Sometimes I'll tell you when a story is true. Sometimes I'll tell you when a story is fictional. Sometimes I won't tell you either way. This one really happened.

Like many wagers with penalties, the rules can get confusing when reduced to writing. To try and simplify things, this story is about a wager between two woman, on an NFL football game. It is a five part clothing wager. Each quarter of the game stands alone, with the final score being the fifth part. Each woman is only wearing four garments.

The loser has to pay two penalties, one on Sunday afternoon and evening, and one at lunch on Monday.

I prefer that my stories not be archived on the Internet, but anyone who wants it is free to make a personal copy.

Roxanne L. Green
September 7, 2002; Revised December 15, 2004

Part 1: Visitors and History

Our friends Gary and Laurie are visiting. They've been here for over a week.

We've done the World Famous San Diego Zoo, the Wild Animal Park, and Sea World. We've hit a couple of galleries, and the Old Globe Theatre. We've been to the Fleet Space Theatre / Science Center and the Aerospace Museum. We spent a day at Black's Beach, and a day in Ensenada and Tijuana. We've had dinner at Anthony's, Laeder's, and Fillippi's in the back room of the Italian grocery store on India Street. In short, we've played tourist with our friends from Dallas, sharing the beauty of San Diego in September after most of the vacationers have gone home. It is the nicest time of the year here.

Most evenings ended with the four of us on our deck or in the hot tub, or getting a moontan as we air dried in the nude. The nights were too chilly to sleep outside, but we did doze off for a few hours on the big air mattress two nights last week.

Gary and Laurie were friends from college, where they shared an apartment. After my divorce in my sophomore year, I moved in next door to them. I got married much too young, and for all the wrong reasons. The first time I met my first husband was the afternoon I won him in a strip poker game. Gary and Laurie played in that game, as did Stan, the man to whom I'm married now.

Stan and I have been best friends since preschool. He was the guy who was always there for me when I needed him. He helped me by being my friend, when my mother, sister and both brothers were killed, when I was eight. He was an usher at my first wedding. After my first marriage failed, he was there to pull me out of more messes, and more gutters, than I can count. He was also the guy who organized most of the early stripping games and contests.

Girls from high school had told me Stan was so smooth he could get them almost totally naked before they were cognizant of that fact, but I didn't believe them. Stan was a genuinely nice guy, handsome and in good shape, and I figured they were more or less willing participants in their own seductions. I believed that until the night it happened to me. He'd stayed to help me clean up. Then we sat on the swing in the gazebo, watching the headlights in the valley, and the buildings in the distance. We were talking, and I know he had his arm around my shoulders, when suddenly I felt a breeze down below, and I became aware that I had been unbuttoned, unsnapped, unzipped and unhooked. I was almost barefoot all over. My bra was off of my left shoulder, and was hanging where my right arm was bent at the elbow. My slacks were off of one leg, and down around the other ankle, and my panties were down to my knees.

He was my first sex partner, although not that particular night. We were never romantically involved through high school or college, although we did strike matches off of each other many times when not otherwise involved.

About nine years ago, I spent the winter in our office in Idaho. I had been averaging eighty hours a week since I graduated from university 4- years before. Stan had stumbled into a great job not long after graduation, which demanded he put in around eighty hours himself. Neither of us had much of a social life during those years right after college, but we stayed in contact to the extent our hours permitted.

When our Idaho general manager had a massive coronary, I had to go up there and manage that location. When he recovered and I returned to San Diego, Stan and I decided to go to Yuma for the weekend, to watch the Padres in spring training. We never got to the ballgame, but a few days later, we were visiting Gary and Laurie in Dallas.

Gary and Laurie took us to a party. It started with a barbecue, which moved into a high stakes poker game. What made this game different was that after the cash pot was settled, everybody had to show their cards, and the best hand got a garment from one or more of the worst hands. That friendly little Texas poker game lasted most of the night, and nobody got dressed until after brunch Sunday afternoon.

On the way home from Dallas, Stan and I began to think about converting our lifelong friendship into a romance. For those of you who don't know much about Stan and me, this gives you almost enough background to know what makes the four of us tick.

Part 2: The Wager

Yesterday, the San Diego Chargers played the Cincinnati Bengals. Laurie is from Cincinnati, which is where she and Gary ended up right after college. Then they moved to Dallas, but Laurie is a pure Bengal Tiger through and through. Gary and Laurie have an open marriage, and she slept with a couple of the Bengals while she and Gary lived in Cincinnati. Stan and I do NOT have an open marriage, and I slept with my Chargers after my divorce, before Stan and I hooked up. Laurie and I are more fans of our respective teams than either of our husbands ever was.

With 31 teams in the league this year, somebody always gets a week off. The Chargers got a bye the first week of the season. Everybody else in the Western Division of the American Football Conference lost last week, so with a spectacular record of 0-0, they were "Our First Place San Diego Chargers!" They went 0-5 in the preseason, but they didn't play badly. Although they are playing weak teams early in the year, and may well be 5-0 before they play someone good, the Chargers will be lucky to finish 8-8. I didn't figure the Bengals to be much better, but Laurie did. By Saturday afternoon, she wanted to bet on the game, "for old times sake." In the old days, we never bet just money.

Stan kept trying to establish what Laurie and I should bet. Stan's terms were all sexual or humiliating, and they all included Gary and him getting to watch whatever happened. I asked what Stan and Gary were going to put into the bet. They agreed they weren't going to bet, because neither of them was that kind of strong fan. Gary was mostly a Cowboys fan anyway. So we chased them away Saturday afternoon. We told them we'd determine our own stakes. When they returned Saturday afternoon, we told them they had to leave Sunday, and watch the game at Trophies Sports Bar and Grill in Grossmont Center, or somewhere else. When they left at nine Sunday morning, we told them they weren't allowed to come back until after the Sunday night game was over.

After they left, I set the chains on the doors so they couldn't sneak back in early.

All four of us are edging into our middle thirties. Stan was deathly ill a few years ago, and was frankly living on borrowed time, with someone else's liver. (Author's note: He died in March, 2004.) At 6-5, he only weights 140 pounds. Gary looks pretty good. I probably have a little better body than Laurie, but because I am almost all gray, people figure I'm fantastically well preserved for an old lady. Both Laurie and I can wear Stan's underwear. That will be important, as you will see later. We broke the bet into the four quarterly scores, and the game score. We had both Sunday penalties, and Monday penalties.

The final part of our agreement was that we were not going to tell our husbands about any part of the bet now. Stan occasionally participates in this forum, so he may someday read this. I don't know about Gary.

The Sunday bet was the simpler of the two. Whoever lost the quarter had to remove a garment, and keep it off until just before the fellas got back. Overtime points were part of the fourth quarter. The final score counted as one more bet for a garment. Only bras, panties, tops and shorts counted as garments. Ties carried over, and when someone finally won a quarter, they collected for prior quarter too. If we had each won two quarters, then whoever won the game won the bet. There were five bets, and we each would wear four garments.

As soon as the game ended, the winner was to get totally pampered by the loser. She was to get a full body massage, a shampoo, a bath followed by a shower, a manicure and pedicure, have lotion thoroughly applied to her body, and then be dressed and fed by the loser. Throughout the afternoon and evening, the loser was to wear only what she was wearing when the game ended, even when she opened the door all the way to pay for the pizza she would order. We did agree to order from a pizza place that had never delivered to us before, and after the bet, you can trust I'll never order from them again. The box was to be burned in the fireplace that night, so Stan won't be ordering from them in hopes of getting the same delivery person, and learning about the wager.

The Sunday penalty was designed to be primarily pleasurable, because that was the way Laurie wanted it, with a little bit of humiliation when the pizza was delivered added by me. The Monday penalty was designed to be potentially humiliating, because that was the way I wanted it, unless I lost all parts of the bet. If I lost the whole bet, then Laurie got what she wanted in full.

For the Monday penalty, each quarter stood alone. For one of us to win the first quarter bet, her team had to win by five or more points. The second quarter required a four-point win, the third quarter required a three-point win, and the last quarter only required a two-point win. The final Monday penalty element belonged to which ever of us had the winning team. Ties did not carry over, so Mondayís penalties might be pretty tame. Or they might be pretty extreme.

Unless I lost all five parts of the Monday bet, Laurie and I were going to have lunch at a nearby buffet that is always busy. The basic uniform for Monday was jogging pants and a shirt, plus bra and panties. If I won all five of the bets for Monday, that is what I'd be wearing. If Laurie won all five parts of the bet, then we wouldn't even be out at lunch. With any loss, at least some of Stan's underwear -- and some exposure -- was certain. With one loss, we had to replace our shirt with one of Stan's old undershirts -- the thin kind with the skinny strap at the shoulder, no arms and big openings at the side. As tall as Stan is, some of the top of the bra and most of the outside would be exposed.

With two losses, an old -- and therefore thin -- pair of Stan's snap front boxers replaced the jogging shorts, to be worn over the flimsiest panties we owned. Those boxers would be a little baggy around the waist, but should be held up by our hips.

With a third loss, the bra went. This meant pretty significant exposure up top, but it would still probably be legal. With a fourth loss, the panties went. Either of these conditions pretty much guaranteed some significant attention to the wearer, as she walked through the buffet line with her tray.

If one of us was wearing less clothing than the other, she was the one who would get drink refills, second helpings, desert, and whatever else the winner required.

If one of us went to lunch wearing fewer clothes than her opponent, and if she was wearing Stanís old boxers instead of her jogging shorts, she had to unsnap the boxers just before lunch ended. When we left, she had to take a few steps, and if gravity hadn't worked yet, she had to stand there until it kicked in, and the boxers were down around her feet. Then she had to scream, step out of the boxers, and run through the dining room and out to the car, screaming along the way. One of us might be showing skimpy panties, or Laurie could be showing fur.

The only situation not yet covered is what would happen if I lost all five elements of the bet. In her open marriage, Laurie has begun to enjoy the company of women. I've only done that twice, and I have enjoyed it enough that it scares me. Women do know what women like! If I lost all five elements of the bet, we weren't going to any lunch buffet. We would be each otherís lunch buffet, as Laurie would get me in bed most of the day, while our husbands played golf at Carleton Oaks Country Club, with other college buddies. I had to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it!

Stan and I do not have an open marriage, as Gary and Laurie do. We made mutual promises to forsake all others when we got married. I have kept my promise, and believe Stan has kept his. The way I read it, all others means ALL, not just others of the opposite sex. During his illness and recovery, we had no sex for over a year. Stan "released me" from my promise many times during that period, but I declined. As Laurie and I negotiated the bet, there was no doubt in my mind that Stan would greatly enjoy hearing about my having sex with Laurie. He'd love to hear about it, or watch it, or participate. But we needed a bet, and that was what Laurie wanted if she won the whole shebang.

So the men left Sunday morning about nine to get good seats at Trophies, or wherever they decided to go. Laurie and I got the place ready. We put out wine, and munchies. We set the massage table out on the balcony. We got out the bath oil beads, the nail polishes, the shampoo, the big fluffy towels and the body lotions. We also looked up the pizza place's phone number and each put out a twenty in case we lost.

Part 3: The Game

At 10 o'clock, we turned on Channel 8 with the sound off, and we turned on KFMB radio to listen to Ted and Hank, who are much better than the last string yahoos CBS TV had selected to broadcast the game to only three stations in the nation.

The game was only a couple minutes old when the Bengals drew first blood with a touchdown. Laurie told me she was going to enjoy being pampered today, she hoped the pizza guy was good looking, and that I was as good as in bed with her tomorrow already. I was more than a little scared myself, as the Bengals had ripped down the field in six plays for that first touchdown.

The Chargers gaining five yards in three plays and punting didn't fill me with confidence either. If the Chargers didn't get cracking, I was one leg down on exposing some of myself to a pizza delivery person, and if I was lucky, would only be showing my bra to a restaurant full of people tomorrow instead of having sex I didn't think I wanted, with Laurie.

The Bengals took the Chargers' punt near their goal line, and promptly fumbled the ball away. The Chargers, ever inept on offense, lost yardage in the red zone, but did salvage a field goal. Now down 7-3, I reminded Laurie she wouldn't get me in bed tomorrow if the Chargers didn't lose the first quarter by at least five points. Laurie reminded me that the first quarter wasn't even half over, and there was plenty of time for the Bengals to get me naked, and put me into her bed tomorrow. That is exactly what I was afraid of.

The Bengals did nothing, and punted after three plays. The Chargers longest drive of the season got them inside the red zone, where they stalled and kicked another field goal. With three minutes left in the first quarter, I was only down 7-6. My bra was no longer in jeopardy of being on display at lunch on Monday, and I wouldn't have to sleep with Laurie if the Chargers could hold the Bengals to less than a touchdown over the last three minutes of the quarter.

Not only did the Chargers keep the Bengals from scoring on their next possession, they recovered the fumble on the kickoff, and three plays later, it was Laurie who was in trouble, as the Chargers touchdown gave them and me -- a 13-7 lead. A minute later, the first quarter ended and Laurie took off her blouse. Additionally, because the Chargers outscored the Bengals by at least five points, I knew I wasn't going to have to share her bed the next day, and she was going to be wearing Stan's undershirt tomorrow at lunch, showing her bra, or more, and she was leading in the race to show skin to the pizza delivery driver this evening.

Not much happened for most of the second quarter, as six times the teams punted, all but once after only three plays. Scant seconds before the two minute warning, a Chargers' pass play put us ahead 20-7. The Bengals went nowhere on their next possession, fumbling the ball into the hands of Charger Gerald Dixon, who ran it into the end zone. With the two-point conversion, the Chargers lead the Bengals by a score of 28-7. The Chargers won the second quarter by at least four points, so Laurie was going to lunch tomorrow wearing Stanís undershirt and boxers. Things looked pretty good for Monday, although if the Chargers fell apart -- not an unusual outcome -- I could be dressed just as skimpily. It did appear that I probably wouldn't have to do the scream and run tomorrow, unless the wheels really came off

Laurie spent half time in her bra and panties. Now she was worried, because if the Bengals didn't win the second half by more than 21 points, she was going to show some skin to the pizza person, and her outer clothing tomorrow at lunch was going to be Stan's old underwear. I was nice to Laurie; I didn't gloat -- much.

The third quarter was quiet, until ten minutes were gone. Then Charger John Carney chipped a 21-yard field goal through the uprights. All I had to do was win the third quarter by three points, or the fourth quarter by two, and Laurie was going to be in deep tapioca tomorrow after lunch. Cincinnati cooperated with me, went nowhere, and the Chargers got the ball back. If that three point lead for the third quarter held, Laurie was going to be topless for dinner, and she'd also be braless at lunch tomorrow, with a chance to do the scream and run bottomless. Unfortunately for Laurie, it did hold at three, as the third quarter ended with Carney ready to try another field goal. The Chargers choose to let the clock run out, to get the wind at their back for the field goal attempt. Good strategy, and a wonderful outcome.

I choose to remove Laurieís bra myself. It took me the whole commercial break between quarters to get her bra off, and enjoy her breasts. They were the first breasts I'd played with -- except for my own -- in several years.

Ten seconds into the fourth quarter, Carney kicked another field goal, this time from 42 yards out. Laurie and I both knew she was taking delivery of a pizza naked this evening, but Laurie desperately needed the Bengals to outscore the Chargers in the fourth quarter, so she could wear panties tomorrow at lunch. Unfortunately for Laurie, the Bengals offense was inept. Taking off her panties was fun too.