The Loft Game: Barney

I took Zachary's pants. I think that shocked the table. I gave a wide grin, letting the doubt grow. Then I murmured, "Don't panic," as I stacked my winnings. Looking back up, I said more loudly, "I just love seeing some manly bulgez." My imitation hadn't gotten any better.

Zachary relaxed and stood. Gameplay stopped as the women enjoyed the briefs with a manly bulgez inside.

I lost my bra. No, I'm not over the embarrassment, I thought as I felt my face heat under the room's scrutiny. I bet every guy in this room is wondering how they'll feel pressed against them. I sighed mentally. And they're gonna find out.

We continued slow-playing. It was getting tough. Will that third table never finish? At one point, we had to save Zachary. After his ante, we got a wide-eyed look from him. I got it. I folded in turn as it went around the table, though I stuck out my tongue at him.

Finally, there was a loud sigh and "Another guy bites the dust" from the other card table. It was a guy whose name I'd lost in the rapid-fire introductions, and I didn't learn it then as nobody called it out while heckling him. I suddenly realized I was going to be kissing three naked men. Two of them didn't know that fact yet. I wondered if the one who just went out the door did. Of course, after he came back, every eye was on our table. We had two people a step from losing. The eyes at my table were waiting, particularly the three guys. Who would I choose?

I anteed and folded, waiting for a hand. Suddenly, I had to do the big-bet-wide-eyes thing Zachary had done, praying people realized. I haven't bet a guy yet. Surely you understa—

The folds came smoothly, and I relaxed. It was a weak hand. To keep the people behind me unsuspecting—and there were several sitting and standing there—I dropped my cards face up. "Surprised you all bought that."

"You rarely bluff, Chips," Emily said with a shrug. "Good one."

Finally, I got a decent hand that came together with Brey setting her cards down and aligning them neatly into a pile. "One," she said.

Luis dropped a chip in silently.

"And three," I said. No wide-eyed stare. Just confidence. "Four to you, Zach ... Can I call you Zach?"

He nodded, but said, "Too rich for my blood."

I could see both Emily and Carter just beyond him. Both of their faces had a momentary look of disbelief ... not at me, at their fellow-player. Two seconds later, I saw Zachary mentally kick himself. I could only make a side bet with someone still in the hand.

"I'm out too," Emily said.

Carter spent some time studying my face. "I think you heard what Emily just said and are trying to bluff twice in a row." I shrugged and he dropped in his chips.

"I'm staying," Brey said. I doubt anyone not in the know caught Carter's glance in her direction.

Luis was in.

"One, please," I said. I set my cards down and leaned down to peer at the card's corner like they did in poker shows. I bought myself a moment to steel my nerves by turning behind me. "If any of you saw that and make one peep, I will murder you." I turned back from the chuckles. "Three."

Carter and I played eye-chicken for a while. I visibly flinched first. "Are you wearing boxers or those nice trunks this time?"

"Trunks."

"Oh, I so want to see that again. Come on. Where are your balls?"

"In those trunks where I'd like them to stay." That met with a lot of laughter. "But you're full of shit, Chips. You're trying to get out of the hole you're in with just panties on."

"Try me."

"Make me an offer I can't refuse."

"Next game you and I are both in, I'll spot my socks."

"Pfft. Socks? Puhleeze."

"Carter! Thirty-five chips are sitting there."

He was shaking his head before I finished. "They don't matter. If you don't win this hand, you'll lose. If you do win this hand, then I don't get those chips, and suddenly I'm vulnerable. Zachary or Luis will probably lose before that but ..."

The thing is, I hit on the one card I drew. I had a straight to the eight. The only concern was if Brey had a straight and it was a lower one. That would be a disaster because there was no way I was going to be able to lose the game if thirty-five or forty chips landed in my lap. I looked at Brey. I hoped she could see the uncertainty in my expression. She played with her cards, fanning them, and then realigning them into a neat stack.

What does that mean, Brey? Are you just repeating that you have a straight? Or are you reassuring me that you have a kick-ass hand?

I took the only real gamble of my evening. I bet it was the kick-ass hand or that, at least, she had a good straight.

"You're right, if I don't win this hand, I'm out. So ... if I win the hand, I get a private strip show in the back room from you. I don't win the hand, you get one."

"If you lose, you're already stripping and making out with every guy here. No deal."

"Fine. If I don't win the hand, the rule about no touching is off." After a second, I added, "Just for you."

His rapid shove of chips brought an I'm-with-you cheer from every guy. "Call."

"You're going to regret that," I said.

"I call too," said Brey.

"I'm glad to take your money too," I said.

"I'm out," said Luis. There was no point in him staying in; I'd chosen a guy.

"We called," Carter said to me.

"A straight," I said triumphantly. There were some cheers. If I had looked around to note who, I'd probably have known which women weren't in the main game.

I saw his face fall. You should be a theater major, Carter. You know I'm going to lose. He turned over his two pair. We turned to Brey.

"Flush."

"Oh God," I said sincerely.

Brey looked at me with extreme amusement. "And your bet was all about whether you won, not if Carter won. So I pronounce him the winner of your little side bet."

It was pandemonium for a few moments. Every guy in the place was going to get a naked woman up against him, and every guy in the place knew Carter was going to get more.

Only a few of the first ten guys I clinched with didn't disappear into a general blur of "Welcome" whispers, boobs ground against a naked chest, lips of varying degrees of onslaught, and the occasional something pressing against my belly.

Josh because I was putting a pin in his, "Can't wait for the coin flip." Problem for later, I told myself.

Mike because, well, Mike. I couldn't help but glance at Megan as I stepped back. Her look was dryly amused. That girl had confidence.

Zachary was his manic little self with not a whole lot of shyness boundaries. "Fuck, Chips. Those tatas feel phenomenal!" he exclaimed as he looked down to where I was flattened against him. Sure enough, he shimmied against me, getting as much pillowy action as he could. The kiss was almost an afterthought. His hand may have slid just a fraction low on my back, but I decided to chalk it up to his short height and be a good sport.

I turned to Carter, who'd waited for last ... of course. I stepped up and raised my arms to go around his neck, ready to endure mortification.

"Whaa—" I felt myself unexpectedly swept up in an irresistible grip, two hands firmly planted on my ass. Without thinking my legs clamped around his waist as my arms clutched the back of his neck in alarm. Oh my God! It's like I'm fucking him standing up. I shut my ears to the noise.

"Give me a nice one and I won't run a hand up to cup your chin," he said so only I could hear. I took the offer because I knew what lay between my ass, where his hand rested, and my face. My boobs. I gave him the best I could: lips soft, tongue gently teasing, suppressing every impulse to hurry. He took his time. I know he enjoyed it, and despite circumstances, I didn't hate it. Finally, he smiled that huge, goofy smile. "Though I certainly want to."

It took me a second to parse that, then I gave him a wavering smile. "Thanks."

I glanced over at everyone else, their cheering suddenly registering. I looked away ... yeah, mortified. I stumbled over to the doorway and snatched up the robe. Kim and Andrew would be simple after that.

I made the walk I'd made once before, this time in weather that snuck up through the bottom of the robe and made my nipples knot even more tightly, if such a thing were possible. I pushed the doorbell and, when I saw shadowy forms approach, let the robe drop.

"Hi, Charl," Andrew said. "Nice to see you again."

"Hi, Mr. Morgan, Mrs.—"

The interruption was almost instantaneous. "It's Andrew and Kim to anyone who plays. Always."

I gave a half-nod. "Thank you for letting us use your place," I said formally. I prepared to turn and go like last time.

"We hear you've gotten an invite," Kim said, forestalling me. "Oh, put the robe on, honey, and step in the vestibule."

Gratefully, I picked it up and wrapped it around me, moving into the warmth. "Yeah, I did."

"Are you going to play?"

"Umm. They haven't told me everything, but probably."

"So, how many guys showed?" Kim's eyes twinkled as she flicked her gaze up toward the loft. "It was Girl's Hat and 'every guy' tonight, right? That part hasn't changed?"

"No, it hasn't. Eleven."

She wiggled her head side to side. "About par. Way less in the early days, of course." She paused. "Some of those men up there are such delicious pictures." She glanced sideways at me. "And I hear there are some good kissers. Wrapped up against them, a man's hands on you ... you're probably in a state right now."

At that sly comment, despite still being sure of her innate friendliness, I caught a glimpse of the woman who'd played these same games in her day. The one who'd watched in glee as men bared all for her pleasure and done the same for them in turn, who'd moved on from there to start a game where blowjobs and jerking-off had figured. Thirty-something wasn't so ancient. I stammered a noncommittal reply which caused both of them to smirk.

Back in the loft, a horde of eyes turned toward me, eleven pairs immediately zeroing in on tits and ass. I pretended not to feel self-conscious and picked up my clothes as Mike herded Gwen and Nick out, a crowd of mostly guys following.

"Umm, Chips. You coming?"

At Josh's call from across the room, I saw Hannah glance between us, then call back to him. "It's tradition we take a girl who does that out. She your ride?" Hannah knew I wasn't.

"No, I—"

"Then toodles until next week. Girl's night tonight."

He looked disconcerted and like he maybe wanted to argue, but he left.

"Now I know who," she teased. "Bet half of you wants to know about the main game, but the other half is dying to follow him." She scoffed at my protest. "Sweetie, I know a woman who's horny as fuck, and I'm looking at one. Come on, back room," she said with a glance at a couple of people still pulling on coats and hats.

"In the green games, it's all about not losing. I mean, the better you do, the fewer clothes you lose but, since the game stops as soon as someone's stripped, it's about not losing. With me?"

"Yeah."

"In the main game, it's about winning because it doesn't stop until all but one person is naked."

I gave a little grunt that signaled excitement.

"That's not quite right. It's not all about winning. It's about not losing, too. And that's a little more challenging because there's always a potential girl loser."

"What do you mean potential?"

"First girl stripped is the girl loser. First boy stripped is the boy loser. The actual loser is the opposite gender from the winner."

"And, let me guess, the actual loser is the one giving the blowjob or having to jerk off."

"Yep." She paused for a moment. That expression of malicious glee returned, and I knew I was going to hear something scary. "Except that those terms may not apply."

"What do you mean?"

"The winner chooses which they want: oral sex or a show. A guy can be asked to give head, and a girl can be asked to jill off for the group."

"Oh my God!"

"Yep," she said again. "We hate it. Even more than the guys hate it, maybe 'cause it takes us longer. Fortunately, guys usually go for the blowie."

She could see my shock. "You've got time to think about it. The next game is after break."

"Not tonight?"

"Nope. Girl's night, like I told Josh. And next week are finals and then people heading home."

I sat in silence, trying to imagine having to get myself off in front of others ... guys or girls, it didn't matter. I wasn't sure if I could.

"It just seems like a guy could get it over in seconds, especially if there are naked women in front of him—"

"Yeah, it helps."

"But, even with some nice-looking guys in front of me, I ..." I trailed off.

"I know. We set it up to help whoever it is, and the other girls are supportive. It's one of the few situations where nobody razzes. But, yeah, it's majorly stressful."

"Have you ever had to do it?"

"Once. As I said, most of the time the guys want head. They can see a woman jill anytime they want on Pornhub. Do you have a problem with blowjobs?"

"Not really. It's not my favorite thing, but I do it."

"With Josh?" she teased.

I nodded.

"You have to let them finish."

"I figured."

"But you don't have to swallow if that grosses you out," she consoled.

"Do you ever fake it?"

She knew I wasn't talking about faking swallowing. "I didn't, and I don't know of anyone who has. We've had girls who find they just can't do it. The 'quit anytime' rule applies. They don't even have to quit the club; they just have to stay in green games from then on. But faking it won't earn you any friends if anyone guesses."

The door popped open and Carrie stuck her head in. "Everyone's ready."

"Where's Megan?" I asked when we came out.

Emily answered, "She's invited, but she and Mike don't play anymore. She says she feels awkward coming to these things because of that."

We had a great time out. Little variations in the rules of the main game got explained. I finally got names straight. I soaked up the "you killed it" praise. I endured the good-natured ribbing. I turned down the bet about flashing the cute guys in the parking lot. "I've bet enough tonight." They let me get away with that, and those guys never knew how close they'd come to a show from one girl or another.

I was given a key. "Just if you're the first to arrive on a Friday. Never, ever, ever for personal use. Don't piss off Kim and Andrew." I shook my head. I got semi-hammered along with the others. Aren't fake IDs wonderful?

But always in the back of my mind was "He wants a show; he gets a show"—said Emily to Logan while I eavesdropped.

Now I understand where Logan was coming from.

The Ubers pulled away and we stood at the gates of the college before splitting up for our various dorms. "Next game is January 11, the first week of winterim," Hannah said. "You've got till then to decide." Several pairs of eyes watched me, friendly but judging: Will she, or won't she?

The first text that night was from Josh.

≪ Have coin. Will travel.

Points for effort, but I just wasn't into him. That was a problem because I was seriously horny right now. It was the inevitable result of getting worked up for two months of Fridays with only two little tongue parties to relieve things. But if I kept it up it would be just that much harder to disengage from him.

≫ Crashing. Sorry.

I ignored the sad emoji. My phone dinged again a few minutes later. I picked it up, prepared to be irritated. But it was from Hannah.

≪ You okay? You seemed a little out of it right at the end.

My semi-drunk brain decided the truth was a good idea.

≫ Horny.

There was a long pause. It stretched on. Then some more. Oops. Overshare. Fuck!

≪ Come over. Get an Uber. 128 Hawthorne St. First floor.

What the fuck? Hannah lives in the dorm. Oh. Owen lives off-campus.

≫ Umm. Not sure I'm into that kind of thing. You two have fun.

≪ LOL. Not that. Shut up and get an Uber. Trust me. You can quit at any time.

That final sting had its effect and I went. Carter answered the door. "What?" I was totally confused. "I thought Owen ..."

"Owen and I share an apartment," he said.

"Get in the fucking door, Chips. You're letting in the cold," I heard yelled from somewhere behind him.

I stepped in, looked to my left. Hannah was padding from the kitchen to an open doorway, carrying two mugs and clutching a bag of Doritos under one arm. "Take this," she called to someone inside the room.

Owen's face popped around the corner. "Oh, hi, Chips." The two of them looked at the two of us, then smirked and closed the door.

I looked at Carter, tongue-tied. Then I managed, "Thank you for taking it easy on me."

"Anytime." He smiled that big, lazy smile of his, waiting to see what brilliant thing I'd say next.

You're not exactly sober, are you?

Bad decisions can get made when you're not sober.

Who the fuck cares?

I reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck just like I'd done several hours ago. His grin got wider, and suddenly I was caught up in that bear-embrace again. This time, I had on a few more clothes, though my legs did the same involuntary wrap. This time, the kiss was more demanding. This time, a hand did run up my front, pausing for a firm caress, before moving up to cup my chin.

Yeah, I'd been right. This was a guy who could grab a girl and toss her around. Not like abuse. Like effortlessly carry her the ten steps to the second bedroom. Like support her weight with one arm while the other stripped a puffy jacket off her shoulders, gently pulling while she slid first one arm and then the other out. Like deposit her at arm's length on the bed without tumbling after her in a loss of balance.

I felt his hands working the fastenings of my jeans. I tried to help, but huge hands pushed mine away. "Let me." I felt the tugs, panties being pulled down to my calves at the same time as the denim, a mouth laying kisses on my belly, on the triangle of hair, on my pussy. I wanted to cry out as I felt the first, firm swipe of his tongue that started right at my entrance and then trailed up to end in a flick against my clit. Instead, I moaned.

He did it again. Then again. Then I wanted my legs free to move. "Pants off," I insisted, struggling to kick them off. Of course, that didn't work; skinny jeans don't come off that way. I was upended as he grabbed the cuffs and lifted up and away. My legs dropped free and I spread them, reaching up for his arm, catching it, and pulling him toward me. "Okay. Go back to doing that."

I came with my ass eight inches off the bed, gripped in a meaty paw as he held me against his mouth. Looking up the inclined plane of my body, I saw eyes sparkling at me as his mouth and lips did their thing. "Put a finger in me," I moaned. "Yes. Right ther—" I didn't have to finish that; his finger found the spot on its own and began its "come hither" stroking.

I grabbed a pillow and stifled my cries into it. Then I dropped it and arched to grab him with both hands, one in his hair, the other missing to clutch an ear and a stubbly jawline. My hips and knees twisted so that my calves grasped his back.

"Don't stop," I moaned. "No, don't, yeah, don't dare." It was a mindless drivel of words, but it conveyed my meaning. He didn't stop. His lips increased their suction. The finger grew more insistent. "Oh, fuck me." My entire body tensed involuntarily. His tongue increased its speed. "Oh, just fuuu—" And then my body clenched in a paroxysm of bliss.

I bucked against him but there was nowhere for my pelvis to move. The hand on my ass pinned me one way; the finger inside pinned me another; the mouth pressed hard against my mons pinned me a third. Only my upper torso could thrash. I had no choice but to ride it out, letting him draw every second of the orgasm from my body.