Anyas Game

She smiled at the salesgirl and signed the receipt. She added a generous tip of five-hundred dollars.

"Thank you so much for your help today," Anya said.

"Of course, Miss Joy. Always lovely to see you. Enjoy your day," the salesgirl said.

"I certainly hope to," Anya said with just a touch of a grin.

Her heels were a little uncomfortable, but that was only because they were new. The four-inch stillettos lent a percussion to her steps as she left the store. The morning sunlight seeped through her nylon stockings as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. There was something that felt oddly naughty about wearing lingerie before lunch. Her attire was definitely not meant for daylight, but she needed it on her body now for a variety of reasons.

The sky-blue convertible sat where she'd left it an hour ago. On Rodeo Drive, one didn't worry about carjackers, especially at this time of day.

She slid into the black leather driver's seat and pulled out. The street was fairly quiet at the moment. The wind brushed out her blonde tresses and she felt absolutely beautiful. That was part of the key. She needed the confidence. The lingerie had been as much for her as for Abby.

Part of her wanted to stop. Part of her always wanted to stop. She looked down at her phone as it laid in the passenger seat. All she had to do was not pick it up. All she had to do was

not

dial Sabrina's number and hit send. She could do whatever she wanted to with this Friday. Los Angeles had a thousand stores, a hundred museums, and the beaches were always open.

At the red light, she reached for the phone. As she turned, she caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror. The lipstick was stark against her pale skin. The touch of blush was just right. Her face was porcelain perfection. And she knew, absolutely knew, that two hours from now, it would be a ruined mess.

"You fucking addict," she said, admonishing the idiot in the mirror who was about to give up so much, for nothing in return.

She hit send. The phone rang once and she closed her eyes and cringed. It wasn't too late to stop herself, but hearing the rings was always symbolic. They tolled for her.

The phone stopped ringing suddenly and she heard that masked Southern accent that Sabrina always tried to suppress.

"Miss Joy," Sabrina said. No hello. No warm greeting. Anya could almost hear her sigh. Sabrina was just an underling, but she spoke to Anya as though she was a disappointing child.

"I need a game," Anya said.

"She doesn't have time today. She's got a client at eleven and a meeting at the studio at four."

"Sabrina, did she tell you to keep me off her schedule?"

"It's only been three weeks, Miss Joy. She doesn't want you to get addicted," Sabrina said.

"Is she in the room with you right now?"

"She's writing in her office. Not to be disturbed," Sabrina said.

"Tell her my hair and makeup is already done. Tell her that I've just spent three grand at Agent Provocateur on slutty black lingerie, and I wore it out of the store. Tell her the BMW I'm driving over there has only two-thousand miles on it. Tell her that..."

She hesitated. Then decided that it was worth it. She let out a slow breath.

"Tell her I'll play plugged."

Sabrina's voice went up an octave, "You'll play plugged?"

"Right from the start. Every move. As a tribute to her power," Anya said.

"Hold please," Sabrina said.

Anya smirked. She knew that Sabrina was taking the offer to Abby. She sat at a red light and pictured Sabrina going into Abby's office. Imagined Abby's eyebrow going up at the offer on the table. She visualized Sabrina walking back to the phone with Abby's answer.

The line clicked and Sabrina's voice came back on, "She wants to know what kind of lingerie."

Anya gave a wry grin, "Black waist cincher, silk garter belt, sheer stockings, opera gloves..."

"How tall are your stillettos?" Sabrina asked.

Anya fought the urge to giggle. She was going to get her way.

"Four inch, spike tipped, black Manolos. Bought an hour ago," she said, with a note of pride.

Sabrina didn't flinch, "Abby picks the plug. You play black. Five games and then you're done. If you're not at the door in twenty minutes, then it's off and you have to wait until next month."

"Deal."

Ten minutes later, Anya pulled up to the gate of the Beverly Hills mansion. She knew from many visits that the privacy fence was twelve feet high. The code to the gate was 081590. She took in the familiar scents of jasmine and honeysuckle from the manicured lawn.

Anya parked the car and walked up the curving path to Abby's front door. With every step, the little angel on her shoulder begged her to turn around and go home. She mentally stuffed a sock in its mouth and rang the bell.

Sabrina opened the door almost instantly. She wore an elaborate red bodysuit. Lace trimmed with lots of cutouts. Her shoulder straps contrasted her light skin. Her stillettos were only three inches, but she wore them with a practiced air. Abby chose Sabrina's attire each day. Heels and slutty lingerie were more or less the uniform of her assistant. When they left the house, Sabrina would put on a dress, but, at home, she walked around like a slutty runway model. It was Abby's power-trip to have a beautiful woman in uncomfortable heels getting her coffee and running her errands.

Anya had put up with enough of Sabrina's crap these last two years that it would have been impossible for her not to enjoy seeing the little bitch in that ridiculous lack-of-an outfit. She put a hand to her mouth and giggled relentlessly in Sabrina's face.

"Nice look," Anya said.

An eyeroll was all Sabrina would give her. "Shut up. She's been wanting red lately," Sabrina said, stepping back to allow Anya to enter the house.

Anya stepped inside and took a long look at Sabrina from shaved head to toe. "Does it bother you to work eighteen-hour days in stillettos and that slutty crap from Frederick's all so you can have a ten-second credit of 'Assistant to Ms. Jacobs'?"

Sabrina could give as good as she got. She tapped lightly on the earrings she wore.

"Abby gave these to me after your last match. She also let me use your AmEx to pay off my car," Sabrina said.

Anya's jaw dropped as she realized Sabrina was wearing jewelry that had used to be hers. She looked down and Sabrina followed her gaze.

Sabrina brought her hands up and laughed right back at Anya, "Yep. The bracelet and the ring too. Abby thought I deserved an emerald."

"Oh, you little b..."

"You

might

want to be a little more respectful in your tone. I can always tell Abby you were rude and just cancel your appointment," Sabrina threatened.

Anya shut her mouth and shuddered.

"Fuck. Sorry," she said.

Sabrina smiled, "It's fine. She has that effect on people. Honestly, some of her other clients are a lot meaner."

Anya smiled politely, "How do you stand it?"

"I get to watch Abby humiliate them. Everyone gets their comeuppance."

"Including me," Anya said.

Sabrina gave a little laugh and a nod and escorted Anya through the hall towards the living room.

"Would you mind if I asked you something personal?" Sabrina said as they moved down the corridor.

"Why do I keep coming back?" Anya prompted.

"Yeah," Sabrina said.

"Abby still has my mother's necklace," Anya said.

"You know she'd give it back to you," Sabrina said.

"I don't want her to give it back because I asked. I want her to lose it to me fairly. The way I lost it to her."

"It's a trinket. A prize. It doesn't mean anything to Abby," Sabrina said.

"It means plenty to me," Anya said.

"Then ask for it back. She'll hand it to you and you can be home in half-an-hour," Sabrina suggested.

"You know I can't do that," Anya said.

Sabrina sighed, "Best of luck today."

"Thank you," Anya said.

Sabrina gestured to the sofa and turned to the door that led into Abby's office, "Wait here. She'll be out in a bit. You look great, by the way."

"Thank you," Anya repeated.

Anya took a seat at the center of the sofa. She stared at the office door like it was the principal's office. Every time she waited here, she always had the same thought.

This is the last time.

After a moment, the door opened again. She braced herself as Sabrina emerged.

"Misses Jacobs will see you now."

Abby Jacobs emerged into the living room looking like anything but a high-end dominatrix. She wore a casual white linen sundress, and her hair was up in a ponytail. Her feet were barefoot and her makeup was almost nonexistent. Anya barely noticed any of that though. As she rose from the sofa, her eyes went straight to the simple string of pearls that adorned Abby's neck.

Her voice was warm and rich. She was ever the hostess before things begun. "Anya, my dear. So good to see you again."

Anya smiled demurely and put out both hands, "Misses Jacobs. Thank you so much for seeing me."

"Of course. I always enjoy our time together. Sabrina tells me you'd like to play again."

"Yes, ma'am. Same stakes as before. I'm just here for the necklace," Anya said.

"My dear, if you want the necklace, all you have to do is ask for it," Abby said.

"I tried to explain it to Sabrina..." Anya said.

Abby put a hand out to pause her, "No, I understand. You lost it. You need to win it back. I've used the technique to train others, but I must admit, you're the only one who has taken it so far."

"I'm here because I want to be," Anya said.

"I'm sure," Abby replied.

Two years earlier...

The role of Beth Harmon could not be played by a weak-willed actress. When Anya's agent had given her the script for Queen's Gambit, Anya had barely understood the rules of chess. Through a friend of a friend, she'd been told that Abby Jacobs was one of Hollywood's best.

Anya had taken the time to do her research. To the world, Abby was a talented screenwriter with an A-list wife and a blossoming resume. She'd come out of obscurity a few years ago and written some excellent scripts. A darling of Marvel and NBC, she'd made a name for herself, despite being constantly surrounded by actresses who commanded more fame and attention.

What the world didn't know, but Anya had learned through hushed whispers, was that Abby Jacobs was also a fierce dominatrix, and could perform all manner of sexual services for clients who were lucky enough to get her number.

When Anya had been handed the small calling card with its simple black lettering, she took it with the reverence of a holy relic.

Anya's first lessons had been all business. Abby was an excellent teacher and taught her the subtleties of the game. Taught her how to use tactics and position to her advantage. Taught her the game's formalities and procedures. Three lessons in and she felt camera-ready, but that wasn't enough.

Anya respected her craft and the people who watched it. She didn't just want to look like a good chess player, she wanted to

be

a good chess player. Abby was happy to oblige her.

The lessons progressed to friendly games, and Anya found herself enthralled at the perfection of chess. There was a stark fairness that was rarely found in other games. No cards chosen at random. No concealed surprises. No information that was not always available to both players at any given time. On a chessboard, all you had was your mind. In opposition, your opponent could only bring their own to bear. The only advantage you might get was the first move, but even then, that wasn't going to save you from your own mistakes.

She loved the challenge of beating this beautiful, voluptuous instructor. She loved the twisted pain she felt every time Abby beat her. She loved that, no matter how she tried, she couldn't even battle Abby to a draw.

To sit across a chessboard from someone was to truly know them, on a level that could be painfully intimate. Anya found a passion in her core with every piece taken and every pawn moved. When Abby suggested stakes for their next game, Anya had felt a primal, sexual awakening.

"What should we play for?" Anya had asked, staring down Abby as they set up their pieces.

"That's a lovely necklace," Abby had said, casually indicating the pearls that hung around Anya's neck.

"They're my mother's," Anya said.

"Oh, then perhaps something less..."

"No, I'd like to feel real stakes. I need to feel what it's like to play when the pressure is on. Beth Harmon certainly wouldn't back down from a challenge," Anya had said.

"I suppose I should put up something just as valuable," Abby had said. Anya watched as she'd looked around her living room for a suitable bauble.

Anya suddenly blurted out, "I'd like your underwear."

A silence fell over the two of them.

"My, my," Abby said.

Anya blushed, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"No, it's fine. It's certainly a fair bet," Abby said. "Can I ask..."

Anya wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't realized that was what she wanted until the words were out of her mouth. She'd heard stories of Abby's sexual prowess, but had never received more than a handshake. She'd spent hours staring into Abby's cleavage when she should have been studying her endgame tactics. The woman had gotten in her head without so much as a flip of her hair. Part of her had wanted to provoke a response, the other part just wanted to see what Abby was wearing.

"A trophy is a trophy, isn't it?" Anya said, trying to stay in the headspace of her character.

Abby nodded. The game was more than sixty-four squares. Any dominatrix understood the intricacies of pride and power.

"Let's play."

Anya had played the game of her life and still it was in vain. She had stretched an attack on Abby's kingside too far. Her knight got trapped and she gave it up for a single pawn. Thirteen moves later she was on the ropes. When Abby's c-pawn reached the seventh rank, there seemed to be little point in continuing. She knocked over her king and grimaced.

"Good game," she said, reaching out to shake Abby's hand.

Abby took it with alacrity and nodded.

Anya reached up to unclasp the pearls. Abby put out a friendly hand to stop her, "You don't need to..."

"Yes, I do," Anya said, taking the necklace off. She held it in front of her face for a moment. "If I'd lost, I'd have made you..."

Abby nodded and gamefully accepted the prize. It was clear she wasn't sure how to react.

Anya put out an open hand, gesturing to Abby's neck, "Please, they'll look good on you."

Abby hesitated. Anya realized that, for all the fetid, smoky rumors she'd heard about Abby's sexual prowess, it was possible that Abby saw her as nothing more than a chess student. That would end now.

Anya stifled a moan when Abby put the necklace on. She saw her mother's pearls dangling over the Abby's considerable curves and felt utter devastation. Part of her wanted to undo this as quickly as it had developed. But if she'd begged Abby's pardon, how could she ever look in the mirror and see Beth Harmon staring back at her?

"Would you like to play again?" Abby said, clearly wanting to give her a chance to win back this totem.

"Yes, please," Anya said. "We can play for the necklace?"

"Of course," Abby said.

Anya paused. She realized the ploy now. Abby could be painfully polite. She'd surely lose the next game intentionally, give Anya a hollow victory, and send her out the door none-the-wiser. Anya respected herself and the game too much to allow that clichéd melodrama to play out.

"Don't go easy on me," Anya said, staring down Abby with all the power her eyes could convey.

Abby looked back at her and saw a fire. In a single look, their relationship changed. This was now a matter between two strong women and their favorite battlefield. The teacher and pupil dynamic was discarded. In its wake was the respect of an opponent.

"Okay," Abby said, agreeing to Anya's unspoken terms in a single word. She stopped resetting the pieces long enough to lock eyes with Anya.

"If this is how you want to play, you'll need more stakes. You're fresh out of necklaces," Abby's little smirk spoke volumes.

"Black silk, bikini cut, Victoria's Secret," Anya had said, describing her own underwear.

"And the bra?"

Anya nodded, "I like to match."

Abby licked her lips, more a pensive look than a seductive one.

Anya glanced to the corridor that led to Abby's front door. "Are you worried about Jennifer coming home?"

Abby gave a tittering laugh and a wave of her head, "My wife is a submissive, bisexual, cuckquean. If she saw us now, she'd be cheering me on."

Anya smirked, "Then I guess you're all out of excuses."

"Game on," Abby said.

The second game had been just as thrilling. A heavy exchange in the center where every knight and bishop had left the board in a ten-move dance. In the aftermath the two of them had left a scorched landscape for queens and rooks to navigate. Anya had gamely set up a battery, but Abby had countered with a strong defense. It came down to an isolated b-pawn, escorted by a hobbling king. Anya didn't wait for Abby to promote the piece. She resigned with what was left of her dignity.

The

thwump

of the king hitting the wooden board sent a jolt right to her clitoris. She barely understood what was happening, but she was determined to see it through.

Abby showed her the respect of not trying to give her an easy way out. When Anya's king stopped rocking back and forth, Abby gestured for her to rise from her seat.

Anya stood and smoothed the hem of her deep blue dress. She looked Abby in the eye as she brushed the straps off her shoulders.

She bit her lip to keep from gasping as the dress pooled at her feet. Abby nodded, with approval, at the reveal of Anya's black underwear. Anya tried to maintain a dignified air as she reached behind her to unclasp the bra. She laid it on the table by the chessboard. The silk panties joined a moment later and Anya stood, starkly nude, by the table of Abby's breakfast nook.

"Your winnings," Anya said, trying to keep a graceful smile as she nodded to her surrendered panties.

Abby took them in her hand, rubbed the material a bit, then held them to her face.

Anya was completely unable to contain her moan as Abby sniffed the silk deeply. Seeing Abby take her scent was an unexpected shock.

"Lovely," was Abby's verdict. "Touch of lavender?"

Anya blushed and nodded, "It's a great body wash. I'll bring a bottle next time, if you like it."

"Something we can play for," Abby had said, gesturing back to the chair.

"Can I put my dress back on?" Anya had said.

Abby smirked, "If you think you deserve to."

Anya shivered. There were so many layers to this. She could barely think about knights and rooks anymore. As she sat back down, nude and exposed, she felt whatever power she had slowly draining out of her. By the time the board was reset, she was just a meek little kitten, toying with a tigress.

"I'm out of trophies," Anya said, realizing her position.

"The dress is still yours," Abby said.

Anya blushed slightly, "I'll need something to get home."

Abby gave a playful

tsk-tsk

, "What would Beth Harmon say?"

Anya smirked right back at her, "Beth Harmon would have had you down to your socks by now."

Abby laughed, "You lose this next one and I'll trade you a towel for whatever cash you have in your purse."

"Deal."

She lost the next one. And the one after. And the one after that. When she went home that night, she wore nothing but a towel and a blush. And her session with her vibrator led to the best orgasm of her life.

Two weeks later, she had knocked on Abby's door for another game. She'd worn a few more clothes. Abby took her for five games, a satin merrywidow, and a Versace evening-gown that was only meant to be worn on red carpets.