tagErotic CouplingsWorld Series Wager

World Series Wager


Lacey is as cock-sure and aggressive as any regional vice president (RVP) in the company. We both signed on ten years ago and competed our way up the ranks to RVPs. She is at the helm in Denver, the company's fastest growing and most competitive region in the nation. She regularly boasts of their success and her leadership. It wouldn't be so tough to take if it wasn't true. I handle the company's New England region.

Lacey is as beautiful as she is competitive. She stands 5'6" with shoulder length brunette hair. She has large bright blue eyes and a killer smile. I am convinced her smile alone has sealed millions in deals. She has round 36 Cs and a firm tight ass. She is focused and disciplined, especially in business and personal fitness. She always dresses sharp and professionally with a subtle sexy touch.

Our two-day quarterly RVP meetings encourage mutual commitment to the firm's success while regional divisions compete with one another for performance. Friendly banter flows freely in this competitive corporate culture. Positional jockeying has been part of my experience with Lacey from the beginning, which has helped push both of us. We've had moments of sexual tension over the years, but nothing ever acted on. Lacey always stays single and single-focused on her winner-take-all corporate success attitude. Relationships get in the way of her commitment to win.

This year's Fall quarterly RVP meeting took place the end of the second week of October in Cleveland. The city was in a frenzy with the Indians in the American League playoffs. Lacey and I grabbed dinner at a sports bar around the corner from our Midwest offices after the first day of meetings. We had some business to work through before the meetings reconvened in the morning. The tavern was a convenient place to get the work done while beginning to wind down after a full day of travel and meetings. We finished the work and three tall beers for each of us within an hour. We both began to relax.

"You like baseball?" I asked.

"I am an avid Rockies fan," she answered with zeal. "Our regional office has season tickets eleven rows behind home plate."

"Wow, that's impressive. You are a fan."

"I wonder which AL team will lose to the Rockies in the World Series?" she asked playfully. "The Sox or the Indians?"

"Lose to the Rockies in the World Series?" I asked with shock in my voice. She could tell she touched a nerve. "The fact they are in the playoffs is a fluke," I shot back. "The Sox are going to beat the Indians and clean the Rockies clock."

"How can you call 20 out of 21 games a fluke? The Rockies are on an unbeatable roll," she argued confidently.

"Luck," I answered.

"I suppose it was luck when they beat the Sox two out of three at Fenway in June," she argued impressively. She smiled proudly at this new round of bantering as she sipped her fourth beer. She could tell my competitive juices were beginning to boil.

"That's big talk," I said with a raise of my eye-brows.

"Talk is cheap," she shot back. "Would you like to put a little regional wager where your mouth is?" she asked.

"You're on," I answered with a confident smile. "This will be fun. What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know," she said thinking. "Something more expensive and fun than money."

"Sounds interesting." My mind began to race.

"How about, whoever loses flies in to grovel at my feet and do my bidding for a day," she suggested with continued confidence.

"Cute," I said, "but be careful what you wager. You are writing your own blank check to hand me."

"You in or just talking?" she asked in her characteristic competitive way of closing a deal.

"I'm all in," I said with equal inebriated confidence.

"Let's ink this then," she said. "I want it in writing so you don't back out when the Sox get swept back to Bean Town." She took out a notepad and began writing. "If the Rockies win, you will commit to willingly do anything I ask for a consecutive period of 24 hours."

"Sounds good," I said. I took out a pen and notepad. "I'll write your side of the agreement as we go along here."

"That won't be necessary," she said with a smile. "But, suit yourself."

I began writing.

"Now," she said processing out loud, "I think it is only fitting that you fulfill this wearing a Rockies jersey."

"I don't have one, and don't plan on getting one," I chided back.

"I'll gladly provide the apparel," she answered as she began writing.

"So, what kinds of things do you have in mind for me to do if you do win? I asked.

"Getting a little worried, are you? I can understand that," she continued to tease.

"I just know you," I said, playing to her ego and confidence.

"Good," she said. "Why put a limit on it then?" she asked. "I'll enjoy letting my imagination have a hey-day on you. I have quarterly reports, floors to mop and all kinds of work I just hate to do this time of year."

"So, professional work-related expectations," I asked, suggesting other alternatives by what I didn't say.

Lacey raised eye brow and twinkle in her eye showed she didn't miss the subtle suggestion. She sat up, adjusted the way she was sitting by uncrossing her legs and re-crossing them the other way. She took another sip of her beer. With a sultry smile she said "I don't see a need to put a limit on our agreement, other than time and law. No loopholes for you," she said as she began writing again.

"Very good," I said.

"Now, I can imagine you trying to put this off and dragging payment out over several months."

"Me?" I asked playfully. "Sooner the better," I answered. "How about payment happens within a week of the final series game being played?"

"Deal," she answered, "beginning at the time the winner chooses."

"Sounds good," I said. "Put it in ink." The energy and competitive tension grew with the addition of each stipulation.

"All we need is a binding clause, and we are done" she said. She looked up with a smile, "not that you aren't good for your word."

"Name it," I said. "This is going to be fun."

"Let's make it count," she said with excitement in her voice. "You will pay fifty thousand dollars if you renege or unsatisfactorily complete what is asked of you."

"At the discretion of the winner," I added.

"That's our commitment to customer satisfaction! " she said as she finished writing the agreement. "You sure you want to subject yourself to this?" she asked sliding the paper across the table for me to sign. "You will pay dearly, slowly and memorably" she added confidently.

"Hmmm," I pondered. "That's true. I'm not really a betting man," I answered.

Lacey looked up surprised that I might back out.

"But then again," I added, "this isn't a bet. It's a sure thing." I slid her agreement in front of her to sign. She instinctively read hers carefully:

In the event of the Boston Red Sox winning the 2007 World Series, I hereby commit to willingly do anything asked of me by the holder of this contract, for a consecutive period of 24 (twenty four) hours. I will do so only wearing Red Sox apparel provided to me by the winner. There are no limits to the satisfaction of this wager except for the time of 24 hours and what is provided by law. I will satisfy this debt at the time selected for me, which must take place within one week of the final game of the series. I willingly agree to pay $50,000 immediately in the event I cancel or inadequately fulfill of any part of this agreement, at the discretion of its holder.

We signed our agreements simultaneously and slid them back to the other. Lacey lit up a smile like someone who just hit a game winning home run. "I have never loved my Rockies more," she said. "This is going to be the most enjoyable deal I've made all year," she added with a competitive tone.

"Memorable too," I shot back with a smile.

In the days that followed, Boston finished sweeping the Cleveland Indians to win the AL Championship and their place in the World Series for the second time in four years. The following Wednesday, the World Series and my wager with Lacey were underway.

Game One was an embarrassing moral victory for Boston and me, defeating the Rockies 13 to one. I couldn't help calling Lacey to express my condolences and offer her a gracious exit from our wager.

"This is only game one," she said retaining her confidence. "That's why they call it a series," she added. "Beckett is out of the way and the Rockies are going to bring it," she assured. "There is no way I am losing or you are going to back out now Beantown boy." Her animated voice was followed by a click and dial tone.

I got online and found a nice small women's thong with the legendary Boston Red Sox logo on the front. It wasn't official MLB gear, but it qualified nicely as Red Sox apparel. Overnight shipping was a small price to pay at the thought of seeing them on Lacey.

Game two of the series in Boston was much closer. It was an important game for the Rockies and Lacey. Both were disappointed. The Red Sox took the game two to one. Lacey didn't wait for me to call.

"OK, so you are up by two. If you think it's over, you are wrong," she said. "This is what the Rockies do. They come back and win." Her voice didn't have the confidence of our previous conversations.

"If you say so, Lacey."

"The Rockies don't lose at home," she shot back. "Everything will change when things resume here tomorrow."

"You know what I am beginning to think?" I asked. "While the Rockies swept their way into the series, they are going to be swept out of it."

"Dream on!" she answered angrily.

"I tell you what. How about I fly into Denver on Sunday? It would be my treat to take you out to dinner any place you like. I will pay you face value for the second season ticket. We can watch the game together. What do you think?"

"I don't know," she hesitated.

"Hey, I thought they can't lose at home and you would want to have me sitting there to watch them beat Boston -- unless you don't think..."

"You are on," she said.

"Great," I said. "Pick me up at the Oxford Hotel downtown at 4:30."

"That's the nicest in Denver. You already have a hotel?"

"And flight," I added. "See you Sunday."

She heard a click and dial tone.

Saturday evening couldn't come fast enough for Lacey. The team travel day felt excruciating long. She was eager to watch the Rockies turn the series around. The city of Denver was lit up and more alive than it had been since the Broncos were in the Super Bowl. "I can feel it," she said to herself as she took her seat behind home plate. Her sentiment was echoed by fifty thousand fans inside and outside the stadium that cool brisk evening. Feelings can be deceiving. Boston got out ahead quickly. The Rockies rallied back to within one with a six to five score. Boston answered in the eighth and ninth innings, with no response from the Rockies. The Red Sox won game three easily ten to five, and had the first three games of the series.

I checked into my top floor suite on the south side of the hotel by 1:00 Sunday afternoon. The room had a great view of the stadium. The downtown streets were already alive with activity. Lacey pulled up to the hotel promptly at 4:30 and had the valet take her car. She tried to muster some false confidence to mask her discouragement. She wore a Rockies jersey, jeans, tennis shoes and a Rockies cap with her hair pulled through the back. She carried a black leather jacket in her hand.

"Let's walk from here," she said. She led me to a nice restaurant a block away specializing in steaks and seafood. I enjoyed a cup of Boston clam chowder and Atlantic salmon. She chose filet mignon.

"The Rockies are going to win tonight," she tried to say convincingly.

"I heard an interesting statistic today," I answered. "No one has ever come back to win the series after losing the first three." I took another sip of the thick chowder.

"Some stupid media guy said that to the Rockies manager," she answered. "He told him this is ground breaking time then."

"For all of us," I answered with a smile.

Our dinner conversation moved pleasantly from topics of work, to baseball, to learning more our personal lives. We walked from dinner, through the crowds at the stadium and to our seats.

"These are nice," I complemented.

"All the better to watch the Rockies win," she said. We ordered beers and some peanuts as the festivities got underway. It was another low scoring game filled with suspense, particularly in the final innings. A few moments of intensity caused Lacey to inadvertently take hold of my arm and squeeze in anticipation. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said the first time. "I got all caught up in the game."

"Totally OK," I said. "This is going to be a close one.

We watched the game with mutual interest and intensity. So much was riding on this game for the team, for the city, and for Lacey. We refilled our beers every other inning and enjoyed the spectacle of the evening. Even so, Lacey couldn't believe what was happening before her eyes. The last pitch was thrown and the Boston Red Sox were crowned the world champions for the second time in four years with a four to three victory and series sweep of Lacey's Colorado Rockies.

Lacey whipped her head around to look at me. "Oh my God," she said in disbelief. "I never saw this coming."

"I've thought about this for ten years," I said smiling.

Lacey was shocked.

"So, what's the deal?" she asked to understand what will be required to fulfill her end of the bargain.

"You know the deal," I answered.

"What do I do and when do I start?" she asked with some eagerness to satisfy the arrangement.

"When we get back to the hotel," I said with a soft confidence.

Her eyes revealed her mind's realization of what this wager and night would entail. "Oh God," she said. I took a small box out of my pocket and held it up in front of her. "What's this?" she asked.

"You promised to wear nothing but Boston Red Sox apparel." I paused. "This is it."

She opened the small box with the tiny thong neatly folded. The Boston Red Sox logo stared up at her from inside. "Oh God," she repeated, closing the box quickly before anyone else could see. A flood of thoughts and options raced through her mind. "OK," she said with new resolve. "I am good for my word. Very good," she added with a smile. "The Rockies may not have won this series, but I will rock your world," she said eager to take control. "You won, and you will know you won when you are through with me."

I felt myself begin to harden at her resolve. We left our seats to make our way out of the stadium and toward the hotel. "Can I interest you in a martini?" I asked as we walked into the Oxford.

"Sure," she said, "I could use one. The Oxford's martini bar is the best in the city."


"If you'll excuse me, I am going to duck into the ladies room," she added.

"Can I order you anything?"

I'll start with the Continental," she said. When she returned, her Continental was waiting for her. She slid into the side of the booth where I was sitting and placed a ball of soft material in my hand. "I've replaced this and won't need it any more," she said. "It's pretty wet from anticipation and thought you might like it as a souvenir." She leaned close and gave me a kiss on my cheek. "I am wearing the Boston colors now," she whispered. "For the next 24 hours."

My dick grew hard at her initiative.

"I see that agrees with you. For a Boston fan you are giving new meaning to Rocktober." She poured the rest of her martini down her throat.

"Can I interest you in another one?" the waitress asked, alert to the glass being drained.

"Sure," Lacey asked.

"One more for each of us, please," I added. "We'll take them with us. You can put it on my room tab."

I retrieved the key from the desk and we stepped into the elevator. Lacey reached over and took my hand as the doors closed and we began our ascent to all the next 24 hours would bring. Anticipation filled the small space. The chime of the elevator signaled the doors opening to the elegant corridor. We walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door to the luxurious corner suite. Soft jazz music filled the room. The shades of the large windows in the bedroom were wide open with a gorgeous view of the full moon, city skyline and the stadium a few blocks away.

"How fitting," she said admiring the room with the ballpark lights in the distance. She finished her martini and set the glass on the table.

She looked playfully beautiful and stunningly sexy standing near the window in her oversized Rockies jersey. She turned to see me admiring the view.

"I think its time I get out of this Rockies gear and down to that sexy Sox apparel you gave me." Lacey smiled as she instinctively began to move her body to the music. She glided around the room seductively unbuttoning one button on her jersey at a time. She dropped the jersey off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms to the floor. Her breasts were restrained by a sheer lacy bra and were more round and beautiful than I had imagined. She pressed the back of her body against me, continuing to move to the music and allowing her ass to do its work against my throbbing hard dick. As she moved, she slowly unbuttoned her 501s. I reached around her body and began to massage her tits in my hands. They begged for release. I reached over and unhooked the front clasp to her bra. The material flew open, liberating her firm round tits. I moved my hands across her breasts, rubbing her nipples between my fingers. Lacey began to moan as her dancing ass continued to massage my dick. I moved my hands across her tits, down her abdomen and into the front of her jeans. I pushed them down off her hips and over her ass. The denim slid down her long tan legs. She kicked off her tennis shoes and stepped out of the jeans around her ankles.

She seductively moved around the room to the sultry music and soft moonlight. Her hands massaged their way across her own body then were raised above her head. Boston Red Sox apparel never looked so good than that small wet thong on Lacey's tan fit body. She proceeded to remove my Sox jersey and pants. She began kissing my face and moved down my chest before falling on her knees. My aching dick throbbed in front of her face. She smiled and ravenously consumed my eight inches until it disappeared down her throat.

"Oh gawd." Her masterful skill caught me off guard. My knees started to buckle. She never slowed. She pumped my dick with a vengeance. "Oh gawd," I said again, "you are going to take me! Not yet." I begged.

She slowly pulled the length of my cock out of her mouth while looking up at me with her big blue eyes. She continued to suck with everything in her as her red round lips came off my dick. "I'm not stopping. I have wanted this for years," she confessed. "I'm going to drain you dry then use my 24 hours to take you again and again. I may belong to you, but you are going to belong to me before the day is out." My dick disappeared again between her luscious lips, allowing every part of her oral cavity to massage my throbbing member. My body began to buzz with imminent eruption. "Aaauuugh!" Volumes of cum exploded like a geyser down the canal of her throat. Load after load of thick white cum filled her mouth and cheeks. She swallowed every shot of the warm cream while incessantly pumping my dick dry. My juices dripped from the corners of her mouth. She pulled her mouth off and swallowed with deep satisfaction. "Mmmm, that was good," she said licking her lips. I could only respond with groans, dizzy from the assault on my member. "Only the beginning," she added.

She stood up, walked across the room, turned the light off and ascended the tall moonlit bed. She positioned herself in the middle of the large overstuffed canopied space and raised herself up on her knees. She slowly bathed the entire landscape of her tan ready body with baby oil. Her eyes closed and her voice moaned with the massage and attention she gave her already moist clit. Her nipples hardened and stood tall in response.

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