The Spa Game - Year Two Ch. 12

Thank you to everyone for the positive response to the last chapter. The rest of the story takes on a different tone from that, hopefully it's as enjoyable. This chapter is a bit longer because I wanted to stop it on a cliffhanger but that would have been far too short, and then the story kind of took off and when I stopped it had a higher word count. As always, comments and ratings are appreciated and welcome.

Chip Key: Nickname: value, favor, color

Clouds: 1, Touching, White

Canaries: 2, Kissing, Yellow

Lipstick: 5, Oral, Red

Skies: 10, Sex, Blue

Grass: 25, Anal, Green

Doubles/Oranges: 50, Double, Orange

Fucked: 100, Forefit, Black

========================

In the confines of her head, Vicky considered that when the majority of the women she knew agreed with something, even if they were Veretrum girls, she should probably believe them.

She'd let her attention slip at the table earlier. Noelle had been after her like a bloodhound most of the night, and Vicky's own skills with poker and reading people were barely enough to fend her off. She'd taken a risk and paid to see the flop on a hand with only a suited ten and jack in her hand. The flop had given her two more jacks so she paid her way through the turn. She'd basically ignored the other players because Noelle seemed practically desperate in her play, though she'd quickly surveyed anyone betting to get a sense of whether they had solid hands or not. Everyone seemed to be just coasting along and there were only four players in by the time the river card came down. Noelle tried to bluff her way out, and that got Zach to fold while Vicky called. Unfortunately for her, Charles had stayed in the hand despite only having a pair of threes in his hand, so when the third three dropped on the river it suddenly awarded him with a full house, the hand, and enough chips to cash in a stack of skies with Vicky.

Vicky hadn't allowed herself to have any illusions or mystique about sex at the spa; she knew it was going to happen and she guessed there was only about a 60/40 chance she'd be fully in control of who the other person was. She could read most people well enough but some she had to really try, she didn't have the best poker face herself, and most of the people were still better than her at poker strategy. Technically she'd already had sex at the spa, but the liaison with Cyn was so irregular most people hadn't realized it happened. She hoped there hadn't been some sort of competition or side betting about who was going to get her "spa virginity" because she certainly didn't give it that much thought.

However, now she really wished she had paid a little more attention. She was on all fours on one of the spa beds and Charles was behind her, doing a thoroughly terrible job at sex. Vicky had adopted the same strategy she maintained with all of her spa partners so far (except one); use her insights to figure out what her partner wants, both physically and in her responses to their actions.

Charles was painfully simple to read. His desires started and ended with most stereotypes of heterosexual young adult men. She didn't have to work hard to figure out how to respond to whatever he was doing; it could be summed up as "act like a porn star, but don't overdo it." She had a nervous but excited expression when he came in the room, she made an appreciative face when he took of his shirt (despite most of his definition coming from flab rather than muscle), and she made a show of pulling off her own clothes. Where she did have to work hard was not reacting to his equipment; Charles was not well endowed, and she guessed he was actually below average. She briefly gripped his cock at one point and, even while hard, the head only just protruded beyond her hand. She was grateful she'd established her purist stance early because she didn't want to think about what kind of mauling and abuse he would have subjected her tits to, but she continued to make all the right noises up to and including when he started fucking her.

He'd either been severely misled or believed in his own mind that he had some sort of technique that was pleasurable for women; for the first couple of minutes he tried to use a motion that combined thrusting with gyrating his hips up and down. Vicky thought if they were pressed together chest-to-chest it was possible what he did might result in more grinding on her pelvis and possibly her clit, but from behind all it did was drag his cock awkwardly against the edges of her hole, and his gyrations were so extreme they started actually bouncing slightly from the up and down motion of Charles's body. The couple of times he hit somewhere that was remotely pleasurable it was obviously an accident.

Worried about one or the other of them suffering injury, Vicky used her most "porn-y" voice to insist she was close and just needed him to fuck her. With that encouragement he stopped with the gyrations and switched to full-on jackhammering. Vicky had applied lube prior to the session just in case everyone's warnings about Charles proved true, so fortunately her vagina wasn't sanded down, but her ass and her hips took a pounding and his cock was small enough she didn't really feel much from that either.

She remembered to maintain her "porn star" attitude and acted like the rapid pounding was everything she ever wanted from sex. Whether from that, the actual act, or a combination of both, Charles finished after a relatively short span of rapid thrusting. She let him catch his breath for a brief moment before pulling herself away and going to check her phone. Her timer read 4:23 on it and continued to count down. She gathered her clothes.

"No round two?" Charles asked.

"You've got four minutes baby," Vicky said teasingly.

Charles reached down for his penis and stroked it himself for a bit, but then said, "Dammit. Come on, you can stay past ten minutes."

"Sorry," Vicky said, "Like I told you, I'm a purist with the chips."

"Maybe if you sucked me off a bit?" Charles suggested.

"Mmmm," Vicky replied with an enthusiastic tone, "I'd love to, but unless you've got the lipstick...?"

Charles slumped with a defeated posture and Vicky shrugged apologetically as she slipped on her panties, tights, and blouse. All the shirts she wore to the spa now had built-in support so she never bothered with a bra. There weren't any explicit guidelines about clothing associated with the chips. Technically any one of them could be fulfilled while mostly clothed; the women just had to be wearing something with a skirt and no underwear, and the guys had to have some sort of opening for their equipment to poke out of. However, despite the lack of official rules, a sort of unspoken list of assumptions had arisen related to how clothed anyone was for the various favors. For the groping that went with the cloud chips most people stayed dressed to get a thrill out of slipping their hands under waistbands or down necklines, and makeout sessions dictated by canaries could go either way, but once lipsticks got traded in most people assumed any girl involved would be topless (even if both parties were girls), and with any favor from skies on up everyone was getting naked unless someone specifically requested something different.

Vicky made her way to the solarium, wondering if she'd be the second one there this time. She avoided looking directly at Vincent's chair (speaking of unspoken assumptions) but out of the corner of her eye she could see that she was still the first to arrive. Vincent showed up a few minutes later. Vicky had turned off her phone app, but she wondered if Vincent's arrival would have matched the expiration of the ten minute timer, plus the amount of time needed to walk from a bedroom to the solarium. She also wondered who could have won enough chips from him to trade in that favor. Then she felt a little bit of a twist in her gut as she wondered if it was actually Vincent who traded in the chips with someone, followed by a bunch of intense internal conversations as she tried to convince herself she was more disappointed in her own sexual experience than the idea that Vincent might have been with someone else.

Feeling a bit off balance and reckless, she asked, "Do you mind if I speak bluntly?"

"Never," Vincent replied.

"I really wish you had a set of my sky chips right now," Vicky said. She'd said it casually, but the pregnant pause after her declaration made her wonder if she'd actually sounded more desperate than she was. Or that she wanted him to think she was.

"May I ask why?" Vincent said. His voice still sounded mostly neutral and controlled but Vicky thought she sensed a hint of nervousness in it.

"So I could remember sex can actually be good," she replied, going with the safer of several responses put forward by the various departments in her thoughts these days.

"How do you know I'm any good?" Vincent asked, and his voice had definitely acquired a teasing tone.

Vicky could let any hint of sexual tension go, but she decided to push the envelope, "Because anyone that could eat me out like you did has to be at least half as good at fucking. And half as good as that would still be much better than what I experienced."

"Unfortunately Mister Bloomfield does not enjoy wild popularity with most people here."

"Is he sitting on a trust fund from a dot com billionaire or something? Because I can't believe someone thought he'd be good for the aesthetics."

"Charles has suffered a bit from being lazy in college. His physique was more impressive in previous years, although from what I've heard his performance was not," Vincent supplied, "If I remember correctly his family is tied into food production at some level, focusing on meat. He's a third child, however, so there are few expectations put upon him."

"I'm not sure if I should have tried to help him out somehow," Vicky wondered aloud.

"From what I've heard, those efforts are rarely appreciated."

"I could probably make them worth it for him. I don't think he has the chips though," Vicky said with a smirk.

There was another pause in the conversation that confused Vicky until Vincent said, "I do."

Vicky's pulse seemed to jump into her ears and her whole body tensed. "Which chips do you have?" Vicky asked.

"The ones you were talking about earlier," Vincent replied softly, but still loud enough to carry across the room.

"Are you going to use them?"

"I'd rather not," Vincent replied.

A pang of hurt went through Vicky and she felt tears sting her eyes. "Why not?" she asked, biting back on the sarcastic questions she wanted to throw after it.

"Because I'd like more than ten minutes."

All of the biting comments she'd been ready to snap out earlier vanished and she imagined she could feel her pussy flooding with arousal. "I don't think you'd need ten minutes."

"I know I wouldn't need ten minutes," Vincent replied as if it were obvious, "But I'd prefer to have more."

Vicky tried to come up with something to continue the arousing verbal dance but she was having too much trouble concentrating.

"Fuck it, Vincent, I'm so worked up right now."

"You think I'm not?"

"Then do something about it," Vicky insisted, "You could win a thousand chips off me in one night!"

"It would take too much to fight off the others to do it," Vincent explained, "and I have to admit I'm getting a perverse thrill out of forcing you to wait."

"You don't have anything to trade?" Vicky practically begged.

"I have another set of your lipsticks," Vincent admitted, "I haven't had the chance to trade them up yet."

"I won't be as good as you," Vicky warned, "I don't know if I'll even be good at all."

"I don't need a sensual oral experience," Vincent said, "I want you to suck me off, Victoria."

For some reason his use of her full name was like a gun going off. Vicky stood and stripped off her clothes. Even though her oral skills wouldn't be as good as his, she wanted to do more than just rush over and suck his cock. Naked, she came around the chair with her chest puffed out, displaying her modest breasts, and sauntering so her hips swayed and her legs stayed together, only allowing him to see she wore nothing between her legs rather than displaying her pussy for him. Vincent simply sat in his chair, his legs slightly spread, holding a stack of red chips in one hand. His expression was still neutral, but she could see his eyes running all over her body as she walked up to him.

She dropped to her knees and moved between his. She could feel a hard bulge in his pants as she worked to undo his belt and undo the fastenings on the pants. She jerked them down enough so he sprang free and she moaned, this time genuinely. Vincent's cock looked like a textbook example come to life; no blemishes or odd curves, circumcised, and slightly above average, if Vicky was any judge. He certainly had at least three inches on the cock that fucked her earlier.

Vicky went to work immediately, running her tongue around the entire length of the shaft as she fondled the ballsack beneath, gently manipulating the orbs inside and tugging on the loose skin while her tongue explored every glorious inch of the Irishman's cock. She worked her way to the top and swirled her tongue around the head several times, tasking a load of precum that had both leaked onto the head and was still emerging from the slit at the top.

She finally got a verbal reaction from Vincent when she took the head in her mouth, sealing her lips around it without slowing her tongue's attention at all. From then on she started bobbing her head, maintaining the suction and her tongue movements. Vicky worked her way down, taking him slightly deeper each time. She had no hope of deep-throating him; she'd only managed that in the past when she was lying prone on a bed, and the cocks she'd done it with were smaller, but she was determined to go as deep as possible. She finally bottomed out about three quarters of the way down, and by then she was fighting her gag reflex hard. To take her mind off it, she wondered if her being a redhead made it seem like Vincent's pubic growth had gotten wildly out of control given her position.

She wanted to keep going, find some way to completely swallow him, but she was up against the clock and she wanted to get him off more than she wanted to show off. She pulled off and started rubbing the shaft with her hand, but it wasn't gliding well. She almost went to lick him again, but then she got a wicked idea. She caught his eyes and and then brought her hands down below the chair where he couldn't see. Spreading her knees and holding herself open with one hand, she quickly jammed four fingers into her pussy and thrust them back and forth. She let out a little moan without breaking eye contact, then pulled her glistening hand back up into view and started rubbing the shaft. Vincent's expression could still have been carved from stone, but she saw his eyes widen a bit as he realized what she'd used for lubricant.

After that she gave up on theatrics and just worked on getting him off. Her hand and mouth bobbed up and down on his shaft while she used her tongue to stimulate every part of him that passed her lips. The taste of his sweat, precum, and her own juice on his cock turned her on even more and she used her other hand to madly strum her own clit, further increasing her horniness and her determination to get him off.

Vincent didn't seem to be reacting but Vicky could feel his thighs tensing as she gave it her all, and she heard his breathing get heavier as his cock throbbed and grew slightly in her mouth. She tasted more of his salty precum every time her tongue passed his head but she worried she still wouldn't be able to finish him. Worse, her own hand was finishing her off much more definitively and she was starting to lose focus, letting the feel of his cock in her hand and mouth combine with her own fingers and increase her sensations rather than focusing on his.

The dreaded alarm on Vincent's phone went off, but rather than stop anything it started a cascade. The shock of the noise made Vicky's hand twitch and that somehow set off her own orgasm. She moaned loudly, half in frustration, half from the orgasm, but she did it with her mouth mostly full of Vincent's cock. Just as she was going to beat herself up for failing, she felt Vincent tense and then her mouth was very quickly flooded with a new sense and flavor. She started swallowing, first instinctively, then desperately as Vincent released himself in her mouth. After he finished, she slowly pulled her mouth off and settled back on her heels.

Vincent was breathing heavily with his eyes closed, but he was recovering, not asleep. Vicky wanted to jump up into his lap and snuggle into him, but she knew that would be the wrong move. She didn't have the chips, but beyond that she didn't feel like that's where he wanted things to go right now. They had their game, as frustrating and silly as it seemed, and she wanted to keep playing it. So instead she stood, took her chips from his hand, and walked back to her own chair.

She pulled her clothes back on and sat, gazing at the stars and letting her breathing and her excitement fade. It was silent again for a while, then her heart skipped a bit when Vincent said, "If that's a bad performance from you, I can only imagine what it'll be like when I catch you on a good day with a full set of bigger chips."

****

Despite her busier than usual evening, Vicky still rose early and prepped herself for a morning run, her head still spinning a bit from what had happened with Vincent. She could still vaguely taste him in her mouth and briefly considered not brushing her teeth, but decided other people might not appreciate the aroma as much as she was at that moment. She had been ready to head out when she realized she left her phone in the solarium. As she walked back in jogging shorts and a sports bra, she heard two voices inside.

"It's really that urgent?" came with Vincent's voice.

"These things are never urgent, but some guarantees in advance are always better." Vicky wasn't immediately familiar with the other voice by sound, but the prominent accent gave Ammad away.

"The problem is too many people want her right now, but nobody wants to freely admit they're after her. If she's with you in the interim there's less complication when we take her," Ammad said.

"Of course," Vincent agreed, "But surely you could just make the arrangements yourself. Don't you already have what you need?"

"You have enough influence to smooth the waters, I think. I think it would make things easier for both. And if you want to be direct, there are other favors you'd get access to."

"Well let's get her set up first and then we can discuss whatever favors may be traded," Vincent said. By the sounds that followed Vincent rose and both men left the room. Vicky backed off to pretend she was just walking up, but they left the solarium by another door.

Vicky walked in and grabbed her phone. She checked to see if it had been set to record, even though she'd never actually done that for any reason. It wasn't, and so she only had the memory in her head to figure out a conversation she desperately wanted context for.

*****

Vicky added the meagre fee for skipping the Saturday morning game to the slightly higher one for opting out of the high-stakes night game and went back to campus a day early, the small snippet of Vincent and Ammad's conversation replaying in her head like an internet gif on repeat.

She tried to convince herself she had no reason to believe she was the subject of the conversation, but her brain kept replaying the words and she eventually circled back to that conclusion. When it wasn't replaying that conversation, the warning from Kathy Vemour would fix itself in her mind.