“So…why do you want to talk to us, then?” Claire asked. Her pink bikini was far less revealing than Kelly’s, but Greta still admired the slim figure beneath it. Claire had brown hair and brown eyes, and with the dark tan she’d acquired during the trip, she could nearly pass for one of the locals.
Becky glanced at the other girls and added, “Yeah, I mean…our chaperone told us we’re not supposed to socialize with other guests. Just the kids in our group. Right?” She looked shy and timid as she sat in her one-piece bathing suit on the edge of her chair, black hair falling to her shoulders in a blunt cut, biting her lip as she waited for someone else to confirm her statement. She looked at Sam and added, “That’s what they told us, right? That we’re not allowed to bother the guests, and we should only—”
Kelly laughed, which made her big tits jiggle. The edge of one pink areola now peeked out from the side of the fabric. “You think old Mrs. Finkman really gives a shit about what we do down here? You notice how she disappears after dinner each night while the rest of us are drinking beer and tequila shots over at the bar? This isn’t just a class trip, Becky, this is a vacation. Since we’ve only got one day left, you ought to lighten up a little.”
“Leave her alone,” said Sam, who wore her copper-colored hair in a ponytail that now lay wetly across one shoulder. “She’s just trying to keep the rest of you idiots from getting in trouble.” Her navy blue bikini had an athletic cut, like something a beach volleyball player might wear, and Greta couldn’t help thinking how much sexier the girl would look in a more feminine swimsuit.
The cheerleader rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she said, flicking a hand in the air. Both her fingernails and toenails were painted bright orange.
“Girls, please,” Greta said. “Let’s stop bickering, shall we? Again, I have no complaints about your behavior. I find it quite refreshing to surround myself with youthful energy.”
“Then why do you want to talk to us?” Claire asked.
“This is your last night here, correct? I thought you might enjoy a little farewell party, that’s all.”
Kelly chuckled and gestured to the crowd outside the cabana. “Uh, hello, but doesn’t this look like a party to you? We’ve got a pool, music, and free booze that nobody would give us if we were back in Texas. Seems like one hell of a good party to me!”
Greta gave the cheerleader a sad smile. “Oh, my dear. That’s so adorable. And of course your friends are enjoying the bad food and weak drinks this establishment serves to its average customers. Up in my suite, however, I have access to all the finest food and alcohol available on the property. Steak, lobster, caviar, brandy, expensive champagne…all served at the touch of a button. All I have to do is ring for room service, and a grand feast appears.”
Sam played with her ponytail, eyes on the ground. “That sounds a lot better than the nachos and burgers we get every day.”
“Yeah,” Claire agreed. “I mean, an all-you-can-eat buffet is great until you get sick of the food.” She looked at Greta, eyes wary. “But why would you share all that with us? You don’t even know us.”
“I’m here by myself, and it’s nice to have a meal and a good conversation with others from time to time. And as I told you, I so enjoy being surrounded by youthful energy.”
“But…why us?” Claire asked. “I mean, there’s tons of other kids here.”
Greta shifted on her lounge chair, stroking her pale chin with one bright red nail. “Let’s just say that you four seem like the perfect little group. I’m sure we’ll have an excellent time together.”
Kelly laughed. “Sounds kind of crazy to me, but sure, I don’t mind chowing down on some of that lobster and champagne!”
“Wait a minute,” Becky said in a soft voice. “We’re not supposed to be mingling with the other guests, remember? And we…I mean, no offense, ma’am, but we don’t even know you.”
Greta smiled and shook her head. “Right you are, young lady, and the fault is all mine. The name is Greta Steele. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She extended one pale, soft hand and Becky took it.
“Um…okay. I’m Becky. And this is Sam, Kelly, and Claire,” she added, nodding at each girl in turn. “But just because we know each other’s names doesn’t mean we know you.”
“Then let’s rectify that over some delicious food and drinks, shall we?” She stood up and tied the belt on her red beach cover-up. “I think Kelly’s suggestion of lobster and champagne sounds perfect. If you agree, then please follow me to my suite.”
The cheerleader hopped up right away. “You don’t have to tell me twice!” Greta left the cabana with Kelly at her heels, but the three other girls lagged behind.
“This is kind of freaky,” Claire muttered.
“Yeah,” Becky agreed. “What if she’s some kind of maniac?”
“Her?” Sam asked. “She’s just a skinny middle-aged lady, and there’s four of us. Hell, I could probably kick her ass on my own. I say we go up there and see what it’s like, then we can always take off if we get a weird vibe.”
“I could really handle some decent food right now,” Claire agreed. “And like Sam said, we can take off whenever we want. There’s four of us, and if one of us screams, a hundred people will come running.”
Becky shifted her feet, still nervous. “Well…I don’t know…maybe we could…”
“Hurry up, they’re almost inside,” Sam said, dashing out of the cabana. Claire followed, and a moment later Becky shook her head and ran after them.
* * *
Greta’s suite was on the third floor, overlooking the pool area. It was huge compared to the rooms the girls were sharing with their classmates, and they all felt strangely decadent as they lounged on the plush sofa in their damp swimsuits, sipping champagne from crystal glasses and eating lobster tails with their fingers.
“Now this is the life,” Kelly sighed, dunking the last bite of her lobster into a dish of melted butter resting on her bare stomach. She was sprawled out on the couch with her feet on the glass coffee table, and the cleavage spilling out of her bikini top had a few stray drips of butter on it. She popped the bite of lobster in her mouth then sat up and reached for her champagne glass, draining it. Greta was there in a heartbeat to refill it for her.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, dear,” she cooed. “What about the rest of you girls?”
Claire and Sam nodded as they finished their own lobster tails, but Becky only shrugged. She had barely touched her champagne and sat stiffly in a chair, arms and legs crossed. Her hard nipples poked at the front of her damp bathing suit because of the air conditioning, so she was doing her best to keep her body hidden. Not that anybody cares about seeing Becky the Board, she thought to herself, but she still hugged herself tighter as her nipples rubbed against the slick material.
Greta sat down on the end of the big L-shaped couch and crossed her shapely legs. “Well, then. Now that we’ve spent some time together, I’d like to tell you a little more about myself. Would you all care to learn why I have the freedom to lounge around at a Mexican resort for weeks at a time?” When the girls nodded, Greta reached for a pile of magazines on the coffee table and slipped a catalogue from the bottom. “I’m pleased to inform you that I’m the owner and CEO of Steele Kisses, one of the world’s largest retailers of adult novelties and accessories.” She held up the catalogue, which showed a sexy blonde woman in a negligee on the cover.
Kelly laughed. “Adult novelties? Like weird-looking condoms and stuff?”
“Oh, hardly!” Greta replied with a laugh of her own. “We do sell condoms, but I wouldn’t describe them as weird-looking. We also sell lingerie, massage oils, and a full line of personal stimulators.”
“Personal what?” Becky asked.
“She means vibrators,” Sam explained.
“Not just vibrators,” Greta corrected. “But also butt plugs, nipple clamps, and dildos of all sizes and shapes.”
“Oh my God,” Claire muttered
.
“What in the world is a butt plug?” Becky asked, “And why would anybody want one? It sounds awful!”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Greta said with a grin. “Some of our most distinguished clients order them by the dozen!”
“I guess that explains why you brought us here,” Claire said. “You wanted to give us a few drinks, get us tipsy, then try to sell us a bunch of expensive crap from your catalogue.”
“Oh, heaven forbid,” Greta corrected. “I would never do such a thing. Since you’re all 18, you’re free to order items from my catalogue whenever you like—but I never take part in that side of the business. I’m the owner, my dear, not some common salesperson.”
“Then why did you invite us, because none of us believe that story about wanting some company.”
Greta spread her hands. “Oh, but I do enjoy your company, girls. In fact, I enjoy it so much that I thought we might all play a game together.”
“What kind of game?” Kelly asked, looking around. “Video games? Poker? Don’t tell me you’re into that lame shit like Monopoly, because I fall asleep halfway through that stupid game.”
“No, I have my own game,” Greta told the group. “I created it myself, and very few people know about it.”
“How do you play it?” Sam asked.
“Oh, it’s very simple. Are you all familiar with the game called Would You Rather?”
Everyone nodded except Becky. “Oh, come on,” Sam said, nudging her friend with an elbow. “That’s the one where somebody asks you a question like, Would you rather drink a glass of spoiled milk or smear rotten bananas all over your face? Then you have to give an answer and explain why you picked one instead of the other. We used to play it when we were like 12 or 13, remember?”
“Sort of…” Becky answered, then she frowned at Greta. “But you still like to play it, even though you’re grown up?”
“Trust me, darling, my version of the game is only suitable for grownups. The questions are, I must admit, quite racy. But since we’re all adults here, I’m sure you can handle it. The rules in my game, however, are quite different from the original.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked.
“The biggest difference is that in my game, players can’t just say which option they prefer; they must actually do it.”
“Gross!” Kelly exclaimed. “That tears it, then. I’m not drinking spoiled milk, or eating a bug, or—”
“Or shaving my head, or drawing all over my face with a permanent marker,” Claire finished.
“Girls, girls,” Greta implored, “I would never ask a player to do something so unsavory. And I promise you that once the game is over, you won’t look any different than you do now. No one will have blue hair, or a shaved head, or a moustache drawn on their face. I swear to you. My challenges are of a more…provocative nature. And if you’re worried about what you might be asked to do, let me tell you about the other rule in my game. You will be given two choices, one of which is slightly worse than the other. You can pick the first option for yourself, or you can choose to have another player do the second option.”
Kelly let out a deep sigh. “Maybe it’s all the champagne, but I can’t understand one fucking thing you’re saying.”
“Then let me explain. Before each turn, the player spins a wheel to see who their co-player for that round will be. For instance, let’s say it’s my turn and I spin the wheel and get Claire as my co-player. My question reads, Would you rather drink a shot of tequila or have Claire drink two shots of tequila? If I enjoy tequila, I might drink the shot myself. Or if I know Claire doesn’t like tequila or has a low tolerance to alcohol, I might drink the shot out of sympathy for her. But let’s say I don’t get along with Claire, and I get a question like Would you rather do 10 jumping jacks or have Claire do 100 jumping jacks? Then I might let Claire perform the exercises while I watch with a big grin on my face.”
“Wow,” Sam said. “That’s pretty wicked.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Greta mused, “but the game does reveal a lot about personal relationships, both healthy and unhealthy. That’s why I enjoy it so much. I’ll admit, in addition to my passion for sexuality, I also harbor a fondness for the art of psychoanalysis.”
“Look who knows all the fancy words,” Kelly mumbled.
“So, what do you think?” Greta asked. “Would you all like to play?”
Sam and Becky looked at each other while Claire stared at the floor. Kelly was studying her orange fingernails as if she’d never seen them before.
“I don’t know,” Sam finally answered. “I mean, thanks for the food and drinks, but I think I’m ready to go.”
“Me, too,” Becky added, and Claire nodded her head as well.
“Yeah, I get a little rowdy sometimes, but I think I’m gonna take a pass, too,” Kelly said. She grabbed one last caviar-topped cracker from the tray on the coffee table then stood up and straightened her bikini.
“What if I made it worth your while?” Greta asked as the others stood up, too.
“Like, how?” Kelly asked.
“I’m sure you’ve visited the boutique in the hotel lobby. They have some very nice things down there, don’t you think? Jewelry, dresses, shoes…”
“Oh man, they’ve got some sandals I would kill for, but they’re like eighty bucks,” Kelly said.
Becky nodded. “I love all the gold earrings, but the ones I like best are nearly a hundred.”
Greta crossed her legs and studied the girls carefully. “What if I gave each of you five hundred dollars to spend as you like? Would that make my game more inviting?”
Kelly’s eyes opened wide. “Shit, for five hundred dollars I’d drink spoiled milk and draw a moustache on my face!”
“I…guess I could play, too,” Claire said timidly. She didn’t care one bit about the fancy stuff in the gift shop, but ever since her dad lost his job, she had done everything she could to earn extra money for the family. Five hundred dollars would buy them all groceries for a month.
Sam shrugged. “What the hell. It’s the last day of vacation. Might as well go out with a bang. What do you say, Becky?”
The skinny brunette shook her head. “I’d love to buy those earrings, but it still doesn’t feel right. You girls go ahead, I’m gonna go back to the pool.”
“Wait,” Greta said, the single word causing Becky to flinch as she reached for the doorknob. “That’s not how it works, my dear. Either you all play, or no one plays.”
“Oh, great,” Kelly said, flapping her arms. “Becky the Board is gonna ruin it for all of us!”
“Shut up, bitch,” Sam warned.
“Becky, are you sure?” Claire asked. “Five hundred dollars is a lot of money.”
“I don’t know. I just—”
“What are you afraid of?” Kelly asked. “She said we wouldn’t have to eat bugs or shave our heads or anything!”
“But we still don’t…” Becky began, looking from one girl to the next, but then she finally rolled her eyes and said, “Okay, whatever. I’ll play your silly game.”
“Excellent!” Greta exclaimed, clapping her hands. “But before we begin, I’ll need your offerings.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asked.
“I normally play this game with married women,” Greta explained, “and I ask everyone to let me hold their wedding rings until the game is finished. If someone tries to leave the game early, they forfeit their ring. That way one person can’t ruin the game for everyone else.”
“Well, none of us are married,” Kelly said.
“I know that, dear. That’s why I’ll ask you to let me hold your passports instead.”
Kelly put her hands on her hips. “You’ll hold what?”
“Just until the end of the game. Since you’ll need those to get back home tomorrow, they’ll make the perfect offering.”
Becky leaned close to Sam’s ear and whispered, “What if she doesn’t give them back?”
“She has to give them back. If she doesn’t, we’ll just take them from her. There’s four of us, remember?” Sam looked at Claire, then at Kelly. Both girls nodded grudgingly. Then Sam turned to Greta and said, “Okay, fine. Give us five minutes to go get them from our rooms.”
The older woman reached for her champagne glass and purred, “I can hardly wait.”
* * *
When the girls came back, Greta directed them all to the L-shaped sofa while she sat in a padded chair facing the group. She collected their passports then called room service for more champagne, walking the waiter to the door after he put two fresh bottles on ice. Every girl except Becky was already tipsy, but Greta insisted that more champagne was an absolute necessity.
“The combination of alcohol and bubbles makes me deliriously happy,” she said with a chuckle, sipping from her fresh glass. Then she licked her lips and put the glass down, reaching for a stack of pink index cards. “These are your questions,” she explained. “There are three rounds to the game, and each of you will be asked one question each round. We’ll go in order, based on how you’re seated. That means Claire will be number one, Becky will be number two, Sam will be number three, and Kelly will be number four.”
“Wait a minute, what about you?” Claire asked.
“Oh, I’m just the dealer, my darling. The master of the game, so to speak.”
“So you don’t have to do anything gross, but we do?” Sam asked.
“I’m not being paid five hundred dollars to play,” Greta answered with a cold smile. “Now then, here’s the spinner. As you see, it’s divided into sections numbered one through four. When it’s your turn, you spin to see who your co-player will be. If you spin your own number, you spin again of course. Now then, let’s have a trial run to make sure you understand the rules. I’ll pretend I’m Claire.” Greta leaned forward and flicked the spinner with one red nail, watching as it landed on the number four. “So, my co-player would be Kelly. Now I’ll read the first question in the stack…ah yes, this is a simple one…and now the game master would say, Claire, would you rather do five pushups or make Kelly do fifty pushups? Then Claire gets to decide which option to pick. It’s easy, yes? Do you all understand?”
Greta's Game Boxed Set Page 4