Upping the Ante: Thursday

Cat didn’t bother responding to his questions, instead saying, “If I beat your score, I get to wear all my clothes tomorrow, and it’s your turn to go naked all day.”

“That’s still not double or –“ Owen began.

“It’s not supposed to be,” Cat cut in. “This is a brand new bet. New bet, new terms, new punishments. Okay?”

“Fine,” Owen said slowly. “But what happens if you don’t make it past 725,000? I mean, you’re already naked. You can’t get any more naked than you are.”

“I beg to differ,” Cat smiled, and slid something across the table.

It was a razor.

“If I lose, I work tomorrow COMPLETELY naked.” She flashed Owen a kinky smile. Next to her, Spencer’s jaw had dropped, and drool had begun to trickle down the side of his mouth.

Owen hesitated a few seconds, but eventually nodded. “Fine. You’re on. It’s your grave.”

Cat wasted no time. She stole Suzanne’s laptop again, and made herself at home on one end of the conference table. Suzanne opted to stay in the conference room, though, and began working on paperwork that had littered her desk. Spencer remained, as well, glancing up from the comics time to time to sneak a peak at Cat’s breasts from around the laptop’s screen.

100,000. Cat reached the first benchmark without much difficulty.

200,000. After almost screwing up like she had the day before, Cat managed to survive, and make the next round score.

300,000. By the time Cat hit level three, she had entered into a rhythm. She knew that this time was going to be it. She was going to beat Owen.

400,000. The thought of actually wearing clothes tomorrow had already entered her head.

500,000. But thinking about it, she still wanted to wear something sexy, something slinky. If Owen were going to be naked, she wanted to make sure that he was rock hard all day long – that would only add to his awkwardness.

600,000. And Owen didn’t even have an office to retreat to. Instead, he’d be stuck in the conference room, like a fish in a fishbowl, allowing everyone to see him.

700,000. Cat decided that maybe she’d schedule a meeting for tomorrow, just to discuss whatever was on anyone’s mind.

710,000. Her whole body was sweating, and she could feel a drip work its way from neck down her spine, right into her ass crack. She was stressed – she had to do this.

720,000. She was within striking distance. It was almost over.

And then, at 724,995, it ended. Cat was so confident about hitting Owen’s score that she failed to see a falling star come shooting down one of the slides. And that was it.

“Noooo!!!” Cat cried as she watched her player spin dizzily into oblivion. “Noooo!!!” She banged her head down against the table, not bothering to look down the table at a widely grinning Owen.

Instead, she heard something slide down the table. Looking up, she saw the razor that she had brought into the office with her.

Owen was at the far end of the table, smiling away. “Probably want this back.”