Lucia Makes a Betbyvisioneer©
Author's note: Thanks to gimmie_your_load for allowing me to take her character Lucia on an adventure.
Saturday afternoon on a brisk November day in Calgary. I was into my second month of a six month stay, having come up from Houston for a consulting job in the oil fields. So far, Calgary had been nonstop hard work, and this day was the first break I'd taken. Keith, a foreman with the company I was contracted to, had invited me to watch a hockey game with his girlfriend Danielle and his crew of tough, muscled roustabouts and roughnecks.
I don't know shit about ice hockey, but I'd soaked up enough to know that the sport is to a Canadian what Jesus is to the Pope. The Toronto Maple Leafs were in town to play the Calgary Flames and people insisted I understand the significance of this Blessed Event. Most were three beers beyond explaining anything. Like any stranger in a strange land, I smiled politely.
Keith and I were talking shop when angry female voices coming from the kitchen cut through the din.
"Sounds like a fight is brewing," I said.
"It's probably Danielle," Keith said. "She's pissed I invited Lucia." He shrugged. "What the hell, they're big girls. Let 'em sort it out."
Lucia, a dark-haired beauty and the only other female, had caught my eye and sympathy. Her proudly worn Maple Leafs jersey, autographed by the team and an island of blue in a sea of red and black, marked her like a scarlet letter. And the fairness of her sex merited no quarter as the insults and jokes, seldom good-natured and often crude, came fast and furious. Lucia defiantly stood her ground, answering in kind every affront to her beloved Maple Leafs.
I'd seen Keith apply his conflict logic on the job site, standing by as quarreling team members settled differences the old-fashioned way. Judging from the commotion, the girls weren't sorting it out. No one else seemed to notice or care. My beer was approaching empty, and not being too sophisticated to enjoy a good cat fight, I wandered into the kitchen.
Danielle and Lucia had squared off in front of the refrigerator. Danielle, a few years older than Lucia and damned attractive too, stood with blood vessels pulsing in her temples and fists balled ready to swing.
"Ladies," I said. "Let's not get too personal. It's just a game."
"This isn't about the game, dumb ass," said Danielle. "Lucia was fuck-dancing with Keith last night right in front of me. She's still coming on to him and she had better lay off."
Lucia fired back. "We were just dancing and having some fun. A little flirting never hurt anything."
"Flirting, huh?" said Danielle. "Dancing on your knees with your goddamn face in his crotch? Flirting my ass."
"And you know what?" said Lucia. "His dick was hard. I could've fucked him right under your nose."
"Lucia," Danielle seethed. "Get your ass out of my house."
Lucia didn't budge. "I do not take orders from you. This is Keith's house and I'm staying until he says otherwise. So fuck off."
Danielle's right hook thudded hard into my palm as I pushed between them. "Ladies, let's keep the violence on the ice. Leave the fighting to the Maple Trees and the Flames."
Lucia huffed. "Maple Leafs, you idiot."
"I'm getting Keith," said Danielle. "He can throw you out."
"Hey, Danielle," Lucia said. "Dumb ass here gave me an idea. Instead of running to daddy, you want to make a little wager on the game?"
Danielle stopped. "I'm listening."
Lucia folded her arms. "Suppose . . . the winner got to humiliate the loser?" she said. "You know, put her in her place. How 'bout the loser strips and dances? I strip if the Flames win. You strip if the Maple"—she glowered at me—"Leafs win. A bare ass naked dance in front of everyone should do the trick. I've got the balls for it. Do you?" She raised her palm. "Bet?"
Uncertainly drifted across Danielle's eyes, then cleared. She smacked Lucia's palm. "It's a bet. Michael's our witness. No backing out."
"No backing out," said Lucia.
I would normally consider alcohol-fueled bets a bad idea, but watching Danielle strut away and Lucia wiggle onto a counter top made this one acceptable. From a purely salacious point of view, I had no preference who won. Both women were easy on the eyes.
Lucia fished a beer out of an ice box. "Damn. Talk about a temper. That woman needs therapy. My name's Lucia, by the way, and what hole did you crawl out of? Maple Trees? Give me a fucking break."
"I came up from Houston for a few months work. Sorry, I don't know much about hockey."
"No shit. It's not that complicated. Look . . . Michael is it? Two teams of six guys get on the ice and try to beat the hell out of each other." Lucia swilled beer. "So, Michael the hockey idiot, what do you think of Calgary?"
"It's cold, but it's a job."
"Yeah, a job would be nice," Lucia said with a sigh, then she pointed at her jersey. "Toronto. Maple. Leafs. Get it? I'm from Toronto. I'm staying with friends while I look for work."
The strains of "O, Canada" drifted in from the living room.
Lucia tossed a beer at me. "Let's go."
We found adjacent seats. News of the wager had spread because heads kept swiveling between Danielle and Lucia, and you didn't need telepathy to read the thoughts running through the heads. Which one do I want to see naked? Is getting a show from Danielle worth a Flames' loss? Screw the Maple Leafs, Lucia, let's see the goods. And so on until the referee dropped the puck.
As the game progressed, and when she wasn't hurling hockey abuse at someone's face, Lucia's explained hockey strategy. Even my untrained eye could recognize a powerful defensive contest. Scoreless, the game ground on.
Maybe because I wasn't giving her shit about her team, or maybe as the only outsiders, Lucia and I hit it off and struck up an implicit alliance. She had a sharp wit, an impulsive mind, and a devilish knack for pushing people's buttons. My proximity offered her modest cover from the brutal ribbing and her encyclopedic knowledge of the game held my interest. My ego basked in her attention and my libido, deprived since leaving Houston, frolicked through the possibilities lurking in her velvety, sandalwood fragrance. It was a favorite of mine.
In the game's last few minutes, the Flames seemed to catch some wind in their sails, pressing the Maple Leafs hard. With a few seconds left, the Flames offense broke out, one player boring in on the Maple Leafs goal like a kamikaze. The room roared to life when the Flames' player unleashed a ferocious shot, only to have it swatted away like a mosquito. The buzzer sounded with the players scrambling for the puck.
Score 0 -- 0. A cacophony of curses and armchair coaching blossomed.
Lucia exhaled a long held breath. "Wow, that was close. That Flames forward saved my ass."
"He did?" I asked.
She scooted back in her chair. "Yeah. Pay attention. He decided to be the hero and took a slap shot when he should have passed the puck 'cause there was time to set up a better shot. Bet he gets his balls chewed off."
Lucia nibbled her lower lip and scanned the room as a naughty gleam caught hold in her eyes. A sharp elbow slammed into my ribs. "Know what, Michael? An innocent little strip tease is too cheap for a game this good. I think I'll run up the price. Watch this." Lucia drained her beer and dug her fingers into my shoulder for balance as she climbed unsteadily onto her chair. "Hey, Danielle," she yelled. "Since we're in OT, wanna up the ante?"
The room quieted.
Danielle, curled up against Keith on the sofa, hesitated, then said, "Sure, name it."
Lucia paused for a dramatic beat as the gleam in her eyes ignited into a wicked blaze. "The loser strips AND has to suck off every man in the house. Any way the winner wants it."
A graveyard silence descended. Chips and beer bottles halted centimeters from parted lips. Someone nearby whispered, "Hell yes." Danielle sat frozen like an ice sculpture, her mouth open but no sound coming out. Finally, she thawed enough to look to Keith, but his impassive shrug gave her nothing.
Danielle twice cleared her throat. "That's a little extreme, Lucia. I think just a strip tease—."
Lucia set the hook. "Hey everybody, Danielle's a chicken shit coward! Come on girlfriend, take the bet. If I lose I'll blow Keith first. It's gonna happen sooner or later anyway so you might as well watch me do it. You might learn a trick or two."
Danielle leaped up gunning for Lucia; Keith grabbed her.
"I'll take your bet, you fucking slut," Danielle screamed, flailing against her boyfriend. "Loser sucks cock. Maple Leafs' haven't got a fucking chance."
"Flames are a bunch of limp dicks," answered Lucia just as loud. "And their fans."
Lucia pranced like a wild mustang as I corralled her into the kitchen.
"God this is fun," she said. "Do I have that bitch's number or what? Did you see the look on her face?"
I'd seen some outrageous wagers, but this one had me nearly speechless. "Lucia, the Flames might win." It was lame, but I could think of nothing else to say.
Lucia leaned against a counter, cracked open a beer, took a long pull, and stared at me like she was looking through bars into a padded cell. "No, they won't, and I'll get to watch Danielle choke on cock. But so what, hypothetically speaking, if they do? I have to suck a few dicks. It's not like I haven't done that before." Another pull half-emptied the bottle. "Michael, hon, don't look so concerned, it's my mouth. Besides, you've got a blow job coming no matter what."
I was considering Lucia's last statement when Keith barreled into the kitchen. "Lucia," he said. "Please tell me you're drunk?"
Lucia curtsied. "No, sir, just comfortably buzzed. Your pet's trying to weasel out, isn't she?"
"No, she's not," Keith said. "All I can say is you've gored her ox one time too many. Michael, keep a leash on this one. Better keep 'em apart until the game's over, then we'll talk."
Most of the guys streaming in for beer and food were polite to the point of awkwardness. Some just stared at Lucia. One asshole named Nelson asked her to open her mouth to see if it was big enough for his dick. Lucia flipped him off.
Waiting for the OT play, Lucia ran through the rules for my benefit. No ties were allowed. The teams would play a five minute overtime period. If the overtime period ended in a tie, the teams would go to a shootout. If the shootout ended in a tie, a sudden death shootout would decide the matter, with the team scoring first the winner.
The score remained 0 -- 0 after the overtime period. The game cut away to truck commercials.
The 0 -- 0 tie held at the end of the first shootout. More commercials.
Danielle paced behind the sofa, pale as a ghost and snarling at anyone who approached. Lucia bounced her knees and choked her beer. Sweat gleamed on her temples.
"You OK?" I asked.
"Hold my hand."
The sudden death play started and you could have heard a butterfly sneeze. The Flames drew first shot. The referee blew his whistle, sending the Flames' player toward the Maple Leafs' goal . . . puck deflected.
Here and there people groaned and Lucia squeezed my hand. Her pulse vibrated against my skin.
The first Maple Leafs' shooter swooped in on the Flames goalie and fired . . . puck smothered.
"Shit," muttered Lucia.
The Flame's second shooter launched himself at the Maple Leafs goal, gathered speed, whipped his stick . . . puck in the net.
1 -- 0 Calgary Flames.
Keith's crew jumped to their feet, yelling, back slapping, punching fists into the air. Danielle screamed the loudest.
Lucia stared at the television like a spotlighted doe, her hand slack and clammy.
Danielle pranced over. "Hey loser, are you ready to suck?" She demonstrated on the neck of her beer bottle.
Keith interjected. "Hold on, people. Let's go have a powwow."
A little life returned to Lucia's hand. "Michael, too," she said.
Keith led us to a bedroom and closed the door. Lucia sat on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together.
"First thing," said Keith. "Lucia, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Danielle jumped in. "What the fuck? We had a bet!"
"Back off a minute," snapped Keith. "You won, so show some sportsmanship. Lucia?"
Lucia looked at Danielle, me, then Keith. "Keith, you're a sweetheart," she said, voice shaking as the reality of losing replaced the shock of losing. "But Danielle's right. We made a fair bet. I lost, and I'll pay up."
"Damn right you will," said Danielle.
Keith turned to his girlfriend. "You're really gonna make her do this?"
"She strips," said Danielle. "She's not getting out of that. But I'll let her off the hook for the blow jobs for a price."
"Name it," said Lucia.
"You piss on that Maple Leafs jersey in front of everyone."
Lucia answered with a cold stare. "Fuck you. I'll suck cock."
"I thought so," said Danielle. "You'll dance three songs. You take off your clothes in the first two and dance the last naked. Then you suck off every man who wants it."
"I get it." Lucia pushed back her hair, thinking, then said in less shaky voice, "I'll suck the guys one at a time. No fucking. Good enough?"
Danielle folded her arms. "No, too easy," she said. "I get to humiliate you, that was the bet."
"Yeah." Lucia sighed. "How?"
"I want you naked, tied up, and the boys get to use your face like a pussy. No cleaning up between dicks."
"Damn it, Danielle," I said. "You know how many guys are out there."
"Michael's right, babe" said Keith. "Ease up on her."
"Thanks guys," Lucia said, "but it was my idea. Michael, you heard me say it: the loser gets humiliated. Anyway, if I'd won I've done as bad or worse to her. OK Danielle, if I do it your way, the bet's paid in full. No bullshit about me dodging out. Deal?"
"Deal," said Danielle.
Lucia pressed her hands into her thighs. "Then I agree to your terms."
Keith shrugged. "OK, Lucia," he said. "If you're determined, I ain't gonna debate it. Anything else?"
A vision of a naked Lucia on her knees amidst a brawl popped into my head. "Danielle," I said. "Draw names to see who goes when. That'll make it fair and might head off trouble."
Keith and Danielle left to prepare. Lucia flopped back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. "Michael, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?"
"Danielle's scored her points," I said. "Do the dance and bail."
"That's sweet, but . . . I like a challenge." Lucia held out her hand and I hauled her to her feet. "No way in hell is that bitch getting the better of me. It's an alpha female thing. If I run away, she's dominant. If I stand and take her shit, we're still equals. Fucked up, huh?"
Yes, I thought. "Just trying to help you out."
Lucia threw her arms around my neck. "Thanks, I think I can handle this, but be my guardian and make sure things don't get out of hand, OK? I don't trust Danielle. Well, it's time to suck it up and get on with the show."
She seemed oblivious to her Freudian slip.
* * * * *
Danielle flashed a wintry smile as I settled in. Her brightly lit, circular seating would leave little of Lucia to the imagination.
Keith strode into the circle holding a wooden baseball bat. "OK people, listen up," he belted. "You all know Danielle and Lucia made a wager on the game. Now, I told Lucia that she could back out. However, she said she intends to honor the bet. Both parts."
A chorus of whistles, applause, and affirmative swearing greeted this news.
"That's enough," said Keith. "Lucia's gonna dance now, and no touching allowed. Treat her nice or else. OK, Lucia, you're on."
I don't know what expectations others had, but mine imploded the moment Lucia strode barelegged and barefoot onto her stage. She'd dispensed with her jeans, leaving the jersey pulling double duty as both dress and shirt. Lucia stopped dead center, jammed her hands on her hips, then, head turned over her right shoulder, prowled counterclockwise, extending one lean leg and foot catlike in front of the other. Her eyes, sharpened into sultry gemstones with black mascara and liner, cut laser-like from person to person. Either she'd done this before, or she'd swallowed her pride to give nothing to Danielle. Or maybe both.
Lucia stopped in front of Danielle and pursed her red lips into a lazy O.
"Music," she said.
ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'" blasted forth. Lucia ignored the pounding beat to make one more orbit of her stage, spiraling to its center where she stopped, closed her eyes, and dropped her arms to her sides. Her lips silently shaped the lyrics as her head began to rock, then her shoulders, then her hips as her body sank into the pounding rhythm. She wasn't the best dancer I'd seen, but she knew how to move.
It happened so fast I didn't see it coming. Lucia's warm Maple Leafs jersey swooshed against my feet with her perfume trailing behind it like a meteor's tail. Lucia danced in place a few chords in nothing but a red bra and panties. The bulky shirt had concealed a compact, curvy figure reminiscent of femme fatales from Hollywood's golden age. Soft and firm in all the right places, Lucia's body, to put it crudely, was built to fuck.
Lucia slowed as "Gimme All Your Lovin'" faded, and when the music ended, she was posed as she had started, soaking up a round of lusty applause peppered with shouts of encouragement. A wet gleam between her breasts betrayed her exertion. A Canadian loonie arced through the air and bounced off her thigh. Lucia smiled.
A sideways glance didn't find Danielle smiling. If she was expecting a chastened Lucia struggling through a painful self-exhibition, she'd want a refund.
The hard riff of "Tush" cut off the applause. Lucia plunged into the song, working the circle for maybe half a minute. She stopped in front of a big red-haired kid in a Flames jersey, where, dancing in place, Lucia slipped one hand behind her back to unhook her bra. Two shrugs dropped it into his lap. Her wide-eyed admirer lofted the prize like a trophy only to have Lucia snatch it away and sashay over to me.
"Hi," she said, dropping her bra in my lap. "Hang on to this for me."
Lucia pirouetted to Keith, jiggled her ass in his face, and with great exaggeration, shimmied out of her panties to howls and cheers. Thankfully, she didn't shave her pussy, opting for a close-cut triangle of bush low on her mound. She bestowed Keith a good, long look before moving on to spread her charms amongst the others. Lucia tossed her panties into the air, caught them in her teeth, and dropped to her hands and knees. Panties dangling from her mouth, she ended the song crawling like a puppy looking for someone to toss its toy as more loonies pelted her.
Lucia spit out her panties at my feet as "Pearl Necklace" cranked up.
"Pearl Necklace," of all songs. Lucia lap-danced her way through the entire song. She'd grab a guy's shoulders for balance, straddle his thighs, and squirm and tease with her breasts in his face. Even Danielle got the treatment but only better when Lucia, to wild approval, slathered her breasts over Danielle's shocked face. Lucia retreated to the circle's center and limbo danced onto her back, then, cupping her sex with one hand and sucking on the fingers of the other, she writhed in time with the music, letting a faux orgasm consume her as the song faded.
To chants of "Encore! Encore!" as money rained down, Lucia breathlessly bowed her way around the circle. I wasn't so sure she'd faked the orgasm.
Keith leaned across a rigid Danielle. "Michael," he said. "Hide her someplace for a few minutes."
Lucia covered up and collected her tips. Most of the guys offered congratulations; a few offered in all seriousness to buy a private show. Lucia thanked each one with a smile. I steered her to the bedroom we'd used earlier, where she fell back on the bed, shaking and giggling.