“SUCK MY BALLS, ASSHOLE!”
With one last excited pump of her arms, Kris opened her hand and let loose. The die rattled across the narrow table, wobbled to a stop and rolled upright. Eleven.
“Congratulations on your basic adequacy,” murmured Otis Chen beside her.
“Shut the fuck up, Otis, you’re dead. Dead people can’t talk.” The combat session had gotten her blood pumping, and she wasn’t going to her luckless cohort drag her down with him. “With a plus-two weapon, plus my Dexterity bonus, plus my pinpoint accuracy feat, that’s… nineteen.”
She turned smugly to the Dungeon Master at the head of the table.
Dirk glanced back, the lower half of his face covered by the screen before him. “The agile Corvax Xenophilius aims his blade at the necromancer’s breast,” he narrated, his rich baritone pronouncing the name of Kristine’s character. “It strikes true – and cracks in half against the Stone Skin that the necromancer cast two rounds ago.”
Kris froze. She’d picked up her trusty eight-sided die, ready to roll for damage, its acrylic surface clicking against her rings. It fell from her hand and into the carpet below. Beside her, somebody snickered.
“Bullshit,” she hissed. “Come on, not my sword!”
“That’s how the dice came down, Kris. Safe for the moment, your enemy starts to chant,” Dirk continued, ignoring her. “A shimmering portal appears behind him. It’s only footsteps away for him, but for your party it might as well be a mile.”
She turned to the other players at the table, people she barely knew. Peter. Naveed. The fat one… she wanted to say his name was Wallace? Willis?
“Come on. Please tell me one of you nerds knows how to interrupt a Dimension Door?”
Otis raised a hand. “Too bad I’m dead, right?”
Dirk made a roll behind his screen. “The necromancer steps through the door, and darkness rolls through the empty remains of his blasted fortress.” He sighed. “That’s going to have to do it for this week. I’ll run some numbers for Experience before next week, and we’ll pick up from there. Kristine, do you mind staying for a minute?”
The other players stood up and filed out around her, clutching their snacks and character sheets. At least one of them glared at her on the way, but most of their dirty looks were pointed at Dirk instead. After a moment, the two were left alone in the room.
Kris brushed her crispy, peroxide-bleached bangs out of her eyes. She was an adult – she was twenty-three years old, for fuck’s sake – but his tone made it sound like she was being called to the principal’s office. And having him use her full first name didn’t help shake that image.
Dirk lowered his screen, and with it most of his air of authority. He was probably around her age, but his narrow chin and thick black curls on top of his lanky frame made him look like a kid who’d just hit his first growth spurt. If it wasn’t for his unusually deep voice, she might have guessed him to still be in high school.
He cleared his workspace in silence. Sourcebooks into his backpack along with his indecipherably scrawled notes, dice into a threadbare Crown Royal drawstring bag, until his stained, second-hand coffee table emerged again.
He didn’t look up at her once.
Kris didn’t take well to being ignored. “Well?”
“I don’t think you should come back next week.”
The words were flat. Prepared. Rehearsed.
“What the fuck, man? I was killing it back there. Even if we lost, none of your college buddies even got close to that necromancer. What was I supposed to do, take a bullet for Otis’ dumb ass? I barely know the guy.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a team effort, Kris. You told me that you’d played with a group before.”
She hadn’t actually lied when she’d told him that. What she’d failed to mention was that she’d played anonymously from behind a computer screen where nobody knew she was a girl. Until one day she’d done or said something that had given her away, and then the IM’s had started to roll in from the guys she’d thought were her friends.
Fake
Prove it
Show us your tits
Wanna cyber?
Tits or it didn’t happen
Yeah, she’d gotten a little bitter after that. It was around that time she’d retreated behind the oversized Bundeswehr jacket with the cargo pants and clunky black boots that had since become her signature look. It was a look that said, in effect, ‘Don’t touch me, I bite.’
But Dirk had seen past that. He’d caught her at work, dripping with sweat from working the espresso machine, her hair tangled and her mood sour. He’d looked past the nose ring and the army surplus clothes and fixated instead on the tattoo of an armoured woman with piercing eyes inked just below the crook of her elbow.
“Holy crap. Is that Kitiara from Dragonlance?” His face had been a sight to behold.
That wide-eyed stare had long since vanished. He was still waiting for her answer, his dark eyes boring holes in her.
“You know there was an ulterior motive for me inviting you into the group.”
His tone irked her. “What, because you were too scared to ask me out?”
“Because, like you said, our party’s been the same since college. Same roles. Same campaigns. Same lame jokes.” He picked up a candy wrapper from under Willis’ chair. “I thought that that some new blood might get them to act like mature adults.”
“I never said I was a role model.”
“I guess not,” he shrugged, and added almost as an afterthought, “and yes.”
“Yes, what?”
He bit his lip. “I was too scared to ask you out.”
The confession didn’t come as any surprise. She’d seen attraction and hesitation play across his face after that first meeting, and had been curious to see which one would win out. When he’d finally approached her, she told herself she was going to let him down gently, just to see if he’d keep up the pursuit. He wasn’t her usual type, after all, but a girl liked to have options. Instead, he’d asked her to join his campaign.
But she’d pushed his attraction past the breaking point. After two hours together she’d changed in his eyes from the aloof cool girl into just another cranky bitch, and he was cutting his losses. Kris sympathized. She’d have done the same in his position.
The problem was… dork or not, that voice of his did things for her.
Keeping that thought in mind, she grinned devilishly.
“What?”
Kris licked her chops, running her cheap black lipstick. “You wanted to ask me out, but you didn’t want to risk getting rejected. So instead you had me come here, where you’re the one in charge. I mean, you’re literally having me call you Master.”
“You’re right, it was a stupid idea.” He stuffed the last of the trash into a plastic bag and turned to walk away – only to draw up short as her heavy boot blocked his path.
“I don’t blame you, Dirk. But you don’t understand how this game is played.”
Confident that she had his full attention, she unbuttoned the breast pocket where she kept her dice. The jacket slipped open with the movement, revealing the low-cut shirt underneath. The creeps from her last group would never know… but under her baggy clothes, Kristine had a fantastic set of tits. Dirk gulped.
She casually let the jacket fall back into place as she retrieved her d6 and rolled it between her fingers.
“Pick a number.”
“What for?”
“You’ll find out.”
He watched the die dance for a moment, and shook his head.
“Pass. Call me jaded, but I’m pretty sure that what I don’t know can still hurt me.”
“No more than having your nips done. I promise.”
His eyes went back up to her chest. “You mean they’re pierced?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Dirk was quiet. Thinking over his options, she imagined. As if he really had any choice in the matter.
“Two.”
She blew on the die and dropped it to the table below. It bounced only once and lay still.
Two.
“So what do I win?” Dirk asked nervously.
Kris rose from her seat to collect the die, brushing up against him as she did. He stiffened under her touch. From the angle he was standing he could see all the way down to her belly button.
“What would you like?”
“I…” he gulped. “Can I kiss you?”
She laughed. “That’s kind of presumptuous, isn’t it? I think we need to take another roll.” She replaced the d6 with her lucky d8 and held it in front of him. “Call it.”
“Five.” There was no hesitation this time. She heard a hitch in his breath as she let the cube fly.
Four.
“Close! But not close enough.”
“Ah.” He tried to keep his tone level, but she could hear the disappointment creeping in. “I don’t suppose I get an Inspiration bonus?”
She turned the idea over for a minute. Then, before he could react, she planted her lips on the underside of his neck, just beside his Adam’s apple, biting softly. She pulled away, leaving an ashy black mark on his skin.
“How’s that for inspiration?”
Dirk’s mouth flew open, his shock clear on both his face and in the growing bulge in his track pants. He took her die between his trembling fingers. A spark of static electricity passed between them, and Dirk lit up with newfound energy.
“Undaunted, our hero prepares for a second effort. The risks are great… the rewards greater.” His eyes drifted again toward her cleavage. “No skill bonuses can help him now. No feats, no spells. Only luck, and his own will.”
The die bounced restlessly as he spoke. He was nervous, but as long as he could keep talking, maybe he was safe. Nothing would happen until the die would cast. But on the other hand… nothing would happen until the die was cast.
“No half measures, then. Eight,” he whispered, and threw.
The die hit the table with a spin and a loud thunk. And when it stopped….
…eight.
Silence followed, only to be broken by Dirk’s barking laugh. Kris fought the urge to roll her eyes. But… that was the game. He’d played it and won.
“Now what?” she asked breathily.
Dirk leaned forward, almost lunged, and their lips met. His breath was warm, a furnace against her teeth. There was a hunger there, stronger than she would have expected from somebody so thin. She felt his tongue brush the edge of her mouth, and then vanish. He pulled back, his face a mask of anticipation. A thread of saliva still linked them.
“I – I’m sorry,” he stammered reflexively as Kris wiped her mouth. “It’s been kind of a while. I mean, for me. I mean, I’m not a virgin, but—”
“It’s alright, Dirk, I’m not a virgin, either.” She sucked back the extra spit, tasting nervous sweat and Diet Coke, and pulled off her jacket. “Maybe a kiss is enough for you, but I’m willing take it further if you are.”
He watched spellbound as she tossed the coat onto his rumpled couch, but the best was yet to come. Without breaking her gaze, Kris slipped both hands under the back of her shirt, unclipping her bra with only the barest effort and pulling it lazily through her sleeve before tossing it to Dirk.
She wasn’t fancy or sentimental when it came to underwear. It was plain grey, with loose thread poking out from between the edges of the cups. But it still held traces of her warmth, of her scent. Most of all, it held promise.
“How far?” he managed.
“All the way. Or maybe….” With a flick of her wrist, her last die appeared from where she’d palmed it while she was undressing, “…as long as your luck holds out.”
The trick would have done Corvax Xenophilius proud, but it wasn’t why Dirk’s eyes widened. Until then they’d been playing for low stakes and small prizes. ‘All the way’… that was neither. That was why Kris had deliberately chosen something completely different for the final roll. She set the d20 down on the table before them.
Dirk was quiet for moment. He gave one long, downcast look that may or may not have been aimed at her boobs, then picked up the die.
“This was fun while it lasted,” he sighed, and dropped it.
One. What was known, in game parlance, as a critical fail.
“Sorry, man. That’s how the dice came down.” She saw Dirk’s shoulders slump. Despite his pessimism, he’d still been holding on to hope. She drew closer, felt him tremble as their bodies met. “Looks like you whiffed your saving throw.”
Dirk blinked. “Saving throw? Against what?”
“Seduction.”
“That’s a spell. I think you mean Persua—” was as far as he got before Kris’ mouth covered his own. His surprise held him back only an instant, and then his tongue answered. Sweet. Impatient. Longing.
She pushed him away and tore at the hem of her shirt. Dirk didn’t try to stop her, not when he would finally know if she’d been teasing him about her piercings.
She hadn’t.
He was still at first, admiring the way the metal studs glittered in the apartment’s dim yellow light. He reached out slowly, grasping one between his fingers as if it were made of fairy gold and would vanish at any moment.
She winced. “Ow! Dude, they’re attached!”
“Sorry,” Dirk mumbled.
“It’s okay. They’re supposed to make you more sensitive.” She took his free hand and laid it on top of her breast, his thumb brushing her areola. “Try this.”
He pressed lightly, and the reaction was immediate. The nipple ripened to his touch, swelling and hardening under the heat of his fingerprint.
“Like this?”
“Just like that. And you can put down my bra anytime.”
Dirk took the hint. Once both hands were free, he started to explore her body, his mouth and hands tracing her neck and shoulders, her skin flush with warmth beneath him. He made his way back to her nipples, hesitant at first. In place of his hands he led with his tongue, softly sucking not at her flesh but at the metal it held in place. Kris moaned.
She leaned into him, whispering into his ear. “Dirk?”
“Mmph?”
“You want to fuck me, right?”
From the moment she’d handed him the first die, Kris had been wet, enjoying the power that she and fate held over him. And he’d been a good sport about it, even willing to concede once his luck had run out. He knelt down reverently in front of her, his hands around her waist.
“You mean… level up?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Inspire Performance? Crawl in your dungeon? Plunder your hoard?”
She rolled her eyes at his cheesy lines, only to miss his true intention. With a single move, he swept her heavy cargo pants down to her ankles, leaving her naked but for a flimsy pair of panties. She gasped as the cool air in the apartment touched her bare legs – and shrieked when Dirk’s unshaven chin did the same.
“You bastard! That tickles!”
Still hobbled at the ankles, she had nowhere to go as he slathered her thighs with prickly kisses. She stepped back, hitting something hard – the table, she saw. Her knees were buckling under her, and the couch was too far away.
The table it was, then. She fell back as softly as she could manage, scattering her remaining dice as her back met the cool hardwood. She kicked one leg free from her bunched clothing and reached out toward Dirk with her foot, beckoning him closer.
He pulled off his shirt, and Kris couldn’t help but stare. Given the way he was built, she hadn’t expected… muscles? Dirk was surprisingly lean beneath his oversized tee, like a dancer, and Kris licked her lips in anticipation. Leanness meant he had stamina. Maybe even enough to make up for his inexperience.
“I don’t… I didn’t bring protection,” he was saying, tugging at his sweatpants. “You don’t mind if we just do oral?”
“I’m on the pill,” Kris shot back, a little bluntly. The thick scruff creeping up from under his waist didn’t look like it had been groomed anytime lately. She liked the guy, but not enough to spend the night picking his hair out of her teeth.
But that wasn’t what Dirk meant at all. Bending over her, his head at her knees, he plucked at the edges of her panties and drew them down over her hips. His hands cupped her ass, pulling her in toward him.
He didn’t hesitate, not for a moment. He didn’t grimace the way her last boyfriend had on the first – and last – time he’d tried to put his face in her snatch. Dirk closed his eyes and slowly dragged his tongue through her wet slit.
She could feel him teasing her, tracing through her folds as if he were carefully turning the pages of some delicate text. She laughed nervously, but Dirk seemed to know what he was doing. Mouth slick with her juices, he started to suck gently where the pages met, coaxing out the swollen nub between them.
Kris nearly choked.
Her skin was on fire, each nerve popping like a cherry bomb. She could feel everything at once: the weight of the stale apartment air settling on her, the smoothness of the wooden surface under her hips and shoulders, the crinkle of a loose sheet of paper that she’d missed while clearing the table and had pasted itself to her butt.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this attention. She’d expected that she’d have to coach Dirk on how to please her, but he didn’t seem to need any instruction. Sometimes, she mused, when you roll the dice… you win.
Another wave shook through her.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop – oh, fuck!”
She shuddered with release as the force that had been building up in her core broke loose. She clamped her shaking legs around Dirk’s ears, making him ride out the sensation alongside her. His licking grew more frantic, more intense, as the wave reached its peak. Once it had finally subsided, she released him, coughing, to the carpet below.
“Fuck me,” she ordered, and then hastily added, “please?”
Dirk didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed on top of her, kissing each patch of skin that he touched until their faces met again. He shifted, bringing their hips together. His cock pressed at her entrance, tingling from the pressure.
“You’re sure you want this?” he asked. She nodded.
He thrust inside her, eager and ready. The table creaked grimly beneath him, and for the first time Kris wondered if it would hold both of them.
Dirk had bought that coffee table at a garage sale some years before, already worn from use by its previous owner. It wasn’t the most elegant piece of furniture even before it had been pitted and stained by three generations of owners – but it had been built in the nineteen-fifties, when things were made to last.
It held.
***
Almost half an hour later, still sprawled across the table, Kris was finally able to get her breath back. She rolled over to meet Dirk, lying on the floor with a childish grin etched across those gifted lips.
“When you said you weren’t a virgin, I thought – where did you learn to do that?”
“Improv 201, with Bonnie Kessler.” He blushed. “Extra class credit, you might say.”
A number of details began to fit together for Kris. The voice, that body….
“Oh, my God. You were a theatre kid.”
“It’s called ‘Ensemble’, thank you very much. We were a pretty… experimental bunch in school, but it turned out that my encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes didn’t impress as many girls after I graduated. Luckily I had other interests.”
“I’m happy to break that dry spell, then. Same time next week?”
He gave her an odd look as she rose from the table.
“For the game, I mean. Or at least the game.”
His expression softened. “Oh, yeah. That. Look, just… tone down the language, okay? I know my friends. Those guys are like parrots – ten minutes of listening to you and they’ll be ‘fuck this’ and ‘fuck that’.”
“No fucking promises.” She leaned over to collect her panties from underneath him, and kissed him again. He seemed content to rest on the floor, and who was she to get in the way of such satisfaction. She decided to leave the bra. Let him figure out how to give it back without arousing suspicion.
The last thing she took was her somewhat sweaty character sheet. Her adventures – and those of Corvax Xenophilius – had only just begun.
