Win Win, When Losing a Bet

"Wow, I can't believe you are actually here," he said. "Look at you, looking so sexy without that uniform."

He leaped toward me for an embrace. Stealing away my awkward moment of not knowing what to do. His arms around me, he pressed me close to him. I did not remember him being this tall, but realized that on my flat sneakers he actually towered above me. He looked down, smiling. I remembered that look. I smiled back.

"So when will I get a little more than just a smile?" he said.

I felt his excitement pressing in my loins, and luckily with the bra, my own excitement was not directly visible. I tried to stay cool. Not that I did not want to kiss him, or even more. This was not about a bet any more, but still I wanted to remain seemingly in control.

"Win or lose, I'll promise you a kiss after the game," I smiled. "Do you think you can wait that long?"

"I've been waiting for a long time for this already, so these extra few hours I'm sure I can survive without a kiss," he replied. "However I can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands of this sexy ass."

With that his hands moved over my shorts and grabbed my butt cheeks to mull them a little as he pulled me even tighter.

"After I win this bet, this ass is going to be mine," he added.

Not that I minded what the feel of his hands on me, neither his manhood that was growing harder between us. If he had wanted to, he could have kissed me right then, he could have claimed his price without even winning. But it was a game and so I was going to play. Lifting my hands between us and pushing free from his embrace.

"So you think you already won?" I asked feeling confident that I was betting on the winning team. "Want to up the stakes?"

That smile again, sexy and smirky at the same time. Like knowing you have the winning hand at a poker game and you are about to clean out your last opponent. "What did you have in mind?"

The gentleman, passing the ball back to me, "Winner takes all?"

"All meaning?"

"The loser has to submit to the demands of the winner for 48 hours."

I have no idea how I came up with that, but Ali was eager to accept. What was there to lose after all.

"Dinner first?" he asked with that same smile.

An invitation I was not going to turn down. It was only the second time we met, but we instantly clicked, almost continuing the banter and teasing we were used to from our email exchanges. It was clear he was aa man of statue. The way the hotel staff treated him and his whole demeaner, from how he looked, the way he escorted down the lobby. But I started to question just how big of statue, when three black Land Rovers pulled up at the front of the hotel to drive us to the restaurant. The driver of the second car got out. A dark muscular man in a black suite opened the black door for me and Ali. When we drove off, I looked at Ali. He must have understood the question that was written on my face.

"I'm not as important as you think I might be," he said. "Just the wealthiest man in Turkey."

Many questions followed, but before I could get all the answers we were already at the restaurant. I felt way underdressed walking into Rodero Restaurant in my shorts and football jersey. People looking at me as we were seated, while Ali looked casual and smart in the only outfit I've ever seen in him, part from the few nude pictures he had shared. Kaki linen pants and white shirt. Contrasting so well with his tanned skin. He could tell I was a little uncomfortable.

"Don't feel so shy, you are the most beautiful woman here." He smiled.

"Easy for you to say, you are not looking like a crazy football fan dining in a fancy restaurant."

He called over the waiter and whispered something in his ear.

"Off course Mr. Koç," he said and disappeared.

A few minutes later a waitress came with a bottle of Dom Perignon. Serving me a glass before filling Ali's. He said something in Spanish to her causing a little laugh from her and she answered him back. I should have paid more attention in high school when I had Spanish. He touched her arm briefly and she gave another smile. I could feel myself get a little jealous and started to think why. It was one of the few moments I remembered myself he was a married man, and not mine at all. It was just some fun and games.

"You seem to be well favoured by the ladies. I bet your wife has no trouble collecting some criminating pictures to get her ways," I snared at him a little.

"A little flirting with the ladies or sharing a dinner with a sexy young woman like yourself is hardly going to give her much leeway compared to what I've got on her," he replied calmly. "I've never hidden anything from you and I don't think you have anything to get jealous about."

He was right of course, though I did not want to admit it. We knew both what this weekend was about and it would be hypocrite of me to judge him on his behaviour, while I enjoyed the same if it was in my own favour. It was the last time I was going to worry about it and was going to enjoy myself no matter what would happen.

"Me jealous," I laughed in disbelieve. "Just don't think you can win me over as easy as most girls. I don't roll over and suck up just for one fancy expensive dinner and showing off your wealth."

"Not for sale hey?" Ali smiled. "Good, I was not planning to spend any money... And if the game goes well, I don't have to. You changed the stakes yourself remember? All or nothing."

He was smooth and confident on the line of arrogant and I was loving it. We laughed and chatted under the pleasure of the fresh champagne while we waited for our meal. A few minutes later the male waiter came back and whispered something to Ali. He excused himself shortly after going to the men's room and 5 minutes later he surprised me walking back to the table in the team outfit of the Pamplona football team.

"So, now you don't have to feel out of place and everyone can see we are here for the match," he said while sitting back down.

Oysters were served and our glasses filled. Ali told me he ordered the Menu Para Degustar. Spanish love their tapas, this was a little like that. Eight small courses with delicious delicatessen. The different tastes were amazing and Ali had me eating out of his hand. Literally, he fed me the next plate to try, making sure my eyes were closed and I had to tell him all the tastes I experienced. The champagne was flowing and the next course it was me who got him to close his eyes. Most entertaining, some spilled on the side of his lip, which allowed me to wipe it off with my finger followed by licking it clean seductively.

"If you keep me teasing with those gorgeous lips, I might claim my prize before the game is over," Ali told me as I looked into his deep brown eyes.

I was playing my own game, teasing him. The bottle of bubbly was finished by the time the dessert was served. It was Ali who was feeding me the first spoon. Purposely I let some of the delicious vanilla cream drip on my chin. Afterwards I collected it with my finger and sucked t clean again.

"Are you always causing your women to spill the good stuff?" I teased.

"Only the ones who don't mind to get messy." He countered and I knew my match.

The time flew by and I was warming up nicely for the game and what was on the horizon afterwards. The odds were on my side, but even if I would lose, after getting to know Ali a little bit better, I would not mind being his prize, neither would I mind to get messy. I kept that little secret to myself and see how the game would play, allowing me to continue to tease him. Even the fact he was a little over friendly and touchy with the waitress did not matter to me anymore. Ali was a man who loved to play and I was getting to feel very excited by being his main contender.

I don't even believe he paid on the spot, probably his entourage of drivers had taken care of that already. One of them came to collect us at our table, reminding us it was time to go to the stadium to see the match. The drive was only 10 minutes in the back of the comfortable Land Rover. Ali leant in closer to me and his hand was caressing my thigh.

Looking at me he asked, "Are you sure I can't get a kiss before the match for good luck?"

"Imagine you would then win," I replied. "Then I would owe it to myself for giving you a good luck charm."

"But I can give you some luck back in return." His hands sliding up to my cut off shorts, squeezing my flesh gently.

"Now what fun would that be, if we give all the goodies away before the game is played?" Our faces close to each other, I let him carry on.

"Just a sample to ensure my bet will be worth it." I feel his thumb now press against the crotch of my jeans.

"Too late to pull out now," I whisper, with my lips now close to his ears. My hand had found its way up to his own thigh and I squeezed his hard bulge that was pretraining under his shorts. "This will be mine soon and you will have to wait and see if it was worth it."

The cars stopped and his body guards escorted us to the VIP lounge of the stadium. We were stopped at the entrance. Some security guards addressed Ali in Spanish.

"Are you trying to say that as VIP ticket holder we cannot enter the lounge wearing the jerseys of the team we come to support?" He snared back at the poor guy.

He turned to our driver and spoke in Turkish. It was clear he was a little pissed off. The driver got on his phone while Ali came to me.

"Sorry about this dear, it seems they have a dress code for the lounge."

"We don't need to be in the lounge, we can go to our seats straight away if you want." I assured him.

But he was not having it. A matter of principals he said. A football stadium that does not allow supporters inside wearing their team jerseys. His driver came back, said something else in Turkish. Ali was swearing and he was clearly upset.

"Remind me next time to buy the stadium before going to a match," he snapped.

I was not sure if he was joking or not, but we turned back on ourselves and went back to the main entrance of the stadium where we were kindly seated at the front row VIP seats, right behind the players benches. Ali got his phone and was talking pretty angry to whoever was on the other end. Though I could not understand the language, it was clear he was pissed off and was meaning business.

He hung up the phone and turned to me, "No more bad surprises, win or lose, whatever you need tell me, I'll make it happen."

I was feeling a bit sorry for him, his plans turned into soup because I had chosen to put on a Gironde Jersey and he had even made the effort to get one of the Pamplona team to wear himself at the very last minute.

Leaning into him I gave him a big wet kiss on his cheek, "Here, your good luck charm, that nothing else might ruin your day."

He excused him for getting mad and smiled at me. "Let's get this game started."

The players were on the field warming up and the stadium was filling up. A hostess for the VIP area arranged for some more champagne. No Dom Perignon, but no cheap stuff either. We toasted on the winner. Ali gave me one last chance to pull back out, no harm done. After the kick-off it will be all down to whoever wins, no turning back for me if it was going to be him that won.

"Neither can you and I know how much worth you are now, I can come out of this loaded." I joked.

"If it was my money you were after, I don't think we would have been sitting here."

He was right, I never cared about money. I was happy making my own. A young flight attendant, getting payed to discover the world and everything it had to offer. Like Ali, soon to be my plaything for 48 hours. Or so I thought... The match was nail biting. Pamplona was going strong and had some good chances that had me sitting on the edge of my seat and got me well excited. The same for Ali. Completing going up in the game, I think he totally forgot about the bet. The score, 0-0 at half time. We both could not believe it. We talked about the missed chances, how clearly his team should have been ahead. Bordeaux had maybe one or two real shots and got a yellow card. It was difficult for me to show confidence that I was still betting on the winning team.

The second half started the same. My team got a bit more into the game and had more chances on goal than Pamplona, but none of them were converted into a score. You cannot imagine how much my heart was racing by this time and how the heat was surging to my loins. Pamplona also had a few shots on target, but when the whistle blew after another very tight 45 minutes, the score was still 0-0.

"What happens now?" I asked. "Neither of us thought this would be a draw."

"That is true," Ali replied with that smirky confident smile. "That is because this game cannot end in a draw. They will have a prolongation of twice 15 minutes."

"And if it stays 0-0?"

"The match will be decided by penalties than."

The next 15 minutes were full of tension and excitement. I found myself grabbing hold of Ali whenever one of the teams had a small chance. But no change in the score. Ali must have felt how tense I was getting and besides the rooting for his team, he stayed ever so cool. The final 15 minutes were the same. My team hanging on to a thread of hope as Pamplona pressed hard and went deep. On the final minute the curtain fell for me, as Pamplona scored. 1-0. Even with 2 minutes extra time, Bordeaux knew they were defeated and there was no chance for me to get out of this. Ali knew as well.

He turned to me and said, "I guess I will finally get my reward. How about that kiss?"

Before the final whistle blew, he had me in his arms, and his lips were pressed on mine. Like the Girondins, I submitted to my defeat. My lips parted and I surrendered to his embrace, allowing our tongues to mingle for the very first time, but certainly not the last. The local crowd was cheering and even though I lost, I was in the same sense ecstasy. Pressed close to my contender I could feel his excitement as well.

Even though I was his prize, this was just part of our own game. A bet, the tease, the surrender, even though we both would fully submit to one another without question. Secret lovers, meeting in a foreign town. Going up in the euphoria of a soccer match. With his arm around me and resting on the top of my bum, Ali suggested to go in town to celebrate. We drove back to the old town. On the way he made his first claim to me. The kiss was an offer I had made even before the match, so that did not count.

"You are wearing a bra, aren't you?" He asked.

I nodded and he told me he adores a woman dressing in sexy lingerie, but only when he can look at it. Covered up under a football jersey he much more preferred if my breasts were liberated from their constraints. Even his way of asking me to remove my bra was done in a courteous manner.

"Can you remove them without taking off your shirt, or should I turn the other way?"

Being the tease, I turned my back to him. Lifted up just the back of the Jersey and asked, "Why don't you help me get undone?"

I felt his strong hands on my bare back. Like I had felt them on my thigh, warm and a little rough. His fingers lifting the lace strap pulling them tighter to undo the little clasps. Turning back to face him, I pulled first shoulder strap through the sleeve of the jersey so I could pull it from my arm and then followed by the other side. Reaching underneath I pulled the sheer garment from my shirt.

"Can I have the first piece of my prize?" He said, holding out his hand.

After I dropped the delicate garment in his hand, he held it back up, looking at me through the lace with a smile he said, "I love your taste, it would be a pleasure seeing you wearing this some other time."

Then he placed it beside him and reached out to me with his hands, cupping my voluptuous mounts and giving them a gentle squeeze. "And doesn't this feel so much better like this?" His finger grazing across my rapidly hardening nipples. The past months I had already let myself get swept along with his game and found myself melting under his touch. I leant in closer and our lips found each other again. My embrace tender, curious, passionate. Our tongues exploring, my teeth biting gently on his lower lip as I finally pulled back. His hands still on my chest, mulling their softness in his hands. But in a small town like this, the ride into town was short and soon we were driving down the street in the middle of a partying crowd.

"Let's get out here, there will be plenty of time later to enjoy my prize," he said pinching my hard nipples between his fingers.

Part of me was wishing he would take me back to the hotel suite and make his claim. My longing to feel all of him was strong, but the other part was feeling excited to be out among the people. Flirting, teasing, building up the anticipation of what was to come even more. Something that Ali seemed to enjoy ever so much.

My hand on his shorts and pressing on his manhood, I gave it a squeeze, "Are you sure this bad boy can stand the wait?" I teased, purposely licking my lips. "I'm sure he would love to find out what these lips can do."

With that I opened the door and got out of the car. His entourage of guards reacted quickly and were beside me when Ali followed out as well. The three Land Rovers were soon out of side, while Ali and me walked along the ancient streets of Pamplona with a very cheerful and partying group of football fans. These are the same people that run through these streets with the famous bull run during the Sanfermines festival. Lively people, passionate and very warm. Men all around us, cheering and looking at me. Probably the only person in a Girondins outfit. They lifted their finger, yelling the score. Some embraced me. First one of Ali's guards that were always surrounding us, pushed him away, but Ali told him to relax. We started dancing in the street. From someone we were handed a large plastic cup of sangria and we celebrated among the locals. Ali close to me, and so were others. Hands rubbed my thighs, touched my bum and my sensitive breasts kept brushing past the arms, backs or chests of men.

A dark Spanish lady had spotted me and soon we were dancing together with a group of men surrounding us. Cheering, yelling... She loved it as much as I did. She was petite and was wearing a short t-shirt that fell just over her breasts. She loved the attention and started to sway her hips and move her hands along her side. Facing part of her shirt lifted and I spotted her dark hard nipples that pointed out from her small pear-shaped breasts. From the cheers I was sure some of the men had spotted it as well. Again, a little longer. This time she turned to the crowd and loud whistles came from the crowd. She turned back to me and came close, her arms around me, one leg between mine, scissored together our hips moved. Much smaller than me, I felt how her crotch was grinding on my thigh. She said something in Spanish in my ear, and I had no idea what it meant. Before I knew it, her lips had moved to mine and her tongue probed in between them.

More cheers from the crowd. I could make out Ali, the one person rooting us on in English.

"Off..!" I heard him yel. The Spanish girl looked to the side, pulling on my Girondins jersey, the men going crazy, yelling something in Spanish as well, over and over again.

"Off... Off." I heard Ali again.

The girl lifted my jersey slowly, which had the men going crazy. Slowly spinning around, I noticed at least 6 of Ali's guard close by and Ali was there at the front. There was a guy who had taken his phone out and started filming, but his phone was snapped away from him by one of the guards and smashed onto the ground. The girl lifted my shirt up higher and I did not resist. Soon my own flesh would be uncovered to this wild town. Higher she went, the last remains of fabric scraping past my erect nipples before they were out in the open air. She made me lift my arms and lean forward a bit to remove my treasured jersey. Chucking it far into the crowd as it came off all the way.