The Game Ch. 05

The walk home was when the facts really settled in for the first time.

I'd been going along with whatever happened over the last few days, and had no regrets, but needed to sort out in my mind what was going on. That last was just a littletoo close for comfort. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be caught in somereally embarrassing situation, and get in trouble that I couldn't just laugh off.

The other thing I realised was that I needed to talk with someone about it all. I needed someone who could think a little more rationally. Of course, that required somebody that I could trust, and that I would be able to tell some rather delicate details to.

The first of many problems here was that anyone I thought of in terms of discussing the matter was also coming to mind as a suspect. Any of these people could be Birch, I thought.

Before I arrived back at the house, I had a plan of sorts. I'd thought through the likely involvement of Mike, and couldn't see how he could have done all the things that Birch needed to have been part of, and it just didn't seem like something he could have done. I resolved to speak with him as soon as I got there.

After that, I enjoyed the rest of the walk. The late afternoon sun was kept in check by a slight breeze, and it was very pleasant.

My arrival at the house was punctuated by two things. First, as I walked up the steps, and through the front door, I was suddenly reminded of my appearance the other day, and my collapse just here on the floor. I was embarrassed by the memory, but I felt a shock run through my body, and I knew that I could do it again under the right circumstances. I could even look forward to it.

Dropping my bag in my room I wandered back to the kitchen. I'd been expecting Mike to be here, and wanted to talk. That was the second item. We had a whiteboard in the kitchen, and a message had been scrawled there.

Hey guys
I've gone home. My brother is in town for just one night, and I want to catch up with him.
Any foxy chicks show up, please phone me, otherwise I'll see you tomorrow.
Oh, Steve, I beat your high score. Bite me.

Mike

Damn. That made things a little difficult, to say nothing of suspicious.

Perhaps revenge was on my mind as I reached into the fridge and stole one of his beers. I stood there, wondering what to do now, and stared, beer in hand, at the whiteboard. As I drank, I thought. Something was digging at my memory, and I couldn't work out what it was.

I was almost finished the beer when it came to me. I clunked the bottle down on the table, ignoring the beer which bounced out the top, and ran down to my room. Somewhere here... There it was. The handwritten note from yesterday, crumpled and sitting on the top of the wastepaper basket. I took it out and flattened it as best I could before walking back to the kitchen, reading the note through slowly, though not caring greatly what it actually said. I stood in front of the whiteboard, the note in front of me, and compared. They were completely different. The writing on the board was much more free, and untidy. The note was compact, and neat. These werenot written by the same person.

It crossed my mind that this could be a set-up. An image flashed in front of my eyes of myself on a horse, riding into an ambush, Mike closing off the exit behind me. I guessed that was possible, too, but it didn't seem likely. I knew I could confirm this by breaking one of our household rules, and checking some of the study notes in his room, but I wasn't convinced enough to do that.

I didn't know quite how I felt now. I was relieved that he almost certainly wasn't Birch, I suppose, but at the same time a part of me wished hewas. Worse, I was now without a clue.

I had a list of possibles, but no real reason to pin it on any of them, except perhaps Ray. I wasn't at all sure if I wanted Birch to be him, though. I thought I was beyond him. Funny that. I hadn't thought of Ray at all, really, since this all started. Not like the previous week.

I was still stuck though. I knew Steve was unlikely to come home until the early hours, and I was in no mood to sit here and mope. I needed to talk to someone, but I didn't want to go out either. The solution was simple, as they mostly seem afterwards. I made two phone calls.

Annie was first. She was home, had no plans, and was available. I told her to come around as soon as she could, and to pick up ice cream, beer and a movie on the way. My offers to pay her back were ignored. Annie's parents were loaded. I lied a little, and told Annie I'd prepare a quick dinner before she got here. That was what the second call was for, and after I'd been assured a pepperoni pizza was on the way, I relaxed a little.

Picking up the remains of my stolen beer, I traipsed through to the lounge, and collapsed in one of the big armchairs, flicked the TV on, and waited for the doorbell to ring.

It didn't take too long. I was taking bets with myself as to who would get there first, and had settled on the pizza guy, reminding myself that it could be a girl, and was at least a little surprised to find Annie standing there. She looked a sight. I'd called just as she was climbing from the shower, she told me, and she'd hurried to get here by the time dinner was ready.

I took the dessert from her hands, and sent her through to the lounge with the cold beer, promising to join her there as soon as I checked on dinner. She looked at me as only Annie can.

"You... you've ordered something, haven't you?"

"Annie, how could you? Here I am, slaving in a hot..."

"Hold it."

"...kitchen... What?"

"You're lying through your teeth. Go put that ice cream somewhere it won't melt. Too much hot air in here."

"Oh, how could you..."

"Pizza, right?"

"How did you guess?"

"Habit. You're lazy, you know that?"

"Only in the kitchen."

"Possibly. Heather, you never told me this was a 'pizza and ice cream' invite."

"You might not have come."

"Course I would have. I might have dried my hair first."

"No matter. I needed someone to talk to. Aren't you honoured?"

"Not remotely."

"Intrigued?"

"Last time I was intrigued, you told me all about that retard that bought you panties."

"I was..."

"Infatuated."

"Possibly."

"Definitely." The doorbell rang. "Kitchen, Heather. Melting. I'll get the... pepperoni?"

"How do youdo that?"

"It's a gift. If he's a doll, do I get him?"

"Help yourself."

"He won't be then. Go."

I went through to the kitchen, shaking my head. I could hear Annie talking at the door as I put the ice cream away, and suddenly realised I needed to get back out there. I was too late though. As I appeared around the corner, she was just shutting the door, and juggling the pizza and beer.

"Give me one of those, Annie."

"Take the pizza."

"Listen, I just realised..."

"It's dealt with."

"Look, that was never the plan. You already got the dessert, beer and movie."

"Give it up Heather. It's done."

"Oh, look..."

"Nope. Oh," she pointed a finger at me as we walked back to the lounge. "You can have him."

"Bad, huh?"

"Shocking."

"Oh. I suppose you think this will distract me from paying you back?"

"I doubt it. I just wanted you to know I'm looking after you."

"Looking... you were going to have him yourself."

"Yep."

"And that's looking after me how?"

"You're too stressed for Pizza boy molestation, and you know it, Heather."

"Am not."

"Are too. You going to sit with me?"

I'd dropped back into the armchair where I'd been before, but that wasn't going to work too well. I struggled to my feet again. "Yeah, of course I am. Shove over."

"Iam over."

"Nonsense. It's my sofa."

"It'smy bloody pizza!"

"Point. Okay, we'll share nicely, Anthea."

"Don't call me Anthea."

"Yourname, isn't it?"

"Don't you fuckingstart!"

We both collapsed in giggles at this point, and eventually sort of fell together, pulling the pizza from the coffee table on top of us, and stayed there, comfortable, quiet, and eating very piggily.

The silence was eventually broken by Annie, who managed a solid belch before saying a single word. "Beer."

I responded with a belch of my own, dropped the almost empty pizza box back onto the table, and pulled myself out of the tangle of bodies. We were very comfortable with each other, but we couldn't very well drink like that. I pulled the bottles across the table and detached one without too much trouble. I opened it, and handed it to Annie.

"Here you are, Miss."

"Ta. Listen, thanks for dinner."

"Hey, no problem. After all, I did nothing, and you paid for it."

"It's the thought, you know?"

"Just as well, Annie." I took another bottle for myself, and sprawled back on the sofa.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, no ice cream for a bit, huh? I'm full as a tick."

"Me too. Later. Want to watch a movie?"

"Nope."

"Oh."

"Can't do that."

"Why's that, Annie?"

"Because, Heather my dear friend, you need, before we drink too much more beer, to tell me thething."

"Thing, Annie?"

"What's that line from Monty Python? Oh, yeah. 'Don't play the slippery eel with me', Heather."

"Huh?"

"Too obtuse?"

"Could be. Might be the beer."

"Okay. You asked me around here for beer, ice cream and pizza."

"Did I thank you lately?"

"Hush. I know what that means."

"You do, Annie?"

"Yes. We both do. It means we have something ofconsequence to discuss. I didn't have anything, so you must have. 'Fess up."

"Alright, alright. I don't know where to start, though."

"The beginning works for me."

"Annie, have you any idea how annoying you are?"

"Yeah, some. Come on."

So I started.

I told her about Birch, in the park. About the knife, and the game. I told her about the embarrassingly desperate masturbation when I got home.

I carried on from there, and told her about the saga with the skirt, and the panties, and the photos. I went and got the photos and showed her.

I told her about Mike. About how it was just random chance that he was the one in the kitchen. About my bathroom seduction, my insistence that it was just sex, and my uncertainty about that now. I told her about the note, and the handwriting.

By the time we'd finished the beer, I'd also told her all about my other episodes of self-abuse, and the entire episode in the prop room. I ran out of steam just as we downed the last swallows. We were both a little pickled.

She started asking questions then. How this happened; how that felt; what I'd like to do again; how I was about Mike.

In the end, that was what the conversation was centred on. Mike. How much I enjoyed our encounter, and how much I'd like to do it again. How I was suddenly attracted to him, and how disappointed I was that he wasn't home tonight.

We had collapsed into a pile of arms and legs again, sprawled drunkenly over the furniture, completely ignoring the burble of the television in the background, and muttering comments back and forth. All the embarrassment was gone, and I was so relieved at being able to tell someone. And Annie seemed to understand. She knew how I felt, and could tell how I might react to things.

The conversation wandered here and there and we went through a weepy stage, and a giggling stage before I decided I justhad to get to the bathroom or make a mess on the couch. Annie insisted thatshe was just about to get up, and needed to use the facilities evenmoreurgently, so I let her go. As soon as she reappeared, I stumbled down the hallway to take her place.

By the time I got back from having a pee, Annie was nearly asleep on the sofa. I knew for a fact that this wasn't very comfortable, so I dragged her off there, and we both stumbled back to my room.

Annie came to her senses a little more on the way down, and when we got there she demanded to know what the sleeping arrangements were.

"It's fairly simple," I told her. "We both pile in here, and nod off. In the morning, we sympathise about our hangovers."

"Are we that drunk, Heather?"

"I'm not sure, actually. But maybe."

"Yeah, maybe. Well... tell ya something?"

"What's that, Annie?"

"I always sleep in my suit."

"Your suit?"

"Yeah. My birthday suit."

"You do?"

"Yup. Drunk or not. Especially drunk, I think."

"Well, I do too. This a problem?"

"Not to me."

"Nor me."

"Good. Really good. Because I just might need a hand with getting these off!"

We collapsed in a giggle fit again, but I managed to help her, taking her top off first, and unclipping her bra. She was no more drunk than I was, but seemed happy for me to do the job for her. Her jeans were next, and I got her to lie back on the bed so I could undo them, before pulling them off.

Just as the jeans were flying off her feet, she sat back up, looked me in the eye, and spoke quietly. "You know, Heather, you could have used a knife for that."

That was all I could take, and I fell on the floor laughing, while Annie slid her panties down and off her legs, and threw them across the floor. She stood unsteadily on her feet then, and beckoned to me. "Come on then. I want a turn."

"Turn?"

"Yeah. I'll take yours off. Lie down."

"No knives."

"Promise, Heather. No knives."

I sat on the bed and let her pull my shirt off over my head, then had to stop and let her remove my bra after she had made so much fuss. I lay back so she could repeat my performance with the jeans, and she stopped, steadied herself, and slowly slid her fingertip down between my breasts, over my navel, and down to the waistband of my jeans. I shivered in delight, remembering the incident with the knife, and felt a wash of moisture between my legs. I must have shuddered, but I didn't say anything as she giggled, and pulled my jeans off.

The next step was a bit of a surprise. Annie's mouth followed the same path recently travelled by her fingertip, and I jumped with every touch. Her lips on my navel were almost too much to bear, and by the time she reached my panties, I was hoping there was no visible evidence of my arousal. She pulled at the top of the panties a little with her teeth before giving up and pulling them off with her hands, falling to the floor with them, thumping loudly with her bare butt.

She fell, giggling as I kicked the panties off. I became aware of the escape of my scent into the room. I hoped she didn't notice. Perhaps she was too drunk. Reaching up, she tickled the bottom of my foot. I jumped, and fell to the floor with her, and we both lay there in a pile, laughing.

After a few minutes I realised it was a little chilly down there, to say nothing of hard, so I climbed carefully to my feet, and hauled Annie to hers. I pulled the covers back on the bed, and we both fell in between the sheets.

For some reason, once we were actually in the bed, things didn't seem quite so silly or carefree, and we started talking sensibly again. Annie had fallen facing away from me, and I was spooned in behind her, both of us slowly getting warm. She spoke first.

"Heather, umm... listen."

"Yep."

"Well, this business with Mike."

"Yeah?"

"I think... you should do something about it."

"You do?"

"Uh huh. He's so much nicer than Ray, and he's had a thing for you forever."

"He has?"

"Yep. He made me promise never to tell you, but I think we've gone beyond that."

"We have?"

"Yeah. And I don't think he'd mind you knowing, given the way you've been talking about him."

"Well, that's a relief. I thought maybe it was just me."

"No, think about how he reacted after the shower."

"Annie, wasn't he just horny?"

"Heather, do you knowanything about boys?"

"Huh?"

"That wasafter his orgasm. If it was just that, he'd have said nothing."

"He might have just wanted some more."

"I'm sure he did, but that's not all, and not right then."

"Okay."

"What does 'okay' mean?"

"It means, Annie, that I already have a mother, but thanks just the same, and I'll see what I can do about it."

"You're angry?"

"No, sorry. Frustrated."

"Forget it."

"Thanks."

"You'll talk to him?"

"I will. After this game thing is sorted."

"I think that must be over, mustn't it?"

"I'm not sure."

"I think so. From what you've said."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You feel nice there."

"You too, Annie. I like the way we feel comfortable with each other."

"That's what friends are for."

"Yeah, but not like this, maybe."

"You'd rather I wasn't here?"

"Oh, no, no. It's just... well, I don't do this with any of my other friends."

"This?"

"Take them to bed, Annie. You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Hold on. This thing with Mike. Sorted?"

"Yeah. I think so. I'll talk to him, and see if he wants to take this somewhere."

"He does."

"You said."

"I did."

"Again."

"I'm right, you know. You do know, don't you Heather?"

"Yeah, I think so, Annie. Thanks. But what about Birch?"

"I don't think that's going anywhere, is it? Just a game, right?"

"It couldn'tbe Mike, could it Annie?"

"I don't think so."

"Should I be worried, do you think?"

"Nah. Relax. It will work itself out."

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks Annie."

"Any time, kid. So... listen."

"Oh oh."

"Yeah. Honestly now. You horny?"

"Annie, I've been horny since the pizza arrived."

"Yeah, well your story got me. I knew anyway. You reeked of it when I undressed you."

"Yeah. Umm... should I be sorry?"

"No, no. Not at all. It's probably the only reason you didn't get a whiff of me. But Heather, if I slept on the sofa, would you be... dealing with it?"

"Oh. Well... I told you everything before. What do you think?"

"Yeah, well, just wanted confirmation. I was wondering..."

"Ah, yep?"

"Maybe if... if we both do it at once, we can both pretend not to notice?"

"We... That's a little... over the... yeah, okay. God, I must be blushing something awful."

"You can say no. I'll go to the bathroom."

"No, no. I'm so pleased you asked. I wanted to, but couldn't have done it."

"Good."

"Yeah... I..."

"Shh Heather."

As I fell silent, I could feel that she was doing something already. Her small ass started to move slightly in front of me, and she lifted one leg a little, to give herself better access. I thought I'd be embarrassed, but somehow I was beyond all that, and I reached between my own legs, feeling with a thrill that my knuckles were gently pressing the crease of Annie's ass, her skin sliding back and forth against my fingers.

We didn't speak any further, but our movements somehow became synchronised. Even though I'd been desperate for release the entire evening, and more so the more beer I consumed, I was now in a dreamy state that I didn't want to leave, and there was no hurry to come. I knew I'd get there eventually, and it would be worth the wait.

Undulating gently behind Annie, feeling her, hearing her breathe, smelling her arousal along with mine, I almost unconsciously put my hand on her hip. She sighed then, her body pressing against my hand in approval. With confirmation that it was okay, my hand started to wander a little, up and down her slim body, feeling her leg, hip, ribs.

Suddenly, with one hand between my legs, stroking furiously, my other was on her small breast. Her nipple was large and hard, and she hissed as I touched it, telling me to squeeze it harder. I followed her instructions, and caressed the thing that was so much like my own, but so different.

That was where the idea came from, I think.  Suddenly I needed to feel what her fingers were doing, to feel her swollen wetness. To help her maybe, but just to know.

I slowly moved my hand back down her body, a little nervous about the possible reaction, but convinced that she would reject me nicely if at all. As my hand reached her hip again, I slid it forward, pressing myself up closer behind her at the same time. My hand found its way down across the front of her body, down over the more wiry thatch, and encountered her own fingers, thrumming her hot cunt.