Poker

We'd each had about six drinks, and we were sitting on the couch at IndoChine in Holland Village. Even in my alcohol-induced state, I knew what was going to come next...and I fairly tingled with excitement. I glanced over at Hope with a come-hither look in my eyes, and she raised her eyebrows at my obviously excited state. We both turned to my boyfriend Jack, who sat next to me on the couch watching the interplay between his girlfriend and her best friend. He grinned as he read our minds, and motioned for the waiter to bring the check. The waiter looked glad to be rid of us—lesbian shows might be good for business in L.A., but here in Singapore a threesome on the couch (however mild) only attracted disapproving attention.

The three of us stumbled down the street and into a waiting cab, carressing and kissing as much as we dared. Which, with a few too many long island ice teas coursing through our veins, was probably more than we would have under other cicumstances. In the cab, an old Chinese man started driving, then turned and asked us where we wanted to go. I removed my lips from Hope's neck and Jack stopped stroking my inner thigh. Where did we want to go? We looked at each other. Hope was the first to speak.

"We can't go to my place—my roommates don't take kindly to our little menage a tois." We shared a grin at this—Hope's roommates professed to be liberal-minded, but in practice they tended to be a little conservative for our taste. Hope turned her gaze to me. "What about you, Des? Your place?"

I hedged for a bit before responding. "Well, we went to my place last time...and my twin bed was hardly sufficient for the activities we had planned..." we all giggled and turned to Jack, who sighed. "Fine, fine, my house it is." He turned to the driver. "Ang Mo Kio Avenue, please?" The driver grunted, eyes fixed firmly on the road. Apparently he didn't appreciate the hands Hope and Jack each had on my breasts as much as I did.

Twenty minutes later we made our winding way up the elevator to Jack's condo. By this time the brut of the alcohol had worn off and we were all feeling pleasantly buzzed. We laughed aloud at the disapproving look we got from Jack's security man and fell over each other into his apartment. There was an uncomfortable pause as we looked uncertainly at one another. What to do, where to go... I broke the silence.

"Let's play a game!" I announced. The others looked at me strangely.

"What kind of game?" Hope asked.

"Um..." I looked around for inspiration. "I know! Strip poker!"

Jack guffawed loudly. "I've never heard a girl suggest that game before."

I narrowed my eyes at him, then grinned slowly and raked my gaze seductively over his body. "Jack, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not like other girls."

Hope laughed at Jack's obvious arousal, and he grinned sheepishly. "In that case, I'll get the cards. This way." He led us down the hall to his bedroom. As he rummaged in a drawer for some cards, I flopped down on his large four poster bed. It was an impressive piece of furniture, and it dominated the room. The double mattress was wonderfully comfortable. I stretched luxuriously and closed my eyes—only to feel Hope's manicured nails run lightly down my torso. I shivered deliciously and arched my back, pushing my breasts closer to her talented fingers...but she laughed and pushed me back down. "Not yet, Des," she giggled. "Weren't you the one who wanted to play strip poker?" I pouted and crossed my hands over my chest. "Sure...but that doesn't mean we can't play something else first..."

"Yes it does," Jack interrupted me. "I found the cards; we're ready to play."

We sat is a circle on Jack's bed. I sat cross legged facing Hope, who had on a dress and so was sitting with her legs together, mermaid style. Jack completed the triangle, hugging his knees to his chest as he passed the cards to me. For all my bravado in announcing the game, I wasn't entirely sure how to begin. That seemed to be a trend with me. Noticing my insecurity, Hope sighed. "Here, pass the cards to me." I did so wordlessly, my eyes large and innocent looking. She rolled her eyes at my vulnerable act and began dealing.

"Five card draw, no wild cards. No redeals. And no folding." This last bit was said with a rather evil grin, and I knew it was directed at Jack. He smiled sheepishly at having been found out—it had long been his strategy when playing anything to play it safe and not gamble. A far cry from my reckless do-or-say anything nature. It was a wonder we got along so well. Or at all.

Hope finished dealing and tossed her long, wavy auburn hair back over her shoulder before picking up her own cards. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and looked at my own hand. I almost groaned aloud. King high, absolutely nothing else. I peeked over the top of my cards, trying to read how the others had fared. Hope was obviously holding back a grin. Of course she would get a good hand—everything comes naturally to Hope. I rolled my eyes and turned to look at my boyfriend. His face was, as always, impassive. He could've had a flush or nothing for all I could tell.

Hope spoke again. "Okay you guys, prepare to get naked. Rules are this: the person who comes in last in each hand has to remove one article of clothing. First one naked loses."

I don't know what made me say it, since I was probably going to lose—oh wait, THAT'S why I said it—but I opened my big mouth anyway. "What happens to the loser?"

Hope raised an eyebrow and Jack and I exchanged glances. He narrowed his eyes at me. Oops. Guess he didn't have a flush.

"What did you have in mind, Des?" Hope asked me slyly. I gulped and looked to Jack for backup.

"Yeah Des, what did you have in mind?"

Great, no help there. I swallowed again and looked from one to the other. We were all twenty three, and I was actually the oldest of the group by a month or two, but that certainly never came across in our relationship. In fact, I was generally treated as the baby. I twirled my champagne blonde hair around a red-nailed finger and tried to think. What would be fun? Fun was my area of expertise...suddenly I had it.

"Loser is at the mercy of the winners. A sex slave for the night." I grinned triumphantly at the others. Jack rolled his eyes—he knew I expected to lose, and as a self-proclaimed submissive, the punishment (such as it were) was custom-tailored to my liking. Even Hope, who didn't know about my fascination with BDSM, was not convinced. Every time the three of us had gotten together for a night of fun, I somehow managed to finagle my way to the bottom of the pile or the center of the action. Besides that, Hope was most definitely not the submissive type, and on the off-chance that she lost the poker game, this punishment was hardly ideal for her. I gave her my most sincere smile and she narrowed her eyes further. I decided to try another track.

"Come on, Hope, you're going to win anyway. And you know how much you love to be in charge." She smiled slightly at that; it was true. Maybe not in day to day living, but sexually, Hope was good at being in charge. Coincidentally, the exact opposite of me.

Jack, as always, was for anything, so once Hope okayed the stakes we showed our cards. As expected, my king high didn't beat Jack's pair of twos or Hope's three eights. They smiled at me, looking surprisingly like a pair of hyenas, as I glared and began to remove my beaded necklace.

"Oh no," Hope's voice stopped me. "I think it's only fair that the winner of the hand decide which article of clothing the loser removes." I stared at her agape, but Jack nodded his agreement and I was outnumbered. Seething, I replied, "Fine, Ms. Three of a Kind. What, pray tell, should I remove?"

She appraised my body slowly, causing goosebumps to break out over my arms. She stopped when she got to my chest. I was wearing the low cut silk shirt I'd bought at Bebe the other day; it emphasized my large chest and trim waist. I'm tall compared to most of the people who live in Singapore. At five foot seven, I wouldn't win any height awards in my native Texas but in Asia I stand out a mile. My light blonde hair and pale skin do nothing to hide the fact that I'm a westerner; but my job as a performer keeps me fit enough to fit into most of the clothes in Singapore. Anyway, Hope's always liked my figure and I could tell before she said it that she wanted my shirt to go.

Sure enough, that was what she ordered me to remove. Resentful at the subtle humiliation she'd inflicted, I turned the removal of my shirt into a mini strip-tease. I slid off the bed, my semi-inebriated state, tight jeans and four inch heels making it a little more difficult than I had perhaps anticipated, and ran my fingers down my torso. I squeezed my breasts and moaned as I slid my hands lower, to the hem of my shirt. I slid my hands underneath it and up my body, writhing my hips and scraping my nails across my skin as I did so. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of the silk as it brushed erotically across my skin. Finally I pulled the shirt all the way off and returned to the bed, my black lace bra accentuating the ivory skin of my abdomen. I could feel Jack and Hope's eyes on me, so I batted my blues eyes at them and blew a kiss. Hope snorted derisively, but Jack smiled at me and reached out to brush his hand over my cheek. Hope snapped at him that the rules stated no touching until the end of the game (since when? I wanted to ask) and shoved the cards into his hands. Jack, of course, took it in stride and dealt five cards to each of us.

It looked like Lady Luck wouldn't be smiling at me tonight. My second hand was no better than my first—in fact, it was worse. Queen high this time. I grumbled in my head. I'd been so close to a straight, too... queen, jack, ten, nine—seven. I ground my teeth and glanced around the circle. Hope looked decidedly less smug than she had the first hand and Jack, of course, was unreadable.

This time Hope looked less inclined to demand the revealing of hands. Jack was the one to take the initiative. "Okay Hope, let's see 'em." She reluctantly showed her hand—only a pair this time. She looked nervously at me and I tried to bluff but she saw right through me. I put down my pitiful hand and turned to my boyfriend who, with any luck, had a worse hand than me.

Again, luck failed me as Jack put down cards better than Hope's—a straight. "You had my eight!" I glared accusingly at him and he laughed before demanding I remove my pants. I sniffed and stood, slowly unbuttoning the clasp and wriggling my hips to get the tight material off my body. I bent over and peeled the jeans off my legs, trying not to get them tangled in my heels. Of course, this meant I ended up hopping around the room so as not to lose my balance, and Jack and Hope got a generous eyeful of my black lace g-string. Finally, red-faced, I returned to my place and narrowed my eyes at Jack. He feigned disappointment that I hadn't been going commando. I shot him a smug look and snatched the deck of cards away from him. My turn to deal—time to do something about my losing streak.

My brother is something of a magician, and hence something of a cardshark. I surreptitiously brought the cards I wanted to the fore and fake shuffled a few times. Sitting on the bed with my legs crossed wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties and a pair of four inch black patent leather heels, I'm sure Hope and Jack were not focused much on my card tricks. Just to make sure, I shifted position so that my g-string covered even less of my shaven pussy than it already was. Satisfied that neither of my friends had seen me stack the deck, I dealt five cards to each person.

I barely suppressed my smile as I looked at my three aces. Needless to say, I won that round and got to tell Jack to remove his black button down shirt. Unfortunately, he didn't put on a show for me and Hope, but it was hardly necessary. Even a glimpse of Jack's chiseled abs and well-defined upper body were enough for me. I licked my lips and ran the fingers of my right hand along the outer edge of my labia. I grinned and he shuddered, but Hope ruined the moment by clearing her throat and holding out her hand for the cards. I stuck my tongue out at her and gave them to her. I could tell she was fighting arousal of her own as she accepted the deal, but being Hope, she didn't give into temptation.

The next few rounds went more quickly, as we became more and more turned on as each article of clothing was removed. Jack lost his pants, shoes, and hair tie in quick sucession. I lost each of my heels, my necklace, and panties which meant I spent the remainder of the game touching myself—since there was no rule about that—and trying to ruin the concentration of the others. Jack's eyes were dark with lust and I could tell he wanted to lose the last round and get rid of his boxer shorts just so he could jump me. I had only my bra on; the game looked as if it would be over soon and either Jack or I would lose...when Hope hit her losing streak. The first round she lost her shoes, then her panties (Jack's choice both times; had I been directing, her dress would've been long gone. But Jack's always been into foreplay more than I have. Strange, but whatever).

It was my turn to deal, and I stacked the deck in my favor again. It was no surprise to me that I won the hand with a flush—but it was a surprise when Hope lost with a pair of kings. I grinned lasciviously at her and motioned for her to remove her dress. Her face was beet red and I couldn't tell why—until she took it off. I realized (as did Jack) that Hope wasn't wearing a bra—which meant she was the first one naked, and thus the loser. I crowed in victory and high fived Jack, while Hope fumed. I can't be certain, but I think she knew I'd been cheating. She couldn't prove it, of course. That's probably why she didn't accuse me. That's probably why she didn't say anything. Probably.

I nodded to Jack, and he pushed Hope back down on the bed while I removed the cards. I wondered briefly why Hope wasn't fighting more...then I saw Jack, his lips locked against hers in one of the hottest kisses I'd seen in a while. I grinned to myself and grabbed the bag I'd been carrying around all evening.

Now, I have a small confession to make. I'd basically fixed the whole evening. From suggesting strip poker to suggesting the reward for the winners to forcing Hope to lose—although that one had almost backfired on me. You see, as I've said before, I have a thing for BDSM. Jack isn't as into it as I am—although he'll go along with absolutely anything and enjoy it. Even my friends who don't know about the S&M know that, sexually at least, I am a very submissive person. I love for others to be in control; I love to be at their mercy. When I decided I wanted to try my hand at dominating—letting out my "inner dominatrix," as it were—I knew it would have to be with someone I knew and trusted—someone who wouldn't laugh at me if I screwed it up, or even realize if I had. And I couldn't try to dominate Jack. I might be very liberal in most respects—I'm bisexual after all—but I have very conservative ideas about men and women's roles. Men are not to be dominated; women are. The thought of male submissives turn me off completely. That's not to say they're wrong or bad or inferior; that's just not how I get my kicks. Anyway, the obvious choice for my little experiment was my good friend Hope. Not only are we already sexually compatible, but she's always been the domineering one in bed. I thought a little role reversal might suit us quite nicely.

Which brings me to the bag I'd been carrying all evening. Jack had Hope pinned and docile on the bed, so I opened it and removed three silk scarves. I crawled up on the bed and carefully removed Hope's hands from Jack's neck. Jack was straddling her on the bed, so even though she protested, I quite easily tied her hands together and expertly attached them to the wrought iron rod at the headboard of Jack's bed. She whimpered a bit and struggled against her bonds, but Jack's talented tongue kept her subdued. I moved down the bed to her feet, and tied each one securely to a separate bedpost. She could writhe and wriggle all she wanted, but she wouldn't be getting free anytime soon. I tapped Jack on the shoulder, and he released Hope's mouth and sat back. We stopped to admire our handywork.

Hope was laid out in a semi-spread eagle position. Her pussy glistened in the lamp-light and her small breasts heaved with the heaviness of her breath. Her highly reactive nipples were standing up in little points, and her whole body was flushed. She may not like admitting it, but I had a feeling Hope enjoyed being a sub more than she'd let on. Hope is a petite thing; she stands at only five foot three and has a hot, curvy figure. Bur her face is what makes her so irrisistibly gorgeous. She's got full, pouty lips that almost put Angelina Jolie's to shame. Her eyes are brown and the adjective "doe-eyed" was invented for her. They're framed in these long, thick lashes that practically brush her rosy, high-boned cheeks when she blinks. Her face is heart shaped and her complexion smooth as cream without a single blemish. Lips parted, eyes half closed with her legs spread and hands tied above her, she looked like a porn star. A porn star that was my slave for the night.

I turned to look at Jack and could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. we were kneeling on either side of the naked Hope, and the excitement of the moment overcame me. I leaned across and brushed my lips against his.

Unable to contain the heat that had built up thus far, he plunged his tongue into my mouth and I gasped. I ran my fingernails down his chest and he reached behind me to unhook my bra. I smiled against his lips and ran my finger lower, around the waistband of his boxers. I was about to push them out of the way when we were interrupted by a movement beneath us. Hope was groaning and pulsating her hips, trying to join in on the action and find her release. I laughed at the sight.

"Well aren't you the little harlot," I commented drily, standing up from the bed and beckoning Jack to follow. "I think the first thing the winners of the poker game should do is reward each other. Slave, you watch now. And don't you dare come." I grinned devilishly at Hope's hurt and horrified face. Then I pulled Jack up beside me and kissed him again. I ground my pelvis into his and kissed my way down his neck, sucking and biting as I did so. He gasped, grabbing my ass and pulling me closer to him. I snaked my right hand between our bodies and into his boxers, grabbing his dick and squeezing lightly. He gasped and I smiled against the smooth skin of his neck, then worked my way up and bit his ear lightly. I withdrew my hand and he groaned in protest, but I broke the contact altogether, stepping away from him and turning back to our prisoner.

Hope was pale and sweating from the effort of holding her orgasm at bay. She writhed desperately on the bed, eyes closed. That was all I needed to see. I turned to Jack. "You know, Jack, if she really doesn't want to watch us, I suppose we could blindfold her." Jack grinned at this, and held out his hand for another scarf. I handed him one and he proceeded to tie it around Hope's eyes. She protested, but Jack whispered in her ear and whatever he said stifled her complaints.

I opened my bag again and brought out an assortment of objects. A feather, a candle, a hair brush, and a switchblade. Jack raised his eyebrows, but I shook my head. He took the hint and didn't say anything. I motioned him towards the door and we stepped outside silently, closing it behind us. I heard Hope call out, but naturally, we didn't respond.

"Can you go to the kitchen and get a glass of ice water?" I asked him. He looked at me for a moment then grinned slowly, nodded once, and disappeared. I opened the door again and came inside. Hope was lying on the bed as we'd left her, still flushed but not panting as hard. "Des?" she called when she heard the door open. "Is that you?"