345 The Game



I drank two cups of very strong black coffee and emptied my holding tank.  I expected to be pouring drinks into it for at least a few hours.  I walked across the street carrying a six pack of canned cokes.  I remembered that in my locker there was an almost full bottle of some kind of Irish Whiskey.  The Irish Whiskey was a gift from someone I worked with now and then.  Yeah him,


I walked across the street and felt an eerie feeling as I crossed over the spot where I had almost bled to death.  I remembered how hollow it felt to finish off Nanny Cunt, when I was the new me.  It was okay, but I’m sure the old me would have enjoyed it much more.


Anyway, I went in the rear door and down the stairs.  I always heard the echo of muffled screams, when I first entered the room.  Maybe Jennifer and her guests heard it as well.  Maybe we really did have a dungeon ghost in the place. It would make the place a hell of a lot more interesting.


I had been warned not to be late, so I was about ten minutes early.  The residents of the building, who were going to play, were already assembled.  Leon and dancer, Vlad and Anya, all stood at the bar waiting.  I joined them in time to greet Sylvia, as she walked in before I even got the coke into the cooler.


“You must have pulled in right behind me.  I’m surprised that I didn’t see you,” I admitted to Sylvia.


“You looked as though you had other things on your mind.  You aren’t worried about the housing development are you?” she asked.


“Not in the least, are you?” I asked.  If she hadn’t been a little worried, then I would have to be, I thought.  Someone had to be a worrier.


“Yes, I am just a little.  We are moving into a stage where I have to argue with the foreman from HLF and he keeps pushing me,”  Sylvia admitted.


“One piece of advice, then we don’t talk anymore business.  Find yourself a guy who can do all the things HLF are supposed to do.  Then put him on speed dial.  This is a house by house deal with HLF.  If they give you shit, Christians or not, dump them.  It’s not Sunday, it’s a work day.  Now, no more business.”


Just a few minutes later Jennifer came in with two men.  We were going to be one man short, but I knew something they didn’t.  Sylvia was going to be happy to be seen and to look.  She wasn’t looking for a man like I was.


The three latest arrivals walked up to the group of us, so that Jennifer could introduce them.  She started on the other side of the group so she got to me and Sylvia almost last.  When she introduced us, I was not a bit surprised that both men couldn’t take their eyes off Sylvia.


The older distinguished looking man got introduced around first.  His name was John something or other.  He was wearing a suit, so he was going to need a few special instructions, especially since he was a lawyer.


The younger one was called Billy and he was in a knit shirt with a wind breaker over it, so he was good.  I still expected him to try to sell his socks or something like the new people always did.


“You are the lawyer Jen, so you explain to the newbies how this works,” I demanded.


“In order to play you sell your clothes to the bank,” she began  “Everything which exposes skin has a value.  You hang it on the nails over there and the banker gives you the equivalent amount of chips.  When you are out of clothes, and chips, you are out of the game.  If you have a surplus of chips and want to buy your clothes back you can.  At the end of the game, it’s just over and you leave dressed in whatever you have left. You can try to negotiate something with the winners to get enough chips to buy back your clothes, or drive home as you are.  Yes I know us residents have the better deal, but hell it’s out game, so our rules.”


I was in a sweater, over a tee, over a plain cotton chemise.  My breasts were so small and so firm, since they were manufactured, that I had recently given up on bras, more or less.  I looked like a teenage boy, with the bad hair and almost flat chest.  If I wore something with a skirt, and that showed off my small cleavage, then there was no doubt.  I could also wear a slightly padded push up bra, if I really wanted to make the ‘I’m a chick damn it’ statement. Most of the time, I didn’t care whether the people I dealt with could figure it out or not.

So the game began almost on time.  I sold my sweater, my tee shirt and my jeans to the bank for 3000 chips.  When I sat down I was in the chemise and my plain cotton bikini panties.  Sylvia sat on my right.  She was in an almost industrial strength bra and plain white granny panties.  Even so she got the most stares.


Most all the men were in white tee shirts and boxer shorts.  Some even had bulges.  I found the size of Leon’s bulge to be a surprise.  I supposed that it was how he had made a living as a social spy as opposed to a field agent type spy.


Dancer was in a support bra and panties that appeared to be silk, forever elegant, I thought.  Anya, like Sylvia, was industrial chic all the way.  Jennifer was the only woman in a fancy bra and panties.  I could see her nipples through the bra and her pubic hair through the panties.  Jennifer was at her sluttiest, but that was okay.  After all she was in the ‘after the marriage’ high state.  I had never been there, but I knew women who had.  At least none of the guys she brought to the poker game were college kids.


I bailed out of the first hand early after losing only 100 chips.  It went back and forth for the first hour.  We did find out how bad a player the Dancer really was.  She was the first to need more chips.  The garment which revealed her breast was worth 2000 chips so she sold out.  We all found out what Leon already knew,  Dancer had major sag issues.  She probably couldn’t afford a boob lift, but Leon surely could.  Why she had sag issues was a mystery, unless Leon liked them that way.


Regardless we played on with Dancer not getting a whole lot of attention with her saggy boobs.  The next to need refinancing was Jennifer.  She was a great lawyer, but a lousy poker player.


She not only could afford the boob lift, she had already done it.  “Yes Maxine I had a boob lift after I saw you, when you came back.  I had them leave just a little sag.  So what do you think guys?” she asked.


“I think they look great,  I just wonder whether it was a drunk driver or a bank president, who paid for them,” I commented with a laugh.


“Sweetie your insurance might have covered yours, but it took more than one of anything to pay for these beauties,” she informed me.


“And worth every penny of it,” John the lawyer said.  John also wasn’t a very good poker player.  He most likely wouldn’t be able to help Jennifer.


It was close to midnight when I re evaluated who had what.  I had my chemise and panties,  Sylvia had her clothes, but she was close to being out of chips.  Anya was naked as was the Dancer, they both were reduced to drinking and watching the game.  John was naked, and talking with Jennifer about spending the night in her apartment, so that he wouldn’t have to negotiate for his clothes,  Vlad and Leon both had stacks of chips as did Billy, Sylvia, and I.


Since the game ended at 1AM, the five of us got reckless.  In the much higher stakes games that followed Sylvia went broke and then sold out her underwear and went broke again.  Sylvia’s gorgeous body sat there naked while the rest of us finished the game.  Billy was naked shortly after midnight.  He was followed by Leon within minutes.


Since I wanted to get laid, I let Vlad win.  I hoped to create some interest.  I was naked at 1AM.  “So Maxine you know I don’t want a blow job, so what will you offer me for  your clothes?” he asked.


“Since a blow job want do, what do you want for my sweater and jean?” I asked.


“I will make you and Sylvia an offer, All your clothes, if we all get to watch you kiss.  It has to be a really serious kiss.” Vlad said.  Anya gave him a look that could melt steel.


“That’s up to Sylvia, but I will make her an offer as well.  If she wants to run across the street naked, I have clothes that will be a tight fit, but will get her home.  She can get her clothes back at 9AM tomorrow that is the last ditch rule,” I explained to her.


“Vlad, you are doing this because you are an evil old Russian cop.  I am going to do the au natural twenty meter dash across the street,”  She said with a laugh.


“If any of the rest of you are interested, you can do the dash and hold up in my place till morning.  I will come back over and get your clothes then.”  Of course I knew that only Billy and John would have any interest.  With me and Sylvia both naked, I didn’t see how they could refuse.


“I think I’m going to con Jennifer into sleeping on her sofa,” John said.  “I’m not up to a sprint across the street naked at 1:30 in the morning.”


“Well, I’m game,” Billy said.  “Can’t be any worse than driving home naked.”


“Oh, you are saying that spending the night with two naked women as not any worse than driving home naked?” Sylvia asked.  “Are you gay?”


“Of course not, I meant the running across the street naked in the middle of the night part.  Spending the night with you two sounds like fun,”  he explained.


“You are going to be sleeping on the sofa,” Sylvia went on.


“Hold on girl, it’s my place.  I decide where people sleep and he can sleep anywhere he wants,” I said smiling.


“Not with me,” she said.  “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”  Sylvia was making it tough for him to say yes.  I didn’t much like that since I really wanted to get laid.  I had not been so turned on since the big change.  Maybe it was just the memory of how I should feel.  Whatever it was felt real and I was ready to drop to my knees at the first opportunity.


“Well, I am still game,” he said.


“Then lets do this.  Lets go up stairs and take off through the front door.  When no one is coming, we can dash across the street,  Then we can go into the front door of my place.  We won’t be out in the cold more than thirty seconds,” I suggested.


“Now that is a plan I can live with,” Billy said.


“Me to,” Sylvia agreed.


I rushed across the street between the very few cars moving that time of the night.  The two of them followed after I had the door to my place open.  I held it for them as they rushed over.  I wasn’t at all cold, but their teeth were chattering when they came inside.


“Come on into the kitchen and I will heat some coffee in the microwave,” I suggested.


“Wonderful,” the naked and beautiful Sylvia agreed.


“God you are beautiful,” Billy said as she passed him.  Of course he didn’t realize that in saying that, he has implied that I wasn’t.  I almost laughed, because I knew that I was using Sylvia as bait.  I would feel bad, except she was using me for her sexual gratification as well.








About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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10 Responses to 345 The Game

  1. Mr. T. says:

    This discussion about grammar has been bouncing around in my head for a while now.
    I constantly remind people of a simple fact:
    “If it weren’t for AUTHORS, there would be NO need for EDITORS ! ”
    It is my belief that if people want to be grammar police, then let them. However, DON’T stifle the creativity of the person who has a story to tell. HELP THEM, DON’T HINDER THEM !
    Maybe the grammar police will learn that one day. Or else, maybe they should learn how to say” Do you want fries with that?” – So they can have some kind of a job that will pay them…
    UH OH ? Did my spell checker screw up???? Quick, Call the Police !

    • cindypress says:

      I have decided that I have a flow to the way I write, so fuck them all. Read and enjoy if you can if you can’t please go somewhere else. I really don’t want to hear from you unless it is something that I really need to change to make it coherent. like that chapter which was mis numbered that I needed to fix, because it really did make a difference. If I use too instead of to it make not one fucking bit of difference.

      Taking my mood adjusting meds now. Sorry about that.

      • Mr. T. says:

        Actually, I want to thank you for giving budding writers some insight into SOL attitudes.
        I had thought about posting a story or two out there on SOL, but don’t want to be TRAMPLED by the grammar police. When I first saw your comments I was surprised, and relieved that I had dodged a bullet. So thank you.

        BTW, I don’t know where you got the profile for Jennifer, but I do laugh at how similar she is to 3 female lawyers I have met. UNCANNY !

        Mr. T.

      • cindypress says:

        I just dream them up. And all the established sites are like that. Everybody wants feedback but if all you ever get is your grammar sucks you can’t spell it kills the desire to publish at least. I started this blog so that the people who comment have to do it public. The assholes sound like assholes so not too many jump in and post malicious comments. I have gone back after several months to catch sol up and now they seldom bother to send me crappy comments. I still get a few and I just reply to them. stop reading my shit if it is that bad.

  2. The Mage says:

    YOU GO GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    Your faithful fan,
    The Mage 🙂

  3. Bob says:

    Towns can tell stories but they cannot write. You do have very nice flow. I have read every chapter and enjoy your story immensely.

  4. Shooter says:

    Keep up the writing regardless of the grammar police and the spell checkers. The story and the premise of the story is the important part. So long as we know what you mean we can read it and enjoy. Don’t really understand how you can write a chapter a day and still keep Maxine in character but you have kept me reading for the entire 345 chapters. An old Navy saying “Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.” You go girl.

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