The Spa Game Ch. 03

This chapter has more lead up than usual before people get down to business as it goes over how the spa functions.

It would help understanding going forward if readers were familiar with how poker works, specifically Texas Hold'em and five card draw.

Enjoy

*****

Cyn spend the rest of the week obsessing over Friday. She began by trying to get whatever she could out of her roommate, but by Tuesday morning Robin nearly yelled at her.

"Stop!" she'd said when they were both in the dorm. "No questions, no trying to trick me, no hinting, just stop. If you don't respect this you aren't getting in. Until Friday, don't say a word or you can forget it."

That angle of investigation closed, she focused on the only other piece of evidence she had: the poker chip. Cyn had been to casinos in several countries but she hadn't really been to the casino floors; in the US she was too young and other than that she was usually more interested in the pools or shops around them. Money wasn't something she thought of, so what was the thrill of gambling?

But now she figured she needed to take an interest. Unfortunately she found hundreds of sites that could make custom poker chips like the one she held, and the chip had no manufacturer's mark for her to narrow it down. She didn't know what she hoped that would tell her anyway, but it would have been something.

With the hints both Robin and Vincent had dropped, she assumed playing cards, and probably betting on them, was going to be a part of this. She spent the rest of the week reading up on card games, particularly casino ones. She assumed they didn't do "house" games like Blackjack because that would mean someone was guaranteed to win a lot of the time. She didn't expect to become a poker expert in three days, but she didn't want to walk in looking like an idiot.

Finally, Friday arrived. Robin had disappeared in the morning after they both got up and never came back to the room. Cyn only had two classes on Friday in the morning, so she was frantic with anticipation. She jogged around campus with Vicky to try to blow off steam, but she ended up annoying her friend because she was obviously distracted and wouldn't tell her why.

"Well, call me when you've fucked him and gotten it out of your system," Vicky snapped at the end of the run. Cyn almost laughed, wondering how much of Vicky's barb was true.

Cyn showered, shaved everything except her head, and added perfume. She agonized over what to wear but remembering Robin's outfit, she went with fashionable but non-descript; tight jeans, and an understated designer top. She did wear sneakers, however; she'd followed Robin on foot for at least a half a mile last week so she wanted to be ready.

At seven o'clock, Robin came in. She was dressed similarly to Cyn but seemed all business. She didn't even say hello, just said, "In or out?"

"In." Cyn said

"Numbers?" Robin asked, ready to put them into her phone.

Cyn rattled off the numbers and her access PIN for her trust fund account. Robin seemed to record and send them to someone, then she waited. Cyn wanted to ask what was happening, but every time she made to speak, Robin held her hand up. They stayed in the silent stalemate for nearly ten minutes, then Robin smiled up at her.

"All right honey, we're in business. Let's go."

Cyn congratulated herself for the sneaker choice as she followed Robin around campus. They didn't walk quite as far as the last Saturday but it was at least a quarter mile. At the end, Vincent was standing next to an Audi sedan, apparently waiting for them.

"Ladies," he said, opening the door as if he were a chauffer. Robin smiled and scrambled in, sliding across to the far side so Cyn could get in.

"I'm very glad you chose to join us," Vincent said to her as she got to the door.

"I had a persuasive invitation," Cyn responded quietly. As she sat she saw another male student in the shotgun seat.

He waved and said, "Carl Eversa." Carl had a South African accent and dark skin. It was hard to tell while they were sitting in the dark, but he didn't seem to have the height or build of Vincent. Vincent got in and drove. The ride was silent and took about fifteen minutes. At the end of it, Vincent pulled into the driveway of a nice, older style house. It was large in the grand scheme of houses, but nowhere near what most of Veretrum's students would have thought of as a place to live.

"Six bedrooms," Vincent said when they got out, "three thousand square feet, sitting on a quarter acre of land. For California, I got it at a good price.

"This is yours?" Cyn asked.

Vincent shrugged. "I paid for it. The spa uses it and will continue to after I'm gone, I hope," he said.

"Spa?" Cyn asked.

"In a moment. Let's go in."

Inside, the main living room was carpeted and had two sofas spaced oddly far apart but facing each other. No other furniture or decoration was set out. Cyn could see the kitchen through an opening. Wood and undecorated walls seemed to be the main theme. Vincent led her through the living room, pointing out the bathroom just off the kitchen, and then opened a door that led to a descending staircase.

As soon as she entered, Cyn knew the basement was where all of the focus had gone in money, style, and decoration. Plush carpet spread from wall to wall, and the furniture around the edges was much higher quality, featuring easy chairs, love seats and coffee tables. The wall had a small shelf around the edge like half of a bar counter, and the upper part of the wall had dark maroon buttoned padding, adding to the "upscale bar" motif. The lighting was low everwhere except the center of the large room where a green felt, oval card table with padded edges sat under the bright light of two hanging lamps. Behind it was a bar, though much of it seemed given over to what looked like filing cabinets and organizing trays rather than alcohol. There was still booze, but not an extensive variety. A dealer stood at the table, but Cyn could tell immediately by his demeanor he was an employee and dismissed him. She looked around for others. She guessed there were between ten and twenty people in the room. All of them were students at Veretrum that she could remember seeing at one point, and she thrilled when she realized they were all part of her mental "A-list" of the student body.

"Spa goers," Vincent said as they entered, "We have a new player."

He nudged Cynthia forward and she stepped into the light. She went for a mix of demure and confident, hoping to be seen as both someone who was supposed to be here, but also not a threat.

From behind her, Carl then said, "Low stakes game begins in one hour. Chip exchange remains closed for instruction. Sit-out fee is thirty."

As if that was some sort of signal, many of the people in the room started moving with more purpose, and Cyn caught flashes of more poker chips in people's hands. Robin was one of those people, moving around the room, but Carl and Vincent turned to her.

"Carl here is going to answer all the questions you've been trying to get out of Robin this week," Vincent said.

Cyn blushed, "She told you about that?"

"Among other things," Vincent said cryptically. Cyn's blush deepened as she wondered if Robin mentioned finding Cyn after her solo adventure.

"Listen to Carl," Vincent continued, "You're required to play in that game in an hour, and if you don't know what's going on you'll be in deep trouble."

"Oh she already is," a female voice said behind them.

Cyn turned and saw someone making no effort to appear non-threatening. The woman was tall, though Vincent still had a few inches on her. She had tanned skin that suggested a Mediterranean heritage and long wavy black hair that stretched down almost to her knees. She was a bit overdressed compared to most of the attendees; she wore a designer dress that was tight and had a split almost down to her navel, showing off decent cleavage and impressive muscle tone in her abs that was echoed in her bare arms. On the sides, vertical slits nearly to her waist revealed flashes of very toned and muscular legs as well. Her brown eyes were eyeing Cynthia like she was supposed to be dinner.

"Cynthia, let me introduce Kathy Vemour," Carl said.

Cyn stretched out her hand and Kathy gripped it hard. "Cyn," she said.

"Oh that's rich," Kathy said. "I hope you live up to it."

"You in for the game in an hour, Kathy?" Vincent asked.

"You know I'm a gold digger through and through," Kathy replied with a smile Cyn could only call evil.

"Entering an absent fee then?" Carl said.

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Of course Carl. Maybe I'll be nice and pay one of the chips I have with your name on it."

She wandered off and Cyn released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She looked at Vincent, "Gold digger? That can't mean what I think it does."

Vincent nodded to Carl, "Carl'll clear it up for you. Make sure to listen."

Carl led her over to the bar, though to the side with the cabinets and shelving rather than the drinking side, which was filling up. She sat on one of the stools but Carl went behind it.

"I assume you've been to a casino before?" he asked. Cyn nodded. "All right. If you don't think about the details at all, this works like that. You're sitting at the bank and chip exchange. All betting is done with the chips, but we only have one game; whatever's going on at that table in the middle. All the games are poker-based, no house table games, no dice, just cards against the other members."

"With the special chips?" Cyn asked.

Carl nodded. "Right. Do you know anything about them? Has anyone told you how they work?"

"I've figured some things out," Cyn said.

"But nobody told you before now, right?" Carl pressed. Cyn shook her head no. "Good, then we don't have to fine anyone."

"Here it goes, and try not to ask questions until I'm done; it'll make sense, I promise.

Everyone starts with 7500 worth of chips. Denominations are 1, 2, 5, 10, 25, 50, and 100, but almost nobody uses the numbers unless they're betting at the table. The part you've probably figured out, the chips also have words on them. Those words are what the chips get you. In order: grope, kiss, oral, intercourse, anal, double, and forfeit"

Cyn felt herself blanch as Carl got through the list. She'd figured out kiss and guessed at the oral token she'd gotten from Vincent, but she didn't figure on how explicit it got.

"In general, we call those terms 'favors'. Now, the name is who owes the favor. So if you've got a chip with, say, Kathy's name on it, you can pay it back to her and she owes you the favor."

"The numbers are where it gets tricky. Those mean three things. First, the number is how much the chip is worth for betting. So two ones still equal a two. Try not to think too hard about the values and how they were matched up with the favors. Second, the numbers are the number you need for the favor. If you want to cop a feel, you only need one of the chips. You wanna fuck, you have to have ten of those chips from the same person."

Cyn felt herself relax a bit after that as she realized how many chips someone would need to collect before they could demand the more intense favors. Carl continued, "The last thing those numbers indicate are time, specifically minutes."

Cyn recalled what she could of the chips she'd seen. "So you only get two minutes to kiss?" she asked, remembering Robin's phone buzzing when she made out with Vincent in the library.

Carl cocked his head and had a thoughtful expression. "There's two schools of thought on that among the players. Some people, like Vincent, are purists. They see the numbers as a hard limit either way. Some of the more relaxed players just see it as a minimum. As in 'you have to do it for at least this long'. The purists also stick to the letter of the favor. You turn in a canary, you get two minutes of kissing and that's it."

"Canary?" Cyn asked

"The twos. They're yellow. Most of the chips have gotten nicknames so we can reference them with non-spa people around. Grass, sky, cloud, and so on."

"But I saw Vincent cash in a...canary? Yeah, canaries with Robin and she was doing more than kissing."

Carl shrugged, "Robin's not a purist. Usually they figure anything "below" the value is fair game too, so Robin would let groping go with a kiss."

"But you said Vincent was a purist," Cyn countered.

Carl smiled, "And what was he doing at the time?"

Cyn paused and thought back, remembering that while Robin was nearly rubbing herself off on him, Vincent had basically stayed stock-still, his hands by his side.

"So what's the point of the chips for the non-purists?" Cyn asked

"Even they tend to respect the vertical rule; nothing beyond what the chips say. That's a finable offense if reported, and everyone pretty much respects that or the whole system falls apart. There are a few special exceptions but the spa agrees on those as a group. Now we need to talk about the fines and the gold chips before the game starts."

"If you break any of the spa rules, you get fined. Fines are always paid in chips, and the amount is based on what you fucked up. Sitting out of a main game is technically finable, but not everyone plays every game, and the fines there are pretty low. But going beyond a favor limit, that can get high; it's usually about five times whatever the 'extra' favor would have been. And the one for refusing a favor is even worse."

"Soo..." Cyn said, doing some quick math, "Someone steals a kiss after passing in a...cloud?"

"Cloud," Carl nodded.

"They pay a ten chip fine?"

"You got it," Carl confirmed with a smile. "The fines are held by the banker, which is me, at least for now. Each hand at the table, the chips become the ante to seed the pot. We start with the lower denominations but the minimum amount is 5. There's usually a bunch of canaries and clouds to get through early but eventually those run out and we start seeing some lipstick and sky come out."

Cyn rolled her eyes, "Lipstick? Really? That was the name for those chips? I'll bet you one a guy came up with that nickname."

"Is that an official bet?" Carl asked intently.

"Um...would it be a massive fine if it was?" Cyn asked, suddenly nervous.

Carl smirked. "Nah. Side bets are fine, but the house can't verify them; it's on the word of the people involved. People trade chips for a bunch of other reasons than what's on them. Speaking of chips..."

Carl reached down and pulled out a plastic chip tray. The entire odd rainbow of colors was present, and Cyn was surprised to see similar amounts of each color, and more of the Black ones. She pulled one up to look at it. Emblazoned around the top of the white "100" was the word "Forefit". Underneath, "Cyn" was printed straight across. She looked over at Carl questioningly.

"Robin let us know about your nickname. We had these printed up a few weeks ago. Now the economy here is important. You can exchange up with the bank no questions asked, but exchanging down has special rules. You have to have at least a grass chip to change down, but you don't turn it in. You get 25 worth of smaller chips however you want them, and then a gold copy of the higher chip goes to the bank."

When he mentioned that, he pulled out a green chip. The white lettering showed it was one of Cyn's, but unlike the ones in her tray, the outer edges of the chip were a gold color. Given the people here, it could have been real gold.

"Gold chips can't be exchanged in either direction, at least not with the bank," Carl continued, "If you find another player that'll trade you for a gold, they will in a heartbeat."

Cyn thought about the system for a moment while examining her gold chip but lost it. "What's the point of that?"

"Incentive," Carl said. "Casinos let you buy more chips with money, but who cares about that here? Remember the smaller chips can change up, but not down?" Cyn nodded. "It encourages people to spend the chips, or offer to get them back. Clouds tend to get changed right away, but people try to get their canaries back quick. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that the only chips of yours that'll be floating around are lipstick or even sky or higher. That means you're putting out in order to get anything back. The golds are even riskier, because you don't even start with them; if you want to get them back you have to win or trade for them."

"Why only grass or higher?" Cyn asked.

"I won't make you count them but if you did you'd notice you don't have enough grass, orange, and fucked chips in that tray for anyone to cash in. The only way those come into play is with golds. Keeps the betting reasonable, for the most part. Some people who are really stupid or really good will force escalation, make people cash out golds just so they're in play."

"So when...what was her name?" Cyn asked

"Kathy."

"Right. So when Kathy said she was a gold digger...?"

"She's one of those people that tries to force more golds in play, and that means high bets and high stakes. The low stakes game coming up there may be a gold chip or two showing up in the ante, but there's a limit of twenty-five on raises. Most players, particularly this early, won't need to worry about getting more chips to cover that."

"Also, 'fucked'? You guys couldn't come up with a better name?" Cyn asked.

"We went for realism more than secrecy there. You do not want a hundred black chips of yours in play if you can help it. If there are, you better make sure you hold onto some," Carl said, sounding intense.

"So `forefit' doesn't mean you're out of the game?" Cyn asked.

"Oh no. It means your body is forfeit for 100 minutes. They can do whatever they want. They can't do anything permanent, illegal, or life threatening, but if it's in the bounds of sexual stuff, usually the spa will frown if someone backs out. Also, forfeit payments have two witnesses as a safeguard."

"So...wait...does that mean everyone is eventually screwed? I mean, if you have a bad night it sounds like it's hard to come back from that," Cyn asked.

Carl shook his head, "At the end of the semester is cash out. You need to pay back 7500 chips and turn in any extras. We change the chips each semester, so holding onto them doesn't do any good."

"What if you don't have 7500?" Cyn asked.

Carl smirked, "As the semester starts winding down, there's usually a lot of people willing to pay their chips off."

"So no one ever goes bust?" Cyn asked, proud of herself for remembering a poker term she'd read.

"Officially if you come up short, we take 10k out of the fund for every one you can't pay. That usually makes enough of a dent that the person's parents start asking and leaves them in a tight spot. Also the rest of the spa tends to shy away from holding your chips because they think you aren't good for it. Remember, this whole thing is about reputation as much as sex. Anything else?"

"Uh, shouldn't you tell me?" Cyn asked.

"I can't think of anything else you need to know right away. Don't be afraid to ask if you need something," Carl said with a smile.

"I think I'm good then," Cyn said.

"Great!" Carl replied and then reached over and took one of the red chips out of Cyn's tray.

"Hey! What the hell?"

"A girl came up with the nickname," Carl said. "She also bet those red chips like she was allergic to them, or so I hear. Before my time. Now go get ready for the game."

*****

Cyn sat in the middle of the table, almost opposite the dealer, trying to mentally prepare for her first game of poker. The fact that the game was taking place with a bunch of her school mates, most of whom she wanted to impress and be accepted by, and the chips they bet with all held descriptions of personal and sexual acts that could be demanded, was not helping Cyn's calm.