CHAPTER 1
ꟷ THE BET ꟷ
When she stood in front of the cheap, trashy down-town bar entrance Lara Croft was horny as a bitch in heat. Although all the adventuring, the university professorship and social activities of high society like charity works took most of her time, and forced her basic instincts to be suppressed to her inner core, like every other human being she had a healthy libido, which had to be satisfied. If she failed to do it regularly it charged up to an unmanageable level that could cause a small scandal.
On more than one occasion she was barely able to escape a disgraceful situation thanks to pure luck and she knew well enough that one should not rely solely on luck on these matters. So the best way to discharge this built up sexual energy was to allow this alter ego to take over now and then, conduct her misbehavior in a distant social circle that most probably never ever hear of the name Lady Lara Croft the 13th Countess of Abingdon.
This was one of those nights. She had jumped into her Bentley, driven for an hour to some to her unknown part of the country and stopped in front of a rarely visited pub. Although she was almost sure no one here would recognize her face, she couldn't risk it, so she concealed herself behind a lace mask with flower motifs that matched her stockings. She took a deep breath of excitement and walked in.
The poorly lit pub consisted of a small bar, two pool tables and several empty booths in the darkness. A man in his thirties wearing jeans and a armless white shirt was playing at the table and missed the ball he was planning to hit when he saw Lara at the door. The half burnt cigarette in his mouth was about to drop on the floor. A bartender behind the counter was drying up washed beer glasses as bar tenders always do. He was an older fellow with a graying beard. Another man, a rather huge one who looked like as if he was a bear on the father side of the family was sitting quietly next to the jukebox and the pinball machine.
Having checked out the room for a couple of seconds, Lara slowly went to the counter, her high heels knocking on the mahogany floor, like female Captain Ahab in hunt for some really "moby dicks". Her tight, short, leather skirt writhing to cover her firm, curvy bottom scrunched under the strain of her muscles. "May I have a pint?" she asked the bar tender leaning against the counter with her arms crossed under her full bosoms, lifting them up to form a most generous cleavage, her areole almost peaking from under her strapless shirt. The man's eyes dwelled a while on the zipper head dangling between Lara's supple breasts like a pocket watch psychologists used to use in the old days to hypnotize their patients. He then came to his senses and filled a glass for her. Lara enjoyed the men's eyes on her, caressing her voluptuous body, undressing her in their minds. She took a sip of her drink and licked off the foam on her upper lip looking deeply into the bartender's eyes. That will give him a nice boner, she thought.
When she turned to the pool table she noticed the boy desperately trying to concentrate on the shot. It was obvious he was having hard time. His eyes were darting back and forth between Lara and the white ball. He's not bad-looking; Lara thought and approached the table.
"Care for a game handsome?" she said.
The boy wasn't expecting that. "Here, we don't play for free, lady" he replied.
"I wasn't planning for a free game" Lara said with a seductive voice. "Name the price."
The boy forced a laugh and looked at his buddies. "Don't make me take your money lady."
"You can take whatever you want, honey. I play for high stakes."
Was this crazy woman implying what he thought she was? And what was the deal about this ridiculous mask? While he was trying to form an appropriate reply Lara made it easier for him. She leaned over the pool table and said:
"Look lover boy, the bulge on your pants says you like what you're seeing. Here is the bet; if you win you can have me any way you want, all night long. If I win I walk out the door, you pay for my drink and spend the rest of your life repenting that you missed this." SPANK! she landed a hard slap on her hip. This time the cigarette did fall on the floor. Coming back to his senses the boy stepped on the bud:
"You're on honey."
The table was set and ready in no time. As the gentleman-hood requires the boy gave Lara the first shot, which he quickly realized he shouldn't have done, for she was playing like a pro. As her balls dropped one by one the hormones in his bloodstream tormented him. And Lara was doing her best to keep the hormones flowing; leaning over the table with unbent legs, causing her skirt to reveal the limits of her thighs, the little curvature hinting the underside of her shapely butt. Resting her breasts on the wooden sides of the table, leaving damp stains of perspiration behind on the reflective polish where her skin touches the wood. The boy grew agitated by the thought of coming so close to having his way with her only to lose at the game he thought he was so good at. Lara enjoyed his agony, tormenting him, making him want her more and more then dropping a ball into the pocket. But this was just the foreplay and foreplay was not the reason she came here tonight. When it came to the last ball, where the boy was about to lose all his hopes, she intentionally potted the eight ball to the wrong pocket.
