Chapter #25A Monopoly of Three by: Seuzz   "I'll take Jelena's group," you say softly. "Three people?" Steve nods. "I'll know better who the three should be after--" You glance at Charles, and grimace softly. "You should get out of here," you tell Caleb. "I don't want to see you after I change."
His eyes flick with amusement between Charles and Kim. "One is sexy and one is gay. Which one don't you want me to see you as?"
"I'm sexy," you say, turning on him with a frown. "I'm the sexiest girl in school, and either one is a step down for me. So you just get out of here. Take Gordon with you."
"Yeah, but where are you going to be? In case I need to get in touch with you."
"I'll let you know when I'm in place. Where are you going to be?"
"I'll be Caleb." He sighs. "Oh well. We were talking about running the school from the shadows anyway. I can take the book, hook up with James and them tonight."
"Uh uh. Make it tomorrow. I need the book to make up some stuff for my own switch."
He shrugs and leaves. You call Will Prescott, telling him to come back to the school. After getting the golems sorted out, you're not going to let them get messed up again. Then--
"Alright, Charles," you say as you start to undress. "This is going to disgust me a lot more than it's going to disgust you."
* * * * *
You wake up with a deep sigh, and gaze up at the ceiling. So this is what it's like being gay, you think. Doesn't feel any different. You glance down, to find Kim Walsh, Chelsea Cooper, and Will Prescott gazing down coolly at you. "Get an eyeful, why don't you?" you snap at them. "Prescott, you can go home. Same with you, Chels. Oh, leave the key to this place." You sit up. If Jason Lynch caught you up here-- You snicker. Charles thinks: Guy's so deep in the closet he can't even find the door.
Kim remains as you dress in slacks and loafers and a button-down shirt. Where's that ballcap? Oh, there it is. The finishing ironic touch. "Kim, do you mind driving? Of course you don't. Let me just see if the coast is clear." You dial Andrea. "Drea, I know you know it's me," you say when she answers. "Is your mom's tip drawer full? I'm bored, so I'm gonna come over and play Monopoly for real stakes."
"Can you cover your losses," she lazily asks. You try to will your cock into stirring, but there's a major impediment.
"Don't ask silly questions, Drea. You know I won't have to. Is your mom there?"
"She's got a late shift."
"Good. Maybe we can go for double or nothing. I'll be over in thirty minutes. Set out the top hat for me, and go ahead and give me Oriental. I'm going to be rolling sevens all night." You turn to the book and start putting together some sealant.
Kim shifts on her feet. "Am I going too?"
"Of course. I told you, you're driving. You'll stay too. We're going to gossip about Karl and Kelsey. It'll piss off Drea."
* * * * *
Andrea Varnsworth is a portrait in loveliness when she answers to the door: a tank top that exposes her midriff; harem pants; bare feet. "You didn't have to dress up for me, Drea," you say, and give her a peck on the cheek. "It's not strip Monopoly. Not this time. Oh, Kim drove me out here. Come in, Kim." You gesture and she follows. "Have you eaten yet, Drea? I'm mooching off everyone tonight."
"I was going to fix couscous. Hi Kim."
"I'll go Greek too, then." You unbutton your shirt down to your belt buckle, exposing a shallow but hairy chest. "Need any help?"
"It only takes one to fix. I was planning on it only being one to eat, too."
"You should never leave me out of your plans. I was just being polite anyway. I don't have any intention of helping you." You sit on the futon and pat the seat beside you. "I brought Kim along for entertainment while you did the work."
Andrea flicks an amused eyebrow at you and returns to the kitchen. You watch her mane of tawny hair as it swings between her shoulder blades, and sigh: At the moment you've only an intellectual interest in her.
You put your arm around Kim. "You and I should get married. We'd make a cute couple, especially in a place like this." You look around. Andrea and her mom live in a very small house in one of the pokier parts of town. The living room is spare to the point of being Spartan: Besides the futon, there's only a desk and chair in one corner and a bookcase on one of the walls. There's no TV, only an old-style boom box and a stack of CDs.
"It's cozy," Kim allows.
"No it isn't," you retort. "But it's low maintenance. I could leave my underwear all over the place and it would only take you two minutes to clean up. Drea?" you call. "Do you mind if I put some music on? I am in dire need of stimulation." She yells back something that sounds waspish. You don't pay any attention and go over to the boom box to flip through the collection. "You have such cute tastes, Drea. Or is it your mom? I think you told me once, but I wasn't paying attention. Oh, The Breakfast Club! I'll be Emilio Estevez, and you can be Molly Ringwald, Kim." You pull her to her feet and spend ten minutes dancing.
You decide to eat before doing anything with Andrea, and then you decide to play a little of that real-money Monopoly--with pennies for ones and fives for five hundreds--with her and Kim. The three of you sit cross-legged on the floor. You wait until Andrea has triumphantly completed the yellow and orange groups before snorting in disgust. "I'm going to win," she tells you with just the barest hint of gloating in her voice.
"I'm letting you win. I'll give you an IOU."
"No you won't. I'm not letting you leave until you pay me."
"Ooh, my fake gay act finally pays off. Are we going to sleep together?"
"Don't be snotty. I'll pay you minimum wage for cleaning up the place."
"I'll have to dirty it up first. Can I use your bathroom, or should I just use the corner?" She gives you a look and doesn't reply.
You run the water in the sink and glance around. My my, so many grooming products for a girl who affects such an unencumbered look. It takes a lot of chemicals to keep a girl looking like a natural beauty. You take the blank mask from your bag.
The bathroom door creaks as you step back out, but Andrea's back is to you, and she doesn't turn around as you step behind her, kneel, and put the mask to her face.
Andrea isn't a heavy girl, but she is muscular and hence heavy for her size. You have to drag her back into her bedroom and throw her roughly onto the bed. You undress and lay next to her, and pull Charles's mask off. It's a relief--and an arousing one--to wake next to Andrea, even though her face is obscured by the mask. You sigh: no time to undress her yourself. You put Charles's mask onto her--a temporary arrangement until tomorrow--and turn away to seal up her mask while the new golem changes clothes.
And then, with hands trembling slightly from excitement, you put Andea's mask to your face.
* * * * *
You lay on the bed for almost ten minutes after opening your eyes. You spend the first moments enjoying the feeling of firm and heavy breasts weighing on your chest as you draw in deep and satisfying breaths. Only when that pleasure palls do you run a palm down a taut stomach that has been sculpted by lots of swimming into a smooth pedestal. Your bellybutton is shaped like a long, shallow oval, and you run a finger tip over it. You raise a leg and rub the side of the thigh and calf; you can bend it back so far you can also caress the side of your foot. You do the same with the other leg. You'll save further exploration for tonight, in a hot bath.
Now feeling invigorated, you rise and pull on fresh panties from the drawer, and cover them with the silk harem pants. You call Charles in from the other room, and stare at yourself in the mirror as he clasps the bra onto you. You pull on a fresh tank top, one that's even shorter, so that it falls off your breasts like a sheet of water over a precipice. "See if you can do anything with my hair," you order him, and brush it back so he can play with it. You gesture at some clasps and clips on the dresser.
"I've been dying to play hairdresser for you, Drea," he says dryly. He fumbles with various possible arrangements, until you dismiss him and just let it falls about your face. It's a narrow face, still dark from the summer, with a pointed chin and high cheekbones and eyes that settle easily into a daunting and skeptical glance. You disdain the sandals as you return to the living room.
"Earn your keep, Charles," you tell him. "Clean up this mess." He snorts and picks up the game and the bowls. In the kitchen he scrubs the pans and dinnerware. You put The Breakfast Club back in the boom box and dance with Kim. She is cute. But Chelsea is lovelier.
Still, you have business to consider, and your mind runs over possible recruits from among Andrea's friends. The boys she knows would be easier to daunt and manipulate. But the girls would be more fun to hang out with.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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