May's eyes lit up when she heard the proposal. Her memories transported her back to her glory years, when she was named the Grand Champion of the high school ping-pong tournament. Typical school days: a nameless bitter rival who was far more important at the time than she should've been, and May working her ass off to get to the final. Stress and hormones combined to make a toxic mix, but the elation seeping out of each victory kept her going. At the end, she faced her teenage rival and beat her in a tense match for the the girls, and them alone, even though before now they'd barely known what the other was made of. May basked in the glory of her eventual victory, trite as such a thing may seem. The teachers half-watching were impressed, and she had notions of recommendations and trainers that would ultimately not come to fruition. But she'd held onto those dear memories all this time.
So when this man proposed that they play a friendly match of ping-pong in the basement of her friend's house, years removed from that exciting time, she was floored by the possibilities. As she followed him down the stairs into the dimly-lit basement, clouds of smoke still billowing from those who'd gone back upstairs already, she could feel the thrill of competition, and was ready to vanquish her opponent yet once more. They were alone, face to face, in a battle to the end.
Her eyes gleamed as she gripped her paddle, shooting a confident smile at the man across from her. She took in his casual demeanor and returned his smile with an unnecessary arrogance. She knew she would easily beat him, even if the stakes didn't matter.
"Winner takes all?" proposed the man as he held the ball upright between his agile fingers, idly spinning the paddle in his other hand.
May nodded, her grin glued to her face as the surge of battle flowed into her.
The ball came, spinning off her opponent's paddle before hitting the corner of the table, where it sliced away from her.
It was a hit and a miss.
"My point," declared the man.
The ball was returned and he served again. May stood at the ready, bending her knees in preparation for the reaction and return serve. Again the ball hit the edge of the table and sliced out of her reach.
"2-0," he declared. "It's your serve now."
May knew the rules and wanted to sneer, but she kept the now-plastic smile glued to her face, not wanting to show her nerves. She let her muscles do all the work, tossing the ball into the air and swiping at the ball.
Missing it entirely.
"Do-over?" asked the man, grinning genuinely. Perhaps it was not as mocking as it seemed to May but she doubled down anyways.
"Your point."
The man shrugged.
May served again, this time thwacking the hollow plastic ball, immediately sending it to surface on her side before flew right into the net, stopping its momentum completely.
"4-0," he reminded her.
She tossed him the ball, not looking annoyed but letting out just a sniff of recognition.
He served the next two points, which she held for a few volleys before she eventually succumbed, hitting both returns off the table.
"6-0," came the man's factual delivery.
May had a little dignity left inside, and was prepared for the eventually if he wanted to implement the 'skunk rule' that limited the game to seven points, to ease the suffering of her abysmal performance.
She eyed up the man before taking her serve, almost forgetting the stakes before he reminded her, putting on the pressure.
"Winner takes all," he repeated.
May served without hesitation, clipping the net and allowing her another try.
This time it made it over the net, and they volleyed back and forth until she finally caved, smashing the ball into his clothing rather than the table as he instinctually protected himself.
"7-0. That's game."
"Best of three," May shot back immediately, as if he'd sent her another ball.
"Winner takes all," he reminded her but set down his paddle instead of trying to ready himself for the next serve.
May supposed it was the famed rock-paper-scissors approach to deciding the next server, so she rounded a fist and slapped it into her palm a few times, waiting for the man to do the same.
But he just stood there, his hands at his sides.
She eyed his loose clothing, trying to puzzle out what was happening, when she suddenly realized the mantra he kept repeating that she'd been ignoring each time he spoke.
"Wait, the winner of each match?" she gulped as she finally replied to him.
"Winner takes all," he smiled.
Her heart began to beat fast, and her eyes zipped around his clothing, which traced his shape and tried to puzzle out his conditions for that indisputable victory he'd somehow pulled off. May was a stickler for honor and duty, but she had no idea what the man wanted. He'd never even asked her, and she never pictured herself on the losing end in the first place, anyways.
"So what are you gonna take?" she asked innocently, meekly cutting off as she realized how that sounded.
But the implication was exactly what the man wanted.
"More like, what are you gonna give?" he winked mischieviously.
He was an attractive man, to be sure, with a clean smile, a trimmed beard, and May thought that perhaps even strategically she could get an edge and ultimately play it to her advantage. She thought she noticed a slight bulge in his garments and did her best to saunter over to him, hoping to distract him before the next match. He smiled receptively and confirmed his idea. She reached out a hand and grabbed the bulge, stiff underneath his clothes, searching a way to free it from underneath.
She sifted it out from underneath the layers as he leaned back lightly against the table. His warm meat throbbing in the light now, she lowered her mouth to him. He twitched as the softness of her lips met his exposed skin, and the moist sensation washed over it completely. She bobbed up and down on him as she slid her hand up and grasped the base of his shaft. She stroked lightly until she was in the correct rhythm, moving her neck in time with her hand, until the man groaned at the pleasure. She bobbed, totally in control of the situation now, and gaining the upper hand, she hoped.
Once she tasted the saltiness on her tongue, she came up for air. He grabbed at her breast, and she knew now she held the advantage, which she chose to play rather than continue. She smiled up at him as the spittle glistened off her wagging chin.
"Not yet, champ. Best of three. Remember?" Her smile was so big one corner of her eyes almost winked at him.
He quickly packed his erection back under the folds of cloth and grabbed for a paddle again.
She lifted herself fully erect and sauntered back to her side of the table where she stopped right before picking up the paddle. She instead formed a fist and held it above her other hand which was flattened.
"Rock-paper-scissors for serve," she demanded.
