by Robin Roseau
Do You Want to Play a Game?
The Games People Play Series
Robin Roseau
Table of Contents
Author's Note
About Games People Play
What Was I Doing
Reception
Tourist
Invitation
Finding Clues
Halfway
Cornered
Presentation
One Year Later
About the Author
Author's Note
Human sexuality expresses itself in a myriad of ways, much of it inexplicable to those who don't appreciate the same choices.
Fun, pleasure, joy -- these also are experienced in ways too varied to attempt to count.
Anyone who has read more than one or two of my stories has recognized certain common themes. I've actually struggled to break away from some of those, but they're just so much fun! They're fun to write, and according to the letters I receive, they're fun to read.
If you've been following my output for the last year or so, you'll have noticed I slowed down significantly. What happened was fairly simple. I worried that I was repeating these themes far too often. I tried to force myself down other paths. I tried forcing myself to write certain stories, other stories. But what I found was a lack of focus, and frankly, a lack of joy.
I didn't intend to write this story. But it came to me, and it wouldn't go away. I kept having this image, just an image. I kept running scenarios through my head, wondering how the woman found herself in that situation. This story. That story. But they kept coming to a particular image, one you'll find near the end of the novel, the beginning of the chapter titled Presentation.
I didn't intend to actually write this story. But over the last year I've learned a few things, and one of them is this: the only way I can make a story go away is if I write it. So I wrote this story anyway.
This is a story about self-discovery. It is a story about joy. It is a story about climbing out of our comfortable boxes. You could, if you like, consider it one big metaphor.
Or if you like, take it at face value.
Either way, I hope you enjoy it.
Robin Roseau
December, 2015
About Games People Play
Several months ago, I decided I enjoyed writing about games. Anyone who reads my work knows this already. And I realized that there could easily be stories that centered around a simple question.
Do you want to play a game?
That's what this series is about. This book is the first in the series, but there will be more from time to time. The characters will frequently change, but the principle will remain the same.
Do you want to play a game?
What Was I Doing
As I climbed from the taxi, I had to admit to myself one simple fact. I didn't know what in the world I was doing. I almost got back into the cab and asked the driver to take me back to the train station. But I screwed my courage back on and stepped forward.
At least I was in the right place. That I could easily tell, as unlikely a location as it seemed.
I stood in front of a mansion. In the dying light of evening, it looked like a castle straight out of a fairytale. We had actually passed through an opening in the stone fence surrounding this courtyard, or whatever it should be called. The surrounding wall was wide, wide enough to walk along the top, and there were round turrets periodically, the sort that could be used by defenders fighting off a siege.
The building in front of me was of similar architecture: stone, four stories high. There was a huge portico over the front entrance. The top of the portico was edged with a balustrade, and I could see several small groups of people engaged in conversation atop the portico slash balcony. They were all women, and it was the way they were dressed that told me I was in the right place.
Well, if a lesbian fetish party was the definition of the right place.
I approached the entrance. Twice more I nearly turned around to ask the cabbie to return me to the station. I actually came to a stop and began arguing with myself. Aloud. The conversation was simple, really, and quite repetitive besides. It could be summed up like this.
"What are you doing, Brandy?" Yes, that's my name. Brandy Tucker. Thanks for asking.
"You know why you're here."
"No, you don't."
"Of course you do."
Repeat that part of the conversation a bunch of times before breaking out to a new phase.
"You're curious. You've always been curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"I'm sure they're perfectly nice people."
"You're sure of no such thing. That one up there is watching me, and she looks like she wants to chew me up and spit me out."
"I bet underneath all that leather is a Kindergarten teacher with a heart of gold."
"Yeah, I doubt it, but she does look damned yummy."
And she did, too. And yes, she was watching me. And then, as we looked at each other, she smiled, inclined her head for a moment, then turned on her heel and disappeared.
"Shit. She caught me watching her."
"If you stay out here, she's going to find you. If you run inside, you can hide in the crowd."
Yeah, good try, self. Self, just remember, I'm not that easy to fool.
And so we moved to the next phase of the conversation, where one self tried to convince the other self this was a Good Idea. Yes, in capital letters, no less.
"You'll kick yourself if you run."
"I'll be alive to kick myself."
"No one here wants to hurt you."
"Are you so sure of that?"
"Maybe spank. But you'd like that."
"But-"
"Leave now, and you'll regret it forever. When are you going to get another chance?"
"But-"
"Safe, sane and consensual. That's what they always say. No one is going to touch you without permission."
"But-"
"Get in there, already!"
I shook myself, lifted my head, and headed for the entrance.
* * * *
I shouldn't even have known about the party. I'd come to London for the shows. I was supposed to have come with Erin, but Erin had decided Dakota Wellington was a lot sexier than I was. Bitch. But that was old news, and I was over it. Right.
Anyway.
So I had come to London alone. I'd played the tourist and went to shows. Good shows, mostly, but a few I hadn't cared for, and one or two where the actors mumbled in their accents so much I hadn't understood a word.
Didn't they learn diction in acting school?
I'd been out, just sort of wandering, when I'd come to a display window. I hadn't been paying much attention, but the manikins in the window had caught my eye, and I actually backed up to look at the costumes.
"Oh. My. God." Yes, I actually said it out loud.
I thought I was staring into the window of a cosplay shop. You know, the folks who dress up like Princess Leia or stormtroopers or anime characters and attend conventions. I recognized the outfits immediately.
The one that had caught my attention was the same outfit that Anna Valerious had worn in the Van Helsing movie. That was Kate Beckinsale's character. First, Ms. Beckinsale was truly stunning, and she had been especially extra stunning as Anna Valerious. I imagined myself in that outfit -- which was a little difficult. And I tried to imagine what sort of events I could attend where I could wear that outfit. Then I imagined going on a date with someone who was dressed like that, and I had to fan myself at the thought.
Beside it was a Cat Woma
n costume. If the Anna Valerious outfit hadn't been right there, the Cat Woman costume would have looked pretty hot, too. But anything Kate Beckinsale had worn was going to beat Cat Woman.
On the other side was the outfit that Mila Jovovich had worn in The Fifth Element. It looked like a bunch of straps made of wide, flexible plastic, barely covering the more important bits. And no way could I see myself wearing something that exposed that much of my skin. I was far too repressed for that. Nor could I see myself dating someone who could pull off that look.
Although, if Mila Jovovich asked me out, I wasn't sure I'd care what she wore. I'd say yes in a half a heartbeat.
I turned my attention back to the Kate Beckinsale. I think I drooled.
"Stunning isn't it, Anna?" The voice was low, sexy, English.
I looked to my right. Standing beside me, only an inch or two from touching me, was a petite, nearly elfin-appearing woman. She was dressed simply in a blouse, skirt, and low sandals. Her hair was black and done in a pixie cut. She was really, really cute.
"I'm sorry," I said. "My name isn't Anna."
"Oh, an American," she said. She gestured with her nose. "It could be while you dressed in that."
"Oh," I said. "It's stunning, truly stunning, but I don't think it's my style, and I don't know when I'd wear it."
"We have others inside," the woman said. "But you would look truly beautiful as Anna Valerious."
I may have blushed. No one had ever suggested I could look beautiful. I was sure she was employing flattery for a sale, but it hit me at my core, anyway, and a portion of me was more than willing to give her some of my time if she kept saying things like that. Even if they weren't true, they were nice to hear.
I turned my attention back to the display window. "Is that what you do?" I ask. "Wait until unsuspecting Americans stop to admire the costumes, then pounce?"
"When it's a slow day." She laughed lightly. "Yes. Please come inside. I'd love to see you in that."
I stayed where I was, wavering. "It's not me," I said quietly.
"You sound sad when you say that. It could be you. It is a costume. You put it on, and you become the woman. When you are tired of that woman, you take it off and put on something else. You should try it. It's very liberating."
"I'd never wear it. Never. I can't think of ever being invited to an event where that would be appropriate."
"There are always such events, if you look for them," she said. "But we have other costumes, other women you could be. Some are like these, but others are for dates, or for a night with that special man."
I glanced over at her. She was watching me carefully, and damned, but she was cute.
"No special man," I said. Then I smiled. "I'd love to see you in that outfit."
Her smile broadened. "Would you?" she asked, and I nodded. Then she sighed, somewhat dramatically. "I would look quite ridiculous in such a costume. But we have others that suit me. Do you have to be somewhere? Perhaps you have friends around the corner."
"No," I said, then wondered if I should have said that.
"Come in," she said. "We will play dress up."
"I don't think I'm buying anything."
"It's a slow day," she said. "I've already put away all the new stock. I've cleaned the store. I've straightened everything to perfection. I washed the windows. I'm bored. Please come inside."
How could I resist that smile?
* * * *
"I am Precious," she said, once she had me fully lured into the store.
"You certainly are."
"You're sweet," she said. "My name. I have an older sister named Peace and a younger sister named Prudence."
"Ah. Parents. But that's a lovely name. Mine is just as unexpected. I'm Brandy."
"Ah, like your hair," she said. And darned but she reached out and stroked my hair for a moment. Oh, she could do that any time she wanted.
She was definitely flirting with me, and I didn't have a problem with that. I didn't have a problem at all. I was sure she was doing it for the potential sale, and I suspect she still thought she could get me to leave with the Anna outfit. But I was going to let her flirt all she wanted, and maybe, just maybe I'd let her talk me into something. If I thought I'd ever wear it.
"Welcome to the Lotus Lady," Precious said, gesturing about the store.
I'd been so focused on her, and I hadn't really looked around.
"Oh god," I said. "I thought this was a cosplay shop. This is a sex shop."
"No, no," Peace said. "It is a clothing store. We have no sex toys, and everything here is for women."
"But-" The outfits nearest the front door were relatively tame, but as I looked around, it sure felt like a sex store. There was a lot of leather. And rubber. Or PVC. I wasn't sure what the difference was. And... other things. She was right, technically everything I could see could be worn.
But I wasn't sure it was fair to call the display of collars a clothing display.
"Are you shocked, Brandy?" Precious asked me. "Will you go running in terror from our shop?"
I turned to look at her. She was smiling, although it was a little hesitant. "You knew I had a different view of the shop than this."
She didn't answer, but she took both my hands and began to slowly back up, further into the store. I allowed her to gently pull me deeper. I couldn't have told you why.
Who am I fooling? I knew exactly why. I thought perhaps I'd let her pull me anywhere she wanted.
"Pick something," she said.
"I'm not putting any of these on," I said firmly.
"Not for you. For me. You said you wanted to see me in the Anna, but the Anna is the wrong one for me. Pick something for me to model for you."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," she agreed. "Please don't run, Brandy. Pick something."
I thought about it. "Which one is your favorite?"
"Maybe I'll show you later, but I want you to pick. If I wanted to pick my favorite, I could do that without you."
"All right," I said. "Show me what you have."
She smiled broadly. "I'd love to."
* * * *
Precious was a total flirt, which was about the last thing I had expected to find in a London shop. She showed me their goods, and I found myself staring at a number of them. Then, almost as a joke, I told her, "I'd love to see you in this one."
I expected her to realize I was joking, but she simply said, "Oh, I love that one. I feel so sexy when I wear it." And she found one in her size, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to the dressing room. I sat on the sofa and watched her change. She let me watch her change, and even asked for help on a few steps. Although my fingers trembled, I was happy to be of assistance.
She looked stunning, of course. She modeled for me then asked how she looked.
"Amazing."
"Sexy?"
"Totally sexy."
She smiled at me then turned back to admire herself in the mirror. Then she turned back. "Let's go find another one." I found myself following after her as she pulled me by the hand.
"I didn't think you would wear this one," I admitted.
"There's some in here that I don't like," she said. "And a few that I like, but look ridiculous on me. But this was a test?"
"I thought you'd say 'no'."
"So you don't like it?"
"Oh, no," I said. "You look totally hot."
"You're sweet," she said. "Is there one you want to see me wear more than this one?"
"There was one."
"Show me."
So I did, and she grinned at me. "How daring are you?"
"On a scale of 1 to 10? About negative 3."
She laughed. "You're more daring than that. How would you like to play a game?"
"I don't think so."
"You haven't heard the rules yet. And, in case you decide to buy something, there's a discount if you agree to play."
"I don't think I'm buying."
"You might change your mind, and that discount w
ould be nice, wouldn't it? Beside, it will be fun, and I was bored until you came in." She made a praying motion with her hands under her chin. "Please? At least consider it."
"What game?"
"It's called Dressing for a Discount."
"Okay," I said slowly.
"It works like this. You'll pick an outfit for me. I'll pick one for you."
"No."
"And if you put yours on, then you get a one percent discount."
"Five."
She grinned. "Two if it's a little racy and five if it's really, really racy, but you have to wear it while we pick the next outfits. I can only go to 25 percent though. That's the biggest discount I can offer."
"So if I let you pick enough outfits, then I get a nice discount."
"Right."
"And you'll wear what I pick?"
"Yes. And I won't pick anything for you that is dramatically racier than what you pick for me. So if you want that five percent, you have to pick really good ones for me."
I wavered.
"It'll be fun, Brandy," she said. "And you can stop any time you want."
"Show me what you'll pick first and I'll decide."
"Anna Valerious."
"I'll play."
She grinned.
I had a blast. We played the entire afternoon. A few times, Precious had to help other customers, but it really was a quiet afternoon. Finally she said, "It's going to start to get busy. Which one was your favorite?"
"Anna, but-"
"Will you trust me?"
"Okay."
She assembled an outfit for me. It wasn't quite the Anna outfit, and it was a little racier, but only a little. "You're going to look so hot, I won't be able to stand it." And it looked to be about a thousand dollars worth of clothing. "Try it."
"All right."
"This gets you to 25 percent," she said. "If you decide to buy something."
We'd been helping each other, which had been at least half the fun, and so when she basically dressed me in the outfit, I let her.
When she was done, I looked good. Well, good for me, anyway. Once I was fully outfitted, we stood looking at the mirror. Precious stood over my right shoulder, her hand on my back, her arm snaked up inside the back of the jacket, her fingers just touching the bare skin immediately below my neck. I shivered.