The Loft Game: Scotty

This is the fifth in the Loft Game series. If you haven't read any of the first four, I fear some things might not make sense as there isn't a lot of backstory here.

The reading order starts with The Loft Game: Kermit, where we met Charlene "Chips" Maguire and her new friend Emily Frazier, who introduced her to what they called the green game, the "lite" version of their strip poker club. That was followed by The Loft Game: Barney, in which Chips got an invitation to join the main game when the second semester started. The Loft Game: Elf on a Shelf told about some Christmas holiday shenanigans, and the fourth was The Loft Game: Hula Girl where she braved that main game plus had a few spring break adventures.

Of course, life isn't always adventures.

—C

Victoria's group text came during my accounting class. It was the first week back from spring break, and I was still trying to shake Florida out of my system.

≪ Kevin's proposing Josh for the main game.
≪ Owen and I calling meeting 7:00 Wednesday at loft.
≪ Who can't make 6:30 for just us?

I clicked to see who "just us" was, though the group title of "MG Bitches" was a big clue. Carrie, Megan, Sara—Wait, is that the Sara I met?—the rest were names I expected.

Another text appeared, sent only to me. It was from Hannah, not Victoria.

≪ Fwiw Kevin and Josh were roomies last year

Shit!

Hannah knew about the side-bets I had had with Josh, hence the heads-up. Back then, she'd grinned conspiratorially when she heard, even though she hadn't known who the guy was at that point. She'd guessed that later from Josh's behavior. And I was pretty sure she knew I'd called them off after a few times because she'd tossed a convenient excuse out for me when she thought I might need it.

But we'd never really talked about why I'd wanted to stop. We were friends but not quite share-everything friends yet.

Julia would've been a perfect sounding board for the confusing tangle of the game and side bets and the whole edginess I'd discovered once I acknowledged the twist in my libido.

Well, perfect once she got done screaming, "You joined a WHAT!?" and teasing me like a zillion times that most college freshmen joined the school newspaper or a theater group.

In Daytona, I'd told her about those wagers in a vague, "I bet a guy" way that named no names. She'd met the revelation with nothing more than a laughing "You bitch!" at how I'd collected my winnings and a pronouncement of "wicked stuff." The thing that made her my best friend for life was knowing—reaffirmed in both directions during that trip—that we could share anything and never get judgment in return.

But, Rule #1.

What about Em? She's in the game, so the rules wouldn't stop me talking to her.

On the heels of that stray thought was a mildly surprising realization.

I could talk to her 'bout most anything too. She's become my best friend after Julia.

Someone I'd known only a few months had slid past high school buddies I'd known for years.

Two peas in a pod. I could hear Mom's voice repeating one of her favorite expressions.

The thought brought a mental grin. Maybe Mom wouldn't be so blasé if she knew the details about our little peapod.

Then I had a brief flash of a thirty-five-year-old bartender juxtaposed beside an eighteen-year-old soon-to-be-college-freshman. Maybe two peas except when it comes to guys' ages. Ryan's a total snack and I get why Em is into him, but Ethan ...

My reverie was interrupted by a pointed look from the TA, and after a hasty reply that I'd be there, I pushed my phone into my backpack. I'd figure it out after class. Or maybe I wouldn't, and I'd just wing it in the meeting. I wasn't sure if my opinion about Josh would matter anyway since I was new, but I had one.

I was at the loft at the appointed hour. The others trickled in one by one.

"We've got a little less than half an hour before the guys show," Victoria said. She was talking to me, the only one who hadn't been through inviting a new member. "I don't like surprises, so we come a little early and talk. Anyway," she continued to the group at large, "I barely know him since I don't play green. Call me neutral." She swiveled to Carrie. "You?"

"It's okay with me."

"Hannah?"

"Mm. Uncertain. I'd like to hear from Chips."

That earned a raised eyebrow from Victoria and a pause. Then she nodded and moved on. "Megan?" I realized she was going downward in seniority. I knew Megan had voted on my acceptance into the main game, but she'd declined the girls' night out that followed because she didn't play anymore, even though she could.

I bet there's a story there.

"Sara?" It was the Sara I'd met in the green game.

Another frickin' story I wonder about.

The straw poll marched on. "Emily?"

"I was gonna say, 'I dunno but could be talked into it.' But after what Hannah said ..." She was looking at me with a "What do you know?" expression.

Logan and then it came around to me, new girl.

"Umm." I hesitated, unsure. Victoria read my uncertainty correctly.

"Once you're in, your opinion counts the same as everyone else's. And this isn't the time to be bashful. If you know something, spit it out."

"Then, umm, I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Do you want to say why?" There was no trace of the bitchy Victoria who had confronted me on the steps.

I thought about privacy. Then I thought about the trust that went into what we did. So I explained minimally, just enough that they'd understand where I was coming from.

"What the hell?" Kevin's outburst came hard on the heels of Hannah's comment that it was likely a no for Josh. "I know him better than anyone here, and he's perfect for this."

"No, he's not." Hannah's tone was calm. "You remember the green game before Christmas? Josh bitched about the fact that he lost just because of Girl's Hat. And it wasn't just kidding around. You had to tell him to 'Man up.'"

It was obvious that Kevin remembered. "It was one time, and there're no hats in the main game, so it's not gonna—"

"The issue," Victoria interrupted, "isn't whether there are hats or that he thinks it's unfair. For example, we know you think it's a total bullshit rule, and you're in the game."

"So what? He was upset 'cause he got beat. I've heard you people bitch about things. It was one time!"

I think it was the "you people" that got to me. It was obvious he meant "you women," and I didn't like being pigeonholed just because I had interior plumbing instead of exterior.

"It wasn't just one time," I said.

"What do you mean?" The words sounded calm, but his expression said otherwise.

"Josh and I had side bets after a few of our games last semester. He complained about losing and demanded that I guarantee him a win. And"—I raised my voice to talk over his protest—"when I decided I didn't want to do it anymore, he complained that I'd won twice to his once. It was like I owed him another win. I think he's a sore loser. That makes me a no."

"What kind of side bets?"

Something in Kevin's voice caught me. Looking at his expectant stare, I smothered my "None of your business" before it emerged.

I think you know, Kevin. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure you do. That's not curiosity in your eyes.

You got a graphic description of me paying off, didn't you? Not even a shred of the dignity I gave Josh with my friends. I didn't mention his name. Hannah guessed from Josh's own actions, but I never confirmed it. And I certainly didn't go into detail about Josh's payoff.

But you got my name, and I'm betting that smirk means some pretty raunchy color commentary to go along with the facts.

The picture of two boys snickering over some variation of "had that bitch on her knees and my cock halfway down her throat" was what lit my Irish.

Him knowing we'd bet and I'd lost once wasn't the infuriating part. It was the smirk and, even worse, the leer that came when I hesitated.

You want me to squirm.

I forced myself to get over it.

All that flickered through my mind in a heartbeat. I was left with a choice. I held his gaze for the split second it took me to ask myself: Wimp out? I didn't let the tension show. Privacy be damned. Josh told him, and Kevin brought this up.

"We bet the same as a trip to the back room."

I didn't miss the little tic that crossed several faces at my admission. This was a crew for whom betting sexual favors played right to a kink and we all knew it. And here I'd admitted that the game wasn't enough of that for me. My cheeks flamed, but I tried to ignore it. "And I'm going to put it out there that he's not such a great winner, either."

That last got a raised eyebrow or two.

I could see ... we all could see ... that Kevin wanted to continue his argument. The problem was, he had nowhere to go. Most of the room had been at my initiation and remembered. Expressions had shifted at my words, particularly Josh's demand for a guarantee. That wasn't what the word "bet" meant, and the Loft Game was about bets. Tense silence reigned for a long moment.

"Bro," Owen said, "I think maybe let it go. Honestly, I've got doubts now that I think back to that game."

Kevin made one last effort. "But we're short guys. If Sara or Megan come back, then the game will be totally out of whack."

"But so far," Victoria replied, "we people haven't been winning more despite having more players. Yeah, we need more guys. But not guys who need to be reminded to 'man up' when they lose. There's more than one no in the room, including me." There was a finality to that last that spoke volumes about her stature in the group.

Kevin's cranky expression lingered on her. It traveled to Hannah, to me, and back to Victoria. I kept my face impassive as their eyes locked. She shrugged. He looked away.

I bumped into Victoria later that night while I was grabbing a cup of coffee at the student center to power through some studying.

"Hey," she greeted me. "I liked that you stood your ground, even if it embarrassed you." Her tone was surprising: only an inch or two short of friendly, which was a vast improvement. I made a noncommittal sound.

"Especially because what you stood up for is not bitching out." Again, the almost-friendly tone contrasted with the abrasive talking-to I'd gotten before my first main game. "Well, I've got an effin' paper due already. See ya Friday."

On an impulse, I said, "Wait. Em said ..." She looked at me expectantly. "Em said I should talk to you about the game. I don't know what that means."

Her eyes narrowed in evaluation. The moment dragged out until she shook her head. But the bitch didn't come back. "When I know you a little better. Someday. Gotta go."

I almost bagged the green game two days later. I could have used the extra hour to finish a history assignment, but stomach rumblings led to a forlorn glance at an empty Ruffles bag, which led to a quick run to the student center. Once I was out, the thought of diving back into the muck of the Congo Free State in 1907 left me unenthused.

From the absences, it appeared that I wasn't the only girl whose second-semester workload was piling on. Megan gave a look of relief as I stepped into the loft a few minutes late.

"We were guy-heavy, and Owen said Carter was coming too."

The "guy-heavy" in contrast to Kevin's last-ditch appeal made me smile inside, though to be fair, this was the green game, not the main. I looked around. No Hannah, no Em ... my arrival made it eight to six. If Carter showed, it would be nine to six.

"I just texted him," Owen said. "Hopefully, he'll see it before he gets here. Either way, any objections?" His attention went to the two newest members, Nick and Gwen, as he asked.

Gwen's response was immediate. "As Nick said before: more chance the other side'll lose." She gave her fellow newbie an arch glance. He made a face at her but didn't voice an objection.

He seems to be working out.

"Maybe it's a little lopsided."

I was looking at Mike when Josh said that. The surprise on Mike's face was telling, as was the faint nod that conveyed, "Yup."

Not "Yup, I agree." More like "Yup, we made the right decision."

Just then, Carter breezed in. "Sorry I'm late. I—" His gaze ran over the room, and he realized the situation. "Never mind. I'll bounce."

"I guess me too." We could hear the reluctance in Owen's voice. "That'll make it only one extra—"

"Oh, whatever," Josh said. "I guess we just hand the girls a win tonight." With a sharp gesture toward the bowls on the shelf by Owen. "Where am I?"

Owen counted nine chips into the pink bowl, drew one blindly for himself, then started to push it across the table. "Just tell me," Josh said.

Owen pulled another. "Poppy." He nodded at the card table with the tiny troll figurine. The other guys waved him to go ahead and draw for them too. "Thomas—you're Barney. Carter—Poppy too. Ben—Kermit." The roll call of the guys went on. I took a chip from the blue bowl that Megan sent my way. B for Barney.

"Ladies, it's my extreme pleasure," Carter said as he pulled out a chair for Aisha and made a sweeping, over-the-top gesture for her to sit. More than one person rolled their eyes. Carter, Nick, and Josh were partnered with Gwen and Aisha.

There were a couple of women in the group that you'd describe as curvy: Hannah, Brey. I didn't look bad in a snug top, if I did say so myself. But those two, Gwen and Aisha, were in a different league. I mean a Hayley Atwell league when it came to boobage. I was dryly amused at the boys' expressions as they settled in across from their opponents.

Oh my God, Charl, I laughed at myself. Pot. Kettle. Without even realizing it, I had started checking out the guys at the middle table with me in the same way the three boys were checking out their tablemates.

Owen: long, lean, exactly my choice of build in a man. My mind flashed momentarily on just how intimately I'd learned some particulars of that build the time I lost the main game.

Thomas: average-looking but not quite nonchalant about losing, and so not too hard to get a squirm out of. And foot-dragging squirm coupled with showing skin evoked libido-shivers in some of us, most absolutely definitely positively including yours truly.

Last, Mike: a five foot seven, elf-faced, absolute hard-body who sported one of the nicest packages I'd seen ... and seen it in all its glory, courtesy of his girlfriend putting him on display for us.

A little shiver of excitement ran through me as Mike picked up the deck of cards, the kind that preceded every game at the loft, no matter whether green or something more hardcore. It might be I was going to do a striptease for a bunch of horny guys in the next half hour. Or maybe them for me.

The dread-slash-anticipation evoked the familiar frisson of warmth in my gut. I shared a grin with Sara as she dropped into the chair opposite me. Her eyes had done the once-over as well, and I saw the same animation in hers.

As Mike dealt, I saw her exchange a suggestive wink with her giant-sized boyfriend over at the Kermit table and thought, There's a woman who's getting laid later. For one brief instant, I had an impulse to ask the question I'd whispered to Brey weeks back: "Proportional when he's turned on?" I chuckled inside again. Let's just keep that as a private-fantasy "maybe."

"Hey, Gwen!" Megan called across to the Poppy table. "How 'bout lose the hat and give the boys some faint hope?" She was laughing as she hollered, the "no pressure" tone obvious.

Motion paused in the room. Gwen flushed, aware of every eye in the room waiting for her response. The pink spread from cheeks to neck, and then she shook her head. I didn't bother to check Josh's face; I'm sure it would have been petulant.

My attention was drawn back to my table as Owen tossed his ante into the middle. A sudden burst of recklessness rushed through me. "Let's make it interesting." Attentions at the table sharpened. "One of you boys loses, the girl who did best gets to take the last piece off you."

It was reckless because the boys at my table knew me, knew I understood how things were played: implicit in what I suggested was "turnabout is fair play," and it wasn't just panties I was risking. Their counteroffer was undoubtedly going to include bra because an "accidental" touch on a girl's ass was nowhere near as illicit as a "accidental" touch on a guy's dick.

Sara spoke up immediately. "I pass."

I looked over at her in surprise. She was a main gamer even though she hadn't made it to one this semester. A guy maybe trying to cop a tiny feel is nothing compared to what you have to do there. I followed her glance and saw Hunter's arched eyebrow. He'd obviously heard.

Huh? that eyebrow said.

Wait! Hunter wasn't at the meeting where we voted on Josh. She's in the main game; he isn't. Questions swirled. Does he even know about the main game? Why isn't he? Does she not want him there?

I didn't feel have feelings for my ex-boyfriend, Christian, anymore. But I tried to imagine back to high school. If we had played this game, how would you have felt about some friend of yours touching his junk? It wasn't really a question. No bueno, that's how.

Hunter hearing a proposal about his girlfriend letting some other guy feel her up or that maybe she'd be doing the feeling ... Em's words from the first semester floated up: "Things can get dicey with relationships and the main game."

"Oops," I said, softly enough that even Thomas didn't hear. "My bad." Sara's mouth quirked, though she didn't look at me.

"So, guys," I said, turning, "side bet? You and me."

Mike and Owen's expressions showed shared recollection. We remembered a November evening when Megan had won a similar bet. Even someone as veteran of the Loft Game as Mike hadn't been offhand about being shown off like that. Every girl in the place had walked out of there drooling, and I'd bet more than one got lucky later that night.

Yeah, that bet had been more ... encompassing. But nobody doubted that a little wicked fun at someone else's expense was likely here too.

"I think not," said Mike.

"Aw, chicken! Go ahead," Megan called. More of the room was listening now. It struck me again how confident she was about her relationship.

"Nope. You girls are pure evil." There was laughter from everyone, particularly those who had been there and knew the devil had come out in Megan that evening. "Besides, I've already got a bet about losing." The stare into Megan's eyes was pointed.

Hmm? Maybe their bet didn't end that night? Note to self ... find out.

Megan's composure faltered for a second, and I wondered, not for the first time, what the stakes were if she'd lost last fall. Em and Hannah had told me they were dying to know too.

I turned my attention to Thomas. I knew he liked my breasts. His eyes were glued every time my bra came off. The thought of being allowed to cop a quick brush was a heady one.

"I, um, I guess I'll pass too," he said.

"Sure?"

"Um, yeah."

For a brief second, the pang of disappointment was sharp. Wicked pictures flickered through my mind. The thought of a boy who was still awkward about getting naked having to let me ...

He'd be so easy. The time to take his boxers off is way more than enough.

I fought down the hot flash from that part of my psyche. I turned to the last guy at my table.