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A daring escape! But first, revenge.

And so we began...

"Call"..."Call"..."Call"... To me, then. My hand a bloody mess, probably. I couldn't be sure because I didn't really understand the game. And I couldn't ask because that really would be blood in the water. And everyone was staring at me because the hand had been moving along quite quickly. And my knickers were sticking just that little bit whenever I moved, symptomatic of a condition not renowned for promoting composed thought. So I played a pair...hoping.

And evidently got it wrong. April and Carl, bless him, put the boot in - so that when it came back around to me, Tami smiled faintly and said, "You're in for 7, luv."

7 of my precious 10 chips were slipped, seemingly by someone other than me, into the pot. Prudence dictated a strategic withdrawal. But Prudence as a little voice is irritating and my logic went something like 'if that was the wrong pair then my pair close to the other end of the scale must be right.' The immediate, if subdued reaction, from everyone gave me the sickening sensation Prudence would have been wise voice to follow . Which, by the way, made my treacherous female sexual centres positively outspoken. Translation: my nipples were rampant and the moist sensation was spreading down both thighs,

"It's now 13 to you, luv." Tami reviewed my situation helpfully when the play had gone full circle again.

Sliding my chair back just enough, I reached down and levered off my spike heels: taking a glance in the process and discovering all 3 males would be moving about soon to ease some pressure inside their respective slacks. Straightening up, I put both shoes on the table - our rule being once you'd used up your initial (10) chips you had to supply collateral for the next 10 chips, and every ensuing 10 chip purchase, in advance. Tami counted out the chips and all but 7 of them went directly into the pot.

Thinking if I sat still, the guys might make mistakes, I said, "Call."

It was April who got there first. "You can't do that, luv. As the initiator of the hand you can only fold or play."

Of course. Now I remembered. Diabolical damn game. Don't ask me the name, but I had remembered by then that having effectively set up as 'banker' I would be responsible for more chips even If I folded. So I played the highest card left in my hand.

Then sat there, as though it was all happening to someone else, while everyone else weighed in on the slaughter. I was vaguely aware that the to date passive threesome, Tami, Will and George, were placing the largest wagers -and that that was because they had the most chips left from their initial 10. I also recall being extremely aware of how erotic barefoot could be...especially being the only barefoot person in a sexually charged atmosphere.

Carl cleared his throat and I stopped wriggling my bare toes against the cool lino floor. I looked at my cards, turned them back face down on the table. Tami, bless her heart, resolved my arithmetic dilemma. "You're now in for 26, luv."

Of course I was. 20-plus meant I would have to tip my hand, so to speak. One shoe on each foot and a total item count of 5. Do the math, boys and girls. Sliding the chair back again, a few inches, I unhitched my skirt and slipped it off, down, carefully not lifting too far off the chair, stretching down rather than bending and finally depositing it on the table. Will's wry grin seemed self-congratulatory, as if he'd guessed right when he kept glancing at my boobs. Which he had. I refused to even glance in the direction of George. George had a huge cock. I'd sucked it in the past and wasn't at all sure I wanted it inside me. But I wasn't going to risk eye contact with Carl either, and neither of the two other women would be easy to face down -- and Will's grin persisted because he obviously knew how uncomfortable my position was, so I stuck out my tongue at him.

Which earned a laugh from round the table and some release of pressure.

My thinking then went: they were all but played out on the

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