought of as light.

Betrayal makes my ass itch.

If your ass is itching that means it is dirty, brother. May I suggest a warm shower with soap?

Why can’t we stay with you or the other brother? No disrespect, but it is easy to see his elevator don’t go all the way to the top.

Hell naw, this motherfucking man is insaneeeeee. All I need him to do is show me where my cell block is, and he will not have to worry about me.

When I come back with your lunch Kenya, we will talk. I have never been in a relationship before, but I know not communicating with each other is bad for our relationship.

It is not every day a monster like me is blessed to find a woman who has the capabilities to be his perfect counterpart. Kenya Jones will be my wife, and she will be my wife very fucking soon.

I believe when people lose somebody close to them it changes them, and that person they were before no longer exists.

His game is baccarat. Far as anyone knows he plays clean. He’s just good at it. Spends

I played baccarat at the upscale Bellagio; roulette at the off-strip Rio; craps at the fading Riviera, whose attempts to match the gayness and glitter around her felt forced, artificial, like makeup layered on by a woman who recognizes she was never beautiful to begin with and has now, in addition, grown colorless and old.

I spotted Delilah instantly. She was one of a handful of people quietly attending the room’s lone baccarat table, and the only non-Asian in sight. She was dressed plainly, in black pants and a black, shoulderless top. Her hair was pulled back and I saw no signs of makeup or jewelry. If she’d been trying to downplay her looks, though, she hadn’t been notably successful. I checked the usual hotspots and saw nothing that set off any alarms. So far, my assessment that she wouldn’t yet do anything precipitous seemed correct. But it was too soon to really know. After all, the casino, with its cameras, guards, and other forms of security, would have made a poor place for an ambush. An attack, if one were to come, would happen later.

Kenya, you better wake up. Your man is downstairs acting like a madman. I told him that I personally checked Tree and Hero out and they had nothing to do with Tom’s betrayal. He is not listening to logic.

Look, crazy man, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, nor do I care. The best advice I can give you is if you are experiencing any alarming medical symptoms as a result of a recent or past incident, it would be best for you to seek professional medical help at once. Head injuries are dangerous and can be life-threatening if not taken seriously.

Alexandur handed me the knife, and I stabbed myself in the center of my arm and then sliced down four inches from the puncture wound.

My best friend has clearly gone off the deep end, but imma stand beside her.

From the moment a person is born, death is the only guarantee you get.

Listen to me when I say this, sotie, you are either going to be with me or you are going to be with me. There are no other options.

The only thing I ask in return is for your loyalty.

Precisely, which is why I drugged your tea.

We all have, I hope, enough instruction in modern science to be aware that there is no such thing as a soul in existence" —he continued. "Therefore, in proposing it as a stake for this game at baccarat, I really propose less than one hair of your head, because the hair is a something, and the soul is a nothing! Come! will you risk that non-existent quantity for the chance of winning a thousand pounds?

Grab one of the gorgeous Baccarat crystal glasses you bought me for Christmas last year, Sophie," said Walter. "Didn't your grandmother tell you it's the only way champagne should be served?" Robert smirked and pointed to the buffet. "We certainly don't drink Dom straight from the bottle." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said. "How crass of me." I meandered over to grab a glass- a coupe de champagne, the oldest design, preceding flute and tulip glasses. Legend had it that the bowl of glass was modeled after the breast of Marie Antoinette.

That's not to say Gilbert is just unlucky. Oh, he is, but it goes beyond that. Gilbert manages to be Old Man T's sorriest victim and, at the same time, his most indispensable collaborator. Fate and fate alone may place the banana peel in his path, but it is Gilbert who will ensure that at the moment of rendezvous he is carrying a tray of priceless Baccarat crystal which he has, in order to impress a date, borrowed without the knowledge or permission of its owner and had been hoping to return in secret.

I never wavered from the mission: getting the best possible number and price on every game. And no matter the obstacles, via trial and error, I became the best in the world at finding that number and concealing the source. The business of sports betting might seem like quantum physics to the general public. At the highest level, it is closer to psychological warfare between bettor and bookmaker—cat and mouse, hunter and prey. The posted line is just a way to trigger the game. Some cynics assume that my goal was to put every bookie out of business—but nothing could be further from the truth. Bookmakers strive for balance. They never want to tilt too far on one side of the action. Bookies breathe easiest in the middle, taking equal money and profiting off the 10 percent juice. If a bookie was destroyed, it meant he either closed his shop or reduced his limits. Neither scenario did me any good. My goal was to keep the bookmakers in business and expand their limits. This served to increase the size of the market, which meant more potential profit for me. The smartest bookies had solved this riddle and wanted to do business with me directly. They wanted to know straight from the horse’s mouth what games I liked. If they were smart, they took my information and profited by shading their line and forcing customers to the other side, extending limits. A smart bookmaker knows there will be winners and losers. They also understand that there is no business if there are no winners. Translated: the smartest bookmakers are open to all comers—just like baccarat, blackjack, and craps. The brightest bookmakers know they can use smart money for their own benefit. Early in my career, the major-league bookmakers were Bob Martin, Johnny Quinn, Gene Maday, and Scotty Schettler. Following in their footsteps are Nick Bogdanovich, Jimmy Vaccaro, Richie Baccellieri, Matt Metcalf, and Chris Andrews. They are grand masters of the art. They know how to book. How smart are they? Well, Nick ran the William Hill U.S. sportsbook operation and then oversaw Caesars Sports trading for nearly a decade before being hired as sportsbook manager at Circa. Jimmy is the senior linemaker at the sports-betting network VSiN and vice president of sports marketing at the South Point Hotel, Casino & Spa. Richie B., who ran the counter at the MGM, Caesars, and the Palms, now works as the director of product development at Circa alongside Nick. Chris Andrews, legendary oddsmaker Jack “Pittsburgh Jack” Franzi’s nephew, is the sportsbook director and Jimmy’s sidekick at the South Point, owned and operated by Michael Gaughan, another Las Vegas legend. In 1992, Jack Binion was Nick Bogdanovich’s boss at the Horseshoe. I could bet $25,000 on a game of college football at eight o’clock Monday morning, and $50,000 on a pro football game.

See you later tonight, Mrs. Bucur,” Constatin stated before opening the hospital room door and walking out.

Ari, have I not already informed you that I do not joke. You are my wife.

Don’t let anybody play in your face. The moment you do, you lose your power to them.

That is a good question, Ari. Because what I want is your hand in marriage and a baby. Unfortunately for you, I am not giving you a choice in the matter.

She has a good intuition. Leaving was the smartest thing she could do. Sadly, it would only going to give her a false sense of security.

Four weeks, Kenya. You have four weeks to plan the wedding you want.” I frowned and then looked him in his eyes. “Are you joking or being serious, Alexandur?” “I am being very serious. I love you with every fiber of my dark soul. You have four weeks and not a day more before we make this official.

Oh hell naw, that motherfucker is psychotic as fuck. Let me go mind my happy-to-be-alive ass business,” Kofi stated.

Brittany, I promise to do everything in my power to show you that I am the one for you, just like you are the one for me. I pledge my love, loyalty, and, in our near future, my last name to you and only you. I promise to take care of you and spoil you daily because you deserve only the best of the best. I will protect you, I will provide for you, and I will give your body pleasure until you are weak and beg for me to stop. The only promise I ask from you in return is for you to refrain from removing the ring. When the time comes, I will remove it and replace it with a better ring.

Why are you staring at me like that?” “Looking at you makes me happy. Why would I not stare at you every chance I could?

Roman, all of this is amazing! What made you bring me here?” “You are rare, Brittany. A diamond in a world full of rhinestones. I wanted our first trip to be someplace rare, like you.

Is taking a shower together code for him fucking the shit out of me? It better be.

Can I undress you?” he asked when he finished. “Yes. Can I undress you? “I belong to you. You can do whatever you want to me.

If I leave, how are you going to get Phoebe back?” I’m about to go to jail! “If you took my baby, I am going to kill you.

People believed sociopaths were incapable of having emotions, but that wasn’t true. Some sociopaths do experience love. They just feel it in a different way. When a sociopath falls in love, it is in a deep, obsessive-possessive way. Feelings such as empathy or guilt are what sociopaths do not feel. Every person walking this earth is different in some way, no matter what they look like or what kind of medical diagnosis they have.

That’s good. Is there anything you want to discuss with me?” “Yes. When you and Roman get married, I want to be the best man, not Alexandur.

Security, I need help because a bitch is being stalked.

Roman, one of two things are about to happen. I am either going to order an Uber, or you are going to take me home right the fuck now.

See, that’s that bullshit I be talking about. Why can’t y’all find a nice woman, date her for a year, and then propose like normal people?

They lucky I wasn’t with Roman, or I would have slapped those smiles right off their faces.

Every time one of y’all fall in love, I get caught in the middle of some bullshit. If you are about to be torturing innocent bodyguards or cutting on yourself, count me out. Y’all be tripping.

Evil man: You can run all you want, but I will catch you. And when I do, I am going to shove my dick so far down your throat that you will not be able to talk for a week.

Me: Now, all of a sudden, you know how to use your phone to communicate. Imagine that.

Like the animal I was, I sucked her pussy until there was no more cum or blood coming out of her. My dick had never been so hard in all my life, and I had been taught how to please a woman at the age of fifteen.

Cramps are not easy to get rid of. The best thing for you to do is to order her some Midol, junk food, and a heating pad to soothe the cramps.

Fill my mouth with your cum and blood, Ari,” I demanded and bit down gently on her clit.

Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Bucur? If you are asking if I have a woman in my life, the answer is no. Well, I did not have one before I laid eyes on you.

I don’t care enough about anybody to lie.

If I ever needed proof that God showed favor in my life, all it would take is one glance at my beautiful regina mea (my queen), and people would turn green with envy.

God, please don’t let this be my last day on Earth. You brought this man into my life. Can you control your experiments, please?

No. I think we were taught that love can only be sweet and gentle. That’s not the case for everybody. Some love stories are dangerous and obsessive.

For every action, there is a reaction.

Are you saying you ate my pussy last night, knowing that I am on my menstruation cycle?” “Ari, I did not just eat your pussy. I devoured you like a small child would a hot meal after being starved for days.

God, not only am I married to a devil, but he is a vampire devil at that. You just be up there creating anything now, huh?

You cannot fuck this man. He is in the mafia. Plus, men like him don’t understand I am not available for more than sex.

You are not a good girl. You are as naughty as they come. You may have the world fooled, but I know when someone is wearing a mask. Am I the crazy one, Brittany Gabriele, or are you?

Yess, yess…” she chanted. Her pussy gripped my dick even tighter, making my toes curl involuntarily. “Fuck, Ari. Cum on my dick so I can give you these babies,” I moaned.

Look at me while I eat your pussy.

me. Do you belong to me, Ari?” Hell Nawwwwwwww!

Yeah, ’cause clearly yo’ momma didn’t whoop any of y’all asses as kids. That’s why y’all insane in the brain now.

I don’t know if this is a game you are playing or not, but I can’t get the taste of your pussy out of my mouth. This is your last chance. If you don’t want me to sit you on top of my desk and eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth again, get up and go tell Mikey to take you home.

All week, all I could think about was putting that pretty little pussy of yours in my mouth and making you cum over and over.

Damn, your panties are soaked. Take them off and get on top of my desk now.” I had to have the strength of Hercules to shake my head. “Take your dick out. I want it in my mouth.” Constatin moaned, and it was the sexiest noise I had ever heard. “Get on your knees. Show me how bad you want it.

If a black woman don’t do anything else, we are going to get us some degrees.

Betrayal makes my ass itch.” “If your ass is itching that means it is dirty, brother. May I suggest a warm shower with soap?” my youngest brother Roman replied. My eyes flew to his face. Roman stared back at me with his cold chestnut brown eyes and blank face.

Killing always brought me an indescribable feeling of peace and happiness. My father took me on my first kill at the age of twelve, and from that moment I knew what I was meant to be in this life.

He often joked that both God and the Devil blessed him because he was given three sons who each possessed a unique quality that was needed to rule with an iron fist.

The mind, the mystery, and the monster were one hell of a combination. I do not know if God would bless the ruler of the Romanian Mafia,

Pondering if serial killers were allowed to live peacefully in the afterlife was not a concern of mine. I am who I am, and I accept that.

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Roman, I don't know if I have a soul, but what I do know is that you belong to me.” “Correct, and you belong to me.

Take off your pants and panties. I want you to ride my dick under the northern lights.

I would hate for one of them to get a glimpse of your breasts. I will stab them in the eye to make sure they never see a glimpse of anything else again.

I belong to you, too, baby girl,” Roman whispered into my ear and filled my pussy with his nut.

Her mouth tasted like mouth wash and sin.

Damn, you really are my naughty girl, huh? Are you going to suck my dick until I nut? When I nut, you have to swallow all of it like a good girl.

I regained strength in my legs, I walked over to the nightstand and picked my phone up. I logged into my bank account and sent a million-dollar payment to the account I had on file to pay for my psychiatrist visits.

You’re so beautiful, Brittany. Ride my dick like a good girl.

Good girl. You did so good. Stop being naughty, and I will not have to punish you.

Please, Roman, please,” I begged him. “Are you ready to be my good girl? Use your words to tell me what I want to hear, and I will let you cum on your dick again.” “Fuck. Okay, Roman. I belong to you, fuck!” I screamed.

We can take baby steps, teenager steps, or adult steps, but we will be taking them on the way down our wedding aisle. Hell, I would even carry her to the officiant if that is what she preferred.

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