Backgammon for Blood

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The story you are about to read is a fantasy. All characters are fictional. However, if you do see Susan, please tell her that I’d like a return match.


She was leaning on the receptionist’s desk, conferring with the other lass. Red pumps, long legs that went all the way up, crimson skirt exposing the knee, a gold chain masquerading as a belt around a slender waist, tawny blouse pleasantly filled out and covered with a scarlet vest, a ruby ring on her right hand but nothing save a bracelet on the left, shoulder length brunette hair, cinnamon eyes large enough to devour you, and a smile that would charm Scrooge. Definitely nothing that would hurt the eyes.

“Hi!” she said, “You must be the guy on special assignment. I’m Susan.”

“Sure am,” I wittily replied, “name’s Kirby. Phil Kirby.” Oh, well, they can’t all be winners. My new boss then joined us. Susan, it seems, was one of my peers in the group. After a few more pleasantries, she went her way, and I was invited into the boss’s office for coffee and a chat.

I was on temporary assignment to headquarters for the next year. They needed help in rolling out a new product, and my skill set matched the requirements – customer technical support with a recent degree in marketing, which I was desperate to use. They were bringing me down for the duration, giving me an apartment and letting me commute on weekends to my wife and home about three hours away. I was looking forward to the change of pace, and felt sure that it would lead to a promotion when I went back to the field. Personally, I also looked forward to a year away. My wife and I, after years of marriage, had reached the blahs and we both figured that this would give us a little break from each other. My body was doing the forty-thing, getting a little too heavy here and there, and this would give me a chance to trim up. Of course, I had to put my life on hold back home, but this was no big thing. My only child from a previous marriage was a senior in high school who lived with her mother and didn’t much want to see her old man on weekends anyway. I resigned as president of the backgammon club, and was on my way.

I began to immerse myself in the new role, and was contented. My project was running on schedule and under budget. All of my peers were agreeable people who liked to get together after work every once in awhile, and Susan of the red outfits usually accompanied us. After three months I was getting into shape (working out at the corporate health center instead of eating ice cream every night will do that,) and I really looked forward to the weekends. If I hadn’t developed any close friends in the new city, it wasn’t a big thing. There was only one thing missing in my life. . .

I’d been working with Susan on collateral for my project, and had learned that she had a reputation as a person who always did what she said she would, and made sure that commitments that she received from others were kept. A real straight arrow; if she told you that the sun was going to rise in the north, watch for Santa to be digging a swimming pool, because all the ice at the north pole was going to melt. The only real oddity that I had observed about her was that she liked to wear red. Even when her basic outfit was another color, she used red jewelry, scarves or other accents. One day I stopped into her office, and noticed a backgammon board on her bookshelf.

“You play?” I asked her.

“Only for blood,” she retorted.

“I’ve played a little in my time. How much blood do you want?”

“I’ll start you out at a buck a game. You do know how to use the doubling cube, don’t you?”

“Is that the extra piece that I gave to my daughter to use as a footstool in her dollhouse?”

We made plans to meet in the cafeteria the next day for lunch. She was good, real good, and after an hour I figured I was lucky to be down only three dollars. Over the next three weeks we played at lunchtime two or three times a week. I enjoyed the companionship and she seemed to enjoy our chatter over the sound of the stones clinking. I discovered the salient facts; married once for a few years a ways back, now single and happy about it; no children and no desire for children; worked out at a health club three times a week; the reason that she wore red was because she was able to look sexy without being unprofessional; and the other things you find out just by being around someone. However, she never referred to Significant Others in her life; in fact, she seemed to avoid the subject.

She also got my basic statistics – how I was ‘happily’ married and enjoyed my weekends at home; my musical tastes; the fact that I wasn’t too lonely, and all of that.

We were having a good time. During my first weekend after the games started, I got out my old copies of Robertie and Jacoby and brushed up on my backgammon. After three weeks, she was only a few dollars up, and I felt I was holding my own. I considered inviting her out after work, just for poker oyna companionship, but I always lost my nerve at the last minute.

Late on a Thursday afternoon one of the guys came in to my office and said a bunch of folk were going up to a local bar and restaurant for a few pops after work; was I in? “Sure,” I replied. I finished up the remaining details of the day, and when I got to the pub, most everybody was there. We started playing darts, and somehow Susan became my partner. She insisted, of course, that we get the red arrows, and I found out that backgammon wasn’t the only game she was proficient in. We wound up whipping all comers, not necessarily due to my superb play. After awhile the party started pooping out, and eventually, Susan and I were the last ones standing.

“Dinner?” she asked.

“What’s the food like here?”

“Passable. Let’s get a table and order. I’m famished.”

Sitting down, we ordered, and then got to talking over a couple more drinks.

“What’s it like to only have the weekends?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know. Nothing during the week and then you go home. Do you and your wife act like teenagers, doing it in the kitchen because you can’t wait to get upstairs? Or do you turn Letterman on and get it on during the commercial?”

“Actually, it’s great. We hadn’t had that much interest in it, but now when I get home it’s pretty romantic, even if we do the same old things. The weeks get a little long, but . . . .”

“Did you ever think about having an affair?”

“Always, I think about it. But I’ve never looked for the opportunity, at least in this marriage. Now, I guess, I’m too set in my ways. And, after all, at my age I can’t imagine any woman that I would want wanting me.”

“Nonsense,” she said, “You’re a very sensitive and attractive man. Any woman in her right mind would love to see what you have to offer. . . . Don’t you want to know about me?” she said.

“As far as sex? I figure a hot number like you would have a hundred guys. Or is the Age of Aids crimping your style?”

“You’ve got it. A single girl’s got to be pretty careful these days. I’ve always been the kind of girl to have one guy at a time anyway. My last boyfriend got transferred to the coast three weeks ago and that one’s over, so now I’m back to being celibate. I really need a safe date.”

I was trying to figure out how I could offer humorously myself as a stopgap as the blond waitress delivered our sandwiches, breaking into our intimacy with a question about ketchup. The spell was broken, and the conversation slipped into something else. After dinner I escorted her to her car. She said, “You know, you’re a really nice guy,” and then pecked me on the cheek. Although I thought the attraction was starting to build and was having fantasies about how the evening was going to turn out, she slinked into her bucket seat and drove off.

On the weekend my wife was quite pleased as I was fantasizing about Susan while taking care of her, and on Monday morning a yellow stickie was posted to my phone. “Backgammon today. I’m gonna have your ass!” I don’t know what got into her, but she played fantastically that afternoon. She won 6 games straight, and gammoned me twice. As I got my wallet out to give her the $8 I’d lost she queried, “Doing anything Wednesday night?”

“Just the usual,” I said, “frozen pot pie.”

“Why don’t you come over to my place and let me cook up some pasta? Then we can play some backgammon.”

“Sounds great. What can I bring?”

“How about a bottle of wine?”


“How did you guess?”

Wednesday came, and I was like a kid on a first date. I felt silly. I knew that Susan and I were becoming good friends, but she hadn’t given me any indication that I was anything other than a backgammon buddy. And she knew I was married. I told myself to start acting my age. On the way over, I stopped into a liquor store and couldn’t decide between Zinfandel or Merlot. So I bought both.

Susan greeted me with a brief hug. After she’d taken the wine off my hands, I noticed that she hadn’t changed from work. Red skirt with a matching laced blouse. She was walking around in her stockinged feet. “Sit down,” she said, “and I’ll open the wine.” Her condominium was elegant and decorated in creams with magenta accents, with lots of artwork. Classic Rock was playing on the stereo. Some plaques were on the wall, and a few trophies were on the mantle. She brought two glasses of the Merlot she had uncorked and sat on the couch beside me, crossing her legs. The short skirt allowed me to see a lot of skin under the pantyhose.

Pointing to the mantle I asked, “Nice do-dads. Where did you get them?”

“Oh here and there. The big one is for bad behavior, and the one next to it is for good technique.” I got up and read the inscriptions. They celebrated her backgammon championships of the Midwest city where she grew up, and two were runners-up for the local backgammon club.

“You’ve canlı poker oyna been easy on me,” I remarked.

“Tonight, I think you’ll see just how rough I can be!” I scorned at her in mock terror, and she continued, “Remember, I always keep my word.”

I helped Susan finish up the dinner, and we bumped into each other a couple of times. As she passed me once, her bosom brushed against my arm. Dinner was superb. Salad followed by pasta, with conversation that bordered on the risqué. As we finished eating, Susan opened up the second bottle of wine. Winking at me, she said, “I’m glad we saved the Zinfandel for last. It’s much spicier. Why don’t you go into the living room and set up the board on the coffee table? I’ll be in after I clear the dishes.” I set up the scarlet leather board with blood and ivory stones I found on the glass table, and kicked my shoes off to match Susan’s style. She followed me in, sat down beside me, and took my hand in hers.

“Do you mind if we raise the stakes?” she asked.

“What did you want to play for?”

“How about if we play strip backgammon? A nine game match. For each game that you lose, a piece of clothing comes off. If you lose the match, you go home. If I lose, I’ll do anything you’d like me to.” Although I needed to take another sip of wine to cover my shock, I quickly agreed.

“Seems like a fair match to me. You’re better than I am, though.”

“You want a handicap? ” she smiled. “No deal. You’ll just have to play the game of your life.”

Before we began, Susan puttered around, dimming the lamps and lighting two vermilion candelabra she brought from a table in the hall and swapped the rock with light jazz. She reclined on the floor, showing quite a bit of leg, and purred, “Let the excitement begin.” I slipped off the couch to squat on the floor opposite her.

I got lucky in the first game. 3-1 was my opening roll, and after a few moments, I had her penned into her home court and hit one of her blots. On her next roll, she got off the bar onto the three point, but faced a five-point block. I put the cube on the table. She just looked at it, stood up and slowly peeled her pantyhose off. While her skirt was up, I was treated to a hint of her panties that were, of course, red. She sat down again, exposing as much leg as possible without giving me a good look at anything further up. “Enjoy the show,” she said, “this look-see may be best you get.”

She came out strong in the second game, built a slight advantage, and offered me the cube. I thought hard about accepting it, and finally picked it up and put it in my home. Susan immediately rolled double fours, and put me on the bar. I got off, covering the four spot in her home court, but Susan then rolled double threes. I was lucky to get two men off the board before she closed me out to win a double game. “I assume you’re not wearing an undershirt?” she asked. “Then, to make it fair, take off your socks and belt.” I still had my shirt, pants and briefs, and could tell that she had panties and bra beneath her skirt and blouse. As my socks joined her pantyhose, she remarked, “Ooooh, long toes! Is there any truth to the rumor?”

“You’ll have to win three more games to verify the fact,” I replied, without showing much confidence that I could stop her.

The next game started with Susan splitting a 5-2. I got fortunate, and rolled double sixes. She then rolled a 3-1 and chose to build her five point. I was lucky enough to roll a 4-3, putting her on the bar. Soon thereafter, I had a five-point block with her three stones still in my home court. I got so far ahead so quickly that I never thought about offering her the cube. I put her on the bar again, and had all the points in my home court covered except for the one point, which contained the two stones which she had never moved. I managed to get five men home before she came off the bar, and a few rolls later she conceded the gammon.

“Well,” she said, “You’re going to get more show than I had bargained on.” I watched her slowly unbutton her blouse to expose a red translucent bra. Her nipples were large, and looked as taut as the obvious lump in my lap which Susan could see through the coffee table. She then stood up, unzipped her skirt and slipped it to the floor, demonstrating just how long her legs really were.

“My, my,” she said, looking down through the glass, “I knew you were going to play hard, but I didn’t realize that you brought reinforcements.” She sat back down, and moved her foot up to rest it on my trousers a few inches below my crotch. Her mound of Venus was protruding from her bikini panties, little more than a g-string actually, and she was observing with interest the sizable increase in the mass of my fly. “Now, I guess I have to be both good and lucky.”

I’d played enough with her to realize that no lead was safe. The next game was clearly hers, and I scoffed at the cube when she offered it. I could see her eyes light up when I pulled the golf shirt over my internet casino head. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? You really look good!”

The next game was no better, and I was easily beat again. As I stood up to unzip my fly and remove my trousers, Susan licked her lips. “Oh, blue briefs!” she exclaimed. “And just barely the right size, at least right now. I like a man who’s not afraid to wear color where it counts.” I could see that her panties were a little darker near the crotch, as if they were moist.

Things were looking grim. I had to win two games against a better player than I or go home frustrated, as I knew Susan would be good to her word. I wondered, if I lost, if she would give me a repeat match, or if this was my one and only chance.

The next game was tight. At the end, we both had all of our stones in our home courts, except that I controlled the eight point in her outer court, and she had two stones on my twelve point. A slight advantage to her. On her roll, she got a 6-2 and had to move past my stones. She moved her other stone to her eleven point. My chance had arrived. Yes! A 5-3. Hitting her blot, I moved my stones. In her first attempt, she failed to get off the bar. A 6-4 roll enabled me to move one stone onto my six point, and the other into my outer court, leaving only my 5 point open. But, as luck would have it, she rolled a 6-5, and was past me before I knew it. It was all up to the dice now. I had a slight advantage, and took it to game as neither of us was able to roll doubles. When I removed my last stone from the table, Susan softly moaned.

She got up, and came around to my side of the coffee table. I could easily scent her womanhood, and her panties were quite wet by now. My blue briefs were showing a small stain where my cock was beginning to emit seminal fluid. She knelt down beside me, took my face in her hands and kissed me deeply. She then sat down on my lap and asked me to undo the clasp on her bra. It buckled in the front, and as I put my fingers into her cleavage I rubbed my wrists over her nipples, sending shudders through both of us. As I unclasped the bra and slid it from her shoulders, I was treated to the view of her perfect breasts; Susan wasn’t large, perhaps a 34B, but her teats were very firm with aureoles the size of a silver dollar. Her nipples protruded nearly a half-inch.

She then turned to me and began kissing me deeply while her hands were gently stroking the back of my neck. Her breasts were brushing against my chest, and I began to stoke her back with one hand, and her legs with the other. After awhile, she took the hand that was on her legs and placed it on her breast. She lowered her head to suck on my nipples, and moaned “pinch it.” When I squeezed her erect nipple, she groaned “that’s so good.” She moved so I could easily kiss and suck her breasts. Her hands were all over me, but she didn’t touch my briefs or the prick that was straining to be released. My hands, of course, were roaming her body; her hair, her neck and back, the breast that I wasn’t suckling at the time, her feet and legs. I put my hand on her thigh, and slowly brought it up; Susan spread her legs a little further apart, welcoming my fingers to the honey pot. But just as my fingers caressed her now dripping panties she stopped and whispered, “Oh, I want you so much. But you HAVE to win the final game.” She gave me a last kiss, and then rose and went back to her side of the coffee table. She sat down cross-legged and asked, “The show is getting better now, isn’t it?”

The last game started slowly, with both of us building in the outer courts. Susan was able to escape from my home while my two stones stayed in after she was able to build a four-point block around the bar. Although I was able to build up my inner court, it was doing no good, as Susan pressed her advantage to give her a six-point block with the extra stones on her two, three and four points. On her next move, she rolled a 5-4 and moved all her points into her home. I rolled a 6-2 and had to move one of my stones out. My minimal back game was busted, and now it seemed too late.

And then she rolled a 6-5. She had to take her first stone off the board leaving a decision on what to do with the other stone on that point. She looked at me and said, “I’d love to leave you two blots. But then I KNOW you wouldn’t respect me in the morning.” She moved her other stone to her one point, and my stone onto the bar. Leaving the dice on the table, she cupped her breasts with her hands and whispered, “Good luck.”

I knew that this would be my last chance. After she picked her dice up, I rolled. One of the die immediately came up a 5, but the other spun on it’s curved edges, finally coming to rest with a one showing. As I moved my hand to take my stone off the bar onto her blot, she held it and kissed it, then said, “Keep it up!” As her eyes were wandering, I didn’t know if she was speaking of my good luck or another attribute.

From then on, the game was clearly mine. As she failed to quickly roll a number that would release her piece from the bar, my stones easily raced around and then off the board. When my last was released from the playing field, Susan still had six stones remaining.

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