The Spa Game - Year Two Ch. 06

She'd paid for the event and quit the team the day before the party.

She hadn't had any close friends, it turned out, and from then on she'd always wonder if they were with her in hopes of getting their hands on some of the money. Now she was with people where she didn't have to worry about that; everyone had money. This was her last chance to see if she could make it here, or if she would just become a psychologist in California, listening to actors' breakdowns about missed parts and failed romances before going home to her house and paying for someone whenever she needed physical release or human connection.

Vicky could do that. She wasn't even fully opposed to it. But her father had always drilled into her that when she saw opportunities, she had to take advantage of them. She had formed the beginnings of a plan at the spa, she just didn't know if it was worth it. She had lots of people trying to convince her to stay.

Maybe I need someone to convince me to leave.

*****

Vicky had heard horror stories about Kathy Vemour ever since she got to Veretrum. A quintessential queen bee without any benevolence to her reign, she had a laundry list of shattered women and broken men in her past. None of them were physically harmed, but reputations and opportunities for some of those people had been eviscerated after crossing Kathy.

But rumor was that she'd abdicated the throne in her reign of terror, and no one could figure out why. Vicky knew from the spa-goers that the abdication had something to do with what went on there. At the beginning of the previous year, Kathy had made no secret of her distain for Cyn, who'd been a quickly rising star by then, and had doubled down on harassing her and Robin. Cyn had played a long con of sorts, and a few weeks before the end of the semester she'd trapped Kathy into a favor of some sort that she didn't like. Then solid information was scarce. Rumors said Vincent was involved in whatever happened, but all anyone knows is that Kathy withdrew from the spa and maintained a quiet life at the school, barely hanging out with a few friends, and basically maintaining no social life.

What she did maintain were TA hours for psychology students, as she'd taken classes in three of her four years. That gave Vicky her excuse to meet with the woman, one-on-one.

Kathy was standing when Vicky got to the study room, and she was tall; easily six feet if not more. She had on an understated but well-tailored grey pantsuit and her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Her skin was olive, but a very pale shade of it; if Vicky had to guess she would say Kathy hadn't made an effort to tan or be outside very much in quite a while. Her eyes seemed sunken in and had heavy shadow on and around them. Or they could be shadows from lack of sleep.

"Ms. Vermour?" Vicky asked.

"Yes. You're the new money sophomore I've heard about," Kathy replied.

"I'm sorry?" Vicky said.

"Let's stop pretending, all right?" Kathy said, "I checked with Professor Hargrove; you're usually the only student in her classes trying, she loves you. You could bring her husband in and fuck him on her desk while demanding she tongue your asshole and she'd still give you an A in her class. Despite that you also seem to actually be absorbing the material. You don't need tutoring. Why are you here?"

"The Spa," Vicky said, reading right away that Kathy would have no patience for dissembling.

Kathy scoffed in response and sat down. "Oh so you're a new addition to Vincent McCabe's poker room and personal harem?"

"He's not the onl-"

"Save it," Kathy said, interrupting Vicky's protest, "He's the only one in that place that matters. A few people, myself included, can challenge him at poker, but it all comes down to the cards. Everyone else is completely at his mercy. No one gets his chips unless he allows it to happen. Meanwhile he collects however many chips he wants for the women he wants."

"I didn't see him pairing off with anyone this weekend," Vicky insisted.

"It's what, week three? He's still building his stack. That man is all about control, but I'll give him this - he's good at it. Maybe he's got some whore on the side he can just call into his room when he gets blue, lord knows he wouldn't have to ask more than twice, but he doesn't play around with the spa girls until he can totally overwhelm them."

"So what, he actually goes for the black chips?" Vicky asked.

Kathy was shaking her head and her expression said she believed she was explaining something to an ignorant child. "He doesn't need to. He treats his purist stance like a badge of honor, and then prides himself on showing off. Girls end up with his chips and think they'll just make do with the five minutes until they can get another shot at him. Then he gives them one of the best five minutes of their lives and they spend the rest of their time and dignity trying to win his chips. He ends up manipulating the betting and the games, making sure their chips trade up to the right colors and end up in the right hands, so while they're desperately trying to win maybe six minutes of kissing from him, they've already spent hours on their backs and their knees servicing people he thinks it's amusing to watch them with."

Vicky watched Kathy through the whole exchange. She'd been very poised to begin with, but as she started venting her control slipped and Vicky knew some of what she said wasn't theory; she'd experienced it. When Kathy stopped talking, she glared at Vicky, daring her to call her out, but Vicky just waited patiently.

"Has he got any of your chips?" Kathy asked.

"I don't think so," Vicky said, "If he does they're white, if anything."

"Are you going after his?"

Vicky shook her head, "Not on purpose. I suppose I might end up with some if I win-"

"If you end up with them it'll be on purpose, trust me," Kathy said. She stopped looking at Vicky and stared at the wall, though it was clear she wasn't actually looking at anything.

"We both started our freshman year. I'm sure the spa people at the time were chomping at the bit to get past the waiting period to invite him, though it wouldn't surprise me if he knew about the spa in advance. We actually started the same week. He wasn't the fixture of the student body he is now, so everyone at the spa interested in men figured we'd snagged ourselves a prize. He played well out of the gate, but didn't dominate, though in hindsight he probably carefully tracked his wins and losses and who he lost to. This girl Charlotte was the first one to snag a full set of red chips off him and proudly informed us he could eat pussy like a pro. I think he went purist after that first weekend, as soon as he figured out it was an option."

"I didn't have as much luck at first. I convinced myself I needed to get Vincent's chips so I played aggressively on that first night game. Most people just kept my chips but this senior named Gerald cashed in with me. I was a conquest for him and a chore for me, although he wasn't bad, per se. It took me three weeks, five blowjobs and one round of cunt munching before I finally collected a full set of skies from him. I cashed in almost before the game was called and he just smiled at me, looking slightly superior."

"I don't know how much of it was him screwing me over and how much I duped myself but he asked me to strip and wait for him on a bed, face down with my legs hanging off, and I just complied like a passive little schoolgirl. I waited probably five minutes, working myself up with my imagination of how good it would be. He came into the room and flicked the lights off. My heart raced, and I heard him move up. I felt his breath on my cunt and for a brief second I let myself believe I was special, that he was going to ignore his vaunted purist approach with me, but that didn't happen."

"Again, I'll give him credit for control. He fucked me, and literally the only thing that touched me was his dick. He slid it in easy because I was dripping like a stupid slut, but he never went all the way in. Never touched my ass with his hips, never grabbed my waist, didn't put a hand on my back. I pressed my legs back and he didn't stop me, but if I hadn't done that the only part of him that would have touched me was his cock. He fucked me slow and patient, always coming right to the edge of pressing up against me but never getting there."

Kathy shot a dangerous look at Vicky, then said, "I'm telling you this as a warning. It starts getting around anywhere and I end you."

Vicky just gave a sort of half nod, half shrug and Kathy continued, "After five minutes I was more worked up than ever and I was desperate to cum, but somehow he could tell or something. I'm not sure how he did it, but he seemed to counter every move or thrust I made to try to get myself off, but all the while he fucked me right to the edge. Eventually his fucking phone went off, but neither of us ever did. He stepped back and I finally turned around and saw he hadn't even taken his shirt off. He'd acted like I was a back room whore. Meanwhile I was dripping and frustrated, but too mad to dwell on that."

"Did you ever get his chips again?" Vicky asked.

"Twice more," Kathy said, "Well, twice more I decided to spend them, all that year. First I went with ten minutes worth of lipstick chips, and worked myself up to the edge before he came in. I figured I was primed enough that he could accidentally bump my clit with his forehead and I'd still get off, but apparently I handed him a gift on a silver platter; he bit, licked and sucked all around my pussy for five minutes, bringing my raging boil down to a steady simmer, then he slowly worked his way into my vagina with his lips and tongue. He treated my clit like holy ground not to be desecrated, so the next few minutes passed with him sending me on a roller coaster, building me up and then letting me settle down. I had my phone set to go off every five minutes, unlike what was happening to me, so I know it was less than five before he finally got to my clit. But then it was uneven and random. Sometimes he'd flick it with his tongue like a vibrator for a few seconds and then abandon it, sometimes he'd swirl his tongue slowly around it, then he'd suck it for a little bit. Every time just as I was getting into the groove of what he was doing, he'd switch, keeping me on a hair trigger. Finally he settled into sucking and tonguing my button for more than twenty seconds, and then the fucking time alarm went off. He was out of the room like it was on fire and I just lay there, heart pounding, pussy soaked, frustrated all to hell."

If this were a pair of girls bitching about their love lives in a coffee shop, Vicky would have expected Kathy's voice to be teasing at the juicy parts and dismissive or frustratingly sarcastic when the shortcomings were brought up. But Kathy's voice was pure venom the whole time. More than that, her control was slipping more and Vicky was getting volumes from her body language.

"The last time, the last fucking time, I figured I had him. Twenty minutes of blue chips, and I changed a bunch of chips down so I had as many whites to match. He was basically my sex bot for twenty minutes. As long as I didn't tell him to use his mouth or kiss me or do anything to my ass, I could ask for whatever I wanted, but I didn't want any intimate shit. I wanted a fucking orgasm from Vincent Fucking McCabe."

"He came into the room and I was sitting on the bed, displaying myself like a whore, naively hoping he'd only been able to keep his control the last couple of times because he'd avoided looking at me. I wasted three of my white minutes ordering him to finger me and get me wet, and he did the job well enough that he slid right in when the fucking started, but the amount of actual pleasure I got out of it was minimal. Did you know the vagina will lubricate on insertion as long as the woman's aroused, regardless of how much actual pleasure is being conveyed? Apparently Vincent did. Then he established that same fucking rhythm, coming just within a hair of actually making contact when he fucked me. I felt him moving inside me and I shifted back and forth, trying to get him to hit my clit or stroke on my G-spot or fucking anything that would lead to an orgasm. I had him fondle my breasts and he didn't even ham it up like he was a backseat virgin with his first pair of tits and then claim ignorance. He carefully handled them, stroked my nipples enough to get them diamond hard, tweaked them enough to send pleasure straight down to my cunt, all the while pistoning in and out like a machine. And that's exactly what it was like; fucking a machine. A machine that wasn't calibrated right."

"Ten minutes he fucked me and I was barely closer to cumming than I had been when he walked in. I had him stop and I changed positions so he was coming from behind, but every woman's magazine that guarantees doggy style will hit your G-spot apparently didn't consult with him. It was like he found a way to fuck me without actually making contact with any part of my pussy. I even had him reach around and play with my clit but all that got me was fleeting spikes of pleasure that teased what I should be feeling."

"I knew after a while I didn't have much time left, so I had him lay down and mounted him. Can't lose, right? I'm on top, I've got control, I can finally sink all the way down onto that cock and fuck how I want to. If nothing else I can pull his cock out and rub my clit on it, right? Maybe I could have, but I was a stupid eighteen year old who still believed she could get something from him. You have most of the control on top, but not all of it. He was like a discordant harmony in the music, just slightly off from what was supposed to be happening. Ages and lifetimes of mis-timed thrusts, no rhythm to be found. At one point it was like riding one of those supermarket horses, gyrating back and forth while staying perfectly still against him."

"After twenty minutes, even as a stupid teenager, I figured out he wasn't fucking me; he was fucking with me, and I'd done nothing to deserve it. So I lost it. I screamed at him. 'Sexually incompetent ginger asshole' I think was exactly what I said, and I demanded he fuck me. I should have paid more attention to the clock."

"He finally fucked me. Five thrusts. He gripped my hips with iron vices, and slammed a solid bar of flaming metal into my cunt. At least that's what it felt like. I hadn't been ready for it. It hurt so much it felt good. I've never felt so much pain and so much pleasure at the same time. It was like he hooked an electrical socket up to my cervix and my clit at the same time each time he thrust. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes and holy fuck they terrified me. I jumped off him after seeing those eyes. He just lay there for a minute, then he took one deep breath, stood up, and left. Didn't even bother to get his clothes. I didn't see him again until the next week."

Vicky didn't say anything, simply observing. It took Kathy a minute but she eventually pulled herself together, remembering where she was and who she was talking to. The imperious, superior expression and haughty tone came back as she said, "That's what it's like to spend Vincent McCabe's chips. If you dare to do anything other than wait for him to decide to spend your chips on his terms he toys with you, following the letter of the spa's terms to avoid owing anyone. If think you're there for any other reason than to be a sexual plaything for him, you need to smarten up fast."

Vicky didn't respond for a while, but eventually she said, "I'm not you, Miss Vermour."

"And you're stating the obvious why?" Kathy sneered.

"Because I know you. After this conversation anyway, but I looked you up before. Tell me something, if you can, how are you paying for next semester's tuition?" Vicky asked.

"What the fuck are you talking about you stuck-up-"

"I'm talking about your family's company losing stock value. I'm talking about you assuming you're the smartest person in any room until someone bitch-slaps you and corrects you," Vicky said.

Kathy stood up and loomed over Vicky, but Vicky held her seat and Kathy's gaze, though her heart was pounding.

"How dare-"

"Your family wanted you to snag McCabe. I don't know if you were legitimately invited into the spa, but if not then you found a way in once you figured out Vincent would be there. And you were arrogant enough to think you could impress him with a few tricks in the bedroom. He just had better tricks than you did. So you wasted three years chasing after him out of spite and desperation, all the while the port deals in Ireland that your company desperately needed stayed in limbo, then last year they slipped away."

Kathy controlled her expression, maintaining the look of outrage, but Vicky caught the flicker of fear and panic that slipped through. "You know nothing-"

"Except what I could see on the internet and financial news-"

"STOP IT!" Kathy shouted at her, "You're with him! He sent you! Get the fuck out! Leave me alone! I'll have you ejected from the school in a week! Go pack your fucking bags!"

Vicky stood and went to the door, but before she went through it, she turned back and called over her shoulder, "I haven't talked to him much, but despite you being obsessed with him, I'm pretty sure Vincent McCabe doesn't give you a second thought."

She shut the door and heard something slam into it a second later.

As she made her way back out onto the quad she stood still, letting the chilly wind cool her skin as her heart rate settled back toward something resembling a resting rate, trying to absorb everything she'd just done and heard. She'd never done a so-called "hot read" before, but apparently she had the skills. And if she didn't have an advantage over Vincent McCabe, she at least knew a little bit more about the enigmatic Irishman. If she could just get a little bit better at cards, she started to actually think she might make an impact of her own.

She pulled out her phone and tapped in a few commands for speed dial.

"Daddy? Hi!...Yeah, I'm fine...About that email? Yeah, it's a club thing...It's more like a security deposit, they have to keep it in escrow. It should be coming back to you, don't worry about it...Yeah, yeah I'm pretty sure it's what I want to do..."