Chapter 12
Ty cleared his throat. "You'll all need to sign this waiver that states you're over 18--for obvious reasons. But there's something else you should know. We have staff hired from a private source that will be helping to make sure that the games all run smoothly. They're consummate professionals, and know not to get involved unless they see a safety risk. But keep in mind that you're being watched, and there are security cameras all over this house." Ty made a sour face. "Don't worry--the security tapes are private and nothing will leave these walls. But you can see how this could be a legal issue."
Some of us were looking less certain after this sober warning. I trusted Ty, and I was pretty sure that his parents wouldn't be looking through any of the tapes unless something disastrous happened. In a way, it also made me feel better--even though I wasn't thrilled by the idea of some random stranger watching me grope another college girl, I thought it was less likely that some jerk would get too grabby with Cary against her wishes if there were cameras all around us.
After some low discussion, we all trundled to the front to sign our names on photocopies of a waiver filled with paragraphs of legal jargon. Then Ty waved us guys back over and gestured to a bowler hat on the table next to him.
"Agents, please reach into Oddjob's hat here and pull out a piece of paper. On one side is your assignment. On the other side is part of the secret nuclear launch code that you are trying to retrieve. If you get all the pieces of the code and assemble them according to the information in the dossier, you win. If your partner does the same, you both win the
grand
prize. Which is a secret."
This was how Ty and I had become friends. No matter how much he liked to occasionally cultivate his rich playboy persona in public, he turned into a real nerd about details when he got interested in something. Long hours playing complicated tactical boardgames in the basement of his old house suddenly sprang to mind. I had known that this party was important to him, but this really revealed just
how
invested he was.
Cary flounced back over to me and grabbed my wrist unexpectedly. I blinked. "What's up?"
"Come with me," she said without preamble, pulling me into a corner. A couple of the other guys gave us eyebrows as we went.
Off in the corner and barely less obvious there than in the rest of the room, Cary grabbed my head and pulled me in to kiss her. Surprised but pleased, I returned the kiss and pulled her close to me. To my further surprise, she pressed her hips and thighs against me, grinding lightly. I kissed her deeper and ran my hands up her back, feeling her shiver as my fingertips crossed over from sequined fabric to smooth skin.
She pulled away first and gazed into my eyes, her expression suddenly a mixture of hesitance and urgency. She wet her lips and then grabbed my hands, pulling them up to her breasts. "Touch me," she said. Less than an order, more than a request. I didn't need to be asked twice, even if I was a little embarrassed to be fondling her in front of a bunch of other people.
I squeezed, feeling the soft give of her beneath my eager hands. My thumbs ran lightly over her, and I could feel that she was wearing something underneath her dress more substantial than just a push-up bra. She let a little moan escape, barely audible. After a moment, she pulled my hands around to her bottom, where I gladly caressed buttocks made firm by hours at the gym and hiking up and down rocky slopes. She pushed against me further, and then took one hand and guided it down in between her legs.
I leaned back, raising an eyebrow. She nodded, but looked at the floor shyly.
"I... I just wanted you to be first tonight," she said. "I get the feeling that by the end of the evening, things will be getting a little grabby. I didn't want anybody else touching me before you got a chance. And I don't want you to think that anything is going to really happen--there's no prize in the world worth losing your trust."
I kissed her again. "You're wonderful," I said. "And I'm really looking forward to later this evening." I had already decided that the moment I felt things had gone too far, I'd march Cary to the nearest bedroom and fuck her silly. Better that than let another guy horn in on my new girlfriend. I might have been fighting my horny teenage instincts to give her some space, but I was still eighteen. My ego could only take so much.
She surprised me once more by dropping her own hand down to my crotch and lightly grasping me through my trousers. Predictably, I hardened and Cary's teasing smile emerged like the moon from behind clouds. She leaned forward once more and pushed her chest against mine. "And this is so that I get here before any of those other girls," she smirked. "I
know
they've been looking at you."
With that, she turned and half-skipped away--a feat I found particularly impressive in her spiky heels. She joined the rest of the ladies as they left the room ahead of us, each of them holding a piece of paper like ours. Some of them looked excited. Others looked pensive--as if they were trying to work out a plan.
A brown-haired guy elbowed me as I returned in a mild daze. "Man, if you can walk straight after that, you're made of tougher stuff than me. She must be pretty hot for later on." I nodded, surprised again by how forward everybody here was about sex.
To be polite, I jutted my chin towards the sea of retreating backs and bottoms swathed in colorful cocktail dresses. "Which one is your girlfriend?"
"Tiffany. The smokin' redhead in green." He smiled. "Think you've got a shot?"
I shrugged as Ty chattered a little bit at us about Soviet agents. I wasn't here to ruin anybody else's relationship, either. Although that certainly wouldn't stop me from a little innocent groping and leering. After a few more moments of letting my thoughts wander, my attention turned back to my piece of paper.
Your codename: Steele.
Your mission: find your contact at the Casino. They will play the Queen of Hearts three games in a row. You will counter-sign by playing the Knave of Clubs twice in a row.
2325-AA1-072
"Okay, let's get to it," Ty said. "We're headed to room 14--the casino for tonight. We'll only be in there for a little while because the regular guests will be using it later. You have your assignments."
We filed down the hallway after Ty, trying to look suave in our tuxedos. Some of us pulled it off--Miles looked just like Timothy Dalton. Some of us didn't--one of the guys was clearly a little too short for the length of the jacket. I hoped I fell more towards the Miles end of things than not. I was suddenly glad that I had started working out more seriously a few months ago.
It was a ballroom--what sort of mansion had an actual ballroom? I dimly recalled that this mansion had been built by one of the city founders from the 1800's before Ty's dad had bought it. I guess that explained it. One half of the ballroom was set up with several tables in green felt and dealers wearing short red vests. The ladies had already arrived and been seated at three of the tables. Incongruous coat racks had been positioned nearby. Cary was deep in conversation with the other gals at her table, her brow furrowed in concentration. She held up a few of her cards to them, they smiled encouragingly.
The dealers pointed to each of us individually and waved us over to their tables. I didn't get called to Cary's table, but I was positioned right across so that I had a good view of her. She looked nervous, excited, and--to my eyes--stunningly gorgeous. Judging by the way her new tablemates watched her every move, they agreed with me.
It was just four of us at my table--Roy and Stacy's departure had evidently disrupted the even distribution of couples across three groups. The dealer picked up two place cards labeled
Agent Poling
and
Frisky Amore
and cleared them from the vacant seats. Me, Carla, a tall, freckled redhead in green who introduced herself as Tiff, and a guy not particularly any handsomer than me named Dan all smiled at one another before falling into character.
"Ladies and gents," the dealer began, "the game is five-card stud, no wild cards. Lowest hand loses an article of clothing. All losses are persistent until all poker games have finished. If you fold, you automatically lose an article of clothing. Remember your assignments. Questions?" We shook our heads silently. It made sense now--the game had been set up to make us lose a lot of clothes while still making it possible for us to play the appropriate number of cards to find our contact.
For the first few rounds I concentrated on just not being the lowest hand, and waiting for one of the girls to play the Queen of Hearts. I took the time to study them, as if I were a real spy--looking for changes in their facial expressions, nervous movement, anything that might tell me if they had a good hand or not. I noticed that when Dan had a good hand, he got really calm and quiet. Every time Carla got what turned out to be a winning hand, she tapped her toes lightly. Tiff looked mildly anxious no matter what the quality of her hand was.
I had already lost my cummerbund and bow tie, which had been hung up obligingly on the heretofore mysterious coat rack. Dan was in similar straits. Carla had taken off her shoes and a tiny strip of leather that served as a belt. Tiff had already shed her shoes, shawl, and stockings when she finally won a hand with two pair--one of which included the Queen of Hearts.
I glanced over Carla's shoulder to see that Cary had pulled off a single glove and was draping it over the arms of a nearby coat rack. She looked pretty confident--engaged. Cary always got this way when she played a game. Even when she was having fun--especially when she was having fun--she got really competitive. I was so focused on her that I nearly missed Carla playing a Queen of Hearts in her next hand.
The girls kept having to fold hand after hand in order to avoid playing cards that would invalidate their assignment to play a certain number of specific cards in a row, and the rounds went pretty quickly. They got pretty creative with what they gave up until at last it became obvious that the next round either one lost or folded would bring them down to their underwear. Not for the first time, I breathed a sigh of relief that strip poker seemed to heavily weighted in the guys' favor in this context. Behind Carla, I noted that Cary was biting her lip and frowning. She chose to fold, and I heard some hooting and cheering as she stripped off a silk stocking and hung it on the coat rack next to her gloves and shoes.
Carla played a second Queen of Hearts, looking pleased with herself. She quickly scanned Dan's and my faces, both of which were carefully impassive. Tiff turned a bit pale, but straightened her shoulders stoically as she folded. The dealer arched an expectant eyebrow; I pulled off my jacket as the lowest played hand, and Tiff stood up and wiggled out of her green dress. As it slid down over her bra and hips, I felt a little stirring in my groin. She was no Cary, but I was 18 and she was still a cute girl stripping down in front of me.
Her blush spread throughout most of her body as Dan and I politely golf-clapped. Carla looked pleased as punch. Tiff's boobs were bigger than I would have guessed, and her cleavage was dusted with freckles. I tried not to stare.
