Streep Poke-air

"You have a very good hand, I think," she said in her playful way. "Should I be cautious and throw in my cards? Or should I continue to trust my luck? I still have more clothes zan you. So maybe I can afford to trust my luck. I will bet you."

Was she just playing with me? Was she willing to let me win a hand to even up the score? Maybe it would be more gentlemanly of me to only ask for her blouse this time. That would make the final hand even more exciting. "I'm in."

She laid down a jack, then another, then another. Three jacks! I slammed down my three queens in triumph. But she wasn't finished. She laid down a six. And another. A full house! Jacks and sixes! She'd won four hands in a row. She demurely held out her hand for my very last remaining piece of clothing.

She added my shirt to her pile and lounged back luxuriously against her pillows. I don't think her smile could have gotten any bigger. She started to say something, but then just burst into happy laughter instead.

I was standing by the bed without a stitch on, my penis pointing directly at her like a faithful weathercock. So much for being the responsible member of the team. So much for not letting things go too far. She wasn't laughing at my predicament or even at my lack of attire. She was just having fun.

" 'Ector, when you play streep poke-air with Sophie and Denise, do zey usually win you too?"

My face felt as red as my cock. "Well, believe it or not, this was the first time I've ever actually played."

She laughed again. "It is my first time too. I told you zat I am lucky at cards. But do not be discouraged. I am sure zat you will have better luck next time."

"We can keep on playing."

"But you have lost all your clothing. What would you bet?"

"Forfeits?"

She gave me a puzzled look.

"If you win, you can tell me to do something, and I will have to do it. Like, you can tell me to kiss you, and I will have to kiss you."

She laughed again, her same merry laugh. "Oh, 'Ector. If a woman wants a man to kiss her, she does not need cards. Come on, if I asked you for a little kiss to celebrate our wonderful success on our business trip . . ." She closed her eyes and puckered her lips and put her face just the slightest bit toward me, the caricature of a woman awaiting a kiss.

I wasn't sure if she was just illustrating her point, but I sat down on the bed and brought my lips to hers. Her pucker melted into a sensual osculatory embrace. She touched her hand to the side of my face.

"Zere, you see," she said softly.

But then she drew back her hand. "But it is getting late." She looked to the window. "Ze sleet has stopped to fall. Ze roads, I think, will be clear by morning."

In other words, the game was over. It was time for me to go. We'd had our fun, we'd played our exciting game. But now it was time for me to go.

"Right," I said, looking back into her pretty eyes.

"Well," I said. Games have their rules, I guess. And the more exciting the game, the more strictly you have to follow the rules. That must be part of the French secret, the way they manage to keep things innocent.

I straightened myself up. "I had fun tonight." .

"So did I.".

I reached to take my shirt from her pile of winnings.

"But what are you doing?"

"Getting dressed."

"But zese are my clothes now."

"But usually we give them back at the end of the game."

"But did we not say zat we were betting zem? Zat was part of ze excitement, no? Zat we bet and we won or lost. Steak for me, rice and beans for you?"

"But usually we just play to see each other naked, not to actually take the clothes for real."

"But if we had been playing for money would we have given back ze money?"

"Well, no."

"Well, zen? Should it not be ze same? I like zese pants and zis shirt very much. I was thinking zat I will give zem as presents to some of my other boyfriends. Don't you think zat zese pants would fit Gregory? And zis shirt would look very nice on Matt."

I couldn't tell if she was being serious or just teasing. "But how will I get back to my room?"

She looked at me as if the question did not make any sense. "Your room is just down ze hall. I do not think zat zere are any snow drifts in ze hallway."

"Walk back like this?"

"And why not? Just because you are naked you cannot walk back to your room? In France ze hallways are full of naked men walking back to zeir rooms."

"I'm sure they are. But this is America. What will people think?"

"Zey will think, 'Zere goes a man who was not lucky at ze cards tonight.' " She glanced at my weathercock. "And if zey are ze least bit perceptive, zey will deduce that you were playing with a woman. 'Ah zen,' zey will say, 'it was a risk well worth taking.' "

Whether she was just teasing or not, she seemed to be serious about not giving back my clothes. "What if I trade you your clothes for mine."

She considered. "Zat would be fair, no? I would very much like to have my pretty sandals back. I will trade you your shoes and socks for zem. But I think I would like to keep your panties and tee shirt to remind me of our business trip together and of your proud rooster and your handsome chest. You do not mind, do you? I won zem fair and square. And you can keep my panties and brassiere to remind you of our trip as well. I would say to remind you of my pretty breasts and my pretty vagine, but, unfortunately you did not play tonight as decisively as you might have."

"What about my pants and shirt?"

"But you have nothing more to trade. I will let you borrow one of my towels if you are so shy."

"What if we play one more hand. If I win, you give me back my pants and shirt, and if you win . . ." What could I offer her that would entice her to venture one more hand?

"It is getting late," she said. But then she softened her expression. "But I will give you a chance to win back your precious pants and shirt. We will wrestle. You Americans love to wrestle, no? I have seen it on ze television. We will wrestle here on ze bed. If you win me, I will give you back your pants and shirt. But if I win you I will keep zem, and we will take a picture of ze two of us to show to Gregory and Matt and Sophie and Denise so zat zey can see all ze fun we had on our business trip."

"You wouldn't really show them, would you? A picture like that would be very unprofessional."

"Well zen, you will just have to win me. But I should warn you, I am very strong at wrestling."

She knelt up on the bed and opened her arms in a playful grappling pose. I knelt on the bed too, my penis sticking obscenely out. But her attention was focused on anticipating my attack. She lunged and I grabbed her arms; she squawked; we tussled back and forth and ended up down on the bed. She moved quickly to try to pin me, but her skirt was partly trapped under my thigh. She managed to get her upper body over me, but only one of her legs.

We were still holding each other's arms. I tried to roll her off, but I could feel her breasts against my chest and her leg against my penis, and so I didn't try as hard as I could have. She laughed and grunted and tried to roll herself further on. She was pretty strong, and she was putting up a good fight.

But she wasn't that strong. I don't know if she really thought she could outwrestle me, but I finally put on a burst of power and rolled her onto her back. She writhed and twisted and squealed as I pinned her arms and straddled her hips and settled my weight down onto her stomach. We were both breathing heavily. She stopped her squirming and looked up at me.

I bent down and kissed her on the lips. Decisively. She closed her eyes and kissed me back. But just for a second. Just long enough to acknowledge her defeat.

"Poor Gregory! Poor Matt! Now zey will have to settle for tee shirts from ze airport. But at least I will still have my towel in ze morning."

We got up from the bed. She sorted my clothes. I put on my shirt. I put on my socks. I stepped into my trousers and did my best to zip them up.

"Adieu my proud friend," she said, addressing my bulge. "Do not think zat I will forget you. When I walk past 'Ector's desk next week and whisper co-cori-co you will know to whom I am speaking."

I picked up her panties and her bra. She walked me to the door. She kissed me on one cheek, and then on the other. "Good night, 'Ector. It has been a splendid trip and a splendid evening."

I gave her a hug—a tight, unprofessional, wrestler's hug. Tight enough to feel her nipples against my chest again. Tight enough to let her feel my rooster against her vagine. "Good night, Monique. It has indeed been a splendid evening and indeed a splendid trip. We'll have to do this again sometime."

We separated and found each other's hands. She looked at me with a friendly twinkle in her eye, my pretty office colleague who had now seen me naked. "I will tell you a little secret," she said. "When you come to visit me in France, you will see zat not all ze beaches are nude beaches." She gave my hands a little squeeze. "But some of zem are."