The Game Player

Chapter 1. Friday Night Games

It was a great party. A Friday night release where everyone made an effort to kick off the stress of the week, look fine and let laughter bounce around the cocktail flowing vibe. It was only 9.30pm, but the slightly charged atmosphere had already sparked off a host of the type of games contrived to let people who shouldn't touch, touch while their partners egged them on, waiting for their turn to wrap themselves around the hottie whose legs had drawn their eye for the last hour up to the shortest of skirts and the occasional hint of what lies beneath.

Sophie, pulled out of a tangle of limbs from the floor by a giggling friend, adjusted her dress and made her way to the kitchen to top up. Something made her pause for a second at the door and look round; she met his eyes across the room, intently focussed on her. She hesitated, matching his gaze just for a second, then carried on not sure what to make of the little secret exchange, worried her other half may have noticed; wondering why she'd be worried by that? She'd never really noticed him much before; he was a friend of a friend, new to the circle who'd come with his wife. She casually made a note to find out his name, and hers, just to be polite of course.

As the night flowed on she found herself stealing quick occasional glances in his direction, but he was always occupied - with his wife, with his friends, not with her. She tried to put him out of her head, he was good looking, but he'd never be a film star or anything, just a normal bloke... however there had been something generated in that moment, something keeping her mind engaged, something stirred up inside her. It was just the cocktails of course! She didn't need her head turning, that wasn't her - certainly not by some married bloke she didn't know.

She smiled to herself and shook her head; her mate caught and asked her if she was ok. "Oh yes, having a great time, just remembered something stupid from work, what was that you were making before - the one with Bacardi and Malibu? Fancy one of them?" She grabbed her hand and pulled her into the other room where he wouldn't be a distraction.

The night chilled down, the assembled reclining onto the floor; couples lounged together on sofas, the slow Ibiza beat heat from the stereo matching the warm glow. With the conversation drifting and earlier encounters mostly forgotten she took herself upstairs to the bathroom. When she turned the corner and reached out for the door ahead she almost let out a scream; he was stood there, perfectly still, in the hallway. He must have been to the toilet himself, surely, but she hadn't been aware of anyone move for ages, had he been waiting up here? She looked down embarrassedly and nervously to avoid his gaze, smiled weakly and went to move past him. He put his hand out to stop her gently, but firmly, then lifted her chin and fixed her with his steely blue eyes. The ground seemed to move below her feet and she instinctively felt the urge to run, but she didn't. She was mesmerised.

He moved in and pressed her against the wall, so close she could breath in his heat as he pinned her in place. Immobilised, partly by fear, partly by anticipation and conscious of the burning flush and flutter welling up through her body, she thought he was going in for the kiss and she closed her eyes ready, but instead he simply whispered in her ear "Do you like games?"

Not believing she was brave enough to respond, she was surprised when she heard her voice simply say ... "Yes."

"Do you have your phone?"

"Yes," she'd taken it with her for some reason, and without thinking offered it to him. He typed in a number and pressed call, he held his phone up for her to see it was ringing, then flicked the screen to hang up and slid it back into his pocket.

"I'll be in touch, we'll play." He gave her a playful peck on the cheek, paused another second to give her one last blue flashed look, then put on a wry smile and made his way downstairs. She stayed there frozen to the spot for what seemed like hours but was really a few seconds, then stared at her phone, half panicked, as if trying to work out if it was on fire and if she needed to drop it to save her from getting burned.

She composed herself, and quickly ran into the bathroom, locked the door and sat down on the loo, realising she was shaking so hard she could hear the seat rattle underneath her. She took a deep breath and looked at the screen again, his number was still there. Trying to bring her mind back into sensible focus she gave a little grunt and went to delete it... but then stopped, clicked 'new contact' and after a couple of seconds of thinking typed in three simple letters - TGP. 'The Game Player'.

Chapter 2. Roll With It.

She checked her phone for the 20th time that morning, 3 days and nothing! Sat at her desk, she was trying to focus on the spread sheet in front of her, but the figures weren't making a great deal of sense and every acronym reminded her of those three letters - TGP.

Was it just a drunken prank? Had he filled himself with Dutch courage after accidentally catching her eye, then bottled the snog and adopted some bizarre character to hide his embarrassment? Perhaps, maybe? She'd had quite a few too; things seem different through the fuggy haze of raspberry mojitos (as she'd found out to her cost that time in Ibiza with that French bloke - lucky escape that one!)

She checked her phone again. "Expecting a call?" her colleague, just wondering past said with a little smirk on her face.

"Sorry? No, not really - just asked for a quote for something for the house, they said they'd ring this morning and they haven't."

"Getting the builders in again hey? Thought you'd just had your new kitchen in?"

"Yes, you must come round and drink wine in it with me, you've been promising. Look, can you clear this one up for me, I can't get this column to make sense..." Phew, she thought to herself as Mary engaged with the screen and away from the phone questions. She was being obvious in an office where the notice of a hair out of place at lunch becomes heavily gossiped evidence of a full on affair with the MD by teatime!

Mary, having solved the 'too easy to have been a conundrum' conundrum, finally walked away, with a smile on her face. She went to check the phone again - and stopped herself, instead deciding to pop it her bag and out of the way. Just as she was about to let it drop into the depths of old receipts and packs of chewing gum, she felt the tell-tale vibration of a text. It could be anyone. She blushed and hurriedly, bag in hand, headed for the loos, found a quiet cubicle and dug it out. 'New message. TGP.'

For the second time in a week she felt the seat shake under her and berated herself for being so stupid! She paused, and flicked the text open.

It just said - 'You are going to need a die'.

Her first reaction was shock, what's he saying? Then she reread it. Game player! 'Die' - as in singular of 'dice'. He's showing off a bit there, she thought - and I bet he knew it would cause a reaction at first glance. She'd not known what to expect, this was strange. She reread it again and to be sure typed back 'as in 'dice' I presume? I can sort it'.

She waited for another minute of nothing - then the phone buzzed again.

'The Rules. I will give you six options. You will roll your die and text back a picture showing the number. I will have the same options, in a different order, in front of me numbered 1 to 6. The number you send me will relate to my list here, not the one you have, although the options will be the same. You will not learn what option your die has chosen for you until you see me. As soon as you send the number you agree to carry out the chosen option. Agreed?'

She played the text around her head for a while. What if the options were, well, not her thing? She could find out and just not text the picture of the number, couldn't she? What should she do, was this stupid? If she got caught, well, all hell would break loose. And worse! She pictured TGP again - something told her he wasn't the careless type. Did she need this? No. It was daft. She should just delete the text and go back to her desk. That's the only sensible thing to do...

'Agreed'.

'Find your die, options will be sent tomorrow.'

She popped the phone back in her bag, took a deep breath, flushed the toilet out of habit (and in case anyone had spotted her going in there - you never know) and headed back to her desk.

"So, shall I grab a couple of bottles and come and get jealous of your new kitchen then?"

"What?" She stared blankly at Mary who was hovering next to her. "Oh, of course, tomorrow night, no sorry, not tomorrow, erm. Can you make Friday?"

The day ended slowly and she left the office making sure her phone was on silent before she got home. Her head was spinning with trepidation, a lot of self-doubt, but a magnetic pull towards, well, whatever! She arrived home first, retrieved her phone and started pulling out old board games from the cupboard in the spare bedroom. She found one in an old snakes and ladders set she'd had since childhood - smoker's tooth yellow with fading red numbers. "Well it's a dice, sorry, a 'die'" she muttered to herself.

She started typing a text - then paused and deleted it again. '...options will be sent tomorrow'. There was nothing more to say.

-

Morning came without any semblance of rest. She'd dropped off a couple of times but had woken soon after, convinced by vivid dreams that her boyfriend, snoring next to her, was rifling through her phone and about to kick off.

She pulled her clothes on, fixed her hair and her face and headed blearily out into the sharp piercing insomniac baiting sunlight. She hadn't even made it to her desk when she felt the slight sensation of her phone through her bag; too tired and too curious to hide this time, she read -

'Blow job, hand job, sex in my office, sex in your workplace, I use sex toys on you, you just watch. Roll + send.'

She almost dropped the phone at the fourth one. Sex here? How the hell could they...? No. Where? Well, there are few quiet meeting rooms on the fourth floor. What am I thinking? This is insane! She threw the phone into her bag and started logging on.

Two minutes later and a phone across town buzzed. It contained a picture a picture of a faded red number three on a stained ivory backdrop. Game on!

Chapter 3. Desk Job.

She sat at the table in the meeting room, staring at the door hoping no-one would barge in. She should be back at her desk, but daren't move until she had a response unless her face told the world what she was planning to do. She didn't have to wait long, the screen illuminated.

'Option 3 - location, my office. Park at the back near the blue fire escape. Come up those stairs to first floor, it will be unlocked. Walk down the corridor and turn right. My door is straight ahead. Knock first. Dress code - blouse, short skirt, bra, no knickers. Tomorrow, 1pm. Understood?'

His office? That was a relief, she'd have died if he'd asked for her work address. That means - well, sex. Full on sex! She thought it would be really, but felt the panic rush over her. She'd never been unfaithful to her boyfriend - ok, well... a little kiss and fondle at that New Year's party, but they'd only been going out a few weeks so that didn't count. This was different. So surreal though, and she was suddenly aware of how very turned on she was too - so much so she put her hand between her legs and realised she wish she'd brought a change of underwear!

Tomorrow at 1 - she'd need to check her diary... sod that. There was nothing she couldn't put off for an hour and Blay Mews was only 10 minutes drive. The whistle had blown, the game had started!

-

1 o'clock. She turned into the site and the first thing she noticed was the CCTV cameras. She drove past them as confidently as she could and round to the back of the building. At first she couldn't see the fire escape but carried on to the far edge of the block then noticed one round the side and did a little circuit to check it was the only one. Yes, it was. Blue. She cursed a little at his sketchy directions. Another play?

Thankfully she could park almost underneath it in full shadow, making her feel a little safer, but not much! She started trotting up the stairs quickly, but on hearing the metal ring as her heels clicked off the steps, slowed to a steady walk.

The escape was open as he said - slightly ajar - and the office door was just around the corner at the end of a wide well lit corridor dressed with strategically placed architectural plants and impenetrable modern art. His door was labelled 'Chief Executive, Sales and Marketing'. He was a big cheese, obviously. She knocked.

She listened out for his call, but instead the door just opened slightly. She hesitated for a second, then pushed it. He had already moved back to his very sleek and expansive desk, which held court over an office fitted with sofas, armchairs and a large glass oval meeting table complete with fitted tablet screens. It made her cubicle look very sad. He didn't even look up as she walked in.

Still inspecting some paperwork, he made a quick gesture with his finger to summon her to his side. She complied and feeling a little daring and keen to get the heat up, tried perching seductively on the edge of the desk and flicking her hair said "How would you like me sir?"

"You don't know the option yet. Wait." Still no eye contact at all. What did he mean - she'd assumed that the office was the clue?

"Open the draw - that one." He looked at the draw, briefly, still not her.

She slid it open and saw a message pad with a list in very neat, precise, handwriting. She looked down it - all the options were there, but no.3 was - 'blow job'. Why the skirt, no knickers instruction? She felt a little rush of disappointment, but this was the game - he did create the rules after all and she had agreed to play. She closed the draw and started to undo his belt. Still without facing her he let her get so far, but pulled her hand away when she got to his flies.

"Not yet. Sit there." He pointed at the spot on the desk where she'd been just before. She felt like a schoolgirl sent back to her seat after supplying the wrong answer. It felt quite nice, she reflected. There was no softness or sympathy to him; she found that was a turn on.

He sat in his executive, leather-bound, chair and started tapping out an email. She waited for a while and started fidgeting a little. Why was he making her wait? This was a real power trip for him, not that, by the look of his office, he needed it - but she wasn't complaining.

For the first time he turned his blue eyes fully on her. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He moved in as before as if to kiss her, but stopped short then firmly and smoothly pulled his hand up between her legs until his large fingers were tight between her labia spreading her pussy out. She gasped a little, another twist, another play, but a very nice one. He dropped his hand back and nodded slightly. "You can follow instructions. Good."

He sat down again in his chair, pulling it back slightly. He pointed under the desk and fixed her with a look. She held his gaze for a second, then stared underneath - there was room under there, but it was dark and fairly enclosed and she did get a little claustrophobic at times. She took deep breath, dropped to her knees and crawled inside.

He effectively closed the door on her by pulling his chair up and reached down to arrange her so she was kneeling directly in front of him with one of his legs curled around her loosely - then he grabbed one of her hands to direct it to his crotch area. She undid the last of his trouser buttons, unzipped his flies reached inside his boxers and released his swelling cock from the cotton to let it stand proud in the half-light. She kissed the head, the slowly massaged her tongue round before sliding her whole mouth down the shaft.

She felt his leg tighten around her as if to hold her in place and with the opposite hand held the back of her head. She moved her head back and forth to let his whole length feel the benefit of her tongue and sucked slowly in with her cheeks. Then froze - the door was opening. Voices. What was happening? She stopped still terrified she would give herself away - he would get rid of them quickly, of course.

"Come in, thanks for coming at such short notice, I want to look over next quarter's targets for the North East, think there's room for growth. Who wants to go first?" What was happening - had he seriously called a meeting? Now? This was not good. He shifted in his chair, not to release her, but to pull her closer into him - his hand still cupping the back of her head he managed to thrust his cock forward until it touched her lips - and instinctively she took it again.

Totally confused, but now beyond the point she could do anything but carry on, she sucked deeper and harder trying to stifle any unwanted sounds. She had little choice after all. A little fierce rush of rebellion started to spark inside her, this was all a step too far - she'd been up for a shag over his desk, but not being his secretly captive caged playslut while he went about his business! She put her hand deep in his pants and started to squeeze his balls at the same time. If he was going to play her like this, perhaps she could persuade him to get rid of his minions quicker so he could enjoy the sensation more. Nothing changed apparently - apart from the growing taste of salty pre-cum on her palate. He was made of strong stuff.

Getting frustrated, she gave a playful scrape with her teeth. He jolted a little. Then in a quick move, flicked the shoe off his free foot, managing to pull the sock off with it. Why? She found out as he forcefully pushed her knees wide apart with the same foot, propelling her further forward and his cock deeper into her throat - and plunged his toe between her very wet, sensitive, lips to massage her clit. He was back in control. A little sexual rebuke perhaps?

His cock became harder and he started to push more firmly on her the back of her head with his hand in a sign he was getting close, his toe doing a fine job of giving her some pleasure in return. After another minute she felt him shudder then the pulse as the thick lukewarm paste pounded from his cock into the back of her mouth. He held her firmly in situ so she had no choice but to let the liquid settle then slide down her throat, desperate not to gag or retch. He carried on holding her; she felt his member relax, shrink and diminish back until finally he took his hand and leg away. She sat back and stretched her legs out from under her as best she could.

"Well, you've come up with a few interesting points. Write them up and have them in my inbox by close of play. Goodbye." She heard the door close and his chair drew back to let her out.

She crawled, gingerly, from her cubbyhole and stood up, slightly wobbly on her feet as the blood fully flowed back into her legs. She put her hand to her mouth and realised some of his juice had escaped and was dripping down her chin."Erm, do you have a tissue?"

"Draw." He stood up, replaced his shoe and walked to the window, doing up his trousers as he went. She opened the draw and took a tissue from a small silver tissue box next to the pad. She watched him stand there, his back to her and then looked at the pad again. She picked it up - and flicked back a page. There was a scribbled message, yesterday's date and a quick message - 'call Tom in 10 - 4.30pm'. He started to turn round and she quickly dropped it back, and wiped her mouth, shutting the draw.

"I have another meeting in three minutes. Unless you want to get under there again and wait, I suggest you go. By the same route."