The Loft Game: Hula Girl

This is the fourth in the series about Chips and her adventures. I'm assuming you've read at least the first one, The Loft Game: Kermit. If not, it might be a good idea in order to get an idea of the characters and what the Loft Game is about. In between that first and this one:

Kermit was followed by The Loft Game: Barney, where Chips got an invitation to join the more advanced (read: higher stakes than stripping) main game for the next semester. That was followed by The Loft Game: Elf on a Shelf, which covered her adventures over Christmas break, including a party game that left her owing a very specific "favor" to an old friend and meeting a new friend's younger brother in a rather non-platonic way.

Now, she's returned to college for the optional winterim session before the spring semester, and she's about to dive into the main game.

So, nothing deep or heavy, just a bit of E/V-type fun, and since it's a series, the stories don't rush. If that sounds interesting, I hope you enjoy it.

—C

"Yay! You didn't get scared off," Carrie called to me as I stepped out of the cold into the loft for the green game.

"Told y'all," Hannah said, pushing in behind me. "No quit in the byotch."

That turn of phrase reminded me of Josh. I knew I probably had an uncomfortable conversation with him coming up, but he wasn't here yet. No Em either; she wasn't taking a winterim course and would be back the next week. I looked around the faces: Carrie, Owen, Mike, Megan ...

"I don't know you," I said to the tall girl sitting on the couch. "I'm Charl, but call me Chips."

"I'm Sara." She had a nice smile, warm and welcoming. "I didn't play in the fall 'cause of an internship, but I've heard about you."

"Wait until she meets Victoria!" Carrie said.

I raised my eyebrows in a question to the group. The laughter redoubled.

"Let's just say Victoria has an interesting personality," Megan said.

"Let's just say Victoria loves being a cast-iron bitch," Mike amended.

"I just said that, honey. Pay attention."

I heard the door open. I turned and smiled at Gwen. "Hey, frosh."

"Hey, frosh," she echoed. Once again, I got the impression she was glad she wasn't the only freshman here, and doubly that I was a girl.

Others piled in, bringing a wintry blast.

"Fuck, there's a lot of you," Owen said, looking around the crowded room. "Welcome to our two new regulars. You guys rocked it in that game before break, and we're glad you're here." He counted heads. "We're one girl extra."

"I'll sit out," Brey said and stood to leave.

"Nah. Anyone object?" I remembered the same question when Carter had shown unexpectedly and unbalanced things toward boys.

"Hey, more girls are fine with me," Nick said. "More chances they lose."

Owen looked at Gwen. He was obviously presuming the veterans' responses. I couldn't deny the tickle at being numbered in that group. She hesitantly nodded agreement when no other girl spoke up.

Hannah snagged two bowls from the shelf, one blue, one pink, and counted poker chips into them. "Pink's boys, blue's girls."

I drew from the blue bowl and read the letter written in Sharpie on it: K for Kermit. I found myself with Brey, Thomas, and Nick, along with the familiar green figurine. When I commented on the bowls, which were new to me, Thomas said, "Fall semester we were really short on guys because of sports, internships, and stuff. Rather than have two really light tables, it was easier to have some people stay home. Though ..." His eyes crinkled with humor as he shot a sly glance at Brey. "Not everyone actually sat it out."

She stuck out her tongue. "So we had some unofficial games in the apartment? Sue me. I noticed you showed up once."

"And watched you get butt naked and streak the quad wearing only sneaks and a mask."

Her tongue was joined by a pair of middle fingers. The image of streaking a quad that was almost certainly not empty of people she knew gave my libido a little pump.

An hour later, I wondered what was different. You're certainly not bored ...

All three tables had finished. I had done well, losing only my socks and shirt.

"God damn it, Chips!" Owen had shouted across the room. "I thought I asked you to give us something new!"

I glanced down at the purple bra. It was a nice-looking one, so I tended to wear it. "I forgot," I yelled back. "Next time I'll show you the one I got for Christmas if you agree to briefs or trunks instead of boxers. I want at least a hint of what's under there. Thong's okay, too." Everyone who had been there laughed at the memory of my side bet with Hannah months ago.

Thomas had gotten far too confident on three jacks at our table, and Brey cut him off at the knees. I enjoyed the scenery. "Somebody got a manscaper for Christmas," I called, earning a high-five from Hannah as he reacted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gwen glance quickly as his boxers came down, check around at some of the other girls, then go back to looking when she saw none were being bashful.

It was almost more interesting to watch her. I mean, I liked looking at naked guys, fantasies of naughtiness playing along the edges of my mind. I have ever since my parents let me have my first smartphone. I certainly let my eyes roam along Thomas's body. I felt the pulse of heat as his eyes averted. That surprised me a little—that he still felt self-conscious, not that I reacted to it. The last three months had taught me something new about myself, something I sorta accepted and was also unnerved by.

But Gwen's stare was avid, and it was exciting to speculate on what was going on behind those eyes. Was she imagining him hard? Was she imagining being the one who got him that way? Was she picturing them in bed? Something.

Then Sara at another table gave a soft cry of frustration and stood. She drew off the layered tank she'd opted for instead of a bra because she was small up top. Then she reached for the lacy pair of French knickers, and I realized she'd lost two pieces, a bad beat.

She slid them down slender legs that looked as long as I was tall given how lean she was. Every move was silky smooth. Something about the balance and poise and the ripple of muscle in that taut ass made me wonder if she was a dancer.

Fuck! I wish I had a booty like that. Christmas break had put a little more curve in the derrière that I wanted to get rid of.

The gaze of every guy was riveted. Sara was bare down below and that graceful reveal left nothing to the imagination. The quarter turn, the legs straight as she leaned over in a display of flexibility that I envied, the slow slide of gray silk down over skin so pale it couldn't hide the faint color—excitement, I was sure, not bashfulness. It screamed, "Want this, boys?"

Are bears Catholic?

She did her required pirouette in fluid slow motion and headed for downstairs. The rest of us settled in to watch the last table. It was clear another guy was taking the fall unless one of the girls had a horrible run of luck.

"Better you than me, dude," Mike said to his table mate as Hunter stood. "I had shit cards, so you and Sara must be rusty. Remind me not to take a semester off." He glanced over at his friend on the couch. "Thomas, of course, lost because he's an idiot." That earned him an empty water bottle hurled in his general direction amidst laughter.

Brey whispered to me, "Hunter wasn't around in the fall because he's on the football team and away a lot of Fridays."

One of those guys in front of the quarterback, I guessed, a lineman or whatever they're called. He stood several inches over six feet and I bet broke three hundred on the scale easily. Bulk over muscle. Lots of muscle. Biceps like Sara's thighs. My eyes dropped.

"Is he proportional when he's turned on?" I whispered to Brey with a dirty grin.

She choked down the giggle. "Ask Sara. They're a thing."

I looked at Brey in astonishment. She nodded, eyes glistening with amusement. I looked back at the giant, then over at the slim form sitting naked with legs primly crossed. I pictured him on top of her.

"So, she's a regular at the emergency room?"

Brey choked with laughter. She smothered it with her hand and shook her head when everyone looked over to let them know that no, she was not laughing at Hunter's nudity.

The three losses had been fun, no doubt about it. One man's self-consciousness tugged at that part of my brain. Another's naked body was fuel for a deliciously wicked size fantasy. Sara's deliberate tease gave me a thrill, despite being straight. The aura of "turned on" that permeated the room pushed at my own desires. But I wasn't feeling it with the same visceral punch of last semester.

Getting jaded already, Charl?

Hard on the heels of asking myself that, I knew the answer.

No, not jaded.

Any other night and I'd have been totally into this. I'd have whooped and perved just like before. But tonight, I was distracted. One of a few things was going to happen in about two hours or so.

The first possibility made me shiver: a blowjob for a guy I barely knew. All the while knowing that ten or a dozen people outside the door were picturing exactly what I was doing. That they had teased me and would tease me more when I emerged.

The other possibility was the payoff: the dark-red butterflies of arousal, of being one of those voyeurs sitting outside the room, watching the perp walk, picturing what was happening behind that door after it closed, listening intently. Emily had confided that none of the girls, no matter how blasé about nudity, had gotten blasé about that walk.

"It doesn't happen enough to any one person to get like a porn star heading for just another day at work," she'd said.

"How many times have you lost?"

"Twice."

I'd pictured it. Her knowing eyes knew, but she didn't complain.

That ... or ten jillion times better than a girl making that walk: watching a guy's solo act at the front of the room under the carefully directed track lights. Because he had to. Those words from that first time in the library, when I'd eavesdropped and unwittingly started on an electrifying new part of my life, were about to become a possibility: "... watching some dude turn all red 'cause he's gotta do himself is seriously hot."

Oh my God, yes!

Of course, there was another option, but it was too much to contemplate. My mind refused to go there, to acknowledge the possibility.

Besides, surely the guy would want to try out the new girl's skills if she lost, right?

Being unable to stay in the moment right now had nothing to do with the green game not being exciting. It was exciting like foreplay was exciting. But I was a virgin at what was coming next, and just like when I was a real virgin contemplating that post-prom bed in the shore house, my mind could only stay focused on what was coming.

When Hunter returned from Kim and Andrew's, people gathered up and started leaving, including some who'd be back.

"Half an hour after the first game ends, that's when we meet again," Hannah told me earlier. "Most of us make coffee or munchie runs and claim we have stuff to do if any of the green-gamers suggest hanging."

Looking at the doorway, I saw Josh hovering, waiting for me. I steeled myself and went over to join him.

"Hey," I said as we got down to the driveway. "I—"

He pulled out a quarter. "Heads or tails?" His face was alight with excitement.

"I don't think I want to anymore."

His face fell. "What? Why?" He stepped closer so he could see my expression in the dim illumination from the lights that lined the drive. "Come on! Yeah, you lost last time, but it wasn't that big a deal. You knew you'd probably lose sometime, and it's not like you haven't done it before."

I didn't react to that casual assumption about my sexual history because it was pretty much undeniable even if it was a crass thing to say.

"And"—his voice took on a virtuous tone—"I did offer to make it a two-way street last time. That offer still stands."

I stifled my reaction, the one that would have gone something like, "Puleeze! You only offered because you wanted more that night."

"Starbucks, Chips?" The voice came from the stairs behind us. Hannah was halfway down, her eyes on the pair of us.

I ignored the flash of irritation on Josh's face at the interruption. "I need a few minutes here. You go," I told her.

"Okay. Meet you at my room later. I'll get you through that problem set." Offering me an easy way out if I wanted it. The group had heard me moan more than once about how calculus wasn't sinking in as quickly as I liked, and Hannah was an engineering major who had easily aced her way through it.

"K." I turned back to Josh. "I don't think—" No. Make this definite. "I'm not going to bet anymore. We each had some fun. Let's leave it at that."

"Come on! Don't be a chicken." My eyebrows went skyward. He held up a hand. "Sorry." I watched him wrestle with what to say. I saw the petulance appear, and I knew even before he opened his mouth where this was going. "You know, it's not fair. You got twice. I only got once."

Okay, now you've pissed me off.

I bit my tongue. What I wanted to say was, "That's exactly why I'm done. You're a sore loser. Because, dickface, I didn't get twice. I won twice, fair and square, in bets you were just as eager to make as I was."

But I didn't want this escalating. He and I were going to be around each other in vulnerable situations, and I didn't need the aggro. So, I tempered it. "Josh, look. What makes this whole thing we're doing"—I waved vaguely up at the loft—"fun is the uncertainty and unpredictability. If we fall into a routine, it becomes just boyfriend–girlfriend stuff, and that's not what I want. It's not what the game is."

Before he could counter, I added, "And if I did have a boyfriend, trust me, there'd be no way he'd be allowed to be here. Boyfriend means exclusive to me. And you still want to play, right?"

I didn't give him time to think because there were holes you could drive a truck through in that logic. I pressed. "I've heard there's, like, ten or so girls in this group. Keep changing it up. It'll be more exciting. Now I gotta go. There's a calc test next week."

I was waylaid on the outside steps despite the freezing temperature. At least my latte was still warm. Hannah was right behind me up the driveway.

"Chips, this is Victoria," Hannah said.

"Hannah tells me you asked about faking it." Victoria's expression was as grim as her curt non-greeting.

I looked back at Hannah in reproach. I thought you were my friend.

She shook her head, denying that she'd stuck a knife in my back. "I told her everything about you joining, yes," she said. "She's played the longest and has a right to know. But I also told her that I'd vouch for you one thousand percent and no way that would happen."

I'd looked at her open expression and friendly eyes and believed her.

"I hope that isn't a game plan, new girl," Victoria went on. "Not on my watch. No guy gets to claim that the women can't suck it up as much as they do ... no pun intended. You lose and the guy wants a show, you give him a show." Her tone was infinitely fiercer than Emily's when she said those same words to Logan long ago in the library.

"We'll be there for you." The continued aggressive air belied the words. "Especially your first time. Even the guys will be okay—into it, for sure, and they'll say things, but they won't mock you. It's not like when you have to suck a dick. But if you end up bitching out, just get the fuck out of the room, and we'll clean up your shit. And if you're already thinking that's a possibility, save us the drama, and walk back down that driveway right fucking now."

She turned and went up the stairs as if nothing more needed to be said. More than slightly rattled, I followed. Hannah gave me a little hip-bump as we got to the landing at the top and a warm smile.

"Don't freak. She's just being Vic," she whispered.

I plastered on a cheery face and stepped into the room. I returned the welcomes and laughing teases of those I'd met only at the last game when they'd hazed me in.

To my surprise, twelve of us squeezed around the big table.

"Umm," I said. "How ...?"

A few minutes of confusion and a contrite "Oops!" from Hannah later, I found out we weren't playing Five Card Draw. I got a quick primer on the rules of Texas Hold 'em.

I don't know anything about this game. Will my first game end in ...? I had a moment of panic. I peeked at the two cards dealt to me. King-king.

Please let that be an omen!

Oh my God! That's all my brain could come up with. Oh my God, I'm addicted! This isn't even as good as it gets, and I'm addicted already.

I watched Logan stand, her face tipped downward so that her long hair partially hid her face. She was one of the first two I'd "met" in this game. Not really met. Looking back, I realized that the conversation I'd eavesdropped on must have been after her first game. I'd listened as Emily gave her a much softer version of the speech Victoria had just given me, while assuring her that everyone won at some point.

It was Emily's description of what happened when a girl won, what she could ask the loser to do, that had ignited a fire in my gut that still hadn't gone out.

Now, all I wanted to do was shove my hand down inside the pants I wasn't wearing.

No, all I wanted to do was whisper in Carter's ear, "Wanna play?" and have him spend the rest of the evening turning me limp from orgasms that would be ridiculously easy to wrest from my charged body.

But really, all I wanted to do was be right here.

I mean, for a couple of seconds, I felt weird. I was straight. Yet here I was, reveling in the fact that another girl had lost both her clothes and the game. She was heading back to pay up and it turned me on something fierce. It wasn't the naked body—I was far more interested in the five naked guys around me. So much so that my eyes hadn't stopped traveling from one to another until Zach slapped down that straight and knocked Hannah out. It was that Logan was going to make Zach a happy camper and she was so clearly unnerved doing it.

What kind of person gets turned on by someone's embarrassment?

I didn't feel like a bitch. And "you can quit at any time." Nothing was nonconsensual here, even the stuff where someone was reluctant. I pushed the thought away and let in the burn of hungry lust as I pictured Zach's normal outgoing expression turning inward as her warm mouth worked its magic.

I didn't care that I was stark naked too. So was everyone else in the darkened room. I didn't care about the pointed conversation that had been my introduction to Victoria. Nothing she had said was unfair, no matter how extra she had been.

I didn't care that I hadn't managed to tease because a potent, carnal wave had completely overwhelmed me the instant Zachary said, "Come on, Logan." I'd barely heard what the others called out because I was too focused on the actors' faces. Hers, full of chagrin and embarrassment and nervousness. His, the excitement of winning yielding to the darker excitement of lust as he watched the naked woman walk toward him to satisfy it.

I didn't care that Carter maybe wasn't available because Carrie had whispered something in his ear and he'd nodded.

Okay, maybe I do care about that one. I sighed silently. Maybe I'll have to find out if the gift Emily gave me for Christmas really does have "5 unique patterns and 5 intensities."