Friday the Thirteenth
Chapter 11: "High Stakes"
"Motoki-kun is going to murder me, no question about it," Mamoru mumbled under his breath, still hardly daring to believe that he was sitting around a table with five fourteen-year-olds in varying degrees of undress. Playing strip poker. In an unchaperoned house. At a quarter to midnight.
Yes, Motoki would've killed him, had the Crown Game employee been anywhere near the lone male and his exuberant comrades. Probably with a large steak knife, starting with a crucial aspect of his anatomy that Mamoru certainly did not want severed... He inhaled raggedy, raking a hand through his messy black locks.
"All right, friends... ante up!" Minako declared, tossing a chip onto the wooden tabletop. Loose hair falling in cascades around her shoulders, the bubbly blonde glanced down to inspect what little garments she had left to barter. Already, Minako had lost the most articles of clothing compared to her other, less promiscuous companions. Her red bow, shoes, socks, and skirt all lay in a heap next to their respective winners. But the girl didn't stop there. Always the trendsetter, Minako decided to jump into the heart of strip poker. "Panties."
Mamoru was suddenly quite glad he was situated so far away from the teen. Any closer, and he would have been too tempted to sneak a peek.
"Left shoe," Ami murmured, face tinged a vibrant crimson as if the possibility were mortifying. Of the six, she'd been the most resourceful with her choices, and Ami was the only female still fully covered. Then again, maybe it just helped that the modest pedantic came into the game bearing an IQ of 300, and thus had won the most.
Rei sucked in a quick breath, realizing she too was getting down to the wire. "... shirt."
Usagi squealed, flushing. "Rei-chan!"
Rei turned to glare at the fourteen-year-old beside her. "It's not any worse than Minako-chan's! Besides, what other choice do *you* have?"
"Hair ties," Usagi intoned smugly, reaching up to pat her odango.
"You'll have to ante both. They're far too small to be considered separate items, just like socks," Makoto interrupted, wagering, "I'll add mine for good measure. Forgot about that! Mamoru-san?"
Mamoru examined the starched white undershirt he was currently showing off, and the pants underneath that. He tried to reason which was the worse of two evils, given that his shoes, socks, blazer, and black turtleneck now belonged to various Senshi. Bare his chest or those silky new boxers Motoki forced him to purchase? "Ah... shirt."
"Ooooh," Minako, Makoto and Rei chorused, exchanging teasing looks. Ami just cleared her throat and feigned interest in the floor while Usagi watched Mamoru with an undecipherable expression in place. She started when Ami quietly reminded the blonde it was her turn to deal. After that, Usagi seemed to be avoiding all association with the man. She hurried to dispense the necessary cards before absorbing herself in intent strategy. Mamoru frowned, wondering what was running through that enigmatic head. Usagi used to always strike him as dim and scatterbrained, but after tonight he knew his assumptions had been completely off the mark- the girl was smarter than he ever gave her credit for. With that thought in mind, Mamoru also buried himself in the combinations laid out before him in ranging reds and blacks. He wondered if it would be easier to fold, what with the awful hand he was dealt- one pair of threes? Mamoru sighed. Hello, biceps. Before being able to open his mouth, Rei slammed down her boon.
"DAMN, I'm on a roll! That's TWICE in a row! Straight flush in high diamonds- read it and weep, fellow strippers! Unless of course you can top me?" Rei cackled at her horrible pun.
The room was filled with the sound of groans as the losers discarded themselves of their bets. It was with an overpowering sense of self-consciousness that Mamoru eased off his undershirt, listening to the teenage girls suck in awed breaths at his toned abs born from many nights spent battling vicious youma. The eighteen-year-old blinked bashfully after undressing, trying to look anywhere but at Minako's flagrantly public attempt to slide off her almost nonexistent pink panties. His eyes flickered to the window, inwardly shivering as a ghostly shadow danced by the glass, but it was gone so quickly Mamoru decided it had just been a figment of his hyperactive imagination. The raven-headed college student redirected his gaze and paused, catching Usagi mid-smile as she appreciated his pectorals while letting down her flowing gold hair. The blonde schooled her features lightning fast upon noticing his newfound attention, but not before Mamoru sent a conspiratorial wink in return. He could tell she was just as impressed as her friends, and that knowledge filled the lonely orphan with warmth.
Some unconscious part of her liked him, even if it was just his body. And that made Mamoru strangely giddy, to the point where he puffed out his chest for good measure. 'Strip poker? Bring it on.'
The next round promised to be an eventful one. Everyone was stuck giving nitty-gritty, uncomfortable antes that, except for Ami's, encompassed main articles of clothing. Mamoru found himself oddly eager when Usagi mumbled that she'd deprive herself of her shirt, although karma came back to bite him in the butt when the eighteen-year-old was locked into parlaying his comfy, unrevealing trousers. Damn, he did *not* want to share those sexy boxers! The way this night was going, he wouldn't be surprised if half the room fainted from Mamoru-skin-overload. He could already envision a puddle forming under the table from all of Minako's excess drool...
Makoto speed dealt, apparently as excited as Mamoru was to end the torturous wait. With a fatalistic groan, the man scooped up his cards, hoping to scrape by with a two pair or- if he was lucky- some sort of flush. He was not expecting, however, a full house. And a *royal* full house, at that! Barely managing to hide his grin, Mamoru proceeded to fudge his way through the rest of the round with low chip offerings before emerging victorious. He watched as the Senshi shrugged reluctantly, everyone but Ami and Usagi relieving themselves of their school uniform tops. The latter scowled moodily at the carpet, embarrassment painting bright spots of red on either of the blonde's cheeks.
"Usagi," Rei hissed, clad in scanty black lingerie. "You anted. You have to."
"No," the aforementioned Odango Atama choked out obstinately, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her waist. "No. I won't. I can't!"
"C'mon, Usagi-chan. Be a team player," Makoto coaxed, her emerald orbs gleaming in mirth. It was very difficult for Mamoru not to stare; anyone with two eyes could tell Makoto was gifted with the largest breasts of her friends, and even the brunette's white sports bra failed to disguise their bouncy nature. "You've come this far, after all. Don't let a little testosterone scare you!"
Usagi threw Makoto a glare, but it was obvious she mistook the foreign allusion for an insult.
"Makoto-san is referring to my hormones, which for some reason she expects to surge to unheard-of proportions after you change. Despite the fact that I'm already surrounded by half-naked women and am handling myself quite well, thank you very much," Mamoru drawled in clarification, and it was true. He could have jumped any of the unarguably hot females around this table multiple times since they undressed down to their underwear, yet not one of them had fazed him. Why would tiny Tsukino Usagi, smallest of her posse, be any different?
Mamoru should have known, especially after the mind-blowing kiss earlier, that one shouldn't count their eggs before they hatch.
Glaring cynically, Usagi practically ripped off her shirt, angry countenance almost daring her companions to crack a joke over her less endowed chest. Launching Mamoru's prize at his face, the girl then settled back all proud and prim, clearly believing her dignity was at stake. After all, Usagi had never- not even in front of her brother- bared herself to this extent in the presence of a man.
... a man as scarcely attired as she. The odanged teen felt exposed; naked.
But she also felt a certain fiery desire writhing in her belly; a sentiment shared by the raven-haired college student closely watching Usagi. A rush of heat curled up his back as Mamoru inconspicuously eyed the creamy, lace-trimmed twins before him. As much as Usagi had endeavored to conceal her bosom, Mamoru couldn't help but find fascination at the way in which his nemesis' breasts curved delicately- perfectly- downward, only to perk back up upon reaching the crest of the nipple. He blinked.
Wait, nipple? Protruding?
Mamoru may have been inexperienced, but he knew from umpteen hours of medical school that when a woman was cold (nah, heat was on) or aroused (the more likely answer), her nipples darted out, as if begging for their own attention.
And when Mamoru slowly skimmed his eyes up to meet Usagi's, he was very surprised to discover that she was examining him just as intensely. She smiled shyly.
Before the man could add two and two, the lights went out a second time, dousing the living room in total darkness.
And oddly enough, amongst the startled shrieks and calls for lumination, Mamoru groaned in frustration.
Why, God, why? He'd been so enjoying strip poker...
TBC
