Gamers Pt. 03

She had timed it well, because there weren't enough turns left to bring her down. Vee was happy with a second-place finish. Angie and Cyn could be consoled with the thought that they had been Queen for a while. Trisha was not disappointed in the least.

- "Dean, this is a really good game." she said. "You put so much work into it."

- "Thanks." I said. "But it's not finished. I need better character cards, and maybe a rule change or two. It shouldn't be so easy to challenge the Queen to personal combat. Have to think that one over."

- "Well, I give it two thumbs up." said Jazz.

- "You would." complained Cyn. There was more than a hint there that these two weren't just rivals in the game.

- "I liked it." said Angie. "And to quote Jazz: Rematch!"

- "You did a really good job, Dean." said Vee. "This must have taken you so much time."

- "Probably not as much as you think." I admitted. "It was fun to do. I'm glad you liked it."

- "Can we play it again?" asked Angie. "Not tonight - it's getting late - but next time?"

- "I'd like to iron out the bugs, first." I said. "We can play something else next time. Or you guys can choose one of the games we've already played."

We talked about games for a while, then we discussed exams, which would keep everybody busy for the next two weeks. We all agreed to postpone our next game by an extra week, until everybody was finished.

- "Maybe we could play a little more often, over the summer." suggested Lucy.

"Hey - if you guys want to, we could play at my parents' place some time. Especially when they're away." volunteered Cyn.

- "That depends on Dean." said Jazz.

- "Hardly." I said. "Trisha and Angie have been hosting every game. Their choice, if it's anybody's."

Angie and Trisha exchanged a look. "Fine with us." they agreed. "Especially this summer, because we'll be away."

- "You will?" I asked.

- "We hang around for the first week or two of May." said Trisha. But then I go home and stay with my parents, usually. And Angie will be visiting with her sister for most of the summer."

- "We'll miss you both." I said.

- "Thanks." said Angie. "If you have to, you can play at our place. Vee and Jazz will be taking turns minding it for us. But maybe it's not a bad idea to have another place to play, too."

My mouth was open and words were coming out of it before I even realized what I was saying. "We can play at my place next time, if you like." I said - and I regretted it a moment later. If these girls suspected that I was a complete nerd, then seeing my house, my room, and meeting my parents would dispel any lingering doubt.

Too late. Nobody had any objections. I had sealed my own doom.

******************************

The die was cast. I had opened my big mouth, and now the girls were going to see my very own patch of semi-suburban hell. We lived in a big split-level nightmare, complete with in-ground pool. Actually, I shouldn't complain. It was a nice enough house, and since my older brother and sister had moved out years ago, I had the run of the place most of the time.

My Dad was an office gnome, a shy, retiring man who preferred the company of his World War 2 documentaries, but he was a decent guy. My Mom thought that Oprah walked on water, and bought every self-help book ever published. They both considered my obsession with games mildly unhealthy, and kept encouraging me to join a sports team. But they realized that my best friends were gamers, too, and they quite liked Les, Gerry and Max.

It was just that ... my house and my parents were so utterly uncool.

- "Mom? Can I have a game night on the 24th? It's - it's not a Friday. It's a Thursday night."

- "That's fine, Dean." she answered. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your exams."

- "No. They'll be over by then." I told her.

- "That's fine, then."

- "Umm - Mom? It's not my usual group. These are new friends." I said.

- "That's nice, dear. It's good to widen your social circle." said my mother.

- "They're girls." I blurted out.

And then my mother surprised me. "That's nice, Dean. Make sure you pick up some snacks and pop before they arrive. Are they over 19? If so, you're welcome to have some alcoholic drinks, if you like."

I was stunned. Gob-smacked. At that moment, I realized that my mother was much cooler than I had ever given her credit for. So be it, then. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. Iwasa nerd from the suburbs. If the girls hadn't kicked me to the curb for being a gamer, then my house couldn't surprise them that much. The great thing about having zero street cred is that you can't lose any. I hoped.

******************************

I got a phone call from Trisha a few nights before the start of exams.

- "Hey Dean." she said. "Listen, the girls are going clubbing tomorrow night, and we wondered if you wanted to come along."

I heard Jazz's voice behind her. "Last blowout before exams!" she shouted.

- "You heard that, right?" asked Trisha.

- "I did. Thanks for inviting me." I was about to say 'But I'm not much of a clubber'. Instead, I said: "I'd be delighted."

- "Great! Cyn is driving. We'll pick you up." said Trisha. "Give me the address."

I did. "Where are we going?" I asked, hoping for a clue as to how to dress.

- "The Pit." she said. "They're having a British Invasion theme night."

- "Sounds great." I said.

- "Tell him to dress like a Mod!" shouted Jazz.

- "Okay - see you then." said Trisha.

I had to look up Mods, to make sure that I knew what that was. It was a simple enough matter to borrow one of my Dad's older sports jackets, and one of grandpa's narrow ties.

Cyn drove her parent's SUV. All of the girls were there, except Vee. I was mildly disappointed, until I saw how the others were dressed. Trisha and Angie were wearing hoop skirts and cashmere sweaters. Trisha's sweater seemed a little loose on her.

- "Have you lost weight again?" I whispered.

- "Six more pounds." she confirmed. "Can you tell?"

Lucy looked as she always did: unruly red hair hanging down over her face, and clothing that marked her as a refugee from a Ramones concert. Cyn, by contrast, was wearing a bright pink dress, Doc Marten boots, and far too much makeup. The only thing they had in common was that Cyn's hair was all over the place, too. I cringed a little. She looked skanky.

- "Dean - this is Mike." said Cyn, indicating the only other guy in the SUV. Mike had a nose piercing, and had shaved his head, except for the very back, where he had let his light brown hair grow long, into a ponytail. He looked like a gingerbread ninja.

But Jazz was the big surprise. Her hair was still a mess, although it appeared that she had brushed it. But her dress! Jazz wore a low cut black number that left her arms and shoulders bare, and revealed that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts weren't enormous, but given how slender the rest of her body was, they looked great. The dress was satin smooth, and hugged every curve, yet it was loose enough that she could move fluidly any way she chose.

It was slit up both sides, as well, showing an inordinate amount of leg. The material seemed very light, too; somehow, it looked as if her whole dress might have weighed about as much as a handkerchief. Platform heels completed the ensemble. She was so shockingly overdressed that I didn't know what to say.

The Pit was a cellar club, known mostly for punk and rock bands. It was most definitelynota disco. The drinks were reasonably priced; I guess they made their profit on volume rather than margin. It was crowded, but not packed shoulder to shoulder.

Cyn and her ninja boy hit the dance floor, followed shortly thereafter by Trisha and Angie. The music was loud, but great, if you like the Beatles, the Who, early Stones, the Yardbirds and the Zombies. Jazz eventually decided to make her entrance on the dance floor. She immediately drew a lot of attention, both male and female. Lucy and I stayed on the sidelines. She didn't say anything - which was fine, because I wouldn't have heard her anyway.

Trisha and Angie dragged me out on the floor, and I managed not to disgrace myself. It was fun, actually - geeky white boy music, for the most part. Cyn came over to bump me around while "Satisfaction" played, and Jazz came to claim me for the Zombies' "She's Not There". Maybe the last game was still in my head, but as she stamped and swayed, I could easily visualize her as High Priestess of the Amazons.

It started to get quite warm in there. I managed to get off the floor and get another couple of drinks, one of which I gave to Lucy. A short while later, Jazz came off the floor herself. She grabbed my arm and pulled me along with her. Once we were on the stairs, she shouted in my ear: "Let's get some air!"

Outside, it was much more comfortable.

- "Do you smoke?" asked Jazz.

I shook my head.

- "Me neither." she said. "But I needed to cool off."

I tried to think of something semi-intelligent to say. "You're not at the university. But I never asked what you do. Are you a student, or do you work?"

- "City College. Design." she said.

At that point, some guy who had followed us outside came over and tried to hit on her. Jazz just gave him that forbidding glare, looking down her nose at him.

- "Not interested." she said. "I'm with somebody." Then she linked her arm through mine. I tried to act like this was a normal event. The guy apologized, and made himself scarce.

"Sorry about that." she said. "You don't mind, do you?"

- "Acting as a shield for the Queen of the Amazons? Males would kill to be in my position."

She smiled. "Thatwasa good game. You did a good job. A really good job."

We stood in companionable silence for a minute or so. A thought began growing in the back of my mind. It started creeping forward. Very soon, it would reach my lips ...

- "What's on your mind, Dean?" said Jazz, suddenly.

- "Pardon?" I said, caught off guard.

- "You look like there's something you want to get off your chest. Out with it."

To this day, I have no idea how she knew, or why I didn't fabricate some excuse, and just keep my mouth shut. Instead, I took the plunge.

- "I was just wondering - would you like to go out ... for a coffee, or something? Sometime?"

Jazz turned to face me. "Or something? Are you asking me out, Dean?"

- "Yes. Not very smoothly, but yes, I guess I am." I said.

- "Why?"

That left me flustered. What kind of girl asks youwhyyou're asking her out? I had absolutely no idea what the answer was, so I decided to go with the truth.

- "Well, I'd like to get to know you better."

- "Why?" said Jazz. This time that challenging stare was fixed on me.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "I find you interesting." I said. "I've enjoyed your company when we're with the group. I think I'd also enjoy spending time with you, just the two of us."

- "You want to sleep with me, then." she said. It was a statement, not a question.

And she was dead right. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? And then, fortunately, another idiot came over and tried to chat her up. This time she positively snarled at the guy: "I'mwithsomebody!"

That gave me a few seconds to gather my hopelessly scattered thoughts. Jazz brushed her hair back. "Sorry about that. Where were we? Oh, yeah - you want to sleep with me."

- "Yes. Of course I do." I had no strategy, anymore. I was just blurting out the truth, regardless of the consequences. "You're beautiful. Exotic. Alluring. I can honestly say I've never met anyone even remotely like you."

Finally, Jazz, smiled. "That's much better. Now you're talking. But you know some of the other girls are interested in you, too, right?"

I almost said 'Really?'. But I managed to avoid that. "But you're the one I really want to get to know better."

- "Before you sleep with me, then. Is that some kind of pre-requisite?" she asked.

I had no idea what the answer to that one was, either, and my brain was beginning to crumble. Deer in the headlights have more coherent thoughts than I did at that moment. Jazz finally took pity on me.

- "Relax, Dean. I'm just messing with you. We can go for a coffee, if that winds your crank. But I'm really not the dating type, you know?"

At that moment, Cyn and her boyfriend stumbled outside. They had obviously had a few more drinks than the rest of us, and Cyn had her hand down the back of his pants. She called Jazz over, and they had a hurried, whispered conversation. I heard 'taxi' more than once.

Jazz bent her leg, and pulled up the bottom of her dress. She was already showing considerable leg, but she lifted her dress so high, that I could see her black panties. Then, to my amazement, Jazz reached into her panties, fished around for a moment, and then pulled out a $20 bill. She then calmly handed the money to Cyn. The other girl passed her something that jingled. Cyn and what's-his-name turned and walked away.

Jazz tossed me a set of car keys.

- "Can you hold these for me?" she asked. "I've got nowhere to put them."

- "Interesting place to put your money, though." I said.

Jazz just grinned. "Works for strippers, doesn't it? Where else should I put it?"

- "So what was that all about?" I asked.

- "Cyn's too horny to wait for the rest of us, so they're going to take a cab. She left me her car to drive everybody home later. I can bring it back to her tomorrow." Jazz explained.

- "Nice of her." I observed.

- "Not really." said Jazz. "She pulled this once before - left us downtown while she went off with some guy. We looked for her for hours - she wasn't answering her phone. So I told Cyn that I'd kill her if she ever did something like that again. And then we worked out this little arrangement."

- "Happen often?" I asked.

- "Nah. Cyn's not a total slut. Just a little impetuous when she's had a few too many drinks."

Jazz and I went back inside, and danced a little more with Trisha and Angie. Lucy even came out for some of the bluesy songs. She turned out to be quite a good dancer - very sensuous. I don't know how much longer we stayed, but eventually the girls were prepared to call it a night.

We piled into Cyn's SUV, with Jazz driving. I assumed that she would drop me off first, as I had been the last one picked up. Instead, she dropped Lucy off first, and then swung by Angie and Trisha's place.

- "If I don't see you before, good luck with your exams." said Trisha.

The roomies went inside, but Jazz didn't put the car in gear.

- "Listen." she said. "About ... earlier. I wasn't trying to bust your chops. I meant what I said: I'm really not the dating type, you know. But for future reference ... you need to work on your skills a bit."

"When you ask a girl out, don't be so vague. Don't say 'a coffee, or something'. If you want to go for a coffee, say so. Make it sound like something you really want want to do - and thatshewould enjoy, too."

"And'sometime'? Pick a time and place, Dean. If she wants to go out with you, but she knows that the coffee at the Student Union sucks, then she can suggest another place. And if the time you picked doesn't work for her, she can offer an alternative."

"But you want to sound decisive - confident, you know? Not over-confident, and definitely not arrogant. I can't stand arrogance - in others, anyway. But the puppy dog approach isn't doing you any favors either."

Jazz took a deep breath. "Shit, that's another long speech from me. I talk too much."

- "I appreciate it, though. It sounds like good advice. Thank you."

- "You're welcome. So, when?" she asked.

- "When what? Oh- the coffee? How about Tuesday afternoon?" I said.

- "I have a long day on Tuesday. Wednesday would be better for me. Around 4:00."

- "Wednesday it is. I look forward to it." I said.

- "OK." said Jazz. "What about now? Do you have some kind of Cinderella curfew? Or can you stay out a bit longer?"

My parents would not be thrilled if I crawled home just before the dawn. But I didn't do it very often. And it was Jazz who was asking.

- "I'm good." I told her. "What did you have in mind?"

She looked me in the eye. "Do you want to come over to my place? For a coffee?"

I had to swallow. But I managed a smile. "I would like that."

She started the car. "I should probably warn you: my apartment makes Trisha and Angie's place look good. And I don't actually have any coffee."

Wow.

Her words went straight to the erotic thoughts control center in my brain. I started getting hard. I pulled out my phone, and sent my mother a text. 'Staying at a friend's place. Call you tomorrow.'

Even watching Jazz drive was incredible. She was concentrating on the road, but she was smiling. It struck me that I hadn't seen her smile all that often. I was much more familiar with her challenging look, or her 'down the nose' intimidating glare. But at this moment, she seemed to be almost laughing.

- "What's so funny?" I asked her.

- "You make me laugh, Dean." she said. "Not in a bad way. I'm not making fun of you. I just enjoy your facial expressions. And your other reactions." She glanced down, at the conspicuous bulge in my pants. "I like that you get hard for me, and I haven't even touched you."

Seen in profile, Jazz looked different. Without the impressive effect of her nose and her defiant stare, she seemed ... more girlish, more vulnerable somehow, and less like the Queen of the Amazons.

Her dress had slid open, since it was slit so high, revealing her wonderful leg almost to the top of her thigh.

- "My reaction should come as no surprise," I said, "given the show you're putting on. Your legs are spectacular."

- "Thanks. But they're not my best feature." she said, grinning again.

- "Oh? What is?"

- "You'll see."

A little further on, Jazz turned to me. "Did you use a condom with Kasia?" she asked.

I blushed. "No. But after you told me ... the whole story, I went to the clinic, and had myself tested. Negative."

- "Good." she said. "I'm clean, too. And I'm on the pill."

Jazz lived in a basement apartment. It was a bachelorette place, quite small, and a bit cool and damp. There was one small room, which served as kitchen, sitting room, and everything else. There was a bathroom, and a closet-sized bedroom where Jazz kept a computer and a trestle table. Her bed was in the main room, along with a small de-humidifier.

- "It's nice." I told her.

- "I don't entertain much." she said. Jazz tossed Cynthia's keys onto her computer table, and then returned to the main room. She stopped, and stood about five feet away. "Stay there." she said, softly, her voice a little husky.

I stayed put, happy enough just to drink in the sight of her. That amazing dress clung to her like a sheath. Jazz turned sideways, and then, slowly, she raised her arms. Then she lowered them, running her hands down the length of her body. It was almost as if she was caressing herself. She gathered the material of her dress in her fingertips, and began to lift.

She lifted the dress until it was gathered around her hips, revealing all of her legs. Then, a little higher ... revealing that little black thong I had seen earlier. I licked my lips at that point.

Jazz surprised me by walking past, with her dress bunched up around her waist. The view from the back was astounding. The little string of her thong did nothing to obscure her taut, shapely ass. When she reached her kitchen, Jazz leaned over. She reached a hand into the front of her thong. I could see her fingers moving, as she stroked herself.

She then turned around, and perched on the edge of her little countertop. With one hand, she gracefully slid the strap of her dress down, over one shoulder. She repeated the maneuver on the other shoulder, until she was posed before me, bare to the waist, and wearing very little below.