The Game Ch. 12

Chapter 12: Sex, Love, and Money

I look back on it and think how interesting it is that certain small minor events in life, a traffic light is green instead of red or a decision to stop and admire a dress in the window of a store, can have profound effects on life's outcomes. I believe there is a principle in science called 'The Butterfly Effect' where a small change in air pressure in China (the flapping of a butterflies wings) ends up setting in motion a chain of events that end up causing a hurricane in the Atlantic ocean.

It was almost a year now since Ron and I had started playing our little game of fantasy exchange and in many ways I had fundamentally changed as a person. I sometimes wondered if that day in his house alone, I would not have looked in that shoe box. Where would we be now? Would we even be together?

I guess I will never know, but the fact is, I did look and we are so wonderfully together.

I was sitting at my cubicle at work organizing my calendar when a chain of events began to fulfill a sexual fantasy that I had sent to Ron weeks before. It started with a phone call.

My phone rang and I was in the middle of work and for a brief instant I considered letting it go to voicemail, but then I was also waiting to talk to my boss about a project I had started for her.

"Hello, this is Sara." I answered.

"Hi you." Ron's voice said in a relaxed tone.

I smiled in spite of myself, and all thoughts of work left me. I had not talked to him since I had slept over at his house the previous weekend.

"Hey I wondered if you were going to ever call me, or if you were just using me last weekend.", I said teasingly.

Ron laughed and said, "Well you fuck pretty good so I thought you deserved at least another date."

I laughed and knew he must be working from home. I could not banter with him in my cubicle environment so I changed the subject.

"Yeah Yeah, I am a woman of many talents. So how are you?"

"Good." He replied. "Great in fact. If you are free, I think you should be at the Hilton after work. There is someone who would like to meet you."

"Really who?" I asked intrigued now.

"Just check your in box." He said with a giggle and hung up.

I held the dead receiver in my hand with white knuckles and my heart raced. Was tonight the night? Holy shit it's a fucking Tuesday and it's only been a week since we decided to continue the game.

I thought about the implications and the short notice and my stomach was a molten core of nerves. A thin sheen of sweat coated my upper lip, but my nipples were suddenly hard as pebbles. Jesus my fantasy was tonight? That was too fast. How could he have set it up? What had he set up?

I stood there transfixed with the receiver held to my ear. Slowly I put it down its cradle and glanced guiltily around feeling like my co-workers would somehow know something dirty was going through my mind.

Obviously that was my overactive imagination as everyone in the office was working as usual. No one stared at me with penetrating, knowing eyes seeing what fantasies played on the movie screen of my mind.

I smiled to myself enjoying the moment as if I was holding a secret that they would be shocked to know. It was an arousing feeling to live this life of fantasy within the context of my normal life and no one knew. I sometimes imagined what Shiela my cubical neighbor would say if she knew of the things I had done. She would probably transfer to another department.

I sat down in my chair savoring the feeling and adrenaline rush of a secret about to be revealed. I opened my private web mail (that I hoped really was private) and typed in my username and password. I glanced around nervously to make sure no one was watching and clicked the sign in button.

The screen blinked and I was surprised. "No New Messages" was prominently displayed. I knew Ron would never send me a provocative email to my work account, but I checked it just the same. I leaned back nervously in my chair wondering if the internet was running slow today. I forced myself to wait a full two minutes before clicking the refresh button on my browser. Still there was nothing.

I took a deep breath, confused and unsure of what to do. Ron had told me to check my in box. I considered calling him back, but he had hung up on me suggesting that was all the information I needed.

I glanced around the office once more to make sure I was not being scrutinized and pondered what to do. Then my skin went cold and butterflies rolled hard within my stomach. 'Oh my God,' I thought as realization hit me. But he would never have done that. Would he? I am sure I must have gone pale even thinking the thoughts I was thinking.

Nervously I stood up and started walking down the hall. It took all of my self control not to run. Jesus was he insane?

I turned the corner and ran into my boss. She was a classy lady in her mid 40's with an amazing figure that was whispered about by her male colleagues. She dressed impeccably and most impressively she was genius smart. She was hard to work for because she was so driven, but she was also fair and was frighteningly loyal to her teams.

I loved her.

"Sara are you alright?", she asked as I nearly bowled her over coming around the corner. "You look a little put out."

I tried to smile, but I was nervous. "Er... fine. Sorry." I stammered not knowing what else to say.

She took my hand and made me stand still. "Really now is everything ok?" Her eyes bore into me and I was sure I looked guilty. One of her many talents was being able to see into people and understand them.

"Yeah really everything is fine, I just er forgot something I need to do."

She appraised me and said, "Well if everything is fine, I wanted to tell you I thought you did a great job on that report the other day. I would like to discuss it with you in my office later. Stop by before you leave for the day."

I nodded and tried to look calm as I walked away from her briskly. I could feel her eyes on my back.

As soon as I rounded the outside of the cubicle farm I pushed open a side door and raced down a deserted office corridor. On the far wall was another room that I rarely visited and pushed my way into. Inside was the mail room with an office in back where clerks sorted and delivered mail to a public row of open boxes each with a name labeled on the front.

No one was in the mail room except one of the late afternoon clerks who was busy photocopying ad copy for a client under the glow of fluorescent lights. I smiled at him tentatively and he nodded. I walked to the third column of make shift mail boxes and found my last name.

I peered tentatively in the box expecting something. It was empty.

I breathed a sigh that was both filled with relief and confusion. I should have known Ron would never send something from our "Game" to my work place even if it was sealed. These mail boxes were not secure and anyone that worked for the company could see or even take the contents of any mail box. It was ironic that the company had recently installed post 9-11 metal detectors and cameras on every floor of the building, but failed to invest in 10 dollar locks for something as sensitive as mail could be.

I must have breathed my sigh of relief out loud as the mail guy turned to me and asked, "Are you okay?"

I turned and noticed him for the first time. He was a young man (almost boyish) and I could tell from his bright orange badge that he was one of our interns from the local college for the year. They called them 'pledge' badges because the bright orange marked them as interns that were only here for a semester. They were universally hated by the college kids. This one was stamped with the name "Gary" in black block letters.

Gary was a handsome young man in his early 20's at my guess but was awkward and uncomfortable in the way that we are when we are out in the world and not yet experienced enough to know how to handle it. I smiled at him and also at myself and said, "Yes. I'm sorry I thought I had forgotten a package."

Gary smiled back and said, "Oh well we don't generally put packages out there, not that we get many. The packages are kept in the closet in the supply room."

I nodded never knowing the intricate inner workings of the mail room, and must have appeared either interested or stupid because Gary seemed to brighten at the idea of teaching me what he did every day.

"You see," he began, "if we get a package we mark it as received with a date stamp and then tag it with a blue card that has identical numbers on both ends. We then tear the ticket in half and put half of the tag in the mail box of the person the package is for. It's kind of like how they do baggage claim at the airport."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do. Was I really listening to a college kid tell me about mail? I was, but was so dumbfounded by the conversation I just listened.

"So, if you have a blue tag you have a package." Gary concluded.

I nodded again as he came toward me. "Are you sure you are alright?" he asked.

"Fine." I said and then Gary was at my side.

He looked into my mail box which was about two inches above my sight line. He smiled and said, "Looks like you're gonna fuck, after all." As he pulled a blue tag out of the back of my mailbox that I had overlooked.

"WHAT did you say?" I asked him with both panic and anger in my voice.

Gary looked at me, confused and afraid. He stammered, "I said it looks like you are in luck after all." He blushed holding the blue tag out toward me like a peace offering.

It was my turn to blush. "I'm sorry. I just....." my voice trailed off. "Never mind. So can you get me my package?" I asked my heart racing.

"Of course." He said taking the ticket back and seeming to be happy to go back into the clerk's office and away from the crazy bitch (aka me).

He returned a minute later with a brown cardboard box that was approximately 18 inches square. He held it out and I took it from him slowly. I wasn't breathing. I held in my hands an artifact of 'The Game' and I was standing in the mail room of my office building.

I felt the world spin a bit as the reality of my fantasy world and the real world crashed together. I felt off balance the way one might feel if Daffy Duck stepped through the television set and shook your hand.

The box was real. Sara was real. The game was fantasy where Sara took the back seat and watched as her alter ego, Slutty Sara, do all the things her carnal mind imagined. But here was Sara and a possession of her alter egos.

It was out of context. I was out of context and didn't know who I was at that moment. I felt trapped between who I was and who I sometimes pretended to be. The dislocation was intoxicating and I felt both the terror and excitement as if this was that first moment we ever played this most interesting game.

I took the box from Gary. Part of me wanted to just let go, rip his clothes off, and fuck him on top of the photocopier, and part of me was terrified that I had even entertained the thought. This was not a strip club in St. Louis or a party at Ron's for God's sake. This was my work. My life. But somewhere in my mind my alter ego lingered.

As if the thought was printed on my forehead, Gary turned away from me as if suddenly self conscious. I smiled in spite of myself and turned to leave him.

Across the hall was a women's bathroom. I darted inside and thankfully was alone. I splashed cold water on my face and stared at myself in the mirror. I was Sara again albeit a little flushed. I stared at the box sitting on the vanity next to me. I felt suddenly nervous like a drug addict who realizes while in line at the airport security terminal he has forgotten to empty his overnight bag of the two ounces of coke he hid there.

What the hell was I going to do with that box? I couldn't carry it around all day, but no way was it going to be left under my desk in my cubicle. I vowed to get even with Ron for this.

I took a deep breath and picked up my box and went to the last stall. It was the handicapped stall so I had more room. I gently set the box down on the floor and stared at it for a minute.

Finally I mustered my courage and pulled the tape on the top of the box. It ripped away with a loud tearing sound that startled me in the small confines of the ladies room.

I nervously listened to make sure I was still alone before opening the flaps of cardboard. I was tingling despite myself and my nipples were rock hard. Although I was nervous and a little terrified of having my alter ego visit me at work, deep down I was also boiling with anticipation at what I might find.

My body betrayed my nerves and the familiar butterflies of nervousness gave way to tingles that dance across my nipples and clitoris. I licked my lips involuntarily and opened the box.

I stared down into bubble rap. I could not tell what the box concealed, but on the very top was a single sheet of blue paper folded in half. My name was written in familiar handwriting on the side facing me. I picked it up gently.

The sound of the door startled me. Someone had just come into the ladies room. I quickly stood and dropped my skirt and sat on the toilet as if I expected them to look below the stall doors and wonder what I was doing. I smiled to myself even as I was blushing.

I listened as two women I didn't recognize talked.

"She's such a bitch. I can't believe I have to work Saturday. I was supposed to go to the zoo with my kids." The first woman said.

"That sucks. I was planning on spending the day with my boyfriend." Woman number two commiserated.

Water began running and one of the women entered the stall next to mine.

I sat silently wondering what I should do. I held the letter in one hand and the box was at my feet. Thank god for the bubble rap. Even if they knew I was here at least there was no chance of them seeing what was in the box.

Suddenly I sneezed without warning.

The two women stopped talking immediately, obviously they thought they were alone.

"Hello? Is someone else in here?" one of them called nervously wondering who had overheard their conversation.

"Hello." I said. "Just Sara."

The sigh of relief was audible. They had no idea who I was.

"Sorry, just thought we were alone." a voice called from the stall next door.

"No problem." I said, wondering who in the hell would talk to some stranger on a toilet.

I reached for the toilet paper roll to blow my nose when it happened. The paper I held dropped from my fingers and fluttered toward the floor. My heard stopped and I grabbed for it losing my balance and nearly falling off my seat. I watched in horror as the blue paper fluttered one last time and then managed to slide under the wall and into the adjacent bathroom stall.

"What's this?" the woman asked.

My heart was pounding and my face flushed. "Sorry," I said trying not to let the edge in my voice show. "That was in my pocket and it fell."

Silence followed for what felt like a year and then finally a hand appeared under my stall wall. "Okay well here you go." The voice said.

I looked down and saw the familiar blue paper held between two slender fingers with red nail polish. I snatched the paper from the hand and said, "Thanks."

I clutched the paper to my chest willing my heart to slow down.

I dared not move. I had almost paid a horrible price for this game. What was I thinking? I should never have opened the box.

Two minutes later the women exited the restroom and left me alone, heart pounding sitting on a toilet clutching a now crumpled piece of blue paper to my chest. It was unfathomable to me that another person outside of my fantasy life had actually touched an artifact of the game.

I kept picturing those slender fingers holding the paper casually between the finger tips, but in the reply in my mind at the last second they snatch the paper way from me. Before I can do anything I hear the woman say, "Oh my God." And then hurry from the bathroom. I imagine how fast that memo would travel throughout the office and wonder what hell I would endure knowing that my co-workers would see me everyday and think, "Slut" or "Whore".

I would have to quit.

But that scenario only happened in my mind. Even still, my face flushed and heart beat wildly at the thought. What was I doing? I asked myself for the millionth time since I had met Ron.

But under it all, if I am honest, there was something more. My face was not the only thing that seemed to flush. My nipples were like diamonds inside my bra even now and I found myself squeezing the muscles of my pussy involuntarily. When I became consciously aware of these responses I flushed again.

After waiting a full two minutes, I opened the box again, slowly as if expecting a jack in the box to come springing out of it.

I intended to replace the note and reseal the box until I could find a more appropriate place to unpack it and digest its contents and implications in private.

Instead, spontaneously, as if possessed by another woman, I pulled out the bubble wrap and peered inside.

At the bottom of the box lay a pair of black high heal shoes, a black mini-skirt, a conservative white blouse, a make up kit, pantyhose, black thong underwear, an electronic hotel key with the number 801 written on it, and a bottle of lubricant.

My mouth was dry as I opened the note and read:

Sara --

I think I understand this fantasy of yours. If I am right it is about risk and submission. Your words said, "I want to be a hooker for a night", and I must admit, I wondered, 'why?'. Hookers fuck for money, but I don't think that is why you want this.

I think you want to be 'used' for pleasure to explore what men want and if you can provide it. I think you want to fuck someone who you do not know or care about or who does not know or care about you. I think you want to see if you can please a man and explore pleasure yourself on a purely sexual and transactional level. I also think you like the risk involved, but I will not put you in physical jeopardy for a fantasy.

I have arranged for your fantasy to come true, but to make it more real it will not be without risk. Your 'client' is a man named Robert. He is a business associate of mine from Europe. Your ability to please him will have a direct affect on my ability to work with him in the future, so the risk you are taking is mine. He is a significant client to me, and he is also a pervert who loves hookers. I know he would not harm you, but he will expect quality service and I have assured him I have arranged a 'date he will never forget'.

So you get to be his 'trick'. He will pay you $1000.00 for two hours of your time. He is in room 1099 and is expecting you at 7pm. Good luck, and I look forward to hearing about your fantasy tonight over drinks when you finish with Robert. Come to my house at 11:00.

Love Ron.

I was stunned. I sat in the stall of the women's room reeling. My stomach was in knots. Was he crazy? Making me a real hooker for something that could cost him his business God knew how much money.

Jesus.

Could I do this? For the first time in the game I felt trapped. I mean the Hilton was only across the street. What if someone I knew was there? But I couldn't really get out of this now. It was my fantasy after all, and Ron did have something to lose. Fuck.

I checked my watch. It was 4:41 pm. Good God, less than 3 hours.

I took a deep breath and examined the contents of the box more closely. The clothes were expensive and well made, but they were not conservative. The skirt was a little too short and the blouse a little too tight. I imagined walking through the hotel lobby. My outfit alone screamed 'call girl', and of course, that was the role I was playing.