Danielle leaped up gunning for Lucia; Keith grabbed her.
"I'll take your bet, you fucking slut," Danielle screamed, flailing against her boyfriend. "Loser sucks cock. Maple Leafs' haven't got a fucking chance."
"Flames are a bunch of limp dicks," answered Lucia just as loud. "And their fans."
Lucia pranced like a wild mustang as I corralled her into the kitchen.
"God this is fun," she said. "Do I have that bitch's number or what? Did you see the look on her face?"
I'd seen some outrageous wagers, but this one had me nearly speechless. "Lucia, the Flames might win." It was lame, but I could think of nothing else to say.
Lucia leaned against a counter, cracked open a beer, took a long pull, and stared at me like she was looking through bars into a padded cell. "No, they won't, and I'll get to watch Danielle choke on cock. But so what, hypothetically speaking, if they do? I have to suck a few dicks. It's not like I haven't done that before." Another pull half-emptied the bottle. "Michael, hon, don't look so concerned, it's my mouth. Besides, you've got a blow job coming no matter what."
I was considering Lucia's last statement when Keith barreled into the kitchen. "Lucia," he said. "Please tell me you're drunk?"
Lucia curtsied. "No, sir, just comfortably buzzed. Your pet's trying to weasel out, isn't she?"
"No, she's not," Keith said. "All I can say is you've gored her ox one time too many. Michael, keep a leash on this one. Better keep 'em apart until the game's over, then we'll talk."
Most of the guys streaming in for beer and food were polite to the point of awkwardness. Some just stared at Lucia. One asshole named Nelson asked her to open her mouth to see if it was big enough for his dick. Lucia flipped him off.
Waiting for the OT play, Lucia ran through the rules for my benefit. No ties were allowed. The teams would play a five minute overtime period. If the overtime period ended in a tie, the teams would go to a shootout. If the shootout ended in a tie, a sudden death shootout would decide the matter, with the team scoring first the winner.
The score remained 0 -- 0 after the overtime period. The game cut away to truck commercials.
The 0 -- 0 tie held at the end of the first shootout. More commercials.
Danielle paced behind the sofa, pale as a ghost and snarling at anyone who approached. Lucia bounced her knees and choked her beer. Sweat gleamed on her temples.
"You OK?" I asked.
"Hold my hand."
The sudden death play started and you could have heard a butterfly sneeze. The Flames drew first shot. The referee blew his whistle, sending the Flames' player toward the Maple Leafs' goal . . . puck deflected.
Here and there people groaned and Lucia squeezed my hand. Her pulse vibrated against my skin.
The first Maple Leafs' shooter swooped in on the Flames goalie and fired . . . puck smothered.
"Shit," muttered Lucia.
The Flame's second shooter launched himself at the Maple Leafs goal, gathered speed, whipped his stick . . . puck in the net.
Game over.
1 -- 0 Calgary Flames.
Keith's crew jumped to their feet, yelling, back slapping, punching fists into the air. Danielle screamed the loudest.
Lucia stared at the television like a spotlighted doe, her hand slack and clammy.
Danielle pranced over. "Hey loser, are you ready to suck?" She demonstrated on the neck of her beer bottle.
Keith interjected. "Hold on, people. Let's go have a powwow."
A little life returned to Lucia's hand. "Michael, too," she said.
Keith led us to a bedroom and closed the door. Lucia sat on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together.
"First thing," said Keith. "Lucia, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Danielle jumped in. "What the fuck? We had a bet!"
"Back off a minute," snapped Keith. "You won, so show some sportsmanship. Lucia?"
Lucia looked at Danielle, me, then Keith. "Keith, you're a sweetheart," she said, voice shaking as the reality of losing replaced the shock of losing. "But Danielle's right. We made a fair bet. I lost, and I'll pay up."
"Damn right you will," said Danielle.
Keith turned to his girlfriend. "You're really gonna make her do this?"
"She strips," said Danielle. "She's not getting out of that. But I'll let her off the hook for the blow jobs for a price."
"Name it," said Lucia.
"You piss on that Maple Leafs jersey in front of everyone."
Lucia answered with a cold stare. "Fuck you. I'll suck cock."
"I thought so," said Danielle. "You'll dance three songs. You take off your clothes in the first two and dance the last naked. Then you suck off every man who wants it."
"I get it." Lucia pushed back her hair, thinking, then said in less shaky voice, "I'll suck the guys one at a time. No fucking. Good enough?"
Danielle folded her arms. "No, too easy," she said. "I get to humiliate you, that was the bet."
"Yeah." Lucia sighed. "How?"
"I want you naked, tied up, and the boys get to use your face like a pussy. No cleaning up between dicks."
"Damn it, Danielle," I said. "You know how many guys are out there."
"Michael's right, babe" said Keith. "Ease up on her."
"Thanks guys," Lucia said, "but it was my idea. Michael, you heard me say it: the loser gets humiliated. Anyway, if I'd won I've done as bad or worse to her. OK Danielle, if I do it your way, the bet's paid in full. No bullshit about me dodging out. Deal?"
"Deal," said Danielle.
Lucia pressed her hands into her thighs. "Then I agree to your terms."
Danielle smirked.
Keith shrugged. "OK, Lucia," he said. "If you're determined, I ain't gonna debate it. Anything else?"
A vision of a naked Lucia on her knees amidst a brawl popped into my head. "Danielle," I said. "Draw names to see who goes when. That'll make it fair and might head off trouble."
Keith and Danielle left to prepare. Lucia flopped back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. "Michael, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?"
"Danielle's scored her points," I said. "Do the dance and bail."
"That's sweet, but . . . I like a challenge." Lucia held out her hand and I hauled her to her feet. "No way in hell is that bitch getting the better of me. It's an alpha female thing. If I run away, she's dominant. If I stand and take her shit, we're still equals. Fucked up, huh?"
Yes, I thought. "Just trying to help you out."
Lucia threw her arms around my neck. "Thanks, I think I can handle this, but be my guardian and make sure things don't get out of hand, OK? I don't trust Danielle. Well, it's time to suck it up and get on with the show."
She seemed oblivious to her Freudian slip.
* * * * *
Danielle flashed a wintry smile as I settled in. Her brightly lit, circular seating would leave little of Lucia to the imagination.
Keith strode into the circle holding a wooden baseball bat. "OK people, listen up," he belted. "You all know Danielle and Lucia made a wager on the game. Now, I told Lucia that she could back out. However, she said she intends to honor the bet. Both parts."
A chorus of whistles, applause, and affirmative swearing greeted this news.
"That's enough," said Keith. "Lucia's gonna dance now, and no touching allowed. Treat her nice or else. OK, Lucia, you're on."
I don't know what expectations others had, but mine imploded the moment Lucia strode barelegged and barefoot onto her stage. She'd dispensed with her jeans, leaving the jersey pulling double duty as both dress and shirt. Lucia stopped dead center, jammed her hands on her hips, then, head turned over her right shoulder, prowled counterclockwise, extending one lean leg and foot catlike in front of the other. Her eyes, sharpened into sultry gemstones with black mascara and liner, cut laser-like from person to person. Either she'd done this before, or she'd swallowed her pride to give nothing to Danielle. Or maybe both.
Lucia
stopped in front of Danielle and pursed her red lips into a lazy O.
"Music," she said.
ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'" blasted forth. Lucia ignored the pounding beat to make one more orbit of her stage, spiraling to its center where she stopped, closed her eyes, and dropped her arms to her sides. Her lips silently shaped the lyrics as her head began to rock, then her shoulders, then her hips as her body sank into the pounding rhythm. She wasn't the best dancer I'd seen, but she knew how to move.
It happened so fast I didn't see it coming. Lucia's warm Maple Leafs jersey swooshed against my feet with her perfume trailing behind it like a meteor's tail. Lucia danced in place a few chords in nothing but a red bra and panties. The bulky shirt had concealed a compact, curvy figure reminiscent of femme fatales from Hollywood's golden age. Soft and firm in all the right places, Lucia's body, to put it crudely, was built to fuck.
Lucia slowed as "Gimme All Your Lovin'" faded, and when the music ended, she was posed as she had started, soaking up a round of lusty applause peppered with shouts of encouragement. A wet gleam between her breasts betrayed her exertion. A Canadian loonie arced through the air and bounced off her thigh. Lucia smiled.
A sideways glance didn't find Danielle smiling. If she was expecting a chastened Lucia struggling through a painful self-exhibition, she'd want a refund.
The hard riff of "Tush" cut off the applause. Lucia plunged into the song, working the circle for maybe half a minute. She stopped in front of a big red-haired kid in a Flames jersey, where, dancing in place, Lucia slipped one hand behind her back to unhook her bra. Two shrugs dropped it into his lap. Her wide-eyed admirer lofted the prize like a trophy only to have Lucia snatch it away and sashay over to me.
"Hi," she said, dropping her bra in my lap. "Hang on to this for me."
Lucia pirouetted to Keith, jiggled her ass in his face, and with great exaggeration, shimmied out of her panties to howls and cheers. Thankfully, she didn't shave her pussy, opting for a close-cut triangle of bush low on her mound. She bestowed Keith a good, long look before moving on to spread her charms amongst the others. Lucia tossed her panties into the air, caught them in her teeth, and dropped to her hands and knees. Panties dangling from her mouth, she ended the song crawling like a puppy looking for someone to toss its toy as more loonies pelted her.
Lucia spit out her panties at my feet as "Pearl Necklace" cranked up.
"Pearl Necklace," of all songs. Lucia lap-danced her way through the entire song. She'd grab a guy's shoulders for balance, straddle his thighs, and squirm and tease with her breasts in his face. Even Danielle got the treatment but only better when Lucia, to wild approval, slathered her breasts over Danielle's shocked face. Lucia retreated to the circle's center and limbo danced onto her back, then, cupping her sex with one hand and sucking on the fingers of the other, she writhed in time with the music, letting a faux orgasm consume her as the song faded.
To chants of "Encore! Encore!" as money rained down, Lucia breathlessly bowed her way around the circle. I wasn't so sure she'd faked the orgasm.
Keith leaned across a rigid Danielle. "Michael," he said. "Hide her someplace for a few minutes."
Lucia covered up and collected her tips. Most of the guys offered congratulations; a few offered in all seriousness to buy a private show. Lucia thanked each one with a smile. I steered her to the bedroom we'd used earlier, where she fell back on the bed, shaking and giggling.
"Oh my god," she said. "I cannot believe I just did that. How did I do? Be honest."
"Awesome. Those guys spend half their lives in strip clubs and you had them eating out of your hand. And you didn't give Danielle an iota of satisfaction."
Lucia squealed and kicked her legs. "That's what I wanted. Have some fun and rub her face in it. I just went for it. Hey, hockey idiot, did you tip me?"
I feigned offense. "I'm your guardian, remember? It would have been improper."
"Bullshit." Lucia flashed her pussy. "You liked this as much as anyone, so you owe me. Hey, make yourself useful and get me a goddamn beer."
* * * * *
When Keith opened the door, Lucia, down from the dance high and sitting pensively, nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Lucia," he said, "This is your last chance. Go or no go."
"I'm going through with it."
"OK," said Keith. "Ready when you are."
Lucia peeled off her jersey and procrastinated by folding and stacking it neatly with her jeans and bra, then she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, pulled it loose, and tried again. Lucia's nerves made her pee twice before I escorted her to the living room. A fresh white sheet was spread over the floor where she had danced.
Danielle met us with a coil of black rope.
I took the rope. "I'll do that."
"Fine," Danielle said, "I want her on her knees. Tie her ankles and her arms behind her back."
The rope was quality, finely braided nylon, about 10 millimeters in diameter. Coincidence or not, it was near perfect for the task—maybe Keith and Danielle had little secret.
"Danielle," said Lucia. "May I keep my panties on?"
"No," said Danielle.
"Bitch." Lucia, swearing under her breath, shucked off her panties and knelt naked. "A little mercy wouldn't kill anyone."
"Have you ever been tied up?" I asked.
"Do you mean like bondage, S and M, shit like that?"
"Yes, Lucia, shit like that."
"No comment," she said with a fleeting corrupt smile.
I showed Lucia the rope. "Watch me. This knot's called a French bowline. One loop goes around each ankle and it won't slip. This is a slipped reef knot for your hands and arms; it's just a square knot with a quick release. You won't have any bruises or rope burns, I promise. Now be a good girl and cross your ankles."
Around us, two distinct vibes permeated the air: the voyeuristic thrill of watching a girl get tied up, and, disturbingly, a pack of timber wolves circling a hobbled fawn. Lucia succumbed to the latter, chewing her lower lip and offering neither resistance nor assistance as I moved her limbs into position. Her scent diverted my attention. Nervous perspiration had ratcheted up the volume of her sandalwood, and it's timbre had sharpened. I concentrated on the rigging, guiding Lucia's ankles into the French bowline and checking the fit. I tied a few loose loops around her upper arms.
"I want it tighter," said Danielle. "Push her tits out."
"Lucia?" I asked.
"It's OK."
I folded Lucia's arms behind her back and cinched the rope around her upper arms, curving her shoulders back and forcing her breasts forward. Lucia spread her knees for balance, then it hit me, the extra kick in her scent - Lucia was turned on. I finished the tie with an unnecessary flourish just to take it in.
"Comfortable?" I asked.
"More or less." Lucia's voice dropped to a whisper. "After this you and me are gonna have a come-to-Jesus meeting. Where the hell did you learn this shit?"
It was my turn to smile. "No comment. You ready?"
"No, but it doesn't matter now," Lucia said, testing my handiwork. "Kiss for luck?"
I kissed her.
"Thanks, hon, now get out of the line of fire."
I nodded to Keith.
Danielle offered me a slip of paper. "Want to get in line?"
"No," I said. "How many?"
Danielle smiled like a fox in a hen house. "I had seven before she danced. Eleven after."
Every man except Keith and I. "Assholes."
Danielle's jaw tightened. "Michael, don't get too sweet on that slut 'cause she's gonna be a cum mop when I'm finished with her." She smooched her lips. "Good thing you already got your first kiss in."
"Listen up," Keith said, making eye contact around the room. "The only thing you're gettin' is a blow job. You will keep your hands and your dicks above Lucia's waist. If she says stop, you stop. Anybody doesn't"—Keith twirled the bat—"I'll turn your head into a line drive. Is there anyone out there who doesn't unders
tand me?"
Silence. This was Keith the hard-ass oil field foreman talking. They understood.
"OK, Danielle," said Keith, "It's your show."
Danielle jerked Lucia's ponytail hard enough to get a yelp. "Our captive fellatrix will suck you off in the order I call your names. You can come in her mouth, but . . . I'll buy a case of premium beer for every man who shoots his load on this pretty face."
Lucia, throat exposed to the wolves, looked like she'd bitten into a lemon, but she held her tongue.
Danielle fished a name out of her pocket. "Travis. Lucia's mouth awaits your cock."
"Hey that's me!" The red-haired guy Lucia had shed her bra for stepped forward. Tall with beefy thighs and arms, he towered over the bound girl.
Lucia smiled bravely. "Travis, you got something for me?"
Travis unzipped his jeans and stopped, suddenly self-conscious. "Just in front of everybody?" he asked to scattered laughter.
Lucia nuzzled his crotch. "Come on, Travis, I can't do this if you don't take him out. Put him in my mouth."
Travis stared down at Lucia. "What the hell." He plopped his cock and balls onto her upturned face to scattered calls of "Attaboy."
Lucia pressed her cheek against his goods, inhaled deeply, and delivered welcoming licks that swelled Travis' cock to parade attention. Curving upward from a dense thatch of curls, Travis' cock seemed of average proportions. With her hands tied, Lucia played a frustrating game of cat and mouse with the bobbing head until Travis lent a hand. Lucia latched on like it was a candy cane, licking up and down until his cock was wet and slick, then she began to draw him deeper into her mouth until her nose snuggled into his pubic hair.
"Holy shit, the bitch can deep throat," someone said.
Lucia would draw Travis' cock into her throat three or four times, pull up for air, lick and nibble the head, then swallow again. Travis answered each dive with a satisfied groan. When he could endure no longer, Travis stroked his cock while Lucia sealed her lips firmly around its tip. With her wide, sparkling eyes urging him on, Travis ejaculated with a grunt. Lucia sucked until Travis had nothing left, showed him what he'd given her, and swallowed.
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