Chapter 5: Poker Games

Ronnie stuck her head into the den early in the morning. “Hey, sleepyhead, you awake yet! Come on, get up! Let’s go jogging!”

Sue woke bleary-eyed and stared at her sister. “What?”

“Come on. Let’s go jogging. You said you wanted to run this morning. Let’s go!” she ordered.

Sue saw that Ronnie was dressed for the part, in a sports bra, jogging shorts, socks, and sneakers. Forgetting briefly that she had just fucked her sister’s husband in the sofa-bed, she grumbled, “Okay, okay, give me a moment.” Ronnie left and Sue crawled out of the bed. She closed it up and pulled out her own running clothes. By the time she had dressed, her sister had returned with a large glass of OJ, which Sue downed greedily. She stood and the pair headed out the door. They began an easy lope down the road, south into the bright morning sun.

“I see you found our tapes,” commented Ronnie.

“Huh?” said Sue, a guilty look on her face. Did Ronnie know she had fucked Frank last night?

“The tapes, I saw one of our tapes in the VCR in the den. I guess that’s a surprise, huh?”

“Jesus, Ronnie, what is with you two? What are you, secret swingers or something? How long have you been doing this? How come you never told me?” asked Sue.

“Shit, it must be twenty years now. You were still back in high school, I guess...”

Frank’s biweekly poker game was just starting when the pagers went off.

Every other week Frank and four of his friends would get together for a nickel-ante poker game at somebody’s home. Their wives and girlfriends usually came along for a hen party of their own. The requirements were simple enough, provide a keg and snacks. The party would rotate among the group of twenty-somethings, and tonight the poker party was at Frank’s and Ronnie’s apartment in Salisbury.

Two of the guys were volunteer firemen, and for once they were neither too drunk nor too far away to respond. Tossing their cards down in disgust, they stood and made their apologies. A wife and a live-in girlfriend grabbed jackets and followed the men down to their cars, and suddenly the group was down to six. Surprisingly, the three remaining guys were fairly sober, while the two wives and one fiancée left had been heavily into the wine coolers in the kitchen. Laughing, they plopped down in vacant chairs and wanted to know why the game was over.

“‘Cause three handed poker sucks,” explained Tom.

His fiancée laughed and picked up the cards in front of her. “Are kings and queens any good?” asked Tammy. The guys looked at the cards she held up in disgusted relief. Barry had tossed down a full house to go fight a fire.

“Yeah, they’re all right,” said Rick.

“Great! We can play them,” announced his wife, Tricia, downing her cooler. Ronnie cracked another open and handed it to her.

“This ain’t a team sport, honey,” her husband commented.

“Shit, how hard can it be if you three clowns can play?” laughed Ronnie.

“That sounds like a challenge, lady. Bring any money?” asked Tom.

All three women broke into laughter. Tricia and Ronnie made a big show of looking for their wallets in the back pockets of their jeans. The three remaining guys gave each other a speculative look.

“Well, there’s always something else you ladies could bet,” said Frank.

“What?” demanded Tammy.

“Ever play strip poker?” asked her fiancée.

All the women laughed uproariously at the suggestion, but Tricia asked, “So how do you play it.”

“Real simple. Instead of money, you bet your clothing. Losers have to take off something. It’s easy,” said Rick. He gave an evil grin to the other guys.

“Can’t play poker without gambling,” agreed Frank.

The women tried to weasel out of this but were egged on by the men. Finally, they agreed to give it a shot. Unfortunately for them, not a one of them had a clue as to how to play poker. Some basic rules and the ranking of the hands were explained, but they were too drunk to pay attention. Fortunately for them, Ronnie won the first hand, and the three men and other two women had to kick off a shoe. The next hand was Tricia’s, and the men were in stocking feet, along with Tammy, while both Ronnie and Tricia had one shoe.

Unbeknownst to the women, the three men had been giving each other signals to dump the first two hands, to set the women up for the kill. Following the first two hands, most of the game went the men’s way. There was the hand where Frank dealt his wife a straight flush, forcing the guys to lose their shirts but the guys would generally alternate winning to even things out.

Within a half-dozen hands, the three women were down to their bras and panties, while the men still had on shorts, t-shirts and pants. On the next hand, Frank won, and suddenly Ronnie, Tammy, and Tricia found themselves faced with taking their bras off. Nervous, Ronnie and Tammy reached behind their backs while Tricia froze. “I can’t!” she wailed.

“You wanted to play in the big leagues,” commented her husband. “You got to play by the big-league rules. Pop that top, honey,” said Rick.

“Shit, Tricia, they all saw you when you lost your swimsuit at Ocean City anyway!” said Tammy. She undid her clasp and peeled off her bra, followed by Ronnie. Tricia grumbled and took hers off as well.

The guys stared at the three sets of well-formed breasts staring back at them and started whistling and applauding. Rick and Tom peeled off their tee-shirts and tossed them aside, then Tom picked up the cards to deal. He dealt and ended up placing a pair of eights and a pair of sevens down, which his fiancée proceeded to beat with three queens. “I win!” she squealed.

“Sorry, honey, but it doesn’t work that way,” he told her.

“Why not? I got three of a kind and you got two pair. You beat me earlier with that same combination,” she protested.

Frank and Rick could scarcely believe their ears as Tom said, “Yeah, but your two pair were both red. My two pair are both black. In that case, the two pair beat the three of a kind.”

“Bullshit!” the women all exclaimed.

“Hey, we told you the rules. Welcome to the big leagues. Am I right guys, or am I right?”

“You’re right, man,” agreed Rick. He could barely keep a straight face.

“That’s the way the game is played. Check the rules if you like,” said Frank. There wasn’t a rulebook in the apartment, of course.

The three women screamed some more, but eventually gave in, standing and peeling off their panties to the applause of their men. They all stood and turned around, showing off before sitting down again.

“So, what do we gamble next?” asked Tammy.

Ronnie looked at her and waggled her eyebrows, while Tricia opened her mouth and lewdly licked her lips. Tammy’s eyes opened wide, but Tom came to her rescue. “I think I’d better be getting you home, babe. You are looped!” Tom stood and pulled his shirt back on and slipped on his loafers. Tammy moved to grab her underwear, but Tom picked them up first. As the others exploded into laughter, he told her, “Unh unh. You lost them, they’re mine now,” and moved away from her.

“What?”

Tom grabbed her jeans and blouse as well. “That’s the rules!” Grabbing her hand, he propelled her naked form screaming and squawking towards the door, as behind them, the remaining four collapsed in laughter.