When Taken at the Flood Pt. 01

Sheila had good court presence, and as soon as she had hit the lob, she had closed the net for a possible return. Grace's shot was well executed, but on any other day, I still would have bet on Sheila being able to parry it. Now, though, with tits a-wobble, feet bare, and emotions overwrought, she didn't stand a chance. As the raven-haired beauty lunged forward, she again lost her footing, and sprawled across the floor. The ball pocked on the court, a few feet away from her, and Sheila just lay there, face flat on the ground, hair fanned out, back heaving, succulent tits squeezing out from either side of her body, legs splayed far apart. "And, that is game to the Wilsons!," Prakesh confirmed. Grace grabbed her phone to snap another pic

After several seconds Sheila began scrambling to her feet, and an expectant hush fell over the arena. Mark was half-turned away from her, eyes downcast, muttering to himself. His wife's pale skin really was red now. Being physically embarrassed, as she just had been, had not humbled Sheila at all, but only made her even madder. Really, I think it was not the prospect of having to strip naked that made her angry, so much as the fact that she had just been out-competed and shown up. At any rate, she still certainly had no intention of letting us see her defeated. So, once more, she did what she had to do.

Right then and there, where she was, she grasped her panties by the band, jackknifed her body gracefully, and drew them down to her feet. Then she stepped out of them and stood there, striking an ironic pose for us. Though she stood feet together, she (or some plastic surgeon) had cultivated the 'thigh-gap' that was so sought after in her circles, and there was really no way for her to hide her pussy. As expected, she was immaculately waxed. Moreover, hers was no neat, tidy little closed up slit. Instead, even though I don't think she was sexually aroused at all, Sheila's largish ruddy-colored clit and associated folds and curves poked down provocatively. I could see Gracie working the zoom to get a better view.

"Hey Sheil, for your big finale, why don't you open your cunt for us?" I shouted. I didn't mean to be cruel, I think, but was just caught up in the thrill of victory, and the general tenor of the moment. Maybe I even hoped that this would break the ice, somehow, and that we could all have a good laugh about how ridiculous this had been?

Well, if that was my intent, at some level, then it was a dismal failure. Sheila didn't say a word in response, but the ominous, poisonous glare she directed at me indicated that not only did she find nothing amusing in the situation, but she considered the dispute between the four of us to be far from settled.

* * * * *

I could see, by the way his dancing eyes continued to scan Sheila's naked form, that Prakesh was, personally, in no hurry for the ladies to dress. However, he also sensed the tension on the court—the mutual animosities which had not been quelled by the contest, but rather stoked—and knew it was time to try to shut things down. "Thank you, ladies and gentleman, for adhering to the rules of this game, just as you yourselves defined them," he intoned solemnly "I believe, with that, our match is concluded."

Grace, her photos taken and the show apparently over, turned and started back to retrieve her clothes.

"Not so fast, bitch!" Sheila yelled at her.

Everyone on the court froze and turned to face the naked socialite again. "Let's not be coy about this, dearie," Sheila continued. Her eyes bored into Grace like laser-beams, and her voice had an edge like broken glass. "We all know what just happened here. You didn't beat us. No, what happened was this: you got lucky, you cheated, and Pra here is a backstabbing scumbag. Well, nobody treats me like that. I want a rematch!"

A rematch? What the hell was she raving about? Thinking back on it now, I believe the combination of Sheila's ruthless personality and exaggerated self-regard simply didn't allow her to let the encounter end in tawdry defeat and humiliation. Like a compulsive gambler who is always just one hand away from breaking even, she was determined to find some way to raise the stakes, extend the game, and maybe turn the tables.

Anyway, it was her air of unrepentant superiority that really set Grace off again. "God, Sheila, get over yourself," she snapped. "You fucking lost, you're fucking naked, and soon your fucking pussy will be on the fucking internet. It's over. What was that you said a while back? Oh yeah: quit making it worse for yourself!"

"Listen, you fat cow, it's over when I say it's over!," Sheila shouted.

By now these unpleasantries were getting Mark riled up again too. "Yeah, why the hell wouldn't you want to give us a rematch, Gracie? I know why. It's 'cause you're pissing yourselves, you and your husband, that's why. You're chicken-shits! You know you got lucky, and that if you played us again, we'd clobber you!"

"Unghh! You guys are pathetic! You make me sick!," Gracie shouted across the court in sheer frustration, now, hands on hips, legs slightly apart, entirely oblivious to her still-naked pussy. "I'm not about to give you another shot at seeing my breasts. You're the ones who don't have anything we want now, losers!"

"Ha! I know just exactly what you want, bitch," Sheila retorted. "You sad little people have always been jealous of our money, always grubbing around for our leavings! Tell you what, you mercenary little whore: one more game. If we win, you strip. If you win, we'll throw in five grand, on top of the other money!"

"Fuck your goddamned money!," Gracie hurled back, voice rising to a full-throated growl. "Fuck your money Sheila Schwetzer, and FUCK YOU!"

Sheila was bright red now, drops of spittle shooting from her mouth as she hissed at my wife. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you Gracie? To see me get fucked over? That's what you've wanted all along, isn't it? That's why you set this trap for us. Well I'll tell you something, Gracie doll, at this point I'd like to see you get fucked over too. In fact, I like to see Mark fuck you right up that precious little cunt of yours," gesturing to Grace's bare crotch. "Then you'd know your place, once and for all!"

Grace gaped, momentarily silenced by the bizarre turn that Sheila's mind seemed to have taken. All I knew was that this had gone way too far, and I needed to put a stop to it. "Shut up, Sheila. Just shut up. No one is fucking anyone. Grace is going to get dressed, Mark will write us a check, and we'll leave."

"I believe Mr. Wilson is correct, Sheila," Prakesh put in. "Enough is enough. Let us all depart as friends."

"Come on, chicken-shit," Sheila had turned to me now with a thin smile, and a malevolent hum in her voice. "You are a man, aren't you? Wouldn't you like a shot at this bod?" She gave a quick top-to-bottom gesture with one hand. "How about it? One more game, winner takes all. You win, you get to stick it in—right up here," pointing upwards, now, between her own legs, toward her naked pussy. "You lose, then I get to watch Mark take your wife," side-eye towards Grace. "That seems more than fair."

"No, Sheila, this is sick. I'm not going to fuck you, and I don't want to fight you. Please, just let us go."

"Ohhhh Gracie," she said, turning back to my wife again, all syrupy disdain and faux pity, "that's what I expected. This limp-dick weakling of yours wants to run away. I can see from his face exactly what's he's thinking: 'ohh nooo, if I win, I won't be able to get it up, and if I lose, then Gracie will be ruined for my tiny little dick forever.'" Behind her, Mark snorted, plainly entertained by his wife's monologue. "That's why," she continued, hissing through bared teeth now, "even though you might have gotten me naked, you'll never really beat us."

Grace was getting her voice back, and she remained hot. She was also still flush with our recent victory, and in no mood to cede an inch to this insufferable woman. "Hah! John's more man than Mark can ever hope to be. Just be glad your dry little cunt doesn't have to take my husband, because I don't think he'd fit!"

"Oh, those are big words Gracie, big, big words, but I sure don't see you backing them up!," Sheila jeered.

"It's ok, Gracie, we get it," Mark added with mock empathy, "you're afraid of having to get it on with a real man. If all you've ever had is that pathetic loser," gesturing dismissively in my direction, "then I don't blame you. Come on, Sheila, it looks like we won after all."

As they ambled over to pick up their gear, I could feel the swells of rage boiling up inside Grace and washing out over the arena. The idea that this couple was going to walk out of here, heads held high, telling themselves and everyone else that they had won because we had backed down was just too much for her to bear. Suddenly our hard-fought victory seemed to her to be slipping away. Thoughts racing, she made her decision. "I'm not scared of your shriveled little prick, Mark! And Sheila, if you want to dig yourself in deeper, then go right ahead. We'll take your bet, you sick freaks! You're on!"

The crowd of gawkers in the lobby, which had only continued to grow, had apparently been listening to this entire exchange with rapt attention—pressed up eagerly against the windows, desperate to know how it would end. As Grace accepted Sheila's challenge, they could be heard, even through the glass, erupting in a cacophony of startled voices and a few ragged cheers.

"Oh, no, no. No way, we're not taking the bet," I tried to protest. "We're leaving. Let's go." I grabbed Grace by her bare shoulders and tried to pull her away, but she resisted and remained standing there, feet firmly planted.

"I'm not running away from these bullies, John. Not anymore." Her eyes were set, her voice low and filled with terrible resolve. "We'll whip them again. And then we'll see if Sheila can still act so superior while she's getting fucked. We can't give into them—we have to fight them."

There was no way I could resist her cold-burning fury. "OK," I agreed weakly, "we'll take the bet."

* * * * *

As Shakespeare tells us, "there is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." But whose tide was ascendant at this pivotal moment—and what fortunes lay in store for our protagonists? In two different, parallel universes, in fact, matters unfolded very differently from this point on.

In Universe A, karma held sway, and Sheila and Mark got what was coming to them in short order. Their story continues with "When Taken at the Flood, Part 2A"

In, Universe B, the arc of justice bent more slowly and less reliably, and cold fate had a difficult trial in store for Grace and John. That story continues with "When Taken at the Flood, Part 2B"

There may even be a Universe C, in which both couples cooled their tempers, saw the light, and put an end to this matter before it got entirely out of hand. But if so, I do not have a record of what happened next.