Carla's Pals Give Thanks for Her

Tim bought the group another round of Lone Star. Carla got herself a Jager shot and downed it in a quick gulp; while she didn't regret teasing her buddies, her pulse was still racing and she thought the shot might calm her down. She tried to compensate for the quick shot by nursing the new beer as the pregame show was, mercifully, nearing its end. After enduring Carla's biting comments about his beloved Cowboys throughout the pregame, Keith asked her, "If you're so sure the Cowboys suck, how about putting your money where your mouth is?"

"What exactly are you proposing, some kind of bet?" she asked between swigs of Lone Star.

"Just a friendly little wager, $100 to me if the Cowboys win or $100 to you if Washington wins."

"I'd love to take your money," Carla replied, "But I don't have much to spare right now in the unlikely event your guys were to win."

The kickoff ended the discussion about Keith's proposed bet on the outcome of the game. Consecutive 3 and out possessions by each team's offense made it look like they were in for a boring afternoon. Keith floated a new idea for a bet on the game which he thought might work for the cash strapped Carla. "How about a series of smaller bets, one for $25 at the end of each quarter."

Well, Keith," she replied, "being a bank employee and all, I can add and multiply numbers fairly well. 4 quarters at $25 each still adds up to $100."

"Yeah," he replied, "But during most games between fairly average teams the lead goes back and forth a few times. Odds are you come out even or only down $25. But I understand completely if you're admitting you've been full of shit with all your trash talk about my team."

"Okay, deal, I'll take your money if you insist."

Within 3 minutes of Carla and Keith sealing their deal, the Cowboys rode a long punt return and a missed pass route assignment by the Washington defense into field goal range, taking a 3-0 lead with around 5 minute left in the 1st quarter. Keith whooped and hollered as if they had just won the Super Bowl. Carla rolled her eyes and said, "Lots of time left, no worries."

Sure enough, on their next possession Washington went on a long drive, running the ball into the Cowboys end of the field. Carla remembered something she'd overlooked before; she had put most of her cash down as a deposit on the rental truck she'd be leaving town with in a few days. After a thorough search of her purse, she told Keith, "I'm sorry to say this, I hate to do it, but I need to back out of our bet."

"Backing out AFTER the game's underway, especially with your team already down?" Keith snorted, "Carla, that's just not done!"

"I know, I know, it's just plain wrong, but I can't cover it if I lose; after buying my lunch, one beer and that shot of Jager I just had, I've got less than $10 with me, and I know the ATM at my bank is out of service until sometime tomorrow. I really hate to back out of a bet, but I never should have made the bet in the first place."

As a TV timeout interrupted the game, Carla watched as Keith looked at nothing in particular off in the distance, then had a short whispered conversation with Tim.

Keith finally turned to talk with Carla, saying, "I understand your predicament, and I think I have an option which could let you avoid the shame of backing out. The revised bet would go like this; a bet every quarter, you get $50 combined from Tim and me if your team is ahead at the end of any quarter."

"And if I lose?" she asked, suspicious about the raised stakes.

"Each quarter you lose, Tim and I get custody of one item of your clothing, just until the post-game show is over."

If not for the sound of the beer coolers below the bar running, you really could have heard a pin drop during the 20 seconds it took to get her answer out.

"Dude, I am NOT taking off my shirt." she said, loud and clear.

"For that to even be an issue, your team would have to be behind at least three quarters, maybe all four, so most likely not. What if we upped our offer to $100 per quarter?"

During the entire length of a Ford pickup ad, Carla said nothing as she tried to work out all the possible scenarios, no easy task after a couple of hours of drinking. Keith was right about how badly the game would have to go before they'd be entitled to her shirt, along with everything else she was wearing, for the duration of the post-game blather. As long as Washington could pull out a lead for at least one quarter she'd be able to stay decent, and if Washington had a good day she could win enough to cover most of the cost of the truck she was renting for her move.

The thought of her hanging out with her friends while wearing nothing but her shirt was enough to make her shiver, and the vision of her hanging out in the nude, drinking with her buddies for an hour or more after the game if Dallas could hold the lead all four quarters was impossible to get out of her head. She thought of how it had felt having one nipple nearly exposed, and tried to imagine having her entire body on display that way. The possibility was unlikely, terrifying, and, inexplicably, more than a little bit exciting. She knew the odds were at least a little bit on her side, and seeing Washington nearing the red zone with over three minutes left in the 1st quarter brought her to the edge of agreeing.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled, her throat suddenly feeling dry, "it's probably a good deal, but I'm still nervous about that worst case scenario."

After huddling with Tim for a quick conversation, Keith replied, "Would $150 per quarter make you change your mind? We can't go any higher."

"What about a tie score?" she asked, still trying to understand her risk to reward ratio.

"No money or clothing changes hands."

"And if I were to lose a piece of clothing, who gets to pick which one, you guys or me?"

"Your choice, absolutely," Keith quickly replied, excited that Carla seemed to really be thinking of accepting the terms of the revised bet.

"And why exactly wouldn't I get any lost pieces of clothing back until the post-game is over?" she asked.

"Just so you wouldn't be able to take something off at the end of the game and put it right back on a second later," Tim explained.

"I guess that makes sense," she agreed, "although I can't say anything about this is at all sensible."

"Oh, gawd, I can't believe I'm saying this, but okay, you've got a deal." she replied, her voice cracking. She told herself all she needed was for Washington to lead or tie one stinking quarter for this to work out in her favor, but couldn't stop thinking about what their failing to do so would mean for her.

Their negotiations completed, the trio turned their attention back to the game, which had suddenly become a whole lot more interesting for them. Washington was on the verge of securing at least Carla's right to keep her shirt on, getting a first down on the Cowboys 13 yard line with 1:30 left in the quarter. She calmed down a little, thinking Washington would surely get at least a field goal out of this possession. Three ineffective running plays got them to the Dallas 9 yard line with 6 seconds left, bringing out the field goal unit for the easy chip shot. Carla was practically dancing on her barstool, looking forward to a tie at the end of the quarter and with it the certainty she wouldn't be expected to strip completely.

The snap was good and the kick was...WIDE RIGHT!

"YES!" shouted Keith and Tim.

"FUCK!" shouted Carla, "How could they have missed that? I could probably make that kick!" She attributed the tingle she felt shoot through her to the shock of seeing such an outrageous misfire.

Score at end of 1st quarter; Dallas 3, Washington 0.

"Well, smarty pants, what'll it be?" Keith crowed as the first commercial between quarters came on.

Knowing she only needed one of the remaining three quarters to break her way, Carla calmed down enough to think of a way to mess with her fellow barflies. She sauntered over to her previous place in the spotlight, less than a dozen feet away from the bar, and began unbuttoning her shirt, alternating between top and bottom buttons until it had only one button left in place. Even though she didn't plan on really showing much, less in fact than she almost had by mistake, she couldn't completely stop the way her hands were shaking. Her companions watched like their life depended on it as she undid the last button and opened her shirt a couple of inches. She stopped, then said, "Nope, not gonna happen!" and refastened the bottom four buttons. She then kicked off one sandal and handed it to Keith.

"Shoes only count if we get the complete pair," Keith grumbled, "Anyone who's ever played strip poker knows that! So lets have the other one, unless you'd rather hand over your shirt after all."

Carla was too embarrassed to admit her lack of strip poker experience, so she ignored that subject. She hadn't really expected to get away with the individual shoe thing, so she stepped out of the other one and handed it over, saying, "With any kind of luck this is all you'll be getting."

"Just have to wait and see," he replied, smiling.

The 2nd quarter had more offense, or maybe the defenses were both getting tired. Both teams scored a touchdown early and Washington added another with less than 20 seconds to go until halftime. "Get your wallets out, fellas, looks like I'm gonna win this quarter," she gloated as Washington kicked off. The Dallas returner slipped two tackles before he'd gone 10 yards, but then saw three Washington players converging on him. Carla was stunned to see him pitch a perfect lateral to an equally surprised teammate who caught the ball and headed up the sideline at top speed. Washington's last chance to stop him rested on the slender shoulders of its kicker, who made a good effort but missed the tackle, flying off into the sidelines as the Dallas player scored a touchdown. Carla groaned as Dallas picked up the extra point and her companions howled, thrilled by their sudden change of fortune.

Score at Halftime: Dallas 17, Washington 14

Carla really had only one choice at this point; she had to part ways with her leggings. She slid off her barstool and undid the bottom couple buttons on her shirt to be able to reach the waistband of the leggings.

"What, no little show under the spotlight?" Keith asked.

"I don't remember that being a requirement of the bet," Carla objected. She actually kind of agreed that anything as significant as getting undressed in front of friends deserved a bit more recognition, but wasn't about to admit it.

"You're right, it's not a rule, but you've sort of made it a tradition," he replied sadly, "Just thought I'd ask."

Somehow, having Keith back off made her actually want to give them all a bit of a show. "Girl, what has gotten into you tonight, this is SO not you!" she thought to herself. "What's the big deal?" asked the newly emerging voice representing the part of her who'd enjoyed teasing her friends a few minutes ago by making them think she was about to strip out of her shirt. "That look at your ass you already gave them when you were showing off your leggings was pretty much the same as what they'll see without the leggings. And don't kid yourself, you got off on that little tease you gave them before giving up your shoes."

"Don't ever let it be said I don't respect tradition," Carla said to Keith as she stepped into her customary spot for modeling clothing, which had now become a sort of stage for removal of clothing. "Some of it, anyway," she thought, "but how much?" She began shaking for a moment as she thought about the range of possible outcomes of the second half of the game, not to mention the games she was playing. She paused to consider how best to get separated from her leggings in a way satisfying to everyone present. She unfastened the four lowest buttons on her shirt, not to give her audience hope that her shirt was about to come off, but to allow her to tie the tails in a knot just below her boobs.

With the shirt out of the way she turned away from her admirers and bent over at the waist, giving her a good, albeit upside down view of the three men. She ran her hands up the back of her calves, continuing slowly up the shiny black fabric at the back of her thighs. When her hands reached her ass, she squeezed and kneaded her cheeks for a while, drawing at least one moan and one "Ohhh, man," comment from one of the men. She slipped both hands under the waistband of her leggings, took a deep breath, and began peeling the stretchy fabric down, alternating sides. She lowered the shiny black garment a little at a time, careful to avoid removing her thong along with the leggings, until it was bunched up down around her ankles.

Still facing away from her audience, Carla bent over one more time, letting her admirers enjoy the view of her ass while she pulled the leggings over her bare feet and completely off. She could have stood up then, but decided to let her buddies enjoy the view until she had untied her shirt tails and let the shirt drop down to cover her again. "Was that traditional enough?" she asked Keith as she turned over her leggings. He just smiled, nodded his head, and slung the leggings over his left shoulder like a towel. The leggings were too slick to stay put, sliding off his twill work shirt, so he gently tied the legs together and wore them like some kind of cape.

Carla sipped her latest beer slowly, wanting to keep, if not a clear head, at least enough of her senses to avoid doing anything truly regrettable. She recognized how far from normal her behavior tonight had become, but didn't regret a single thing she'd done. "So I showed a little bit of skin, teased a couple of guys a little. Okay, maybe I've teased them a lot, but they seem to be enjoying it... "she thought, smiling, "maybe even as much as I am."

The third quarter gave almost nobody much to smile about, as both teams demonstrated how they had earned such ugly records. Keith and Tim actually enjoyed the way the sloppy mess of a quarter was unfolding; having Dallas hold on to a three point lead was good news for them, since it meant Carla would soon be obliged to hand over one of her two remaining pieces of clothing. Fittingly, the third quarter ended with Washington losing a fumble inside the Dallas 10 yard line.

Score at the end of 3rd Quarter: Dallas 17 Washington 14

Carla finished off the beer she'd been nursing all through the 3rd quarter and cut Keith off before he could say anything, saying, "I know, I know, I'm going," as she trudged to her usual place in the spotlight. As she made her way to what she was now thinking of as her stripping spot, she wondered how stripping out of her thong in the middle of the Whistlestop, in front of some of her bar buddies, had somehow become her least bad option. Once she was standing under the spotlight she perked up a little.

Standing in the spotlight, she stroked her chin a moment as if looking for inspiration. She unbuttoned the buttons holding her shirt together and tied the tails again, knotting them a little more loosely than before, giving her buddies their best view yet of both of her full C-cup breasts; the looser shirt showed more than before, but Carla managed to keep her nipples out of sight. She still had one quarter for Washington to make make up the 3 point deficit and make the current level of exposure the most her boobs would receive. "I know the guys would really like to have a better look," she thought, amazed to realize that she was now almost hoping to give them that experience, almost wanting to lose it all. "Like it or not," she thought, "I'm going to nearly be there anyway once I finish this little task.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and stretched each side out several inches. Just when her friends thought they were about to see her pussy, she spun around and faced away from them. As eager as her audience was to get even a brief look at Carla naked from her waist down, none of the men were about to complain about their current situation. They were watching as gorgeous a woman as any of them could remember ever knowing, and she was stripping, just a few feet away from where they stood!

Carla shuddered briefly as she slowly pulled the waistband of her lacy black thong down over her ass and thighs, finally letting them drop to the floor. As she looked down at her thong draped over her feet, she felt, not for the first time that day, like she had just crossed a line she wasn't even supposed to get near. So far, she had enjoyed what she felt as she crossed each line, so she stepped out of the tiny pile of lace, then crouched carefully to pick the flimsy garment up, not quite willing to bend at the waist and give the guys an unobstructed view of her sex.

She stood up and turned to face her fans, carefully covering her pussy with her left hand, the thong dangling from her index finger. She thought about "accidentally" dropping it and "forgetting" to keep her left hand covering her pussy while retrieving it, but the voice inside her proposing this bit of exposure wasn't completely in charge of her behavior, not quite. She managed, with some difficulty, to untie her shirt tails with one hand and refasten the lowest two buttons. The return of her shirt tails to cover her pussy allowed her to bring her left hand and her thong away from her now decidedly moist pussy, spinning the bit of black lace on her finger as she strutted back to her barstool, tugging the bottom edge of her shirt down as far as she could to try to keep out of sight the area where her thong should have been. Handing the thong to Tim, she asked him, "Can you take care of this for me for a little while?"

"Uh, yeah, I'd be glad to, sure," he said quietly. He and Keith each bought her another Jager shot. She downed Tim's right away, intending to keep the one from Keith until late in the quarter. When Ron gave her one more on the house with 8 minutes left in the game, she downed Keith's and told Ron not to pour her another unless she asked him to.

Carla's removal of her thong had completely held the attention of her audience, so much so that not one of the bar's occupants had noticed several minutes of the 4th quarter had already passed by the time Tim took possession of the tiny scrap of lace. There hadn't been any scoring, but Washington was driving deep into Dallas territory. The group had barely settled in to watch when a long pass was caught for a touchdown, putting Washington into the lead! "Almost there, just hold on the rest of the quarter, that's all I ask," Carla silently begged the football gods, "I just can't strip completely nude, please don't make me!"

With less than a minute left in the game it looked like Carla's silent prayer had been answered; Washington had run out most of the remaining time, though they now needed to get a punt off, pinned inside their own 5 yard line. She knew she was now seconds away from escaping without ever being forced to be completely exposed, and felt a wave of relief for the first time since she'd agreed to the bet. She felt relief, to be sure, but also a complicated mix of other feelings. She started shaking each time she thought about losing the last part of the bet, but she also wanted to somehow get a little more of the incredible electricity she'd felt each time she'd been in the spotlight, revealing a little bit more of herself!

Then the impossible happened; in a matter of seconds, Washington's long snapper messed up the snap, making their punter track down the loose ball! The panicked punter somehow decided that this would be a good time to throw the first pass he'd attempted in a real game since high school, which he did. The fairly nice looking spiral thrown by the punter went straight to an astonished Dallas player, who ran ten yards, vaulted over the pile of players on the ground where the line of scrimmage had been, and stumbled untouched into the end zone! Even the referee was laughing as he signaled it, Dallas touchdown! After the pointless extra point and an uneventful kickoff with no significant return, the game limped to an end.