This story is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of 18. I hope you enjoy it and any feedback is appreciated.
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Pokeher
Recently I enrolled in a continuing education class for creative writing at a local state college in my area. Little did I know at the time how 'creative writing' could lead to such interesting situations. As most aspiring writers, I had envisioned writing the next great American novel. But like many, I got a job with a software company writing instructions manuals and such. It paid the rent. I thought taking this class would help me get kickstarted on my novel.
At the first class I observed that many of the participants were older than me and I was probably one of the younger students. That was until I noticed a girl sitting in the back of the class. She was certainly near my age, wore a bulky sweater, large framed glasses, and her hair was long and covered half her face. At first glance from a distance she looked like a Bag-Lady in training. At the time I didn't give her a second thought.
At the beginning of the third week the professor announced that we would be doing a team project. We would be divided into two person teams to collaborate and write a short story. This seemed odd to me but it was supposed to help us actually flesh out ideas and communicate clearly. As he read out names, we would hold up our hand so we could see our partner and meet after class.
I raised my had as he called my name. Then he called out Amy Post. I begin to look around the auditorium and didn't see a hand raised. As I turned around, I saw the girl with large glasses and bulky sweater, who sat on the back row, with her hand at half-mast. I smiled at her and she just looked at me with a blank stare. I immediately realized this was going to be a challenge.
Our first meeting was, to be polite, awkward. I could not tell if she was shy or just disinterested. We met in one of the small study rooms at the Library. We discussed the project and actually made some progress. After the meeting I wasn't sure, but I thought we got along OK.
As the weeks went by, we made progress on a short story about a guy and a girl who both were shy but were able to find a way to connect. At times I wondered if she thought it was semi-autobiographical. None the less, as the deadline approached, we decided to meet daily.
One day after working for two hours I suggested we take a break, grab a beer and relax. To my surprise she said yes. It was amazing how her demeanor changed after a couple of beers. She was more relaxed and we actually had a good time. She still dressed like a dumpy old lady, it seemed like she was hiding; afraid to be open to the world. But we got along and actually laughed a bit, and after sometime she actually began to open up.
As the project went along, we had more beers together and she turned out to be a very sweet, but still a very guarded girl. We discussed writing, books we had read, current events, and the like. She was very bright and now and then when she pushed her hair back a bit, I think under the hair, glasses and bulky clothes was a pretty girl. As our daily meetings progressed, and our post beer and talk, we begin to fall into almost a feeling like we were old friends. But I let go of any idea about actually dating, for she was still very shielded and I didn't want to upset our working arrangement.
Then one afternoon after our second beer she confided she wrote short stories and posted some online, using an online made-up moniker. When I asked her to tell me so I could read some, she declined. And then retreated back into her bulky sweater persona.
I gave this no thought, that was until our next session at the Library. After our session, which was very productive, she got up and left. As I was packing my backpack, I noticed she had left one of her books behind. I picked it up and decided I'd see her soon and give it back. Then I noticed some papers folded up in the back of the book. My good guy said ignore it, but my curiosity guy said look at it. It was a good move. The papers had the name of a webpage and her moniker, along with some hand written notes. Well, this was gold. I was dying to read some of her stuff and learn more about her. After working closely for these last few weeks, I was sure there was a swan beneath that ugly duckling persona.
When I got home, I fired up my laptop and went directly to the site. I was more than surprised when what popped up was an erotic literature site with all forms of erotic stories. Of course I immediately went to the story that she had just posted under her moniker.
I was amazed at the writing, it was good, but the story was unexpected. It was about a girl who had submissive tendencies and fantasied about a guy she knew at school. She was working on a project with him and didn't know how to approach him. Well, this got my attention. I kept reading. After finishing a writing project, they decide to have some drinks. They get a bit tipsy and decide to play strip poker. I mean, strip poker is such an old cliché. I continued. It turned out she wanted to lose. She wanted to have to strip naked for this guy and then, as the rules they set out, she would do whatever he wanted for the next hour.
I could not believe what I was reading. I kept asking the question as to why she would leave her book with a paper giving a direct path to her stories. It could be just an absent-minded mistake, or maybe she wanted me to find it. Either way I did find it and I did read one of her latest fantasies. My mind kept going back to one question that had lingered in the back pages of my thoughts. What was under those bulky sweaters?
Our project was almost finished so I had to return her book just as it was when she left, and make her think I had no idea about her story. Next, I needed to make a plan to set up a situation that could lead to a card game. I was now getting excited.
We got together a couple of days later at the library and as we were getting started, I grabbed my backpack.
"Oh, Amy, you left this at our last meeting," I said, pulling out the book. I was curious to see her reaction.
"Oh, thanks," she said in a rather nonchalant way. I couldn't even see a hint of surprise, or any emotion for that matter. I made a mental note and we got to work on our project.
We put the finishing edits together on our short story and decided to call it done. I have to admit it was pretty damn good story and we had worked well as a team. The project deadline was next week, but we could submit it via email to our Professor. We sent it off.
After I pushed 'SEND', Amy got up and began packing her backpack.
"See you in class next week," she said. "Good work on the project. I hope we get an A," she smiled. With that she got up and left. I was a bit surprised at her abrupt departure, but I still had my plan, and I had some work to do before I could set it in motion. I would make the invite to grab a beer after our next class.
On my way home I stopped at a convenience store and purchased two packs of identical playing cards. My plan was simple, but needed a bit of work. I wanted to be sure there were no surprises if I was able to actually get the Game going. If her story was actually a fantasy she wanted to live out, or if it was just a story, was uncertain. But she had left a trail of data that would lead me directly to the website and her story. It was time to do some work.
I didn't want to leave anything to chance. Even if she was going to try and lose, some strange occurrence of chance might spoil this outcome. I decided to 'rig' my coffee table to be sure all went my way. It was the obvious place to play the game and with an extra deck of cards I could be sure I had a winning hand whenever I needed it. Also, I planned to throw a few hands just to see her reactions.
I was able to rig a way to put a variety of cards under the table where I would sit. It took some practice sessions to get a smooth transition, but I must admit, I got pretty good at cheating.
Our classes were always held later in the day as many students worked. When I got to class, I noticed Amy sitting, as usual, in the back of the room. I went over and sat down next to her.
"Well, let's hope we get a good grade," I said.
Amy smiled at me, which for her had been difficult when we first started the project. "Don't worry, I think we aced it. It really was a good story," she said.
At that point our professor walked in to the classroom. "Well, I am pleased to announce that all of the stories were actually submitted on time," he laughed. "That is a new record. And, I was able to read and grade them all, so your teams will be receiving your grades later today. Just check online after class. I repeat, don't be taking out your phones or laptops until we finished class, for grades will not be ready until after class sometime."
Class seemed to drag on and on. I was a bit excited to see what grade we got, but I was overly pumped to see if my game plan would work out and if I was correct about Amy's absent minded book leaving wasn't so absent minded. When class was over, we both left together.
"Why not go back to my apartment to wait together to see our grade? I have plenty of cold beer there. No use paying extra money at a bar." I held my breath.
"Sure," Amy replied. "That sounds good. Let's go."
It didn't take long to get to my apartment. I grabbed us some beers from the fridge and we sat on the couch. Our time working on the paper and our afternoons drinking beer afterwards made it easy to fall into conversation. After our second beer we checked to see if the grades had been posted. To my relief they hadn't. It was time to see if the Plan would work.
Then paranoia started to rise. What if she was just setting me up? What if she actually is a militant feminist and gets off humiliating guys. I will just end up looking like a fool. She will have a big laugh at my expense. The battle of fear verses excitement was actually motivating. Onward with the Plan.
"It may be awhile before the grades get posted. Want to play cards? Just to pass the time," I said.
"Cards?" she said
"Sure, why not? I'll get us a couple of beers and I think I have a deck of cards in the kitchen," I said as I jumped up from the couch.
"Ok," she said with a small smile. "I need to borrow your bathroom."
