The Loft Game: Astro Boy

This is the seventh Loft Game story, and they should be read in order unless you don't mind dealing with unexplained references and spoilers about past events. It starts with The Loft Game: Kermit and Literotica's series feature should show the order.

In the notes at the end of Sauron, I mentioned that the next episode was tentatively entitled The Loft Game: Gibraltar. However, story events got rearranged as I was writing, and here you are with Astro Boy.

This is the first episode in which I've actually given a name to the school Chips attends--McVay College--because it was becoming increasingly clumsy not use one. It is, of course, a fictional Pennsylvania institution so that I can play fast and loose with geography, traditions, etc. without having some alum say, "Hey, wait just a damn minute!" You should view it as one of the numerous private, liberal arts institutions that dot the Northeast.

This one has a couple of flashbacks in it. I used one in Sauron and decided I liked them for a certain type of situation. Since there's no font control on Literotica, they're set off by single diamonds. So, if you see one of those, don't be confused.

Anyway, Chips has said, "See ya in September," to those heading home before the final day of exam week. The seniors she isn't likely to see on the weekend were sent on their way with a hug and "If you come back for reunions next year, maybe?" Chips and Em are planning to head out bright and early Sunday morning.

--C

--------------

Five months ago, I sat in an armchair on the basement level of the library, eavesdropping on Em talking with Logan. Her words and the searing flash of heat that shot through my entire body when I heard them had bent my freshman year onto a new course.

I mean, Em had gone from a furious "Are you fucking kidding me!"--the "bitch" hanging unspoken in the air on the end of that sentence--to one of my best friends.

And my Friday nights had become infinitely more intriguing than the occasional foray to some party with other girls in my dorm. Or hanging in underwear and a ratty old T-shirt in the privacy of my room, determinedly not thinking about my roommate, Taylor, who'd taken up semi-permanent residence at her boyfriend's.

Which, to my needy imagination, meant getting her brains bonked out.

As for my sex life, it had gone from one not-exactly-sober hookup with a guy who got things done in the moment but whom I barely thought about after the door closed behind him to ...

Well, I couldn't say I was getting laid regularly. Certainly not compared to my last year of high school when a steady boyfriend plus an Airstream camper behind our garage that was determinedly overlooked by parentals meant at least weekly.

No, doing the actual deed probably averaged monthly at best since that day in the library. But if you expanded the definition beyond the letters p-in-v, then yeah, my sex life had re-blossomed.

And now, five months later, I was sitting in that exact same chair, and Em had Logan on her phone once again. Only this time, I wasn't eavesdropping on one side of a conversation. This time, Em and I were huddled in front of FaceTime with Logan looking back at us. The topic was whether my re-blossoming sex life should flower just a tiny bit more.

"Come on, Chips!" Logan said.

"We're nervous too," Em put in, "but--"

"No."

They were trying to convince me to change my mind about the game that was happening that night. It wasn't a Loft Game; those were over until next September. But two years ago, another game was started. Just one a year, played the last night of exams.

I knew what Em meant by nerves. Boys versus girls, Victoria had explained. Not super concerning in itself. But "Whichever side loses, they all lose." There were so many questions around that, so many unnerving possibilities. Questions Victoria had grinned her evil grin about and refused to answer.

Yeah, like that's a shocker.

The sarcastic thought had run through my mind as we sat in Dunkin' that night. Play and find out. She hadn't said that, but we knew. We all got off watching those moments when the unknown suddenly showed a hidden side.

The look on a newbie's face when they learned the words "strip poker" covered a knock on the door of strangers, stark naked.

The eyes of a girl who knew that, when the back room door closed behind her, she'd find out exactly what the deliberate vagueness surrounding the words "give a blowjob" encompassed.

It hasn't happened with a guy ... yet. I'd seen guys lose the main game, but never their first time facing the prospect. Someday. Savor the anticipation, girl.

You either sucked it up in those moments or you didn't. You could quit at any time.

The amused gleam in Victoria's eyes at the prospect of first-timers finding out what the words "they all lose" meant. I wrenched my mind back.

"There are reasons. Next year," I promised my two friends.

Em leaned back in her chair and considered me. I had said something about "reasons" when I'd asked her if we could leave on Sunday instead of Saturday. I promised her a story on the ride home. I had mentally crossed my fingers when I did: it would be a version of the story, some balance of privacy and prurience.

"C'mon! This isSOOO not like you!" Logan's fake-frowny toddler face was kind of funny and I laughed. "Stop laughing!" she demanded. "More girls means more chances we win."

"Five of them and six of you. You've already got an edge," I countered. I understood that Logan and Em liked the idea of more newbies for this game, herd size lessening the intimidation factor, but, "It's a no." My tone was firm. "Now, the whole point of getting up at this stupid hour was some last-minute before an exam that's less than two hours away," I said pointedly.

Em sighed. "Bye, Log." Logan's scowl disappeared from FaceTime, and we pulled open our backpacks.

When I said bent in my freshman year, perhaps a better word would have been kinked it. But no, the kink didn't come from that time meeting Em. That perverse bit had always been lurking down deep inside me. The twist was now it didn't lurk.

Despite my refusal, somewhere a few inches behind the button of my jeans there was a knot of heat over the notion of the game.

Fuck! I pushed away the thought of a guy sprawled in front of me. Not now!

"Okay," I said to Em. "I'm betting we're gonna have to do a visualization of ..."

• • •

Em and I stared at the sign that read "CS 1137 - Prof. Horner - 9:00 a. m." Appended below it was taped the standard university notice that told us, "Exam in progress. NO cell phones permitted."

"Good luck," I said as I dutifully surrendered mine to the bored TA sitting there.

Em and I had taken Intro to Data Visualization for different reasons.

Her adviser had told her, "Emily, you have to take at least one semester of QCR in order to graduate"--Area Studies in Quantitative and Computational Reasoning, but nobody bothered with that mouthful--"and this one can be useful for a biology major." Em said the woman had laughed and added, "And Horner gets a pretty good score on Rate My Prof."

Corey Horner was mid-thirties and, even I had to admit, kinda hot in a rumpled way. And Em's tastes absolutely ran toward hot, rumpled, and thirty-something. "q. v. Ryan," as the freshman guide to footnoting would explain.

Not that I'm saying that's what made up her mind. Though, of course, that's exactly what I did say and then ducked the carrot stick hurled in my general direction, fortunately for my bed not loaded with onion dip.

I hadn't ended up in the course through quite that personal a touch. My adviser had looked at me, probably Freshman Clone #20 for his day, with a bored expression and opened with, "Here's the second-semester freshman pack for you." He was filling out the registration form before I could say a word.

Which, of course, hadn't exactly gone over too well with Non-clone #20.

A class with Em would be fun, and college was supposed to be fun, right? And I'd have to take a course in that area at some point, right? And some dick guy was dismissing me, right? So I waited until he handed me the piece of paper, then I drew a firm line through "PSYCH 101" and wrote "CS 1137." Then I stared at him until he signed it.

"Easy peasy," Em replied as she accepted the chit for her phone. The statement was belied by the gulping noise and big eyes she made. I took to writing small programs in R like a duck to water. Em didn't.

An hour later, I contemplated the computer screen with satisfaction and hit the Submit button. Em glanced over as I stood, and I gave her an encouraging grin. I retrieved my phone from the now-deep-in-a-book TA and headed for the student center. We'd agreed to meet there when we both finished because, clearly, carbs would be needed after the ordeal.

Victoria was there, lounging alone at a table. "Done?" she asked, sliding her backpack off the other chair.

I nodded.

"Me too," she said. "Only I'm done-done. Feels kinda weird."

"What's next?"

"My mom and dad are both architects at one of the big firms in Pittsburgh. They got me an entry-level job. The pay's shit, but after a year, the company pays for grad school part-time at CMU. That's too nice a bennie to pass up."

It took me a second to realize what CMU meant: Carnegie Mellon University. I couldn't help the little flutter the mention of that school brought.

Ethan's only got three hundred chips left.

Something must have shown on my face, because Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, just I know somebody starting there in the fall," I said.

"Ah."

Is that "Ah" as in "Small world"?

Or is it "Ah" as in "Suuure, Charl. Just 'somebody.' Totally believe you."?

She wouldn't know ... I mean, only Brey and Logan were there. Well, and Em, of course, but--

"So, tonight. Is there a problem?" she asked.

The sudden change of topic took me a second. I pulled back from spinning on whether the whole loft knew about my booty weekend with Em's brother, especially what happened at H2O. "Problem?"

"It didn't seem like you. I just wondered if Kevin was being an asshole to you and that's why."

Our eyes met. Kevin had it in for three of us who'd been outspoken in blocking a friend of his from the Loft Game. Victoria was one, and he'd gotten even with her. Hannah was the second. She could escape his revenge if she got through one more evening. I was the third, and I had another year with him. My chances of escape were smaller.

He'd passed me on campus a day before and said with that fucking smirk of his, "If I don't see you before you leave, I'll definitely see you next year. Have a good summer."

Yeah, that's totally not "Have a good summer anticipating me winning and you losing next year."

I pushed that dread away. "I think he's pretty much always an asshole, but no."

I hesitated then told her, "I have something on Saturday and don't want to spoil it."

She didn't seem confused by that elliptical answer. In fact, the twitch of her lips said she probably understood it all too well, but she contented herself with a mild, "Hannah said it was something like that, but I wanted to make sure."

I wondered if Victoria knew, specifically, what that Saturday "something" was. Hannah, Owen, and Victoria were all seniors, and they'd played the game together for four years. They were friends, and maybe Victoria had figured it out from little clues over those years. I wasn't going to ask because, if she didn't know, I was afraid my face would burn. Because, of course, her obvious response would be, "No, I don't. Tell me."

Then I'd have to explain. And while I wasn't embarrassed that I was going to do it, some part of me was too shy to come out and say, "I bet being the filling in a threesome." Her face didn't give a hint one way or the other.

"Well, enjoy your something and maybe next year."

Despite the poker face, something in her tone convinced me that she did know, but that she wasn't going to call me on it. Maybe because it was between Owen, Hannah, and me and none of her business. Maybe because she wasn't supposed to know.

Maybe it was nothing more than the loft was the loft, and the student center wasn't the loft. Victoria could be a stickler about how things should be sometimes.

"I gave you some shit when we met," she said in another sudden change of direction. It was true. She'd halfway scared me from playing my first main game. Well, maybe not halfway because, fantasies. But still.

"You did," I admitted. "I was, like, freaked out a little by it, and then five minutes later I found out we were playing a completely different game that I'd never--"

"Trust me," she interrupted. "Hannah's one of my BFFs, but I gave her a raft of shit for that afterwards. I'm sorry for that part. I actually liked you a little more when you sucked it up and played anyway." She paused for a second. "I was worried about what Hannah told me, you asking about faking and bailing."

I wondered if there was still a question in her mind about me.

"I was just curious," I said. "Even now that I've seen how it can be. How, how--" I waved my hands because I couldn't come up with an adjective intense enough. Humiliating? Terrifying? Horrendous? "I won't welch. Even if it's Kevin."

After a second, I added, "Especially if it's Kevin." Victoria cocked her head and met my eyes. "I'm not the weak link," I said defiantly.

She held the gaze for a long second, then said softly, "No. Fuck him. It's not right, but fuck him."

"Though not literally."

She laughed at that, and the serious moment broke.

"Not in this lifetime," she agreed. She glanced around as someone settled at the table next to us. The student center was starting to get busy as students filtered out of exams. "Sit outside?" We flopped on the grass.

"Like a month and a half ago, 'member when you asked what Emily meant?"

I did. I'd told Em how shaken I was by meeting Victoria, and she'd said, "Talk to her sometime about the game."

"I'm a little bitchy to every girl her first time or two in the main game. I'm sure Emily told you what I said to her." I nodded. "I've said the same to all of them, even before I was senior girl. I'd have said the same to you, 'cept Hannah got me more worried in your case." She gave a little sideways grin. "Part of it is just that I am a bitch."

I laughed dutifully.

"But part of it is that, if a girl's on the fence, trusting in 'quit any time' as a get-out-of-jail-free card, I want her gone. It's okay if someone doesn't want to play. Take tonight--if you had told me that you weren't coming because you weren't up for that kind of bet, I'd have had zero problem with you. I might have been a little surprised, but I wouldn't have cared. However, if you showed up and let everyone else take the risk of losing, then bailed when you lost ... well, fuck you."

I kept quiet, not knowing where this was going but sure there was more.

"It's happened before," she said.

Some impulse made my mouth bypass my brain. "Jennifer."

I managed to surprise her. She stared at me, eyes wide. "How--?" They narrowed to slits. "She's been talking." Her tone was hard: the grim Victoria I'd first met.

You weren't kicked out of the loft for bailing in the main game. If you realized you'd gotten in over your head, you could change a "yes" to a "no" and go back to playing green. And unlike the way it sometimes went down out in the world, withdrawn consent was respected in the Loft Game, ironclad principle from Kim's day down to Victoria's tenure. But if you took that route ...

You. Did. Not. Talk.

Do that and you were gone. Em's fury when she'd caught me eavesdropping that day in the library was all about unknowingly breaking that rule.

"No!" I said quickly to stave off the thunderclouds I could see brewing. "The green game the night Chloe started."

"What about the green game?"

I told her how I'd guessed. How I learned that, if a girl found out she just couldn't, she could go back to the green game. How I'd seen the excitement on Jennifer's face at Nick and Em's bet contrasting with the shock on green-gamer faces. Adding two and two.

"Ah." The storm clouds receded. "That's Jennifer." I filed that cryptic bit away without comment. There was a waspish edge to Victoria's voice, and I figured Jennifer still had a place on her shit list.

"Not a good night," she said, "but we covered it."

"We" being the girls, I figured. And "covered"--did someone take Jennifer's place? Was that what she meant way back then by "get out and we'll clean up your shit"? Ideas ... theories ... flickered through my mind.

Hannah? Hannah had said, "A different guy. Different reasons," of her ordeal.

Carrie? "Carrie's, like, a total give-'em-a-show type," Em had described.

"I'd have been more panicked when Kevin chose that if it were my first time."

It took a second for Victoria's words to make sense.

Not Hannah or Carrie!

"You had to when Jennifer refused?" I asked tentatively when she didn't immediately continue. She seemed to ignore the question.

"I had this friend in high school, Hailey," she said, off on another tangent. "She was a year ahead of me, so we weren't, like, besties or anything, but we were on lacrosse together, went to the same parties because our friend groups overlapped. You know."

I did. Most of my high school crowd were in my class, but activities and boyfriend/girlfriend status drew in some from other years.

"She got accepted to McVay, too."

Oh, maybe this isn't a tangent after all.

"She tracked me down after I'd been here a week to touch base. I met this guy she'd started seeing, Devin, and a couple of friends of theirs. It was pretty cool having someone from home be here. I mean, I was meeting other people myself--I actually met Hannah during Freshman Week--but Hailey knew who had the best parties, which places didn't check IDs too hard, you know. So it was cool sometimes hanging with sophomores and juniors.

"One night, we were at Devin's place. The three of us and his apartment mate were smoking some weed. Out of the blue, Hailey said, 'Let's play strip poker.' We ended up naked." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't know it was a tryout at that point."

I felt the now-entirely-familiar warmth pulse in me as I pictured her story. I remembered how exciting just being at college was those first couple of weeks. Pile on top some of that kind of excitement ... I suppressed the shiver.

I wanted to ask, "How'd the night end after the game?" but didn't. I think she knew, because her eyes wrinkled in amusement. I had a suspicion that nameless-roommate-of-Devin might've totally boned a freshman that night.

Or did ...? I forcibly pushed an Owen--Hannah situation out of my mind.

"She invited me to the green game the next week. She and Devin played both games."

"Not his roomie?"

"Not then. He was a civilian. I said it was a tryout."

We brought people into the green game in boy--girl pairs for balance. The upperclassmen all knew other guys who would play if told about it--hell, I probably knew a couple myself. Girls were the bottleneck. If Devin wanted his buddy in the game, they needed to recruit some of us.

"I got the invite for the main game two months later. I played my first one right after Thanksgiving. Hailey lost. Devin won. And--" She turned to face me, all traces of amusement leaching away. "And she kinda half-smiled because, even though losing is embarrassing, and she was going to start getting shit from everyone any second, the winner was a guy she was with. I mean, they were already hooking up.

"Except Devin said, 'Give us a show, Hailey.'"

Given what Victoria told me right before this story, I'd subconsciously known where this was headed. I could even guess the next part. I waited to see how we'd get there.

"I've never seen anyone actually turn white before, but that's what it looked like. She was, like, just staring at him, and he sat there grinning. And then Jess--she was one of the seniors--said, 'Hailey.' It was kinda like, 'Come on, girl, put on your big-girl panties.' Hailey started crying. And then she said, 'Why?' to Devin, but he just shrugged."

Victoria paused.

"I don't think he was trying to be an asshole. I think he didn't expect it to go down that way. I mean, in his mind, he was already getting blowjobs from her, and some in the room had to know."

"Like we all knew about Megan and Mike even before she told us," I said.

"Exactly. I mean, I knew Hailey and Devin were hooking up, and I was a freshman newbie. So he was probably thinking one more BJ wasn't exactly a momentous event. And I didn't know it then, but Devin had lost once. So, he figured, yeah, she'd be embarrassed just like he had been, but then it would be over."

I got it, the train wreck of clashing viewpoints. I really did.

Him thinking: C'mon. We all signed up for something a little edgier than 'mess around with your boyfriend behind a closed door.' You knew it could happen. I mean, you totally perved out when I had to.

Her thinking: You know this is a huge deal for us girls, bigger than for you. How could you? I mean, some other asshole here, maybe, but you? I thought we were ...

Like I said, a train wreck.

"And?" I prompted.

"She just stood there until someone made some sound. Then she snarled, 'Fuck you!' to Devin and bolted. She didn't even stop to dress, just grabbed her clothes and was out the door. Everybody was sitting there in shock. I was, like, totally, 'What the fuck just happened!?'"

Victoria's mouth twisted into a grimace. She glanced over at me.

"You know where this is going, right?"

I nodded hesitantly, pretty sure.

She nodded back, confirming that she knew I knew. Then she told me anyway. I didn't know the names, but that didn't matter; I knew the Loft Game:

♦

I froze as the door slammed behind Hailey.

What the FUCK just happened!? Has this ever happened before? What now?

"What now?" The question came from Alexis. She was a sophomore, like Hailey.

I looked over at Jess, the one she'd asked, the one most likely to have been through this if it had ever happened. Jess's face left no doubt about her mood. All traces of excitement and horniness that had been there thirty seconds ago were gone. She was upset ... and underneath that, furious.

Jess took a deep breath as if to steady herself. She turned to Devin, who looked as shell-shocked as any of us.

"Choose. Anyone, your choice. They take her place."

It took me a second to understand what she was saying. I felt my gut drop into my shoes, not that I was wearing shoes. Or anything, for that matter.

Oh my fucking God! But I didn't lose, I didn't even come in second-last! It's not fair! I--

"It's okay," Devin started. "We can--" But Jess cut him off.

"No! I wouldn't give you an option if you lost, would I? Aaliyah didn't last year, did she? She said what she wanted and that was that. Sucked to be you."

I guessed that Devin must have lost to Aaliyah and found himself sprawled on the couch. Ten minutes ago, the image would have lit a fire in me. Some guy having to lie back and get himself off at a girl's command? It's what had gotten me into the game. But right now, I was too frozen.

"But you didn't lose," he protested. Jess shook her head.

"You were here for the Manny thing. We collected on that one with interest." All eyes turned to Manny for a second. I didn't get what she meant, but he ducked his head, clearly abashed.

"No," Jess reiterated. "Choose."

Devin's eyes went around the room. A horrible premonition came over me as they flicked past me, then swung back.

"Vick."

"Victoria," I corrected automatically, my mind screaming into overdrive.

I'm not the prettiest. My boobs aren't that big, and no way I have the best booty. Why--

Maybe it was because I was associated with Hailey in his mind. Maybe he'd had a fantasy after that strip poker game, but I'd somehow ended up in the other bedroom. Maybe it was that I was the newest in the game, or the youngest in the room.

Every face turned toward me. I expected the bullshit to start, but nobody said a word. Waiting. Seeing what the new girl would do. But I could already see the thoughts stealing in, the excitement of someone being forced to step waaay beyond comfortable. Double exciting because I was a newbie in her first game. And triply because this was so unexpected, a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. They knew I had to be totally screaming inside, and that was grist for the kink mills.

And I was screaming inside.

No! It's not FUCKING FAIR! I didn't lose. Suck it up, Devin. She was your girlfriend, so it's kinda on you.

Just stand up and leave, girl. Just like she did. Oh my God--you can quit at any time! She already did, so it wouldn't be that big a deal.

Not this. No way.

The thoughts were a torrent that wouldn't stop. I felt like I was going to pee down my leg. Excuses and reasons and I-can'ts and not-fairs and ...

I stood up. I wavered, legs like jelly, uncertain whether they would hold me, let alone take a step.

I took a step. Toward the couch.

"No, hon. Come with us for a second." It was Jess.

My eyes locked on her face. There was relief there. That he didn't say, "Jess"? That the situation is resolving? Both? Probably both. But there was also sympathy.

"C'mon."

I followed her toward the back room. Other girls stood and followed. One of the guys reached up to the wall dimmers. The bright spot shining down on the table disappeared. A dim glow grew directly over the couch. If I could have choked up anymore, the implications of that would have done it. Every guy's eyes were on me, checking out what I was already showing, picturing what I'd be doing.

♦

Victoria had stared at her knees while she was telling me the story. Now she looked back up.

"I didn't have the video back then."

I knew the video she meant. Cream and darkness, a rough, carnal face and an utterly perfect torso underneath a shower. The camera panning back slowly to expose the turgid length, breathtaking in its proportions, a cruel circle of black shock cord indenting the flesh below the strong hand. A woman's voice controlling his actions, again and again, inflexible as his expression grew more desperate, his breathing more ragged, his need more evident. Until finally "Now" and the thick ropes of white mingled with the falling water.

It was a video that had left me panting and wet and fighting my screaming body. It had been no different the second time I watched it in my room. It would do the same again if I went back to my room right now and played it a third time. But I wouldn't. I was already hot and bothered, and I wanted to still be that way some thirty-some hours from now.

"I hadn't even thought about it," she continued. "I'd just joined the game and, somehow, I thought there was no need. I mean, you can't get pregnant your first time, right?" That idiocy caused us both to grimace, pulling me back from where I had wandered.

"So?"

"They brought out the bin." The plastic tub sat under the bed in the back room of the loft. These days, that video was on a thumb drive in there with Victoria's name on it. And after watching what had happened just three weeks ago, I'd put a duplicate with "Chips" on the label.

"Jess gave me two airline bottles of Jose Cuervo. 'Chug these,' she told me, 'and we'll give it a few minutes. They understand.' I knew she meant the guys would.

"Some of the others offered me their porn. I had my choice of things from hot pool boy to more than one guy. Unfortunately"--she wrinkled her nose--"none of that sounded exactly up my particular alley." She didn't need to spell that out nor give me a look that said she knew I found it an interesting alleyway too.

"Which did you choose?"

"Who says I chose any of them?" she snapped, giving me a frown. Then, as I started to apologize, she snickered. "A guy going down, except that the girl, she was blindfolded."

My eyebrows arched.

"No," she said, "I don't have a particular thing for that, but it was something I could use to, umm, like, I only watched the video for a little bit, then I closed my eyes and pretended I was her and that the sounds were me. It was enough."

Enough. Enough that you could quarter-turn onto a hip like I'd seen you do and spread your legs just a bit. Enough that you could ignore the sounds of heavy male breathing--probably female, too, because that video was in the bin for a reason. It hooked at least one other imagination.

My legs spread wide to accommodate a guy's broad shoulders, arms tucked back behind my head under the pillow, hips rolling every so slightly in time to the stroke of a tongue while maybe a finger or two-- I shoved the mental porn reel away. I was so on edge that even the slightest provocation sent my thoughts into the gutter.

Enough that, as seconds turned to long minutes, you could work yourself up to the brink of the cliff, hang there for a long second, and then hurl yourself over because that was the quid pro quo collected by the guys in exchange for their turn under the lights.

Hand sliding along oiled length, flush spreading down from--

Jesus, Charl! Fucking stop!

"And that was my intro to the game, Chips," Victoria said. "Someone I thought of as a friend threw me under the bus. I mean, she didn't pick me specifically to settle what she owed, but all the same."

"You didn't stay friends, then?"

Victoria shook her head.

"No. I don't think she had the guts to face anyone after. She sent Devin a text the next day blowing him off and then blocked him. Me ... well, she told everyone that the reason she broke up with Devin was because I fucked him."

I tilted my head.

"No, I didn't," she said. "But someone told her I spent the night at his apartment, and she twisted it into that. I'd had a third Cuervo in the back room afterwards and was kinda feelin' it. Devin drove me back, but he had to park the car at his place, and I didn't feel like walking all the way across campus. Not to mention, I was still kinda freaked out. We went up and did some weed. It was weird because, you know, of course we wanted to talk about Hailey, but his apartment mate was there and we couldn't.

"I ended up staying there, but I didn't sleep in his room. I wasn't into him at all, and he didn't know what was up with Hailey at that point. I mean, we were both figuring she might show up any second.

"No, she just made that shit up so people would be on her side and 'cause people turn angry when they don't want to admit they owe somebody. Her friends made my life suck a little more, and I had no leverage because nobody believes when you say, 'Nuh uh,' and I couldn't tell what really happened because of the rules."

It wasn't hard to imagine how sucky that was. I'd lived through an awful rumor mill myself.

"And then you got picked again when Jennifer did the same th--"

"No. I mean, yes, I made the same offer Jess did. But while ... the guy was still trying to process, I said I'd step up if he wanted. I knew that he has a thing for me and would be cool, given the sitch."

There was the hesitation of a name redacted; I was getting used to that when it came to the Loft Game. I caught the "has" instead of "had."

Someone still in the game?

"He sorta nodded, so I told Jennifer to get the fuck out of the room, and then I just did it. I fucking hated it, ya know, even though I'd learned about having some porn. It doesn't get easier. But it happened on my watch and ..." She shrugged.

I got it. Someone, some girl, in the room was going up on that couch to lie back and jill off in front of a room of people perving on it. Anything else, and there'd be whispers that girls couldn't hack it like guys could.

Fuck that!

She sighed. "Then Kevin. I can't decide if that one was better because it was legit or worse because, well, Kevin."

"Maybe legit is better?" I hazarded. It was why we played.

"Maybe. And also I didn't have outsiders hating on me for being a slut with someone's boyfriend like I did freshman year."

We sat in silence while I contemplated her years in the Loft Game. Three times! From what I could gather, that was over the average, way over. And for someone who apparently wasn't a give-'em-a-show type like Carrie. Not that I exactly knew why Em described her that way.

Carrie actually costs us shows, taking the boys into the back when she wins.

It didn't take an Einstein to figure out why Victoria was so hardcore about girls not living up to their end of the bargain. I could almost hear the grim tones of "I walked the walk for two of you bitches who only talked the talk!"

Will I ever have to?

Just on the odds--a fair chance I wouldn't. Boys went for the blowie. Well, assuming no Haileys or Jennifers happened. But it wasn't just odds. With Kevin in the game for another year--I shuddered. He was a good player. My mood shifted from sympathetic dismay over a ... friend's? ... horror stories, to dread over something that, somehow, loomed over me like a tidal wave just waiting to crash down.

"So, what's the Manny thing?" I wanted something else, hopefully something a little exciting, to distract me from anxieties about a blond asshole with a grudge.

Victoria shook her head. "Nah, you weren't there."

I let that sit there for a second. But according to my parents, I should have been nicknamed Nosy Parker Maguire rather than Charlene Emory Maguire.

"Well, I heard a story about Hailey, didn't I? And kinda another about Jennifer," I said.

"You guessed Jennifer!"

"But not Hailey. And not Devin or Aaliyah, even though I now know he lost his freshman year and who made him." I shrugged. "I mean, if I ever meet them at reunions, now I know."

Victoria frowned.

"And, you just basically admitted you know about Manny," I pressed on, "but I don't think you were there when it happened because that was your first night, right? So, someone told you, which means a loophole."

She stared straight ahead. I pressed on.

"And you, yourself, said I'd be senior girl someday. So maybe I should understand some of the unwritten rules and the history? As guidelines, you know, for if I have to deal with shit?"

Her expression turned sour while mine was all butter not melting.

"You should be pre-law, Chips," she muttered. I thought it was compliment until she added, "Fucking assholes using technicalities to get whatever shady shit they want. You'd fit right in." I let it go.

Finally, she sighed.

"I tell myself that it's my responsibility to keep things working, to not let the guys feel like they have a legit complaint. That's true. But it's also true that I've never forgiven Hailey, so I don't beat myself up when I use her as a don't-you-fucking-go-there story to girls in the main game, so they understand exactly how it is. But Manny ..."

She stopped and I figured there was some internal debate.

"Well, there are situations," she said.

What situations, damn it!? C'mon, Victoria!

"That first night, I kinda gave Jess a 'whatever' when she tried to talk to me after. I think she thought that I thought it had been totally unfair. And of course I fucking thought it was unfair! She figured I might be going to quit, or I don't know, maybe carry a grudge, which wouldn't be cool. She wanted me to understand, so she knocked on my door the next day:

♦

"Hi, Victoria," Jess said.

"What?" I half-snapped, embarrassment making me surly.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She eyed my roommate who was sprawled on her bed. "Maybe a coffee at Dunkin'? I'll buy."

I debated, then snatch up my room key and coat and followed her. We settled at a corner table, away from the line waiting at the counter and its ears.

"Sometimes, a guy can't settle his debts," she said quietly.

Huh? It was a non sequitur after "medium latte with toasted almond."

"Manny had been out earlier with his roommate and had more beers than he should've."

Oh! Well, now I get what "can't" means. I'd have been quicker on the uptake, but I was still a little rattled even though it was a day later.

"He got more and more embarrassed," Jess continued, "but we all could see how things were. Finally, someone said, 'Just give up, bruh.' He bolted into the back. Some of the guys followed. The rest of us just sat there wondering what the hell to do.

"Then the senior guy came out and asked, 'You maybe want the other thing?' But the girl who won said, 'Tempting, but I really wanted a show.'

"Then he asked, 'Do you want someone to take his place?' but she didn't like that either. You see, she'd lost to Manny at the beginning of the semester. She caught a bunch of shit because you know what it's like--oh!" Jess interrupted herself. "Last night was your first, so maybe you don't, but trust me, there's a ton of shit. And I guess Manny busted her balls in the back room a little. So, she thought payback would be fun."

I got what Jess was saying. I'd known damn well going into this game that, one day or another, it was almost guaranteed I was going to have to suck the dick of some guy who wasn't a boyfriend, just 'cause he said so. But that was totally outweighed by the thought of some guy, someday, up there in front just becauseI said so. And if that guy happened to be the same one, well--ding! ding!--your girl Victoria's twice as turned on.

"So now we really had no idea what was gonna happen," Jess continued.

She sipped her coffee as someone walked by, waiting until they passed to continue.

"Finally, the same guy comes out again. 'So, here's the deal,' he said. 'Next week, Manny will be sober. No matter who wins or loses, he's on deck." He held up his hand as grumbles started.

"I know it's not fair and y'all are disappointed right now. So, that's on us, and every girl here can take their pick of us for--" He waved toward the back room door. "Or somewhere else. Or whatever. I dunno. This is new for me."

♦

Victoria's eyes came back to mine as she finished telling the story.

"The boys stepped up that night," she said, "so Jess felt she couldn't do any less. She wasn't trying to shaft me or any other girl in the room, and that's why she was telling me, so I'd understand that she was trying to make sure we weren't"--she fluttered her eyes and waved her hands in mock dismay--"the weaker sex.

"The difference was, Manny wasn't welching, he was just--" Victoria lifted a bent finger to indicate Manny's condition. "Hailey completely bailed, so Jess couldn't say, 'Next week,' and go from there. She had to make something up, and that's all she could think of 'cause the guys had offered the same thing."

I digested what Victoria was telling me. It wasn't intended as a sexy story. It was a peek at the unwritten codes that underlay over a decade and a half of the game.

Not intended as sexy, but the horny part of my mind couldn't entirely ignore that side of it. Probably every girl in the room that night had gotten wet at the thought of beckoning to some guy.

Girls like head as much as the boy next to them, and getting without needing to give was pure indulgence. Plus the excitement of Manny's impending fate to occupy their imagination. Every one of us knew that anticipation was a condiment to lust, and a week of knowing looks every time they passed him on campus would make it all the sweeter.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I just said the boys offered--"

"Did they each take a guy to the back room?"

Victoria's puzzled frown turned to a smirk.

"I don't know. She didn't talk about other girls. But"--Victoria's grin grew wider--"Jess said she told a guy that, if he came back to her room and added a show as a warm-up before he went down, then he would totally be getting some after."

The image pierced both of us.

The burning heat between my legs as Ethan's muscles loosened and his hand dropped away from his cock. Spreading my legs and saying, "Now come over here and eat me." The atomic explosion on his tongue. Knowing that, soon, that same cock would be--

Fuck! Stop! Tomorrow night!

"So now you know the Manny story, which you don't repeat." She gave me a Victoria glare and I mimed crossing my heart. Then I saw a hairline crack of vulnerability and hurt in the hard shell. "It's still around my hometown, you know, what Hailey said I did. There were others who were at McVay back then, and at least one of them heard it and passed it around. I still get looks. So her story, yeah, you can tell that one if you've ever got a weak-ass bitch on your hands, because fuck Hailey."

Somehow, hearing what went down, learning about the backdrop that made "Your choice, Devin," the right call and made Victoria's first night in the game hell, it made her a little more human and not just a tight-ass rule-Nazi. It made me like her.

And to be honest, the knot that had burned in my core the last few days grew a little bigger at the stories, which were just that much hotter because you don't talk about Fight Club.

"How does Em know the Hailey story?" Victoria knew I was asking if she'd had the same doubts about Em that she'd had about me.

"Because every girl there the night Jennifer bailed got the story after, so they'd understand why I did it, why somebody was getting hit by a bus. They needed to understand what the real stakes are in the game, and I knew it would stay inside the main game. But they didn't get the Manny part, just Hailey part because, again, fuck Hailey."

I caught the reinforcement of never repeating the Manny story. She'd told me because some part of her accepted that I would be senior some day, and I might have to deal with those things. But then I had a second thought.

Was it that, though? You wouldn't be dealing with it if a guy couldn't, Charl, the guys would. Even you know the argument about knowing unwritten rules and history was kinda weak.

The feeling grew that there was something else there.

Those stories--Manny, her--they're about who owns it when things go to shit. Was it a subtle YOU have to deal with things if it's your watch, Charl?

That theory sent a little shiver of fear through me.

I looked up to find her looking at me with an odd expression. Whatever she saw on my face caused hers to relax. I really wasn't sure how I felt about this whole "senior girl" thing. She leaned back on her hands, watching the crowds going in and out of the building.

"You know," she said softly, "People in the loft don't talk about it to people outside the loft. And people in the main game don't talk about that to people in the green game. But everything beyond that, well, it's just us being nice to each other about being mean to each other."

That took my breath away.

"You'd figure that out over the next few years."

This is Victoria telling me this?!

"I think being nice about being not-nice is a nice way to be." She grinned at her own quip. "But it's just being nice, and sometimes there are reasons."

Suddenly, I was more than halfway certain my theory was more than a theory.

She shrugged and slid the strap of her backpack over one shoulder.

"Gotta go. Don't change your mind about tonight," she said in another sudden topic shift. Her mouth quirked in a dirty little smirk. "The numbers are almost even, and I don't wanna share when they lose. Maybe we'll catch up if you're still around for reunions next year. Have a good summer."

• • •

"Hey, Carter," I yelled to catch his attention. I had to call twice because of the noise in the student center. The place was crowded as alums showed up for the reunion festivities that preceded Commencement, and half of them seemed to have decided that reliving student life was a good idea.

"Yo," he said, walking over to where Em and I were eating disco fries. We were Jersey girls, after all, and it wasn't that hard to talk the student center guy into making it since they had all the ingredients anyway. Carter snagged a fry from Em's plate and bit into it.

"Mm, that doesn't totally suck. So, what's up?"

"You're playing tonight, right?" I asked.

"Yup. You're not," he said to me, "and you are," he said to Em, pointing with another fry.

I tugged his arm to bring his head down to my mouth. "Will you crash in my room tomorrow night? My roommate's already gone."

I ignored Em's "What?"

Last night I'd stopped by 128 Hawthorne Street for two reasons. The first was to reassure myself that an impulse on my part, one involving my first interaction with someone on campus who dabbled in not-entirely-legal transactions, wasn't going to put Owen in the emergency room. The second was to talk to Carter.

Carter had a long and varied track record when it came to women sharing his bed. I had it on good authority that quite a few who played the Loft Game had. And it was a sucker bet to think that was the entire iceberg. He was easy-going, and kinda cute, and absolutely knew what he was doing with a woman.

And, therefore, another sucker bet would be blithely assuming that Saturday night, even though it wasn't a game night, would end with nobody taking a ride on the Carter McWilliams Dick Express, as I thought of it.

The problem was, I absolutely did not want an audience in the room next door, all ears and giggles. I had zero intention of being quiet or surreptitious. But Carter hadn't been home when I'd stopped by their apartment.

I ignored the more insistent "What!" from Em and stared into Carter's eyes, waiting for the "Why?" from him that would make me pull his head down again. But the question didn't come. Instead there was an "Aha" expression that faded into humor.

"I wondered back then," he said.

"What are you two talking about!" Em demanded.

I realized that Carter knew about the bets. Not the specific who this time, obviously. But he'd been Owen's roommate since their sophomore year, and he'd known about the Owen--Hannah fuck buddy situation for almost that long.

Of course he'd pick up on what happened when Owen lost. And since no other girl showed up that February night but Owen had been in his room, it was obvious that it was waiting for some girl to win a game.

Me.

I felt my face color.

"Chips!" Em's voice was getting cranky.

"Not now, Em," I said, holding Carter's eyes. He tilted his head in consideration.

"Okay, but I want something big in return," he said.

My stomach dropped.

My relationship with Carter was pretty much centered around sex. Losing our clothes in the Loft Game every week was only the half of it. I'd been swept up in his arms at the Christmas game, bare boobs mashed against his chest, legs reflexively wrapped around his waist, his hands firmly supporting my naked ass as I he kissed me. Then I'd spent that night, plus two others later in the semester, aboard the aforementioned Express.

But being extorted for a blowjob, or more, so that my moment with Hannah and Owen didn't have an audience ...

"What?" I said, trying to keep my tone from going tight.

"These!" He snatched my plate of disco fries and turned, his laughter booming as he walked away.

I turned back, face still hot, to Em's expectant glare.

"Stories on the ride home," I said. The glare's voltage doubled.

"You better or I'm dumping your ass at a rest stop on the Turnpike!"

• • •

I studied the cards on the screen. Queen-jack suited, another queen in the flop giving me a top pair.

Strong enough.

I clicked on the button. I emphasized it with a message in the app.

charl says: All in. You've got nice balls, Ethan, but are they big enough?

I chuckled to myself thinking how he'd probably flush when he read that.

My odds weren't overwhelming. In fact, if his hole cards were kings or aces, they were strongly against me. But he had 300 chips and I had 4700. Time to use the bully stick of the big stack and try to close it out.

You might double up on this hand, Ethan, but you're so dead in the end.

I couldn't suppress the shudder of excitement.

That night back in April tops the Best Sex Ever list.

Hard on the heels of that thought came another.

Though tomorrow is gonna be up there.

And then, contemplating some unspecified day in the summer and a cutie who blended still-bashful with kinda-game, a third thought.

And then maybe something'll come along and top tomorrow.

I wasn't sure of the logistics of how I'd collect on a win over Ethan, and I wasn't entirely sure of what the prize would be. But I was sure that, when it happened, Charlene Maguire was gonna enjoy it.

Lurid possibilities of Ethan and "whatever I say" had swirled as I shut down the browser. Trying to keep my mind from thinking about sex had been futile. Wondering what was going on in the loft this very evening had intruded every minute as I packed up clothes and belongings. Images of some nameless sex-god under a shower in a video, of Owen and every other guy who'd made the walk to the couch that semester had joined in.

The most I could manage was keep my fingers out of my sleeping shorts.

• • •

It was the first Saturday in a long while I didn't have to get up and work at the library. I lay in bed trying to decide if I was hungry enough to dash to the caf before it closed, but figuring probably not. I could always walk into town for a bagel later. I dialed Em.

"So?" I demanded.

"So what?"

"You know damn well what," I practically shouted. "The game!"

She snorted. "Nope."

"Em!"

"Some byotch's been saying, 'car ride,' to me over and over every time I ask a question."

Okay, that's fair.

Em had wheedled hard to know what "reasons" meant for me not showing for that game. She was grumpy I wouldn't say what the conversation with Carter was about. I knew she figured both dripped sex and was dying to know. I could appreciate the feeling now that the shoe was on the other foot.

"At least tell me who won."

"The boys," she said.

The girls lost.

"You're okay, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. It wasn't much different from losing the regular game." Something in her tone suggested that maybe she wasn't one hundred percent sure of that. "I gotta go. Ryan's out of the shower and wants to go get breakfast."

Not for the first time, I wondered what went through her head seeing Ryan after losing in the loft.

"Can I borrow your car today?" I asked.

I spent the morning finishing packing up everything I wouldn't need for the next two days. Brey's landlord was letting her and her roommates store stuff in the basement over the summer because they were renting the same apartment next year. She said I could slide a couple of boxes into the mix if no one saw.

The alternative was either my parents or my sister coming out to pick me up because Em's car wouldn't hold everything. I'd had enough of my sister for the immediate future, and while I got along with my parents, the conversation topics with them versus those with Em was no contest. Then I got started on my other errands.

• • •

"Hey," Owen said when he opened the door.

"Hey," I replied. I was fifteen minutes early. No Hannah yet. The door to the second bedroom was standing open, and I was super-pleased that there was no sign of Carter.

I'd texted Owen and Hannah:

≫ 9:00. Owen, would you be willing to get some Sauv, pretty please???

I looked at him. Nice jeans and a white button-up shirt, cuffs rolled back to expose his forearms. He'd shaved and his hair was still slightly damp. It was a look I thought sexy as fuck. I admired the way the jeans showed off the long lines of his body, letting my eyes wander over the front, not caring if he noticed.

I looked back up to meet his dark stare. There was a hint of nerves in his expression because tonight he was mine--subject to boundaries I'd voluntarily granted--and the unknown is unnerving.

But the unknown can also be erotic, and he had a reasonable hope that, whatever I wanted, it probably would include getting laid. He was right, though I wasn't going to tell him and spoil the anticipation. A hint of nerves was an aphrodisiac for both of us.

"If I'd lost, this would have been whatever Hannah and you wanted, right?" I asked.

"Well, me," he acknowledged, "though she enjoys it too."

That surprised me a little. When we'd made the bet, I'd thought it was about her. Yeah, Owen would benefit, but I was sure it was about her plans, regardless of how straight I was. Only what we were both comfortable with, but I took pride in not being someone who weaseled.

"I went down," Brey had admitted, despite telling me that girls weren't her thing.

"So, tonight, it's what turns me on?" It wasn't a question, but I wanted to hear him say it anyway.

"Yes."

The single word thrilled me. The license was heady. If I suddenly decided I wanted to find out what pegging a boy was like, I could. I mean, I didn't want to--I had zero desires in that direction--but I could, and that fanned the flames of a concupiscent fire that had been steadily eating away inside me for days.

And spice on top of that morsel was a smug sort of glee at sidestepping a similar fate. When I let that poker chip fall to the floor, I hadn't let myself dwell on the possibility that there might be more than just Hannah's bisexuality plus a side order of girl--boy--girl for her situationship partner.

It was later, as I lay in bed gloating over my win, that I'd contemplated what might have been. Hannah's exact words had been, "... he's yours for the evening." The unspoken-but-you-damn-well-know-what-I-mean thing implicit in that was "to enjoy as you choose."

And the flip side if I'd lost?

An evening which would almost certainly have included time on my knees, might also have included time on my hands and knees, figuratively speaking. In fact, most probably, because I knew--and I had a strong suspicion Hannah knew that I knew--that Owen had a thing, and a girl slinking over on all fours to suck his dick would have suited it to a T.

And a submissive crawl might have been only the hors d'oeuvre. I didn't know the extent of Owen's desires.

If some hookup out in the real world demanded, "Crawl!" the sleepy thought had intruded last night, the next words heard in the room would have been: "I hope you enjoy your hand!" as the door closed behind me. But on a night like this, if Owen did, you'd have tried.

I would have because the game played in the loft wasn't Texas Hold 'em. That was merely a detail. The game played was risk. And if you lost, you paid your IOUs or else you were just a Hailey or a Jennifer.

I wasn't willing to be a Hailey or a Jennifer.

For that reason, one February evening, I'd stared up into Owen's eyes and deliberately turned myself into a submissive little blowjob queen despite being anything but. For that reason, despite utter mortification, I'd paid off a bet with Ethan when the stakes went so much further than I'd imagined.

I'd minded those moments. But I hadn't minded because a bet is a bet, and you don't renege on bets.

Owen's answer now told me that forfeits I'd considered only a possibility had I lost were really almost a certainty. It wasn't Hannah's desires that would have driven this evening but Owen's.

"You took it easy on me, didn't you?" It was a suspicion that had lurked in the back of my mind for months, that he'd wanted to avoid freaking out the newbie the first time she lost.

"Huh?"

"In February when I lost and you won."

His face cleared and he nodded.

"Yeah, a little."

My overly active imagination shivered. Back when I owed Ethan a "whatever" moment, I'd been apprehensive about what he might want. Max, Christian, and a couple of hookups after I left home hadn't exactly covered the gamut of what I figured were part and parcel of the standard-issue XY libido package.

One of those nervous gaps was definitely in a mental file folder labeled "Oropharynx"--and, yeah, I knew that word because certain bio-major friends here at school had dirty senses of humor, and oddly, mouths and throats weren't exactly a non-topic.

"I mean, I wouldn't have wanted you barfing or anything, but maximum effort," Owen added.

One corner of my brain appreciated the Deadpool reference, despite another shiver.

Another corner was slightly irked. I mean, I'd gotten close to all the way on that sausage he packed.

You know that was a fuckin' good BJ. You said so!

A third corner was forced to admit that close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Em just lost to him, and no effin' way she got any newbie gimmes. She dealt with whatever just like you'll deal if and when the time comes.

And then: To be fair, if the roles had been reversed, it'd have been exactly the way you wanted. After a beat though, I wasn't certain. Or would it have been? Would you have still held back just a little?

I felt a little bubble of humor mixed with excitement. Tonight! I pushed aside the thoughts of the hours lying in front of me. Don't get ahead of yourself, Charl.

The final corner of my brain was curious about how much of a bullet I'd dodged tonight. Trying to push past a strong gag reflex with a guy hadn't been the prospect that had me most on pins and needles that night with Ethan.

"Your mind went right away to me pegging you." I saw the flicker of a mental squirm. "Would you have asked me for-- You know what? Never mind."

You're not on the losing end, Charl. It doesn't matter what he would have asked for.

Owen cocked his head. He shrugged.

"I wouldn't have asked for anything. I'd--"

What?!

I blanked for a word or two at the utter absurdity of his statement.

"--it clear that you could quit, but then I'd've told you, not asked."

There was a split second of figurative hyperventilation. I mean, he hadn't even really answered the non-question, but still. Then, instead of tumbling down into a rabbit hole, what he said percolated and sparked the opposite. This wasn't two lovers negotiating boundaries. This was: you lost, I won. I smiled.

"You have the pill?" I asked. Owen nodded and tapped the pocket of his jeans. "Take it now."

I watched avidly as he ran some water into a glass and then swallowed the small, diamond shape. As I watched his throat move, I didn't need one of those finger oximeters to know my pulse jumped.

A man had just taken Viagra. Not for himself. Not so he could stay hard enough to get a second helping. No. He took it solely so I could keep him that way for whatever I had in mind.

Four to six hours. I'd read that on the internet. I felt the first stirrings of damp. I swallowed hard.

"Did you get the wine?" I asked.

I leaned back on the couch and took a sip of the Sauvignon Blanc. It came out of a box, but it was several steps above the ultra-sweet swill that found itself into most dorm parties. I wanted just the faintest buzz, just enough to mellow the edges of nerves.

Not all my nerves. Not the ones that were super keyed-up in anticipation of what was happening. Not the ones that, for what seemed like endless days, had been a knot of heat that encompassed every single part of my body within six inches of my vagina. Not the ones that flared into a Technicolor porno reel on my mental movie screen any time a thought got anywhere sex-adjacent.

Just those that were still undecided exactly how certain things were going to go down.

I leaned back and closed my eyes and listened to Billy Cobham's "Heather" play over the Bluetooth speaker. It wasn't music I'd ever have found on my own. Taylor, my roommate, had turned me on to it.

She and I'd giggled away our final night before she left, downing the last of the White Claws stashed in our fridge, her phone playing random music. One Claw had turned to two had turned to some confidences: she asking about Ethan, whose visit had exiled her from the room a few weeks back.

"As if you ever sleep here anyway!" I'd teased. She had a semi-permanent sleepover at her boyfriend's. She'd laughed along with me, then sighed.

"Summer will suck." She was a Connecticut girl. Dylan was from Delaware.

And a little while later, "Heather" had started. She'd quickly hit Skip, and I'd given her a "What's up?" look.

"That's, umm, our song."

Her tone and the slight color on her cheeks didn't imply, "That's gonna be our wedding song." It implied, "That's the song we play when we're in bed."

So, of course, I insisted on hearing it. And yeah, I could definitely see why. So, I demanded the playlist and she, giggling even more, sent it to me.

Now, I settled back and let the music flow over me.

The outer door opened and Hannah came in. She wasn't dressed as casually as Owen. She had on a short black dress held up by spaghetti straps. The shape of the bodice suggested there was no bra underneath. Bright red lipstick and dark lashes completed the look, complementing the pale surprise of strawberry blonde hair.

"I had it done today for graduation," she said. "I mean, the light brown was okay, but ... do you like it?"

"It's great." It was. Actually, it was fucking spectacular. She had it up in a messy bun in the back, one long tendril hanging down to frame the side of her face. Owen's head-to-toe appreciation left no doubt about his opinion either.

She saw the glass in my hand.

"Is there more?"

Is she nervous? She doesn't look it. But there had been a hint of uncertainty the night Owen lost, when I'd named the stakes of the bet. She'd done this before, but it was always just Owen's bod in the pot, not hers too.

"How many times have you done this?" I asked. They glanced at each other. "I know about Brey. She told me after I guessed. I'm not asking names, I'm just curious."

"Three times before," Hannah said.

Owen's been up on that couch at least four times. I let a short mental replay of the time I'd seen start to unwind. This time, I didn't clamp down on the images. I let them flow.

"And you won every time?"

"Two of them. The other time, she took him back to her room." Anonymous she.

"Bummer for you," I teased. After the show Owen would have given, Hannah had to have been totally down for sex.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Carter didn't have anybody over that night and I said yes."

The casual admission startled me. I mean, I figured she'd slept with Carter at some point because Brey had told me, "Carter's been with 'most every girl one time or another. Well, the main-gamers, 'cept Megan." Hannah was most definitely a main-game player.

And it wasn't like she and Owen were anything more than fuck buddies. She'd had made that clear. But still. However, I didn't see any flash of jealousy on Owen's face when she said she'd slept with his roommate.

She saw the surprise on my face. "Just once," she said. "I was curious what the long line out the door was about." As part of that long line, I couldn't exactly judge.

Hannah poured herself a glass of the wine, and we settled back. I could tell they were on edge, wondering specifically what the evening would bring.

Anticipation is an aphrodisiac too.

I let the moment build, the music wash over us, the drug work its way through Owen's body.

"Did they stay the night?" I asked. "The others?"

Owen nodded.

"And did you fuck them in the morning too?"

This was no longer polite talk, no "having sex" or "slept with." This was red hunger that was starting to burst through the dam.

I have a healthy sex drive, kept purring through my last years of high school by a boyfriend more than happy to oblige, but semi-starved here at college. I had a kink for voyeurism that had lurked, barely acknowledged during that same high school, but now fully owned. I had a small streak of domination that went hand-in-hand with the voyeur, not large, but there nonetheless.

And all three of those had been teased for days and weeks while I waited for this night, forced to channel my attention toward history and comp sci and freshman lit even when they wanted to demand some guy to "Get over here and take care of me!"

Forced to concentrate on study groups after watching a girl jill off in front of a room of souls all as pervy as me while the epitome of porn played on the TV screen.

Forced to concentrate on writing a paper despite watching another girl give her boyfriend a full-on blowjob by the side of a garage.

Forced to concentrate on exams after watching my college best friend make her guy show me every inch of that ripped, rock-climber body, then the faint sounds through the wall telling my on-fire imagination that she was getting absolutely railed on the other side, all while I desperately kept my own fingers from providing relief.

"No," Owen answered just as Hannah said, "One of them." At Owen's startled look, "In the shower while you were out getting breakfast." He caught his breath.

The admission didn't surprise me. When we'd made the bet, I'd been uncertain whether Hannah's momentary hesitation meant being with a girl a new thing for her too. But, "I went down," Brey had told me. No, girl--girl wasn't something new for Hannah.

I wondered if that girl in the shower had been Brey or the anonymous one. Then, if not Brey, whether was it was someone else who, like Hannah, enjoyed women too. Then, of course, I wondered if it was someone still in the game. All of that took a fraction of a second.

You'll never know.

"Then I'll stay too," I said, "and we'll see about tomorrow morning."

Without even a glance at each other, both nodded, accepting my pronouncement of what "for the evening" meant.

"Let me see your room, Owen."

I'd never been in it. My visits to 128 Hawthorne had been late-night excursions into the other bedroom, where orgasms--three, four, once even five--had ripped through me until I tumbled into slumber, then eased my way out as dawn broke to shower, eat, and get ready to face the library Nazi.

I took in the posters on Owen's walls, each a riot of color. Above the bed was a cartoon blond sporting an impossible haircut with "Dragon Ball Z" on the top and "Goku" on the bottom. Next to it, another poster had a bunch of Japanese writing and "Fullmetal Alchemist" splashed across it, though the people were dressed like they were from a Dune movie, rather than the fantasy look I'd expect for alchemists.

"I'm into manga," Owen said. "Astro Boy's my favorite, though he's pretty old-school. That one's vintage. I got it at Anime NYC a couple years ago."

He gestured at the wall across from the bed, where a framed poster over his desk read, "Astro Boy" and had a simple drawing of a dark-haired boy wearing nothing but tight briefs and ... rockets for feet?

"Uh-huh," I said neutrally.

"Cool, huh?"

"Mm."

He caught the dry tone and Hannah's snicker.

"Exactly, Chips," she said.

"Whatever," Owen muttered.

I turned my attention to the bed. It was queen-sized and the comforter spread neatly across it. I could smell a faint something: fabric softener or dryer sheets. Either I'd lucked onto laundry day, or Owen hadn't wanted me curling my lip. Glancing around at the neat room, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Either way, I was thankful.

I stepped back out into the living area and picked up the carry bag I'd brought with me. Owen eyed it, probably wondering what it contained.

"Be right out." I knew which door was the bathroom, courtesy of my previous visits. A sax was pouring out of the speakers. I didn't recognize the song, not that I recognized anything on Taylor's playlist.

But it's good for this. The smooth instrumental oozed its way from the background into my gut, combining with the pulse-beat that seemed to start in my clit and radiated through my entire body.

"Just that lamp over there," I said, pointing to the table across the way. The blinds were already drawn, and dusk had fallen so no light leaked in.

When I emerged, my leggings and T-shirt were gone. They were replaced by a white satiny robe that was soft enough to mold to whatever it touched and thin enough to hint at what I had on underneath. Hannah wasn't the only one who'd spent time and money on herself that day. The time had been spent at a day spa, blowing a birthday gift certificate from my sister, where I'd emerged lotioned and trimmed and waxed. The money had been spent at the lingerie shop at the mall. I had Owen's attention. Hannah's, too.

I settled back on the couch in the dim light and picked up my wine. I patted the seat next to me for Hannah to join.

"Start with the shirt," I told Owen.

I had dreamed about saying that for weeks now. Dreamed about it and what came after. I saw in Owen's expression that he was pretty sure what was about to unfold. He accepted it. He popped the buttons and slid the cloth off to reveal a chest and shoulders already going a bit tan.

I guess he runs without a shirt.

I had a momentary flashback of Ryan the night I crashed on his couch; his upper body was tanned too. I pushed that away, along with Em's tease of, "He asked if I was sure."

Given what's happening tonight, what would you have said, Charl, if Em had replied, "I'll ask if she wants to"?

My eyes traced the interplay of lean muscle as Owen dropped the shirt on a chair. He turned back and met my eyes, waiting. I let my eyes trace the muscles of the lean torso. His eyes traveled my body for a second. I glanced down. The girls were definitely announcing their presence through the thin material.

"Pants."

He didn't rush it. He was a veteran of this, of women enjoying the gradual unveiling of a man's body for their pleasure. I glanced over at Hannah. She was as attentive as I was.

"You remembered," I said as his jeans slid down.

We'd made a deal. I'd agreed to wear a different bra and panties to the Loft Game: the purple set looked great on me, but he wanted a change of scenery. In return, he'd agreed to wear something snugger than loose boxers because I wanted some scenery too.

He'd gotten to salivate over a pale pink triangle bra that was sheer except in two critical patches. But he'd forgotten his side of it, so I'd reminded him that he owed me. I eyed the light gray cotton that molded over him.

"Can you feel it working?" He didn't pretend to misunderstand what "it" was.

"I think so."

I thought so too. Owen didn't sport some porn-star cock that would cause grunts of discomfort as its length smashed into your cervix. He was normal that way in my limited experience ... certainly according to the googling that every girl did as a teenager, whether she admitted it or not. But it was a Red Bull can in other dimensions. Finding out what that girth was all about was just one thing that had fevered some recent dreams. And right now, it was clearly limned through the snug material and clearly growing as the eroticism and Viagra took hold.

"He took the boner drug?" Hannah asked.

"He did."

"Mmm," she purred. She turned back to study him with the same intensity I was. I could see his self-consciousness even though Owen had stripped in front of girls many times. This was a solo act not one of a crowd in a room. That was different because it didn't happen often enough to become totally blasé. I savored the anticipation.

I made myself wait for the final reveal just a second longer, enjoying the long, lean muscles of his thighs. I admired the V-cut as it dived behind the waistband of his underwear, leading the eye. I looked up to meet his gaze. His expression was a combination of self-conscious and resigned, but turned-on as well. Despite the fact that he was the sex toy, this was still sex.

I let him see my eyes drop to his pelvis and then back up. I dipped my chin once, crisply.

Go ahead, it meant. Let me see you naked.

I could feel the moisture gathering as he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pushed down. The gray cotton dropped to his ankles, and he stepped out, his cock bobbing with the motion. I let my eyes roam the length of his runner's body one final time before focusing. He was definitely well on the road to excited. But I wanted him all the way there.

"A little more, huh?" I said.

He sighed and reached down.

"No."

He stopped.

"Both of you were part of the bet." I heard Hannah's intake of breath. "Undress her for me, will you, Owen?"

I saw the flare that brought, moving him a centimeter closer to the goal line. He looked expectantly at Hannah and she stood.

"Shoes," he said quietly.

She placed a hand on his shoulder for balance and bent to slide her feet out of the strappy sandals. She straightened and waited. Then he did what he'd probably done a hundred times before: undressed her.

I don't get particularly turned on by the sight of boobs, but Owen wasn't me. And he played his role, just as I'd played my role the night I'd knelt docilely in front of him and opened my mouth. He knew I wanted to see his excitement at the woman under his hands, letting it spark my own. His breathing grew deeper and his lips parted as he grasped her shoulder. He turned her to face me. I saw the faintest blush of color steal over her cheeks. It clashed with her new hair color.

It turned me on.

Slowly, he slid one spaghetti strap down off a shoulder, then the other. He ran his fingers along both arms, causing her to shiver at the touch. Then he slid the zipper of her dress down. She caught the bodice with one hand. It was nothing more than a reflex on her part; Hannah played fair too. She gave me a rueful smile, then lifted her hand and the dress fell away from her chest. She wiggled and it plummeted down to catch on the swell of her hips. I was right about no bra.

Jeez, she has boobs!

Owen thought so too. His eyes gleamed as he watched their motion, even though he'd seen her naked a zillion times. I imagined the impulses flooding through his brain: hold them; squeeze and feel their weight; take one in your mouth.

Tell him he can? No, not now.

He gathered the fabric at her waist and tugged. She shimmied her hips once, and the dress fell to her ankles, revealing white panties cut high on the sides. They were just sheer enough that you could make out the darker patch underneath. She hadn't gone to a salon that offered that service, or else she'd figured strawberry blonde on top was all that was needed for graduation pictures.

I made a swirly motion with my finger. "Kiss him."

She turned and her arms went up around his neck and pulled him down. Maybe Hannah wasn't Aisha or Gwen, but the girl was stacked, and I watched her breasts flatten against his chest as his arms reflexively wrapped around her back and drew her in. Hannah had once described how she kissed a guy. Now I saw what she meant.

The kiss broke. Hannah half-turned and looked at me. What now?

The color on her cheeks had spread. Partly she was self-conscious, but she wasn't immune to the atmosphere, either. Her nipples were rock-hard points. Her breathing deepened; I could tell from the way the tips brushed his chest intermittently.

"Did it work?" I asked, my eyes indicating what I meant.

She glanced down and reached. I saw Owen's slight, involuntary motion as she grasped him.

"Oh yeah," she breathed.

"Good."

I turned to the carry bag I had brought out of the bathroom and rummaged out two things. The first--"Put this on him." I held up the loop of hard silicone: thin, black, a sliding clasp halfway along. Amazon is so wonderful, especially if you make sure your roommate doesn't open your package.

I finally let go of the last rein on what had been inside me for an eternity. The image of that video had been a worm in my brain ever since Victoria had stretched out on the couch, a pale length of nudity, and fixed her eyes on the screen as she got herself off under the lustful gazes of the men; ever since my own eyes had kept moving inexorably back to the sex incarnate on the screen.

Both of them inhaled sharply as puzzlement gave way to recognition.

"Don't hurt him, but tight," I said.

I saw a flare of lust in her eyes. I didn't know if she had the exact desires as I did. But even if not, this surely hit the libido of every girl who played in the loft. His eyes widened in nervousness.

Oh, that makes this even better, Owen!

She took the ring and fiddled with it for a second, figuring out how it worked. Then, grasping his length with the other, she slid it on, down to the base. She pulled the loose end to tighten it.

"Okay?" Her voice was soft, a question to someone who was, notwithstanding everything going on, her friend.

He nodded. She gave another tug and he sucked in his breath.

"Still?"

His nod was more tentative, but still a nod. She gave one last tug, not quite as firm, and waited. Finally, he nodded a third time. "But, uhh," he said, "maybe no more."

She stepped back and looked at me for my reaction.

My eyes were glued to the rigid length of his cock. I could see the indent where the dark line of black cut in, stark against the pink of his flesh. I was wet now, not even a maybe about it.

"Okay?" I asked him in turn. He was my friend too. This wasn't about hurting someone.

"Yes."

I tossed him the second thing I'd rummaged out. A bottle of lotion, bought on the same Amazon order based upon its four-point-nine star rating and the "Tahitian Vanilla" on the label. I might encounter a taste of it later, and I loved that flavor.

"You can sit if you want to watch," I told Hannah.

Rhetorical question. She was on the seat next me in a flash.

"Begin," I said, echoing the unseen woman's command.

• • •

"Stop," I said for the third time. His butt was against the table because his legs had become uncertain. A flush stretched halfway down his chest, and his breath was twice as loud as normal. I was bringing the fantasy of that porno into three-dimensional reality. As his hand dropped, I saw the rigid bar and the angry purple head as the ring did its job of letting blood in more easily than it let it out.

Too much?

I looked at his face. His gaze was down. He'd started with his eyes on Hannah's almost-naked body next to mine, wandering over breasts and checking out the not-quite-transparent underwear. He'd looked over when I unbelted my robe and spread it open. The sheer black bra and panties left absolutely nothing to his imagination: not a single opaque patch on this set, three just-barely-there triangles of fine black netting held in place by thin strips of lace. This was lingerie that screamed, "Fuck me!"

But now, his attention was inward, trying to calm enough that he could do what I asked: stop, don't come. Even though your body desperately wants to.

No, I decided as I watched, he's on edge but not in distress or upset. He just wants to come.

I let the moment linger a bit longer, let him settle, though my mouth was dry at what was in front of me. I wanted Owen to calm enough to keep going, but I didn't want to calm myself even an iota. I wanted the exact opposite.

"Once more, but"--my own need softened my voice, a plea instead of a demand--"not too fast."

Owen's eyes came back up and locked on mine. He reached for the bottle and drizzled another few drops into his hand.

"Begin."

He restarted the slow stroke.

I could hear Hannah's breathing next to me, no softer than my own. Every inch of my body felt heavy as I sank even deeper into the syrup of arousal. I could feel the heat of blood under my skin. My nipples were turning tender from the rub of the bra's fine mesh across them. My clit was screaming for attention.

Not yet, I told myself.

The pace of Owen's breathing got more urgent, but he forced his hand to the same slow pace even though I could tell it wasn't what he wanted. I could see the veins along his cock in stark relief as his hand passed.

Oh my God! He's so close. I'm so close. It wouldn't even take a minute touching myself. Do I ... What if ...

There had been a day when Julia screamed, "Chips ... just go!" at me as I stood caught in nerves at the top of a bungee jump.

Just go. Take the plunge.

"Hannah!" I jerked my legs wide and grabbed her arm, tugging.

I heard the sharp catch of breath. Then she moved, swiftly kneeling and turning to face me. Two hands forced my legs even wider, and fingers shoved the barely-there panties to the side. I had one glimpse of a face as aroused as I imagined mine was, then only strawberry blonde hair as she bent and I felt the warm, wet slather of tongue across my pussy.

A minute? It was seconds.

The shocks weren't even done shuddering my body when Owen gave that groan he did and painted the hardwood as he came, his eyes locked on the scene in front of him.

• • •

I slowly emerged from the orgasm haze.

"It's getting uncomfortable." Owen's momentarily spent eyes met mine as he gestured at his crotch.

"Yeah," I gave permission.

He dropped into a chair and fiddled with the cock ring mechanism. "I should also ..." He waved at the floor, now definitely a black-light-sensitive zone if it wasn't before.

"Yeah," I said again. "I'll be in the bedroom."

He may have been momentarily spent, but I noticed that his eyes locked on me as I stood and my robe fell open, his attention moving over material that did nothing but accentuate what was underneath. That went down well with my ego.

And bodes well for my plans. He's in good shape and has a boner drug in him, I giggled to myself. It shouldn't be long.

Hannah trailed into the bedroom behind me. Her face didn't show post-orgasmic contentment like mine surely did. Hers showed, "I'm horny as all fuck." I shrugged off the robe and let it fall on his desk chair. Her eyes devoured me.

"So, you gonna bat for both teams now?" she teased.

I shrugged. I was pretty sure the answer was no. What had happened wasn't bothering me, but I didn't feel the dark pulse I did when thinking about a guy. And as I said, what girls had to offer didn't quite do it for me.

In fact, the fantasy I'd had way back months ago, the one that was the genesis of what just happened, was Ethan's face buried between my legs while Ethan jerked off across the room from me. And since I didn't think his talents included being in two places at once, then making it come true would have been some anonymous guy's mouth down there while I watched Ethan. Or maybe vice versa.

A girl, well, a tongue was a tongue. And Julia told me I needed to just jump sometimes to see how things were. So, I had jumped to find out.

"Will you try it?" she asked.

I was pretty sure what she meant by the question. She was curious about my limits, wondering if I knew myself.

She was also worked up to quite a fever pitch by the foreplay that had hooked both sides of her sexuality. I knew what she really meant was, "Will you try it, right now, this second, on me, here, on that bed, or standing up, or in that chair, me on top or you on top or whatever, but will you try it right now?!"

But two nights ago Owen had said, "Somehow, I don't think it's going to be about me. Or you, Hannah Banana," and he'd been absolutely right.

"Maybe someday," I said and loved the frustration in her eyes. We could hear Owen moving around in the living area. "He'll be ready soon."

"And?"

"He the one who's gonna take that look off your face."

The flicker I'd seen way back when we made the bet crossed her face again.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I've never, you know, done it in front of someone else."

"What!" I was shocked.

She shook her head.

"What about ...?"

"His biggest turn-on is girl on girl, I mean, like, totally," she said. "I like it too."

Duh, Hannah!

"And I'm okay with him watching. Actually, I get turned on a little by it. But then I'd leave them alone and crash out on the couch."

"And you never then ..."

"No. He wants me to bring him another girl to fuck. That turns him on." She laughed. "But he says he can only put it one place at a time and doesn't want an audience."

I digested that.

Another girl brought home--the chance of that was the incentive she gave him when he lost in the Loft Game. Just like others who had to step under the spotlight got a little incentive from some friend or another, though perhaps not always such a kinky one.

I could completely understand the fantasy of it for Owen. I mean, look at me. Hannah had brought me a boy to fuck, and although it was nothing more than curiosity, it had kept me ragingly horny for weeks.

Okay, that's a lie.

The loan of a guy was naughty, and naughty was exciting. Wondering what a cock that thick would feel like inside me was exciting. But the part that actually burned out my nerve ends thinking about it was something else. The voyeur part of me that had masturbated to the sounds of Julia and Anthony having sex across the hallway, the part that had barely managed to keep my fingers out of my pants watching Megan blow Mike ... that part.

"After they left, oh yeah." My reverie broke as Hannah went on. "That's the deal between him and me. For the rest of the week after, he owes me big time and, trust me, the dude pays in full."

Well, now maybe I know why she does this. I mean, above and beyond the girl-on-girl part.

I tried to read the room. Hannah being anything but boldly confident was a new thing for me.

"You can quit at any time." I repeated the mantra. "Only what we're both comfortable with, that's what you said."

Her chin went up. "Oh fuck, I don't back out of a bet, Chips. You know me. It's new to do it with a guy, and I'm just a little nervous." Hannah was no virgin and I knew "it" didn't mean have sex with a guy. It mean have sex with a guy in front of someone else.

"Okay," I said.

It's definitely okay. Nervous is a turn-on, Hannah. You know that.

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Owen standing in the doorway, waiting.

"On the bed," I told him. "On your back."

I contemplated his cock as he sprawled. It was harder than a guy's normally was right after sex. Boner drug. I held his gaze while I considered.

What's he thinking about now? He prob'ly thinks I put him on his back so I ride his face. Nope.

I walked behind Hannah and cupped my hands over her breasts. They felt warm, the same softness as when I touched my own, but heavier. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Hannah's breath turned fast and deep almost instantly. Owen's eyes dropped from our faces.

I'm feeling up another girl. Not some accidental touch tossing around at a sleepover with a friend, I've deliberately got her boobs in my hands.

I wasn't going to satisfy the desires of either of them. I wasn't going to spread her out on the bed, nestle between her legs, and learn what it was like to go down on a girl. But I could tease a little.

I slid my hands downward, keeping contact with her skin, to hook the waistband of her panties with my thumbs. Without stopping but infinitely slowly, I bent and slid them down her legs. Around the side of her hip, I watched as Owen took a deep breath and his tongue slid out to wet dry lips.

"Don't take your eyes off," I ordered him. As if.

I stood, letting my hands drag back up her body to pause at her hips. I laid a tiny kiss on her shoulder, then another where it joined her neck.

I laid another kiss on the side of her neck. I slid my hands upward, one hand pausing on her belly, one lifting to turn her chin. I kissed her lips--mine ever-so-slightly parted, accepting the quick flick of her tongue against them without returning it, contact drawn out for just a second longer than needed.

I felt her need in every bit of her body as she leaned back into me, striving to feel my skin against hers. She caught my hand from her belly and lifted it to her breast, squeezing herself through me.

I chuckled and bent in to whisper in her ear, "Nuh uh." I heard the faintest whimper. "Can you come from him inside you?" Some girls can't that way.

Her breath caught.

"What?" Owen asked.

I ignored his question. I drew back and locked eyes with her, waiting for, demanding the answer. She'd never done this before, but shy hesitation was crumbling in the face of a tide of lust. She gave the barest of nods. I let go of chin and boob, and she looked over at the man on the bed, mesmerized at the two women in front of him.

"Suck him all the way hard first," I breathed for only her to hear. Her breath caught again.

For only the second time in my life, I watched a woman wrap her mouth around a cock. I mean, not like in a porn film. I've seen a million of those and almost every single one had the girl going down on the guy. I mean, like, in real life.

I say "only"; most people probably haven't seen it even once.

Flashes of Megan and Mike lit my brain as I watched Hannah slide down his length, taking him all the way inside her mouth, leaving a slick trail of saliva behind. He reached to touch the now-blonde curls, but she caught his hand and held it away. Again her mouth slid down, more slowly, then drew back up. Holding the now-rigid firmly in her hand, she looked over at me for approval.

I nodded, my chest tight with excitement.

She threw a leg over him, reached down, and guided him.

"Uuuhm." Her sigh was long, barely heard. She paused, whether to savor the moment or to adjust to the thick invader. Then, placing both hands on his abdomen, she started.

I settled into the chair in the corner, spellbound by everything: the look on his face and on hers, the gentle sounds as the glistening length slid in and out, even the sway of her tits.

I had had three fantasies coming into this evening. One was watching a boy jerk off for me while--I admitted it now--I got eaten.

The second was something that would happen later. It was something I'd never done, even when Josh lost and was at my mercy. I hadn't done the equivalent of Owen telling me exactly how I would kneel and stare up at him while I had his cock in my mouth. How it would be only mouth, no hands. How his hand on my head making sure that, when he came, it wasn't lips teasing around the tip, it was my mouth fully used. How, unspoken but implicit, I would swallow, regardless of whether that was my wont or not.

However you want it, that's the prize.

How, had he happened to be in the mood that night, it might not have been a swallow. No, he'd made it clear it might have been--total hard pass with any boyfriend--a facial. The only safety offered an amused, "Don't worry, there's an unwritten rule: nothing in the hair."

And knowing that had the this bet's poker chip fallen the other way or had I lost the main game to him a second time, I would have heard words to the effect of, "I like it if you choke a little."

Knowing all that--well, I'd never had a guy go down on me exactly how I imagined in my darker dreams. That was the second.

The third and final fantasy was what was in front of me.

"Hannah," I said, "Open your eyes." Something about holding the gaze of someone as they came turned me on. I'd done it with Ethan. I did it again now knowing I was becoming as flushed and breathing as hard as either of them. I moved from the chair to the edge of the bed.

I watched the pink suffuse down over Hannah's pale skin. I watched the swaying tits and the thick shaft sliding in and out as Owen drove his hips upward to meet her. I watched two people fucking because I had a voyeur streak a mile wide. The sights, the scents, the sounds, the sheer carnality of the moment--porn wasn't even a light rainfall compared to the monsoon this evoked in me.

He had already come once. Hannah had already been panting with need. It was a foregone conclusion who would finish first.

Her breath caught, then her motion changed as she drove the last little bit. Her hand came up and caught my shoulder and I let her. She froze and then gave a long moan. Her eyes closed but I didn't call her on it. Five seconds, maybe six as I watched her face turn scarlet and knot. A second wave of contractions, not quite as strong, but I know how good even those could be. Then every muscle seemed to loosen, her pent breath escaped, and she reopened her eyes to meet my gaze. For a second it held, then her eyes dropped away in complete and utter embarrassment.

His hands clutched her hips and, as soon as she unfroze, he drove his hips upward. Unbidden, her hips restarted their rolling motion. She slept with this guy regularly and habit was strong.

"No. Wait," I said. Her body stilled. I ignored his quiet complaint.

"You," I said to him, "will do all the work." He looked at me in puzzlement. I moved forward by his head. "But don't worry about the eye contact part. You won't be able."

He chuffed as the memory surfaced of his words to a naked, nervous freshman. I answered it with a grin of my own. I ignored the self-conscious Charl voice and embraced the exhibitionist one.

"Slowly." I placed a knee on either side of his head and scootched forward, facing Hannah. "And, sorry"--I wasn't even a little sorry--"but you might wanna catch breaths whenever you can."

I saw the flash of apprehension at that. It didn't really turn me on any more than I already was. It wasn't like I wanted to torture him.

But it didn't turn me on any less or change my mind. Maybe only this one time, but I was going to ride a guy's face without worrying about how sore his jaw got or how tired his neck was or how much he had to hold his breath.

In some parallel universe where a poker chip landed differently, I wasn't hating Owen coming in my mouth at that instant. I was hating Owen coming in my throat or maybe in my ass. He'd as much as told me so. That was permission for this.

"This is gonna be fun," I said. I moved the last few inches and lowered myself onto the waiting mouth. I dropped my hands on either side of his torso and leaned for balance. He reached and his hands closed on my hips.

"Slowly," I repeated firmly, because I knew at least half of his brain was scrambled from the sensations still coming from his cock.

"Just keep him hard," I said to Hannah, "so he's ready for after."

A small smile escaped her embarrassment. It turned into an evil grin as she looked at him. She slid off and scooted down toward the foot of the bed.

"Ready for some tease, buddy?" she asked. I watched how her thumb barely met her fingers as she wrapped them around him.

My second orgasm, the one that comes so easily for me, was gonna be real soon. It would be a monster.

The one after will be on that thing, I told myself.

• • •

The noise of garbage trucks woke me as they tended to do on Hawthorne Street. I quietly slid out from underneath the sheet and slipped out into the living room toward the bathroom. I glanced over at the couch. Hannah was stretched out in a tangle of covers and pillows, her face tucked into the back, snoring lightly.

After that second orgasm, I had banished her from the bedroom. She'd given me a reproachful look and sighed. But with nothing more than a murmured "As always!" she slid out the door. While my sliver of exhibitionism and the lust caused by watching them was able to carry me through sitting on a guy's face in front of someone else, it wasn't large enough to handle fucking in front of them once I'd come down.

And I'd definitely fucked. As I peed, I could feel the tenderness.

"Jeez, slower," I had demanded as he slid into me, despite being so wet I was leaving puddles. Owen slowed the forceful drive of his hips. He certainly didn't mind. His kinks weren't in the driver seat, but his cock was in my pussy, and that seemed enough for him.

For me, after the easy first two orgasms, the third always takes a while, so I'd had plenty of time to savor the sensation of being stretched a bit wider, of a little more friction tugging at my clit.

"Slow," I reminded him occasionally. Until finally I didn't tell him to slow, and the intimate extra-wetness of a guy's orgasm triggered the same feelings of heat and satisfaction through me that it always did. "Keep going. A bit more," I demanded. And then my third hit and my brain scrambled.

We lay there for a while as our bodies calmed. A sheen of sweat covered us. I could still smell a hint of Tahitian Vanilla mixed with the scent of boy and girl. Then, because this was all about me, and because missionary is good but prone is better, and because I'm greedy, I told him he wasn't done.

"Chips," he grumbled. I could tell he was satiated and tired. He'd been energetic.

"Mm, too bad!" I wrapped a hand around him. I felt it twitch and contemplated what was in my grip.

I guess even with boner drug, guys need some time between.

I kissed a trail up his chest to his mouth. I let him feel boobs mashed against his body, let him cup them in a hand, made him tease them with his mouth. I let my hands wander of ass and thighs and up between his legs. When I judged it enough, I rolled over onto my stomach. "Softer this time."

My fourth takes me as long as my third.

The night before, I'd thought a bit of languorous morning head would be a delightful start to the day: sprawled back, snuggled under the covers, half awake. Before we drifted off, I'd told Owen what his "before you go get us bagels" duties would be.

But as the garbage trucks made one last bang before revving away, I decided that, even though crawling back under the covers sounded delicious, maybe things were just a mite too tender.

"Not bad, but I think we leave Carter in the record books," I said to the man snoozing two walls away. The third time I'd slept with Owen's roommate, he'd established a new high for a guy getting me off. I giggled again and finished dressing. I scribbled a note and left it on the table. Quietly so as not to wake anyone, I slipped out of the apartment.

• • •

I texted Em to confirm we were leaving at ten. Then I texted Carter:

≫ Okay to come grab some stuff for shower?

I had toiletries and a change of clothes in my bag because I'd originally planned on showering at Hawthorne Street. But I didn't have a towel because the boys had plenty.

≫ Or just stick towel outside door.

Em's answer was a lazy thumbs-up on my message.

Carter's was a picture. He was lying back on a pillow, grinning sleepily at the camera. The sheets were pink and the walls painted beige. My sheets were white and so were my dorm walls.

I could see brown hair on the edge of the picture. Its owner was deliberately off screen, but I thought it wasn't totally not-Carrie hair.

≫ Asshole!

I followed it with a string of laughing emojis. I got a thumbs-up on that one too.

• • •

Em and I stocked up on coffee, waters, breakfast wraps, and a box of Munchkins for the ride. Google Maps told us we had five hours in the car ahead of us, but it was a weekend and traffic coming back through the Poconos would likely turn to shit.

"You drive first?" she asked. I was content to eat my wrap with one hand while the other held the wheel. Em was more fastidious about eating and needed both. We merged onto the Turnpike.

"Never have I ever--" I started.

"We're not doing that!" she snapped.

I glanced over in surprise. It was our game the whole way home last time. In a sort of circuitous way, you might even say it led to me cashing someone's V-card--her brother's, but no need to bring that up.

She was glaring.

"We're not playing a game about what we haven't done," she said. "We're playing the game called What Are The Fucking Reasons?"--she actually air-quoted the last word--"and also the one called What The Fuck Was That With Carter?"

I laughed in relief. She wasn't really mad at me. She just didn't like not knowing. I couldn't exactly criticize, given Nosy Parker Maguire had her own curiosity.

"Then we're also playing The Story Of The Exam Game," I replied.

She made a face. "I'm not certain I should."

"It's not the Loft Game. You were sitting there when Victoria said that ended before exams."

"That's splitting hairs."

Honestly, I didn't buy that argument myself, I thought.

"Fair. But if we don't split hairs, then my stories are out too, and we have to go back to Never Have I Ever."

"Really?

I nodded.

"Oh."

I risked another glance away from the road ahead of us. She was uncharacteristically pensive, watching the trees go by. I asked again to be sure.

"Are you okay?"

She looked back and smiled.

"Yeah. Just a little PTSDed." I raised an eyebrow. She laughed and shook her head. "Same way as the first time you lose the main game. You were freaked for days after," she teased.

Thinking back, I guess maybe I had been. At least, whenever I bumped into someone who'd been there to watch and heckle me. I knew they had delighted in the blushes and averted eyes. Now I was really dying to know what had happened.

"You said it wasn't much different from losing the main game," I said. "C'mon! I'm your friend."

"More like protégée."

"What!" I said in outrage.

"Protégée, acolyte, young padawan, whichever make you happy," she replied airily. "I mean, who's been to all the games first?"

I rubbed my nose with my middle finger and turned my attention back to the road. I ignored the chuckle.

"Okay, I suppose you're my friend," she relented, "but Fight Club."

Another mile passed.

"The first rule of Fight Club is that you don't talk to people outside it, not that you don't talk to other people in Fight Club," I said. "That part's just us being nice to each other about being mean to each other." It was a good line, and I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for stealing it.

She snorted. "Says who?"

"Says Victoria," I replied, which earned the same stunned look I'd worn when I heard it.

"Victoria? As in, 'don't be that bitch who fucks this up or I will fucking kill you' Victoria?"

"That one."

Another mile passed.

"Talking's good for PTSD, I hear," I said.

"Bullshit!"

Another mile passed.

"But you have to go first 'cause I asked first," she said.

Fair.

"So, the night Owen lost?" I said. "Well, Hannah ..."

• • •

"Oh my God!" It was the third time she'd said it. She was laughing so hard she was crying.

"Stop laughing! Why are you laughing?"

"Because Logan and I thought you were being chicken. I mean, she totally thought you were, and I kinda wondered. Now, I find out a blowjob wasn't even the half the story. You would've had to ... oh my God ... with Owen and Hannah both!"

I hadn't really held anything back. At first, I wasn't going to name names, but I realized how stupid that was because the Carter conversation kind of gave it away.

And then I wasn't going to say what happened, but I realized that was also stupid because that was the point. I mean, now that I wasn't worried about her, I was totally primed for something juicy about "a little PTSDed," and fair's fair. Kindred souls in a pervy little world. So, I didn't go into minute detail, but she knew the basics.

"I'ma have to tell Log."

"Don't you dare!"

"Hey!" she said. "Trust me and chill." She ignored my growl. I resisted the urge to hit Cancel on the steering wheel control as the car's Bluetooth picked up the sound of her call ringing.

"Hey, Log. Sooo, turns out Chips wasn't chicken."

I didn't say hello.

"Tell me!" Logan demanded.

"Turns out she had a conflicting appointment." The way Em said appointment made it abundantly clear that it wasn't to get my nails done.

"What was it?" Logan demanded. "Who was it?"

I turned and glared. Em grinned back. I held my breath.

"Nah, that would be tellin'. Let's just say we weren't the only ones in the deep end of the pool that night."

"What does that mean!? C'mon!"

Em ignored the question. "I'm pretty sure she'll be there next year. Just sayin' we got it wrong."

"Tell me? What did she do? Oh my God! Is she in some other game too?"

Em ignored Logan's wheedle. And the one after that. "Have a good summer. See you in September." She hung up over the squawking and giggled.

"Now she'll be stewing all summer about it." The thought amused us both.

"Have you hooked up with Owen?" I asked after a moment. She knew I meant hooked up as in "slept with," not hooked up as in "knelt down in the back room and said, 'Ah.'" Two weeks ago she had done the latter.

"No. What's it like?"

"Go slowly at first, then kinda nice, but you can get a little sore. He's, umm ... vigorous."

She hooted.

It occurred to me that was what it had been: kinda nice. I mean, I'd slavered for weeks at the thought. But in hindsight, most of that slavering had really been over the mental part--the anticipation of a guy objectified down to his cock at my total disposal, simple curiosity over what it would feel like. And if I were honest, much of that excitement was splashover from the prospect of watching two people who had to because I said so.

Yeah, more friction had moved things along a little more quickly. And yeah, there'd been a little hum as he paused after sliding into me the first time. But every guy I'd ever hooked up with, from Max to Ethan, had gotten me to the exact same destination quite satisfactorily.

And, I thought, remembering a different wakeup, Ethan and I had as much fun, but his morning wood still felt a total treat.

I had no real spark with Owen even though I liked him as a person. I wasn't upset that repeats were out of the question due to graduation--in fact, it was better somehow. It was an experience I could check off, but I wasn't suddenly discovering "size queen" amidst the list of "voyeur," "domme-light," and "you a touch exhibitionist, Charl?"

"Would you have been okay if you lost?" Em's question drew me back from woolgathering. The question was fraught. Both of us had some knowledge of Owen. Hers from experience--I'd asked the day after she lost, but she wouldn't say. Mine was from him telling me almost outright what I would have been in for had he won.

Would I have been okay? That question was something I'd asked myself on the walk back from Hawthorne Street this morning.

The answer was, I wasn't sure. I mean, I would have been okay, sure. But maybe I'd have been the one a little PTSDed right now.

• • •

My phone buzzed. It was a notification from Aces and Eights. I grinned to myself--I'd been wondering when Ethan would check the game.

ethan27 says: This is total balls.

charl says: LOL. I'm far too mature to gloat.

I looked at the two avatars on the screen. One, the female, was bouncing up and down and had a large text bubble above her head. "I WIN!!!" it proclaimed. The male was drooping in dismay with tears falling from its eyes.

ethan27 says: Fuck! So what now?

charl says: I have to think. You've still got a month of school left, baby boy.

ethan27 says: Umm, don't love that nickname.

charl says: Fair. See you sometime in the summer, Ethan.

"Who's that?" Em asked.

I hesitated a moment, then told her. "Your brother."

Her eyes flicked from the road to mine and back. "Mm."

I didn't know how to take that, so I left it hanging.

ethan27 says: Maybe you could come down the shore when the family goes for a week in July

There was a pause where I could see he was typing. I waited for him to tell me more about it, but the wait icon kept spinning. Whatever he had to say was long.

Em said, "I think he's taking someone else to the prom."

That caught me by surprise. The way she said it wasn't mean. It was more like a friend making sure I wasn't blindsided. I wasn't completely. I'd told him to take someone else. I just hadn't heard that he'd gone ahead and asked.

"I talked to him last night," she continued, "about when I'd get home and he mentioned it then."

"It's cool."

Em gave me a longer look, then nodded. My phone buzzed.

ethan27 says: I wanted to tell you that I invited someone to prom.

No, he hadn't been writing something long. He'd probably changed that text a zillion times out of nervousness before just coming out with it. I waved my phone at Em.

"He just told me."

ethan27 says: I hope that's cool. You suggested it.

charl says: Ethan, it's totally cool. I'm with Em right now. TTYL.

Totally cool was a slight overstatement. There was a tiny corner of my brain wearing a frowny face. But it was mostly cool, and maybe even a little edgy in a way I couldn't totally parse.

"So," I said to distract myself. "The exam game?"

• • •

"We lost," Em said. "We were all sitting there naked."

"Like one tends to be at the end of a strip poker game," I said dryly, "because, like, there's this word 'strip' in there."

"Shut up, byotch," Em said. "What's your hurry? We've got hours in this car."

I mimed zipping my lips.

"So, the guys were all in the corner talking, and I was sitting there wondering what was next. I mean, like, okay, but I was praying it wasn't the other, ya know?"

I glanced over at her and we shared a second of mutual dread. "How many times have you seen a girl have to?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Victoria and one other."

"Victoria twice, right?"

She looked surprised for a second. "You know about that?"

"She told me."

"Huh." Em raised her eyebrows. "Anyway, so I'm sitting there:

♦

"What now?" I whispered to Victoria.

"We all lose," she said, "and they get smiles on their faces."

"Yeah, but, I mean, who? There's six of us and five of them."

She shook her head and didn't answer, staring hard at Kevin. The boys had been talking quietly, but I saw frowns and suddenly a voice got a little louder.

"I did the best," Kevin said. "I should be able to fucking choose." He shot a glance at Hannah. I followed his gaze. Hannah's mouth was a thin line.

Owen's response was calm and firm. "We decide that part as group, and Carter's right, it's four to one."

"Then I--" Kevin's voice dropped too low to hear again.

"Fair 'nuff," Owen said after a moment. He turned to us.

"Carrie"--he gestured at the couch with a cheesy bow--"Prom Queen." It took me a second, but the meaning of "prom queen" clicked. I ignored the joke and looked her. Her face was resigned in a half smile. I knew she was embarrassed at what that meant, but a little turned on too.

♦

Em broke off and turned to me.

"Carrie was the other I'd seen before," she said.

"I figured. I mean, you saying she was a give-'em-a-show type came from somewhere."

Em nodded. "The first time, I was checking to make sure she was okay, and she told me she doesn't want to, but admitted it turns her on a little if she has to."

Like Gwen, I thought. Just like Gwen.

I didn't say that out loud. I really liked having Em as another confidante, one whom I could tell anything. I had Julia, but Julia was in Syracuse. And Julia wasn't part of our little secret society.

Though if she'd gone to McVay ...

But despite that, I still liked being a nice person, even about being mean, and ratting out Gwen's hidden side before she was ready to cop to it wasn't nice.

If some guy chose "show" with her--hooboy!

I chuckled inside at exactly how red Gwen's face would be, and probably how excited inside. Except she wasn't in the main game. "We need to bring some others up."

"Huh?" Em said.

"Oh, uh, nothing. Just, I'll miss some of the seniors now that they graduate," I lied.

"Yeah. So, anyway:

♦

Carrie stood and walked toward the back room.

But what if it had been five and five? I wanted to scream at not knowing how this all went. I couldn't imagine a guy foregoing the blowie. Would one of us have to do both things? Or would one of us have to do two guys?

Two blowjobs was somehow more than twice as bad as one. As for the first: Please! No, never. A shiver went down my back at the dread of taking that walk someday.

My mind was spinning so many unpleasant images that I was barely conscious of following Carrie to the back room. The door closed behind us. It was different from the other times I'd seen this happen, quieter. I mean, we were always a little quiet in these moments, but something about this was different.

Carrie tossed down two shots of liquid courage from the bin. I was surprised to see Hannah do the same. Then I thought about it and wasn't. Intuition told me what that moment between Kevin and Owen had been: Kevin wanted Hannah to be the one up front on the couch. He got outvoted, but I had a premonition about at least one pairing. Apparently Hannah had the same thought. I was surprised when Brey handed me an airline bottle of Tito's.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Chug it," she said as she popped one. No one else answered me and I wanted to scream.

Carrie opened the door, and it was too late to ask again. The lights were already dimmed.

"Hannah," Kevin said, his voice oozing satisfaction. Her face was a blank mask.

"Emily," Ben said to me and patted the chair next to him. I saw a quick glance between him and Victoria, then Luis called her name and she turned to the other side of the room.

How does Ben like it? A simple blowjob or will it be a just-get-through-it blowjob?

I had never lost to Ben. I didn't lose much. Once last year. Once last semester. The night Chips joined green, I thought wryly. Once to Owen just a few weeks ago. I'd half-hoped it would be Owen now ... familiar territory, so to speak, even if he wasn't the easiest. But no, when my turn came to walk back to the room under the heckling of an entire room, it would be with someone new to me.

Carrie shoved a thumb drive into the TV and settled onto her stomach on the couch, her eyes on the screen. She reached underneath, and I felt the electricity leap from guy to guy around the room in the dim of the single downlight.

It was the same video she'd used the last time: the daughter tanning in the yard, surreptitiously eyeing the oblivious pool guy. "Will you put some lotion on my back?" The bikini top unhooked. "Don't want tan lines, right?" said with a giggle. The inevitable that followed. The guy was a little to swole for me, but I suspected the director was a woman because it was sexily done. I wondered if Carrie's family had a pool and this had been a real-life teenage fantasy.

The boys' breathing grew heavier in the room. The red of Carrie's embarrassment turned into the red of her body's sensations and spread down.

How do they decide who goes first? Did they draw numbers from the bowl while we were drinking those shots? I hope I'm not first.

No, wait! I hope I'm not last. The prospect of every other girl having it over and done with, only me still waiting to walk back there. Ugh! Somewhere in the middle, please!

Every guy's eyes were glued to Carrie, to the flushed face, the booty popped up just a little, the unseen-but-obvious movement of her hand underneath. I saw her eyes flick away from the screen, leap in a semicircle around the room, an instant of contact with the eyes of each man watching: Carter, Luis, Kevin, at Ben next to me, away to Owen four feet to my left.

It was acknowledgment that they were there, that they were watching. Acknowledgment that she had to do this, but also that she wasn't immune to the eroticism of being on display. Then her eyes closed, her chin dropped into her collarbone, and she came.

The long seconds held. You could hear a pin drop except for the sounds of guys' breath. Then it ended, and I could see the tension ebb from her body as she lay there with her eyes shut. Carter reached up and flicked the light switch, and room went dark like it did every time a guy or a girl finished.

Carrie was done with her part. I waited in the pitch black for the lights to come back on once Carrie had retreated, for the first the first pair to stand and move toward the back, wondering how my part would go when it came my time.

Inside, the question repeated: A simple blowjob or will it be a just-get-through-it blowjob?

Both existed in the Loft Game, depending on which guy won. I felt Ben's hand fumble, then close around my forearm.

"Emily," he said quietly.

Fuck! I'm first.

I started to stand, waiting for the lights before I moved. The catcalls would start any second. Ben's hand stopped me.

What?

A tug. Around me I heard movement. Realization struck, lighting up my nerves as if it were real lightning.

Not the back room! Oh. My. God!

"Haaannah." Kevin's voice smirked from somewhere off to my right. Other voices murmured.

"Eep!" That sounded like Logan.

I couldn't see and I half stumbled as Ben drew me in. I put out my hand in the darkness for balance and met male thigh. The pressure on my arm relaxed as Ben waited to see what I would do.

He knows this is my first time in this game. He suspects I wasn't told about this part.

I held, frozen at the prospect. Then I gulped, hoping it wasn't audible, and knelt. His legs spread and I moved in, sliding my hand up his thigh until I reached boxers over an already-rigid cock.

♦

I stared at Em in shock. Or dismay. Or both, I wasn't sure.

"In front of everyone?" I asked.

"Well, you couldn't really see, but yes."

"All of you?"

"Yeah."

I leaned my head back and contemplated giving a blowjob just feet away from someone else in a room full of people.

But just last night, you came with someone watching.

Hard on the heels came a rebuttal.

All three of you were kinda having sex together. I mean, it was a threesome ... at least, for that part of it, it was.

That's a huge difference. I mean, once Christian and I were a little high and got off lying across from each other on the trailer's bed. It was sexy as all fuck to watch. But that combined exhibitionist/voyeur moment didn't mean I wasn't still paralyzed at the thought of some guy, someday, saying, "Give us a show, Chips," and watching.

Spectator and Participant areNOT the same thing.

"What does 'Couldn't really see' mean?" I asked.

"All the lights were off and the blinds were down, but you know a tiny bit leaks in around the edges. Once your eyes adjusted, you could make out shapes."

The adrenaline spurt intensified. Somehow, I knew that every guy in that room had been aware of those shapes, barely visible though they might have been. It would have been an encore to Carrie's performance: a roomful of women on their knees for no other reason than they bet and lost. Even if the boys couldn't really see, the eroticism of it would have taken hold of their imaginations.

"Logan over there," Ben would have cataloged in his mind. "Brey. Victoria. Hannah."

Part of my mind heard a phantom, "That's Chips," and I felt the mortification even though it wasn't real.

Trying not to be the last one done, the one everyone's ears focused on when they weren't distracted anymore, the motion their eyes searched out in the almost-dark. Redoubling your efforts to get there first.

I'd been watched in semi-darkness once, down in Florida, and I could barely meet the watcher's eyes after, even though she was my bestest friend.

And, oh God, when the lights came back on!

"The lights," I said. I glanced away from the road at Em. She read my mind.

"Yeah." Her expression was, well, a little PTSDed.

When I'd lost to Owen, I'd had a moment compose myself before opening the door and facing the crowd. This--

"Changing your mind about next year?" she asked.

I ignored the tiny part of my brain that want to scream yes.

"What do we get when we win?" I replied. At the implicit answer, a tiny grin broke through her somber expression.

"Victoria said the girls had never won, so nothing got finalized. She said, 'It'll be up to you guys if it ever happens.'"

Possibilities immediately ran riot through my mind.

"What would you vote?" Em asked.

Visions of my previous night replayed, only this time one step closer to the original fantasy of Ethan in two places at once.

"Maybe two boys? One we can watch and one to go down." I made a face at the thought of doing it like the guys had. "But in private! We'd draw numbers for order, and they take a tour around campus to our rooms."

Her eyes lit. "I like the way you think, Chips."

• • •

Em took over driving after a pee stop at Carlisle. I was tired, and I rolled up a fleece and used it as a pillow.

"I'm bored," she said after half an hour. "Talk to me." I perked up. "Is it really okay?"

I didn't understand what "it" was.

"Ethan," she said, "taking someone else to the prom."

I took a moment to think through how to explain what I felt. I couldn't find the exact words, so I settled for, "If it wasn't okay, then there's no way I should be playing the Loft Game unless he knows about it and, in some weird universe, is okay with me watching other guys."

Not to mention blowjobs.

She drove without responding, digesting what I said. Finally, she gave a little nod. From the look on her face, it seemed to me she was pleased with my answer.

"He says I should come down the shore, that your family goes every year," I said tentatively.

"He did?" She seemed surprised. I nodded, waiting to hear whether this was yet another step too far for her. She glanced over and saw my expression.

"I'm pretty much over you two now. You know that, right?"

I hadn't known, but hearing it made the day sunnier.

"It just caught me by surprise 'cause he's never had a relationship or even a situationship, and it being you was weird. I wasn't kidding about not wanting him hurt. He may be a dork, but he's my brother."

The warmth was obvious in her voice. I understood. Kelly irritated the fuck out of me about a quadrillion zillion times more than Ethan irritated Em--in fact, I was still pissed at her--but when push came to shove, she was my little sister.

"I'm not going to hurt him," I reassured her.

She nodded.

"And you're wrong about girlfriends. He had one for a while."

"Huh? Who? What happened?"

"He didn't say. Only that she existed and then dumped him."

"Nicole? A skinny blonde?"

"Seriously, Em, he didn't say, and he didn't show me any pics."

"Mm." The growl under her breath told me baby brother was probably going to get grilled when she got home. "Anyway, yeah, you should come. Down the shore, I mean."

"Would you invite Ryan?"

"Jeez no!"

I had wondered about her summer. I mean, presenting a guy fifteen years older than you as your significant other could be a bit stressful. On the other hand, if you were accustomed to regular sex and then faced three months without, that could be stressful too. I knew that from personal experience.

"The thing with Ryan--" She broke off for a moment and I waited. It was a long wait as the Turnpike's mile markers sped by.

"Ryan is, umm, safe dick. I think he's hot as fuck, but he'd drive me absolutely batshit crazy as a boyfriend. There's no way I'm gonna catch any real feelings for him. And anyway, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I've got two more years at McVay, then med school, then residency. Somewhere toward the end of that, sure. But for now, I just need to get laid once in a while."

It was the first I'd heard of her life plans. "So, this summer," I said, "is boy-free? Or did you agree to take a break?"

"We didn't, but I haven't really thought about it."

I made a surprised face.

"Ryan and I aren't exactly exclusive."

Well, duuuh, Charl! Two nights ago she had Ben's dick in her mouth. Maybe some people don't consider oral to be sex, but it's not exactly not-sex either.

"Explain, please."

"What's to explain? We're not exclusive. I haven't told him about the Loft Game specifically, but he knows I've fooled around."

"I didn't know you were seeing other guys," I said.

"No, I just mean the game. There was this guy in Wildwood last summer, but that was before I met Ryan. The last guy I actually hooked up with at school was Carter last year. I told you about that."

We shared a wry moment at having shared a guy.

"And Ryan?"

She shrugged.

"I know he's hooked up with this woman on climbing trips a couple of times, but she lives in Portland, so it's an occasional thing."

I tried to figure out if there was a morsel of sourness behind that.

"Does that bother you?"

"Nope. Look, I told you. He's super into rock-climbing. Like, super! The only way for him not to bore me about body belaying is to do something else with his body."

I had no idea what body belaying was, but I got the idea. She glanced over.

"Seriously, Chips. He's hot as fuck. He's nice to me. He's not looking for 'til death do us part. It's what I want right now. As for this summer, 'Que será, será,'" she sang with a wiggle.

"Plus, he's into games," I said, deadpan.

She her raised eyebrows.

"Oh, where are those old neckties, Ryan?" I mimicked in a cutesy voice. "Bitch," I added in my normal tone. She'd done it to torture me, not him, a way to leave my fevered imagination running full blast as I lay outside their bedroom.

That brought a bellow of laughter.

"Yes, he's cool," she said.

I wondered how far "cool" went. I asked the question that had been on my mind the day before. "Is it awkward to see Ryan after if you lose a game?"

"No."

I waited. "More please."

"The first time it happened was the night you joined the green game."

"What? Who won?"

"None of your business."

I gave her grumpy face, which had zero effect.

"Anyway, I called Ryan and said I didn't think I should come over even though, jeez, I wanted to."

I understood. The night I'd lost the game had ended in a long date with my vibrator, which had been almost enough.

"Then he said, 'But didn't we just have a talk about Fridays kinda being a thing'? Which ... he had a point. So, I just up and told him."

I gave her a wide-eyed stare.

"I mean," she said hurriedly, "not about the game. I said I'd gotten in over my head talking shit about how good I was at foosball and ended up you-know-what."

"And?" I prompted.

"He was quiet for a second, then said I had some making up to do. To which, since offense is the best defense, ya know, I said, 'Don't you have to make that climber blonde up to me first?' And that"--she swerved around a car that had no business doing the speed limit in the left lane--"is why you weren't the only one flipping coins." I rolled my eyes at the reminder of my game with Josh.

"I thought you seemed pretty cheerful the next morning," I teased.

"Mmm," she said, "no. Let's just say it was déjà vu all over again."

Oh! I'd seen Ryan naked, fully naked, and now I imagined that ripped body sprawled back, the cock I'd seen only somewhat aroused now fully erect in her grip as she bent down because she lost. Just because we were friends didn't mean I wouldn't perv. I'd perved on Julia and Anthony.

My phone buzzed. "Brat," it read. I pressed the speaker button.

"What?" I said.

"Mom wants to know what time you'll be home 'cause she's making dinner."

I leaned over to look at Google Maps running on Em's phone. "About three hours. Bye."

"I said I was sorr--" The final word got cut off as I pressed End.

"You're still pissed at her," Em said.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"If my little sister, who I don't have, showed up with an uninvited fuck buddy and left my nice cream comforter all kinds of nasty?"

"Exactly!"

How was I to know that hot water sets those kinds of stains?

"I need another pee break," I said as the Bowmansville sign flashed by.

She glanced over and swerved into the right lane to make the rest stop exit. She pulled in at the door closest to Dunkin'.

"Get me a medium iced."

The line was long and I was impatient to get home. Summer stretched ahead of me, and other than a summer job, I was looking forward to it. It would be great to see Julia again and swap stories.

She'll absolutely die if I tell her what I did.

I let the cartoon of "I WIN!!!" roll around my mind and thought about a July week in Cape May.

Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road. Two miles down the road, we saw a line of red taillights in the distance as we passed an orange "Construction Next 10 Miles" sign.

"Damn," I grumped.

"Yeah," Em said. "Oh well. Never have I ever had three in a bed."

"Oh my God, you suck!"

She giggled and repeated, "Never have I ever--"

----------

I hope you enjoyed it.

This is a good pause point. A few slight teasers for down the road, but mostly things wrapped up for the short term.

I'm pretty sure I'll be back to Chips & Co. I mean, I already moved the Gibraltar stuff to a later story, so at least part of it exists. However, I might want to work on something else first. Plus, life's a little hectic for me come late spring and summer.

But things will reset and resume.

--C