"Are you serious? You really think the US team can beat Brazil at soccer?" I laugh.
"Yep," my boss, Mike, says with his usual arrogance. "I bet you we score the first goal too."
"Ohh, you bet do you," I say mocking him.
We've both had far too much to drink. We've had a big first day with a new client in Miami, enjoyed dinner, hit the hotel bar for a few drinks, then gone to his room to watch the game. Making it more fun is the fact that Brazil, my national team, are playing the USA tonight. I was reluctant to watch the game from his room, but he said it's easier for him to get a bottle of whiskey through expenses than a large hotel bar bill. I made him promise no funny business.
"Yeah, I bet. You really don't think we can beat Brazil, do you?" He says, climbing off the bed to top up our drinks.
"Not a chance?" I say. "We're the favorites for the cup. America are what? Ranked nineteenth?"
"No chance at all?" he teases, standing with two full glasses of whiskey.
"Zero. None. Nil," I say, fluffing the pillow behind me and sitting up a bit.
I watch him run his eyes down my body, lingering on my breasts, then down to my short skirt. He might be my boss, but we've always had a fun relationship. Strictly professional, but we flirt a lot and share things I wouldn't share with any other colleagues. We're both single and in our twenties, and both have similar interests. Mike got me into CrossFit a year ago, and it has transformed my body. He's been ripped since I've known him.
"So, you're 100% confident you cannot lose?" He says.
I take my glass from him and raise it in a kind of toast. He mirrors me and chinks his glass to mine.
"100%" I say.
"OK, let's have a bet. On the outcome, not who scores first. Only on the winner, and let's make it big," he says with a grin.
"Backing down from the first bet already, huh? Are you sure about this boss?" I say. "OK, you give me two days off, if the United States lose."
"Two days! Wow, that's a lot to ask when you know it's a dead certainty you win," he laughs.
Mike downs his whiskey in one gulp. Not to be outdone, I do the same.
He takes my glass and turns to refill them.
"All right. You get two days off if the US lose. When we get back to Chicago, of course."
He walks around the bed and climbs back on, passing me my drink.
"So, what is my forfeit if Brazil lose?" I ask, with a mocking laugh.
He sits on the bed facing me and stares as if assessing me.
"A blowjob," he says.
I nearly choke on the whiskey I was drinking when he said it. I am fucking livid and leap off the bed.
"Mike! Are you fucking serious?" I yell. "What the fuck? You're my boss, and my friend."
He says nothing.
"Well?" I yell.
"Stop," Mike says. "Calm down," he adds, climbing from the bed.
He starts giggling, then laughs louder and sits back down on the bed. "Your face," he says.
Fuck it. The fucker was messing with me.
"For fuck's sake, Mike," I say, blowing out a deep breath. "You asshole." I start laughing at the situation with him now. I feel stupid and calm down, walking back to the bed.
"I thought you were serious," I say, punching his arm.
We sit laughing about the incident and can't stop. I think the whiskey is catching up with both of us.
"Fucker," I say, climbing onto the bed and resuming my position.
He sits back beside me to watch the game.
The anthems play for both teams, and the teams do the customary hand-shake before kick-off.
"So, we still haven't agreed my forfeit if Brazil lose," I say, poking him in the ribs.
"Yeah, we have," he says, looking at me. "A blowjob."
"What? You said you were joking," I say with puzzlement.
"No, I didn't. I just commented on your reaction."
"Are you kidding with me again?" I say, sitting forward and turning to face him.
"No. It's not a big deal," he says with a grin. "You said you were 100% certain Brazil will win, so it's an absolute certainty that you get two days off. No blowjob required."
I am speechless, but my initial anger has gone.
"Are you saying you're not 100% anymore?" He asks, knocking back the rest of his whiskey.
I stare at him in silence, and think back to the game I saw America play last week. They can't beat Brazil. Surely. We thrashed Argentina in the warm-up.
"Five days," I say.
"Five days, what?"
"I want five days leave if I win."
Now, Mike is quiet for a moment. Fuck, I must be out of my mind.
"OK. If Brazil loses, you'll give me a blowjob. If the US lose, which they won't, you get five days off." He smiles.
I really don't know what to say. Our banter over the last few hours has been too much, and this is the final straw. I'm not being serious. I'm pretty sure he's not being serious. This is all part of our usual banter. I decide to play along and hope he'll forget all about it in the morning.
"OK, if Brazil lose, I'll give you a blowjob. If the US lose, I get five days off. Deal?"
"Deal," he says.
We're both giggling again, and I grip his hand. "Get pissed with me tonight, boss," I say. "I am going to celebrate our win with a week off."
He laughs and downs his drink. "So, you're not 100% confident anymore then?" He says.
"What? No. I didn't say that," I say.
"You said if Brazil lose," he says, locking eyes with me. "IF", he says again, with air-quotes.
We both start laughing again.
I can't believe what I'm doing.
We're both pretty drunk now, as we continue to watch the game.