Gamers Pt 05

I apologize in advance if the next chapter is delayed. Sometimes life intervenes ... on the positive side, if you are enjoying this story so far, you will be happy to know that it is taking on a life of its own. There will be several more chapters - at least. Again, thank you for the positive comments and constructive criticism.

**********

The summer job was just about perfect. It paid extremely well, and some of the work was both challenging

and

interesting. There were also long stretches of time where all I had to do was be physically present. It gave me lots of time to work on my new game idea.

And plenty of free time to spend with Jazz. She took me to High Tea, and to the Art Gallery. It was a fascinating experience. Jazz knew a great deal about art, and was able to communicate it to me without seeming pedantic.

- "You'd make a great art teacher." I said. "How is it that you know so much?"

- "I've always loved art." she replied. "It's what I wanted to study, but my father is paying my tuition, and he insisted on something practical. Something that would lead to a job."

- "What's your favourite kind of art?"

- "I love the Impressionists. And Art Nouveau. But I also like the Old Masters, and I have a soft spot for Albrecht Durer. Vee is more into impressionism, too. We argue about it all the time."

- "I find it hard to imagine Vee arguing. With you, especially." I said.

- "Why?" Jazz bristled. "Because she's so sweet and innocent, and I'm such a ... dragon? Is that what you're implying?" She poked me in the ribs. "Don't be fooled. Vee is tougher than she looks. There's a lot more to her than meets the eye."

Jazz also took me to a basement comic shop around the corner from her apartment.

- "I was always curious." she admitted. "But now that I have my own personal guide to the world of gaming ..."

- "I don't know that much about comics." I admitted.

But there was a room in the back, where the store sold new and used games.

- "Are these any good?" she asked.

Most of the new games were titles I had seen, or read about online. But among the used games was an absolute classic. It was Avalon Hill's Kingmaker. I took it down from the shelf with complete reverence. The pieces and the cards were still in good shape, and they all seemed to be there.

- "Is this one special?" she asked.

- "Very."

- "Let's get it, then. And you can tell me about it over lunch." she suggested.

- "Really? You want me to tell you about a game?"

- "Why not?" she said. "You let me drone on about art."

- "That's different." I began. "I'm interested in art."

Jazz laughed. "If you haven't noticed by now, I'm interested in games. Especially if it's you telling me about them. If you're passionate about this particular game, I'd love to know why."

I looked at her in wonder.

"C'mon." she continued. "Any others you want to buy? Let's get this one. Time for lunch: my stomach is starting to make noises."

I had been about to say 'I love you'.

But the moment had passed. It would sound stupid, now. Out of place. I was also afraid to say it. Jazz kept telling me that she wasn't 'girlfriend material', or that she wouldn't make a good long term girlfriend. Was that her way of trying to keep me at a distance? Yet we had done everything a couple would do - physically, socially, intellectually - all that was missing was the verbal expression of an emotional commitment.

Maybe there was some way that I could express to her how I felt - to tell her that I loved her - without putting her on the spot. I didn't want her to feel as if she had to answer in kind.

She punched me in the arm. "Pay the man!" she said. "I'm getting lunch."

As we walked out of the store, Jazz asked me "Where do you go, Dean? When you start thinking, it's like your consciousness shifts to another place. You get that thousand-yard stare, and you don't seem to hear anything, either."

- "I don't know." I admitted. "Been that way since I was a kid. Les calls it 'zoning out'."

- "I like Les." said Jazz. "So tell me about me your friends."

- "What do you want to know?"

- "The usual. How you see them, what they mean to you. Secret insights, inside information about their gaming style, so that I can pound them into dust the next time we play ... that sort of thing."

- "Well, Gerry is funny. He makes us all laugh - himself most of all. He usually sees the lighter side of things. He keeps his promises in game situations. Gerry won't backstab you, or break an alliance, but he'll remember it forever if you do."

- "And Max?" she asked.

- "Max is an athlete. A good one. He's always had a foot in different worlds. His teammates think he's odd, but they respect him. He seems to be able to balance sports, girlfriends, and gaming. I don't know how he does it."

We arrived at the restaurant, and got a table.

- "What about Les?" asked Jazz. "He's your closest friend, right? Even after the Kasia thing? That must have been awkward."

- "He was pretty cool about it, all things considered." I said. "I think what bothered him most was that neither of us - his sister and his best friend - were telling him what was going on. But we're okay now." I told Jazz about the tribunal, and my punishment.

- "So you

are

working on a new game." she said. "When were you going to tell me about it?"

- "I can tell you a bit now. In fact, I was going to 'borrow' a few ideas from this Kingmaker game."

- "Isn't that plagiarism?"

- "Plagiarism is when you steal somebody's else's idea, or claim it as your own. But if you steal ideas from three or four sources, you can create something original. Look at music. Many great artists have come out and admitted who their influences were. Multiple influences."

- "Alright", she said, "so tell me about this game you bought. What makes it so special?"

I began to tell Jazz about the Avalon Hill game company, and then about Kingmaker in particular. I frequently paused, or stopped, to ask if I was boring her yet.

- "No." she said.

- "Are you sure?"

- "Do I look bored?" she replied. "Trust me, Dean, I will tell you if you start to bore me. If you ask me a question, I

will

tell you the truth."

So I talked for a while longer. Then she steered me back to the subject of my friends.

- "They've all played this game? And they like it as much as you do?"

- "Les has a copy. We played it so often that we wore out the pieces and bent all the cards."

- "Speaking of Les ..." said Jazz, as she started on her dessert, "does he have a girlfriend, too?"

- "Wait - what? Who wants to know that last part?" I asked.

- "Lucy is interested. I think she took a shine to him over at your place."

- "Really?" I said. "Because Les is interested in her, too. She made a strong impression on him. He asked me if she was single."

- "Good."

- "Wait a minute! Are you suggesting that we should play matchmaker between our friends?" I asked her.

Jazz held up her hands, and made a face. "No! Bad idea! Besides, they'll be much more invested in a relationship if they start it themselves. And anyways - if we set them up, and it went bad, they'd blame us. Bad idea."

- "Good." I said. "I'm glad we agree. Hands off, then."

- "On the other hand, it doesn't mean that we can't drop a hint here, or give them a little nudge there ..." she said, with a grin.

- "What about Cyn?" I asked her. I was thinking of the obvious attraction between her and Max.

- "Cyn's a big girl. She can take care of herself. It's your friend Max who should be worried."

- "Max can handle himself." I said. "He's been around the block a few times." I couldn't remember Max ever losing his head over a girl.

- "How about you?" asked Jazz, with a grin. "How many times have

you

been around the block?"

- "Umm ... not very many." I said. I wasn't sure that I wanted to discuss my sexual history with her, as brief as it was.

Jazz mistook the reason for my mild embarrassment. "I'm sorry." she said. "I didn't mean to make you think about Kasia."

- "It's OK." I said.

- "Did you have many girlfriends before her?"

- "Two. Well, three. I dated a girl for most of my senior year, in high school. She dumped me just before prom. We had never gone beyond third base. The first girl I slept with was a virgin. We both were. It was ... pretty awful. Neither of us had a clue. We tried again, but it was still ... painful for her. And embarrassing for me."

"I met another girl in first year. Carol. She seemed like a free spirit. I thought it would be better, with her. But it was more of the same. Awkward." I fell silent.

- "So maybe Kasia was a good thing. I don't mean the lying and the ... you know. But the sex must have been good, right. She said you were ... I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you, Dean?"

I just blushed.

"Seriously." said Jazz. "She said really ... complimentary things about you. I know guys sometimes have anxiety ... about their performance. But you have nothing to worry about."

By this point, most of the blood in my body had rushed to my face.

Jazz reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "Dean. I have zero complaints about the sex we've been having. Far from it. That's why I brought up the subject. I wanted to know where you got the confidence, and the ... I don't know what to call it - the expertise? Was it Kasia who opened you up?"

"I mean, you have the repertoire of an experienced lover. I'm not saying that I'm an expert, or anything, but I can tell the difference between awkward fumbling and skill. You

know

how it's been with us. But you also have the enthusiasm ... the passion of a first love. I'm doing a shitty job of explaining it, but I feel very fortunate, Dean."

This was the moment I had been waiting for. I took her hand in mine. "I'm the fortunate one, Jazz."

But before I could say anything more, the waitress came to our table, to ask if we wanted coffee. We declined.

Jazz waited until she was gone. "Look - I'm trying to compliment you on your love-making skill. And to say that you've been ... awesome. But you're forgetting what I've been telling you all along. I'm not girlfriend material, Dean. Save some of this wonderful intensity for your next girlfriend."

I laughed. Maybe it was just a nervous reaction.

- "I'm serious!" she insisted. "We're barely 21. You're going to have many relationships after me. And you're going to make somebody else very happy."

- "I'm sorry, Jazz." I said. "I can't take you seriously when you say things like that. I'm not worrying about years down the road. I'm only thinking about this afternoon, or tomorrow."

- "Fine!" said Jazz, crossing her arms. "Then you can just take me home. Right now."

- "Jazz - I said I was sorry."

- "I know." she replied. "I want you to take me back to my place. I need to sample some more of that expertise."

We raced to her apartment. Inside the door, she started grabbing at my clothes. I stopped her, pinning her hands to the wall.

- "Wait!" I said. "I want to ... undress you."

She just smiled, and stopped resisting.

It was like unwrapping a gift, but better than any birthday, or even Christmas morning. She cooperated in every way possible, lifting her arms, or standing on one leg. The whole time, she was smiling at me, or kissing my ears, or my cheeks. I let her interrupt a few times, and stopped to kiss her.

Her shirt came first. She wasn't wearing a bra, as usual. Her beautiful breasts came free, until I cupped them in my hands. I paid homage to them with lips and tongue, stroking and caressing them with my fingers.

I undid her jeans, and pulled them down her legs. Her panties stayed on, for the moment. I kissed her thighs, and ran my hands across her ass. Then I traced the outline of her pussy lips, through the panties, with my fingers.

By the time I peeled her panties off, Jazz and I were both breathing heavily.

- "Wait!" she said, as she disengaged herself, and disappeared into her computer room. She returned, still completely naked, but with a doctor's stethoscope around her neck. She lifted my shirt, and placed the cold metal against my skin. Up my stomach, across my chest ... she slid the stethoscope across my nipples, and then held it over my heart.

She listened intently for a few moments, and then pulled the plugs from her ears. She reversed our roles, tucking the plugs into my ears, and placing the metal against her own chest. I listened to her rapid heartbeat. I'm sure that my own began to speed up, in response.

Jazz lifted the stethoscope, and placed it against my lips. Then she removed it, and pressed her lips to mine. She started moving the stethoscope, putting it on my cheek, my chin, my throat - and each time she moved it, she replaced it with her lips, kissing my face, and then my neck. Then she pulled the plugs from my ears, and replaced them in her own.

She pulled away from me, and danced back towards her bed. When I followed, she put a hand on my chest to slow me down. Jazz put the stethoscope against her own lips, and beckoned to me with a finger.

When I approached, she lifted the stethoscope away, and I kissed her on the lips. She began leading me on an excursion across her naked body, indicating where she wanted to be kissed by placing the stethoscope there for a moment. I followed her lead quite happily, kissing my way all over her face, across her throat and neck, to her breasts and nipples, and down her stomach.

The end result may have been utterly predictable, but getting there was more than half the fun. She teased me mercilessly, prolonging the inevitable. Eventually, I put her on her back, and ate her into submission. When she recovered from that, I pulled her up on her hands and knees, and fucked her from behind.

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

Gerry called me up. We were playing with the girls, at Trisha and Angie's apartment. Gerry wanted to know if he could offer me a ride in his car. Obviously, he had something on his mind. I agreed to let him pick me up.

Once I was in his car, he played coy.

- "Spill it, Gerry." I told him.

- "What? Spill what?"

- "When was the last time you offered me a ride on a gaming night? You have something on your mind. So spill ..."

Gerry pursed his lips. "Okay. I'm ... I want to lose weight."

- "I see."

- "You're not gonna laugh at me?" he asked.

- "No, Gerry. I wouldn't do that."

- "Sorry - I know you wouldn't. Here's the thing. I started a diet, and my Granny is monitoring me. But I need to work out, too. So I was wondering: would you go and work out with me once a week? Max said he would go with me, and my cousin Manny said he would, too, but I figure if I don't go three or four times a week, it won't work, so -"

- "Sure, Gerry. I'll work out with you once a week." I told him. "Does this have anything to do with meeting the girls?"

He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Duh!" he said.

Four guys and four girls were there. It was the same group that had played at my house, plus Vee, who was living at Trisha and Angie's apartment for the summer.

The chemistry between Cyn and Max was obvious - it looked like they were about to catch fire. Lucy and Les were much more subtle, but they did sneak looks at each other from time to time, especially when they thought the other wasn't looking.

I thanked Vee for the second set of drawings.

- "They're awesome." I said.

- "They are pretty good, aren't they?" She was blushing as she said this, and looking to Jazz, as if for confirmation.

- "Are you working on any more?" asked Les.

Vee was a little hesitant. "Hopefully, we'll be able to complete the set."

We played co-operative games that night. There aren't very many competitive games for eight or more players. First we ran a Zombiepocalypse game, which turned out to be hilarious. With this many players, the degree of difficulty increases significantly. There are more wandering zombies, more negative events that can cause significant problems, and a much more difficult finish.

The only solution is to search every building thoroughly, hoping to find the weapons or equipment which can provide an edge. Of course, every minute spent rummaging around dramatically increases the likelihood triggering a particularly nasty event.

Gerry stepped on some kind of land mine, and blew his leg off. We couldn't abandon him, or perform a mercy killing, so we had to carry him, which tied up two of our party members. Then Max stumbled across a open tunnel, from which zombies began to emerge - cutting off half of our party.

No amount of dice heroics were going to save us. The only question was who would die last. That turned out to be Cyn. We lost so badly that it was pretty funny.

- "Rematch!" said Jazz.

- "Would you girls like to try a new game?" asked Les.

- "Such as?" said Jazz.

- "It's cooperative, and needs five or more players - which is why the four of us haven't tried it yet. But it looks cool."

The girls exchanged looks. Cyn answered for them. "Bring it out." she said.

Les set up the board and the pieces, but left me to do the explaining.

- "It's called Stalag 15." I told them. "It's a World War Two prisoner-of-war camp. We play the POWs, trying to escape, while the Nazis try to stop us."

- "Zombies, and then Nazis." said Gerry, with a sigh. "What could be better?"

- "Nazi Zombies?" suggested Max.

We could try to arrange many small escapes, or to organize a really big one, a la 'Great Escape'. As you might expect with several strong personalities at the table, we ended up trying both. Since we hadn't played the game before, we didn't know the odds of success. Most of what we tried to do was based on gut-feeling, or on our viewing of WW2 movies, or prison break movies.

Jazz and Cyn were the most aggressive, so we put them in charge of the short-term, individual or small group escapes. Les and I planned a major breakout, involving two separate tunnels and most of the manpower in the camp. Max and Lucy did their best to steal from the guards, while Vee and Gerry played support roles.

Everybody seemed to like the game mechanics, and the game was built for success - it wasn't possible to fail completely. Everybody tasted some kind of victory, and we all had a good time.

- "Your Dad would like this, Dean." said Jazz.

I smiled at her. She was right. Dead right. Beautiful,

and

perceptive. So I whispered in her ear: "Would you be willing to play? With my parents, I mean."

- "Of course I would. But ... don't you need five or more?" she said. "Maybe we could invite Les and ... Lucy?"

- "Careful ..." I warned.

- "Just a nudge." she said, with a grin.

**********

Les hosted a gaming night, as he had said he would. And he warned everyone, in advance, that Kasia might be home. In addition, he asked me to arrive a few minutes early.

Kasia

was

there. She had gathered her courage, I guess, and was ready to face me. She looked awfully small, and vulnerable. The bright light of her vitality seemed dimmed, somehow.

- "I'm so sorry, Dean." she said. "You didn't deserve what I did to you. I was selfish ... and thoughtless. And incredibly stupid. I'm sorry if I hurt you." Her words sounded rehearsed, but no less sincere for that. She had trouble meeting my eyes, but she

was

trying.

- "I'll get over it." I told her.

- "You and Jazz are together? That's good. I hope you two will be happy. She's great. And you are, too. I'm sorry." Kasia managed not to cry - but just barely.

Her resolve lasted until the other girls arrived. Then Kasia broke down. She couldn't even speak, except to say 'I'm so sorry' over and over again. Vee was the first one to hug her, followed by Cyn. They cried right along with her.