Fiona did not take long to figure out the nuances of our private strip poker games.
By the time we had played a few times when we had the house to ourselves, she not only seemed to get better at five card draw, but she also became more strategic about how to handle the inevitable losing hands.
Our games usually began after a night out in which Fiona was swathed in lingerie so she knew that she could extend the teasing for an hour or more if she was careful. Usually we played by the light of candles or a fire with shadows adding to the mystery of seeing her lose her clothes in stages.
The night I am recalling now was long ago and one of the last times we played. I still replay it over and over.
Fiona is the ultimate cool blonde. Reserved on the surface. Articulate and well-bred but with a reserve that led me to underestimate her sexuality before we finally slept together. When we did, I discovered the loudest, most vocal and most passionate woman I had ever taken to bed.
This night was no different. For dinner, Fiona had dressed in a simple black cocktail dress with pearls and high heels. As I held the car door for her, she made a point of casually showing the top of her black stockings and a garter. At dinner, she was maddeningly cool, refusing to respond whenever I ventured a comment even slightly sexual.
By the time we arrived at home, my cock was throbbing as I held Fiona and pulled her toward me. After a long kiss, she whispered, "Start a fire. I need to freshen up."
I did as instructed and the fire was crackling when I sensed Fiona in the doorway leading to the master bedroom. I could barely see her in the light of the fire, but in a moment, I heard her fan a deck of cards before taking seat on one of our living room wing chairs.
"The ante is that bottle of champagne in the ice box and two glasses. Don't waste any time because I can't wait to get you out of those clothes."
Champagne poured, Fiona dealt the first hand and before long had me out of my jacket and tie. Then the tide shifted, and it was her turn to lose a piece of clothing, Casually, Fiona stood and asked me to unzip her. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked a strapless black bra, dropped it on the floor and turned her back to me again without displaying any of her tender parts. She smiled coyly and said, "Zip me up."
After a few more hands, we had traded pairs of shoes and Fiona had ceded her necklace and earrings. Through it all, she continued to sit in the chair with her legs demurely folded underneath her, while my cock throbbed in anticipation.