Game Night

By Cassidy Storm

All bets are off . . .

Alyssa has crushed on her client, Mia, for months. So, when Mia invites Alyssa over for an all-girls’ “game night,” she’s all-in.

But Alyssa quickly finds the stakes are much higher than she anticipated when she learns the name of the game is poker -- strip poker.

Alyssa must up her ante when she realizes she faces stiff competition -- and that there's much more to lose than clothing...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassidy Storm
• Release date: Feb 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463842768

Cassidy Storm

I’m a longtime reader of romance, erotica, sci-fi and horror. My first release, Girl Talk, is a feel-good #lesfic romance, largely about coming of age and finding oneself! My second book, Awakening, was quite a bit darker. Although it also falls under the #lesfic category, readers looking for the warm-hearted “feel good” atmosphere of Girl Talk won’t find that here. You’ll travel with me into a dank BDSM dungeon where you’ll endure a delicious nightmare — all the while unsure of whether it’s real, or just a dream! My third book, Game Night, releases on Valentines Day 2019 — a year to the day after Girl Talk! It’s #lesfic as well (yes, I know you’re seeing a pattern!) and it’s the tale of a raunchy poker game including Alyssa and her “crush,” Mia. Other than my sister, who is my best friend in the world, my family doesn’t know I write — manuscripts of Girl Talk and especially, Awakening would probably not be well-received at Easter Brunch. Same holds true with the “day-job” profession I’m in — so I keep those circles at arm’s length when it comes to my writing. When I’m not writing, I enjoy playing board and card games — the real, physical ones. Although my sister Allison and I do play Words With Friends and I even let her win a few. I love to travel, and in May I made a trip to historic Wrigley Field to watch my beloved Marlins get trounced — all in the name of research for another of my upcoming books. One hundred percent tax-deductible research, of course! I also like to cook, often prompted by seeing something delicious posted on social media. I’m deathly afraid of heights and won’t go near the railing at the mall, but I’ve actually jumped out of an airplane. So go figure. I look forward to taking my readers on a journey!

Book preview

Game Night

by

Cassidy Storm

Copyright © 2019

www.cassidystorm.com

Smashwords Edition

to my crush…

…who will probably never read this

LEGAL NOTES

All rights reserved. This book is the sole property of Cassidy Storm. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is mostly coincidental.

Buying In

You’ve gotta play to win.

I’ve always believed that. I’m competitive by nature, in business and otherwise.

So, when my crush invited me to game night, I agreed — even though it hadn’t been exactly what I had in mind when I’d screwed up the courage to suggest we hang out sometime. I’d been thinking along the lines of bar-hopping or maybe a movie.

Still, I decided to roll with it, giving Mia (a.k.a. my crush) an uh … sure. Although my answer would have probably been the same if she’d said Alyssa, we’re going skinny-dipping in shark-infested waters. Can you come?

Game night it is. My place at eight? And then she’d given me that saucy, thoughtful bite of her lower lip, which had sealed the deal.

Okay.

Great. See you then!

I met Mia through my job. The company she works for is one of the accounts I manage. From the first meeting, I was enthralled — to the point I’d barely been able to make it through my presentation. My eyes kept wandering to her full lips, her curvy frame, her sexy designer boots. My imagination, in turn, wandered to other places. Kissing those lips. Running my hands up and down her shapely body. Her doing the same to me. Those boots at the foot of my bed.

Usually, I’m the type of woman who acts my age. When it comes to Mia, though, all that seems to go out the window. I’m not even sure exactly what it is about her — although you could say I’ve dabbled, I’ve never followed through, and I’m mainly into men. Lately, there hasn’t even been much of that.

So, I’d happily taken on the account, looking for any and every excuse to visit with Mia. Meeting up to showcase exciting new products on the horizon — never mind she wasn’t even the decision maker for her company. Calls and text messages with whatever follow-up questions I could devise. One working lunch to discuss the project’s timeline and progress. For that last one, my heart rate had been a mile a minute as I suggested we get together over lunch to go over things. And while she was penciling it in, I had to mute the phone to contain my yelps of excitement.

I even stopped by her house after hours under the guise of dropping off some piece of key information, followed by my rather clumsy attempts at small talk.

Yes, you could say I’ve got it bad for Mia.

Game night, I mouthed the words to myself again. At the conclusion of today’s status meeting, when I made my hanging out suggestion — a step that had taken me three days to gather up the nerve and had my stomach in knots all morning — I’d been prepared for a let’s keep it professional rejection. Or at best some generic acquiescence to do that sometime in the future.

But her lips had twisted into that warm, captivating smile. Yeah, that would be terrific. In fact, I’m having a get-together tonight. A game night. And we could use one more.

Momentarily, my spirits had sunk, as I had my heart set on one-on-one time with Mia. But regardless, it was a chance to actually spend time with her in a non-work environment.

You’ve gotta play to win…

I drove around the block, deliberately waiting until 8:10 before finally parallel parking in front of her townhome. I’d made up my mind that showing up at exactly eight would make me appear obsessive. Not that I wasn’t, but I certainly didn’t want to appear as such. But as I made my way up the walk, my ballet flats clacking against the cobblestone, I wondered if this could backfire.

What if I irritated her by my tardiness? What if the game, whatever it was, was now already full and I’d missed my opportunity? At work, I was always punctual — invariably showing up for every meeting or appointment ten minutes early. Twenty in the case of Mia’s account — the opportunity to spend a little extra time with my crush, and all that.

I hadn’t been at all sure of what to wear, but it was Mia, and a non-work setting, so I dressed to impress. Tonight, that meant skinny jeans paired with my black, cotton-blend tee — the one with the plunging V-neck. Beneath that, just in case my raunchiest fantasies came true, my black lace demi bra and matching G-string panties.

But as I was preparing to ring the bell, I began second-guessing. Was I being too aggressive? Counting my chickens, so to speak? It was just a game night, which would probably translate to a casual gathering with friends. If I were to overdo it…

Shrugging it off, I rang the doorbell. As was typically the case when seeing Mia, I felt nervous butterflies in my belly as I waited. After about thirty seconds, there were footsteps coming toward the door. Nervously, I gave myself another once-over. Were my jeans snapped up? Was I showing too much cleavage? Too little?

My thoughts were cut short as the doorknob turned. To my surprise, I found myself face-to-face with a policewoman.

Deal Me In

Oh, I exclaimed, startled. Had the party been broken up already? If so, just what kind of party had Mia thrown?

I’m sorry, I was looking for...

I trailed off as the policewoman adjusted her hat, and I realized it was Mia herself.

Hey! Glad you made it! Come on in.

Oh. The screen door swung open, and I entered.

Can I take your jacket?

Uh, sure. I’d gone with the leather bomber jacket tonight and now slipped it off and handed it over. So… I didn’t know you were a cop.

She laughed. No, this is just a costume. For game night.

Upon taking a closer look, it was obvious. The badge on her shirt referred to a generic METRO POLICE, and it didn’t escape me that the badge number in the center was 6969. The blue shirt itself was also revealing a bit more cleavage than one might see on a real beat cop. Not that this was a bad thing — Mia was quite well-endowed. At least double-Ds, possibly more, and I could see more than a hint of a lacy navy-blue bra. Enticing, to say the least.

Her short pants, likewise, were much more form-fitting — and curve-hugging — than a standard-issue police uniform might be. The tactical belt around her curvy waist had no weapon holster, although it did contain a pouch with a pair of handcuffs.

I willed myself not to gawk. Oh. Was I supposed to… um, dress up? I just assumed—

She waved her hand dismissively. No. The costume is optional. Some of us just do it for fun.

That made me feel better until she ushered me into her living room. Three of Mia’s friends were already present, hanging around next to a hexagonal, felt-topped poker table. To my chagrin and embarrassment, they all seemed to have come dressed up according to some specific theme. The first was a petite, mousy-looking blonde, whose pink cashmere sweater, knee-length pencil skirt and white stockings screamed preppy schoolgirl. She was talking to a young, caramel-complected black woman, whose costume of choice seemed to represent that of a 1920s-style mobster: pin-stripe slacks, a matching sport coat, and a black fedora atop her head. The third woman had a goth theme going on: black lip gloss, a choker-style chain around her neck, urban-camo leggings, and a black translucent tunic over a black bra.

Which left me as the fifth wheel who hadn’t gotten the memo it was a costume party. Although Mia had assured me it was okay, I was already feeling really out of place.

After hanging up my jacket, Mia introduced everyone. The woman in the Capone getup was Dallas. Her nerdy friend, who waved shyly back at me, was Willow. And the goth woman was Casey.

Everyone, this is… Mia looked at me blankly. Sorry, what was your first name?

Ouch. I winced at the blow to my tender ego. Alyssa, I offered aloud.

Alyssa. She smiled at the others.

I nodded indifferently, as if I didn’t cry her name out on an almost daily basis in the shower.

I tried mingling a bit while our lovely hostess bustled back and forth, laying out poker chips, snacks, and the like.

I didn’t know it was supposed to be a costume party, I explained to the young goth woman. You look great, though.

She looked at me as if I was stupid. "This is how I dress," she retorted sarcastically, treating me to a condescending frown.

Uh, sorry, I stammered, now feeling even more out of place. I moved on, seeking out Mia to see if she needed help setting up her party, and of course, to see if I could score points with her.

She was in the kitchen where she was neatly assembling a plate of cheese and crackers. I took advantage of the opportunity to check her out again. She’d ditched the police hat, which was a plus. Mia was a Latina with long, beautiful hair, now set free to fall over her shoulders. The uniform shirt, I noted, was a bit tight on her — probably because of her larger breasts. She’d left the first two buttons undone, and the third appeared to be screaming in protest at the strain.

All in all, I pondered, I wouldn’t mind being arrested and frisked by Mia at all.

She must have felt my eyes on her. Hey, Alyssa!

Hi. Can I help with something?

We’re pretty much set, but thanks. She thought. "Actually, what you could do… ask them if they want to start with sangria or coffee."

I went back to the living room. Hey, Mia wants to know if we’re starting with wine or coffee?

"Coffee first!" all three women announced in unison. I relayed this to Mia, who began brewing. A few minutes later, she returned to the living room.

So, we’ve got five. Anyone else coming? Mia looked to the woman in the camo leggings — the one who had