by Selena Kitt
When I had gone back out to the living room, I'd found him sitting there, innocently scanning channels. My face heated as I tried again to clear the sexual images from my mind.
"Hey, so I have an idea," he started off, but I interrupted him.
"Yeah, me too. I think you should get your stuff together. I really don't need you here—not that I don't appreciate it a lot—it's just that I don't need it and it's really awkward. I'd rather be alone." I was lying through my teeth, and sure he realized it. I stood before him, somewhat ashamed, and waiting for him to once again to call my bluff. Or, God, to punish me for lying! Shit. I was doomed. I'd never be the same after his earlier comment about spanking.
"Well, it's only been twenty-four hours and I'm not leaving until it's been forty-eight. That'll be tomorrow morning, unless you have decided to call a friend to come stay with you. Besides, I have a better idea." He held up a deck of cards. "I found these."
I shook my head, disbelieving. "Cards? What does that have to do with anything? No, no. You are not distracting me again." Wait, I did want to be distracted. I needed to be distracted. My life sucked. What did it matter if he was there or not? "I mean, it's silly. I know you have other places to be. I can hardly believe that you have time to simply waste here with me." I sat down next to him and he shuffled the cards.
"I have two and a half weeks to kill," he admitted. "Seriously, there is no other place I want to be right now." I could tell he was being truthful, but I couldn't fathom his interest in me.
"I just—" I began.
"Just nothing. We're going to play a game. You've heard of poker, right? Strip poker?" A cocky grin covered his face and a sparkle lit in his eyes.
I snorted. "I'm not playing strip poker. That's ridiculous!"
"I know—but it will be fun. We're going to make it more interesting. I know you are dying to see me naked, but we're going to strip each other of secrets instead of clothes—or secrets and clothes… For every loss, the one with the winning hand gets to choose an article of clothing to remove or a secret to answer. If the loser chooses not to answer the question, he or she must remove an article of clothing. Ready?" He already had half the cards dealt!
"Wait! I haven't agreed. What if I don't know how to play?" I teased. I had a good idea how to play the game and I had no secrets to hide, so this would be easy.
"Then you'll end up naked. No, I'll help you." He winked. "This is going to be easy. We have three wild cards: deuces, jacks and the man with the ax—"
"Wait," I sputtered again, "that isn't easy. I don't know what you mean." I picked up the cards he had dealt me and spread them out so I could see. Three of spades, three of hearts, ten of spades, eight of diamonds, ace of clubs.
"Yes it is. You have a lot of wild cards. Twos, jacks and the king of diamonds; he's the only one with an ax. You know the basics of poker, right?" Tony picked up his cards and had them fanned in his hand. He had changed the order of them while he was speaking.
I hmmphed to myself. I was screwed if my hand was my redemption.
He tossed two cards down. "How many for you, pretty lady?"
Then I remembered the game. I tossed three cards, face down. "Three."
Tony gave me three cards and himself two. After he had looked at them, his eyebrows arched and I could tell he liked what he'd gotten.
I slid my new cards in next to the two threes I'd kept. The new cards were an eight of spades, a king of diamonds, and a queen of hearts. I sighed and leaned forward. "Now what?"
"Well, now you show me what you've got."
"Why do I have to go first?" I laid my hand down so he could see it at the same time as I asked. "A pair of threes," I explained, as if it might have been confusing to him.
"The king is wild. He's the man with the ax, so you have trip threes." He spread his hand out in front of him. He had laid out the nine of spades, nine of hearts, and a jack of hearts. "But I beat you with trip nines. We'll let that be a practice round so you can get warmed up." His smile was cocky and not the least bit as generous as his offer was.
"Oh yeah, well don't think I'm going to be so merciful when you lose." I took the cards and shuffled them together.
I had taken the next hand with a full house to his pair. And, of course, I didn't go easy on him. Although I wanted his shirt to disappear, I played it safe. "Who was your first kiss?"
He closed his eyes as if picturing it in his mind. Amusement showed on his face when he leaned back and spoke. "I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was just minutes old, and she was twenty-two. She held me so close and promised she'd love me forever. My dad, he leaned over and—"
I smacked him in the head with a pillow. "That isn't what I meant!"
His laugh was husky and deep. I loved it. He tossed the pillow over the couch. "Okay, but this is really embarrassing. She was my cousin. It was at our lake house, and we planned to get married one day; thankfully, she didn't wait for me. She married a really great guy, my best friend, and they are really happy together." He picked up the cards and shuffled them.
"That's still not what I meant, but I suppose it's fair." Besides, now I knew—and two could play at that game.
It was inevitable that I'd lose the next hand, but not the next three, as it happened. The first loss, he said, "It's only fair that I learn about your first kiss."
"I suppose you're right," I agreed with a sigh. "It was Damien. We were probably eleven? We had no intention of dating back then. It was more of a curiosity for both of us. We just wanted to know what the hype was about."
For the second loss, he had been more invasive. "And who was your real first?"
"Kiss? I didn't kiss anyone else until college…"
"No, your first lover." Somehow, he'd gotten closer to me. The cards were still between us on the sofa, but he leaned my way and we were both further toward my corner than the halfway point. I'm sure that was the reason I felt a little warm, and not at all because of the prying question. But I didn't even consider taking off any of my clothes.
"It was at college. No one special; a weekend party. We didn't stay together long. I don't think I was really into him, but I was drunk and maybe a little afraid I'd never find true love. I didn't want to miss the train."
The third question did make me think of my other option. "How long had you known Damien?" It wasn't that it was a secret I wanted to keep hidden. It was more that I didn't want to talk about it. It was then that I started to regret not putting socks on when I'd gotten dressed that morning. It was simple; answer, or take off my shirt or pants. Four items were all I had to discard: shirt, pants, bra, panties.
"I had known him since I was like seven. He sneaked into our back yard one day and we played, then he kept coming back. My parents were never home, so I was lonely. He was funny and a bit of a wild child so we found a lot of mischief to get into over the years. His mother was always working so he had poor supervision. We were just kind of meant to be together. Friends that were sort of grandfathered in." I laughed, trying not to be so melancholy. "We were more like cousins than boyfriend and girlfriend. And we never were really boyfriend and girlfriend. We were just friends until I was an adult and we decided to pursue more of a relationship." I picked up the cards and started to shuffle. If it wasn't my turn to deal, he didn't let on.
The next deal, I had won, and gave my question for him much more thought, not wanting to waste my upper hand. But there wasn't much I wanted to know. So after dragging it out, making him wait while I tapped my temple, pondering, I made my request.
"Hmm, I think I'm ready for a change of pace. And I'd like to have your shirt." I smirked and watched him reach for the hem. He pretended to dance in his seat, wiggling it up his body slowly as if to tease me. I waited with immense delight as his muscular abs appeared little by little, and the moment the shirt was off and he made to swing it around on his finger tip, I snatched it free and tugged it over my head, right over my own tee shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest then, in an attempt t
o look confident and to protect my war prize.
"Oh, I think that was very naughty. Cheating is dangerous, but since you suck so bad at this game so far, and I'm winning, I think you just might need the handicap. I'm sure I'll see you naked soon enough." The look he gave me sizzled my blood like butter in a hot frying pan.
I preoccupied myself with straightening his shirt over my chest where it was bunched while he dealt a new round. A six of spades. A ten of clubs. An ace of hearts. A three of spades. A five of hearts. Shit. I couldn't catch a good hand to save my life.
A siren thought crossed my mind that it would be more fun if I actually lost more clothing. It might be a little embarrassing, but the thought was intriguing. It was sad that I knew beyond a doubt that nothing sexual could happen. Wait. What the fuck? How could I even remotely consider the idea? I needed a strong drink. I thought of the Jack Daniels again. After what my body had been through… I shouldn't have been even the slightest bit interested in the man. But I couldn't shake it. My hormones were crazy and besides, it wasn't like I was going to go there, it was nice to think about though. It had been almost a year since I'd been with a man. Damien and I hadn't had sex for months before he was deployed the last time. And he'd been gone about eight months when he'd died. In vitro could by no means be considered erotic.
"How many you want?" Tony asked as he tossed in two cards.
I hadn't even been thinking about my hand. "Five," I joked, but tossed down three. The three he gave me back were just as shitty as the ones I'd tossed. "I fold."
"You can't fold when there are just two of us. You can forfeit, though, and that would cost you my shirt back." His offer came with a wolfish grin.
I wasn't usually a self-conscious person. I didn't get embarrassed easily, but with the mess I had going on, the last thing I wanted was to lose my pants—but the shirt covered more of me, so I consider offering my pants instead. In the end, I took off the shirt, accidently flashing him when my shirt slid up with his. My fingers shook when I tossed him the shirt. He took it, wadded it up, and threw it as far away as he could away from us. I preoccupied myself with shuffling, and dealt us another hand.
"Hang on, don't look at those. Let's take a break and get a drink." I remembered the Jack Daniels again but decided on wine instead. "I have a nice bottle of pinot noir that sounds great right now. Do you want to grab two glasses from the rack and I'll get some cheese? Do you drink wine?" I asked, when I saw that Tony had followed me into the kitchen. "I like the delicate yet rich flavor of the pinot. I think it contrasts nicely with the mellowness of brie." I didn't know why I was making small chat.
"Yes, I like a glass of wine now and again but I love good cheese." He took the wine and the corkscrew from me so I moved on to find the brie. When I had the cheese and grapes ready, we headed back to the couch.
"Bring the bottle," I reminded him when it seemed as though he was just going to grab the two glasses.
"Oh, so you're a lush, too?" he teased.
"You'll have to save that question for your next win." I tossed a smile over my shoulder at him. He was so much fun. Maybe it was his playfulness that intrigued me. Damien never really flirted or courted me. I didn't blame him. Our relationship was just different. We didn't need that, since we'd always been together.
When Tony won the next hand, he seemed to have decided to take things a bit deeper. "Have you ever thought about cheating on Damien?" There was no humor in his eyes that time. It was a serious question and he knew it.
I didn't have to think about it long, I mean, I knew I'd never cheat on him—or anyone. But I hesitated because Theresa said that having the in vitro implantation was like cheating on my husband if he wasn't a part of it. I decided to be honest.
"I guess that depends on how you look at it—" I gulped my wine instead of savoring it, and leaned over and grabbed the bottle. "I'd never have an affair, ever. Your deal." I pushed the cards towards him and filled my glass again.
"Well, that's a curious thought. I think I need to know more." He didn't go on, just dealt the cards. I could see I'd probably end up losing clothes now because I didn't want to finish that conversation.
Chapter Five
Tony
She was a curious thing. Her answers left me with more questions every time. She was much deeper than I had initially thought, even if her answers were not. She had layers and layers—and I want to explore them all. I couldn't help but think I was already in too deep. She pretended to be shallow, but I didn't believe it.
I had honestly thought the game would be a fun, interesting way to get to know each other and pass the time, but by 3:00 p.m., the woman was drunk. I mentioned numerous times that she might not want to drink so fast, so much.
When my deal turned up triple eights I almost discarded the other two, but then I tossed the eights instead. She could probably use the reprieve. I blame her wine consumption for the question she asked. I was not drunk, so I have no excuse for my response.
"Have you ever really spanked anyone?" Her face was flushed, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, and I attributed that to the wine, as well. Now, because of the flush, I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed by the question at all. I would have to admit that I was, surprisingly so. I did not want to take my pants off, so a vague answer would have to suffice.
"Uh, yeah, I might have smacked a girl's ass before…" I needed a drink to wash down my thoughts. Better yet, I needed to get in the shower, a cold shower. I didn't look down, I prayed she wouldn't, either. My cock pulsed with pleasure. It had to be visible through my jeans, hardening with my desire. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the discomfort.
"That's not an answer. I mean spanked. Like a long, hard spanking." Her tongue was thick and her voice raspy. If she was trying to sound sexy, she was doing it right. But I knew this couldn't go on. I was a man of discipline and control. I had to get my mind away from bending her over the back of the couch and giving her just what she was asking for.
"That is all the answer you are going to get, for now. You can ask more if you win another hand, and I do mean if." The topic had to change, and fast.
"I'm tired of this game." She pouted beautifully. Her full, heart-shaped lips were tempting, very tempting.
"You're right. Let's watch a movie instead—or play Monopoly. Do you have Monopoly?" I scooped the cards up and straightened them in my hands.
Her mouth fell open just before she sputtered in outrage. "You're a chicken shit! Just bail when things get intense—is that how you roll?" She slammed her arms crossed over her chest and I almost laughed.
"Chicken shit? You were the one who said you didn't want to play anymore…" I tried to turn it back around.
"Now that things are getting real, you want to quit instead of revealing your secrets. You're a coward, just like all the other men out there. You care more about your manly pride than what your women needs. God forbid someone sees you as less than you make yourself out to be," she ranted as she got up and started cleaning up our snack and glasses. I didn't know where her assumptions came from, but I had to believe it was the wine and someone in her past. There was no way she was getting that from me.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I took the wine glasses off the plate she carried. They were teetering with her unsteady gait.
She took off, stomping (read stumbling) to the kitchen, bitching as she went. "All talk but no answers. You talk the talk but you don't walk the walk."
I brought the glasses in behind her. I was fuming mad, and yet reeling in confusion. "Are you serious right now? I don't even know what you're mad about. You need to calm down, maybe you should take a nap, and we can—"
She spun around and shoved me. "Don't go telling me what to do. This is my house. I'm an adult and frankly, I don't know why you are still here. I thought you were a good guy. I thought you were real." She tried to push me aside and walk away, but I stopped her. I took her arm and turned her toward me.
"I'm sorry. I've missed something he
re. I'm going to give you one chance to explain yourself, and if you can't do it like an adult, I'm going to appease your curiosity and blister your ass, like you deserve."
She took a step forward, glared up at me and snarled, "That's just what I meant, all talk. No action."
Okay, maybe I'd had too much to drink, too. It was my only excuse. I should have backed off. I should have taken a walk. She clearly wasn't thinking normally. Hindsight is twenty-twenty as they say.
It was a short distance back to the sofa, and she didn't fight me at all when I pulled her along with me. I sat down and pulled her over my lap just like I remembered John Wayne doing in McClintock. She squirmed over my thighs, but didn't fight. I hoped she wouldn't feel my rock hard cock beneath her tummy, then realized I didn't give a fuck. I slapped her ass, loving the sound of her moan with each smack. Somehow it didn't seem as if this spanking was being taken as a deterrent for future bad behavior. I thought about pulling her pants down but decided against it. The material was thin and it would have to do. It was just that I wanted to see what I imagined would be a hot, red hand-print or prints covering her sexy cheeks. I kept delivering spank after spank until I heard her sob. Then the reality of it all came crashing down around me.
What the hell was I thinking? What had I done? I stopped spanking and pulled her up so I could see her face. Before I could say anything, she threw her arms around my neck. I hugged her close, thankful she hadn't run from me in terror. I'd never been so stupid before.
"I'm so sorry. I never should have—" I tried to apologize. I got choked up. I never hated myself so much as that moment. I was disgusting. Even in my self-loathing just then, my dick was still hard. Maybe harder than it had ever been. I couldn't do anything to take it back. I hugged her close, rocking back and forth. How could I do this? "God, Frankie… I'm so sorry."
She stopped clinging to me and leaned back to look up at me. Her eyes were bright blue and wet with tears. "No," she said, fervently. "I'm sorry. I pushed you, but I wanted it. It was amazing. I—thank you."