Mom s Bridge Club
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The Bridge Club Ch. 07 free porn video
As you may have noticed, I have changed the category description to ‘Romance’. For the patient, and those willing to continue, there are more erotic couplings to come. Thanks again for your encouraging comments!
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Jake hosted the next bridge night. He had a typical bachelor pad. I would have expected some feminine touches, with Beth’s influence, but there weren’t many. They seemed to be getting along better as a couple, though.
I had Abigail for a partner, against Massimo and Darren. Abigail didn’t seem at all flustered by Massimo’s presence. And her bridge had improved: her bidding was crisper, her leads less hesitant. She also appeared to be comfortable with me. We won a nice rubber.
In the second match, Carmen and I took on Darren and Christina. I had to admit it to myself, at last: I was crushing on Christina. Badly. She was pretty, and exotic. Long dark hair, beautifully shaped brown eyes, that cute little upturned nose, that beauty mark at the corner of her mouth that I so wanted to touch, to kiss …
– ‘2 hearts, Norm.’ said Carmen, with a touch of impatience. From the tone of her voice, I could tell that she was repeating herself.
– ‘Sorry.’ I said. ‘Must have been wool-gathering.’
– ‘Looked like plain old daydreaming to me. Get your head in the game, man. We’re getting killed here.’
Carmen was right. We went down hard.
On the way home, I was still thinking of Christina. She was slender, but more sylph-like, graceful, as opposed to Abigail’s runner’s body. At home, I did a search for sylph. Too skinny. And invisible. I got side-tracked, and ended up reading about naiads and undines.
Christina was a creature of air, and earth, I concluded. The books, the philosophy … air. But her body was well-rounded, well-proportioned. She had a nice pair of B cup breasts, I guessed. It was hard to tell, because she rarely showed any cleavage, unlike Carmen or Beth.
She was kind, and giving, paying the upkeep on a house so that her sister would have a place to live. And her friends all seemed to like her. There were none of those catty, competitive remarks about her from the others.
Yes, I had it very bad indeed. And Edgar Allan Poe was not the least bit pleased with me. This could end up wrecking my revenge on Massimo.
What else could I do? I rationalized it like this:
– Beth was unavailable (relationship with Jake)
– I hadn’t even met Emily, the alternate. What was I supposed to do? Hang out where the girls worked, in the hopes of meeting her? Follow her husband home? Stalking, next?
– we were only about 3 months into the bet, and I had already slept with 2 of the girls. I had plenty of time to romance Christina, until the other two became available
Bullshit, said Edgar Allan Poe. And he was right.
I wanted Christina. I wanted her to fall in love with me.
And if she did, and I then went out and slept with 2 other women, would she ever forgive me?
I wanted to be with Christina when the bet was over. But I didn’t want Massimo to win.
You’re doomed, said Poe.
******************************
It was my turn to host the next bridge game. I decided to put a little effort into it. I cleaned my apartment thoroughly. And I cooked. It was the Saturday night, stay up later bridge night, so I planned to serve food during the break after the second game.
Carmen and Abigail had already seen my apartment, but the others had not. When Jake and Beth arrived, she instantly went into detective mode. She didn’t ask for a tour, she just snooped around everywhere.
– ‘What smells so good?’ she asked. I showed her.
– ‘You cooked?’ said Jake. ‘That’s kind of gay.’
Darren, who was standing nearby, was not impressed. Neither was I. When I called him on it, Jake apologized.
– ‘I didn’t mean any offense. You know what I meant.’ he said.
Beth had to take him aside to explain it to him.
Christina was a little bit late, as she often was. But the moment she came through the door, she smelled the food. She did a double-take, and looked at me, astonished.
– ‘You didn’t.’ she said. And she made a beeline for the kitchen.
– ‘Did what?’ asked Beth. She followed me in. ‘Did what?’ she repeated.
On the stove, I had two tajine pots. They’re made of glazed pottery, and they’re standard in North African cuisine. You can slow cook a savory stew, usually of lamb or poultry, along with sliced vegetables and fruit. The spices are crucial: cumin, turmeric, saffron, ginger, even cinnamon. It uses minimal water, which is helpful in desert countries.
I explained all this for Beth’s benefit. ‘They do this in Morocco. I don’t know about Algeria, though.’
– ‘The Tunisian version is more like an Italian fritata.’ said Christina. ‘We use eggs, sometimes, too. But this is wonderful!’
– ‘You must have this all the time.’ I said.
– ‘No! Who has time? It takes forever. And I don’t cook just for myself very often.’
– ‘Why did you make two pots?’ asked Beth. ‘It looks like a lot of food.’
– ‘One is lamb.’ I told her. ‘The second is vegetarian. For Darren.’ Darren was a vegetarian.
Beth pinched my cheek, and then kissed me on the lips. ‘You’re a sweetheart.’
Christina was more restrained in her praise. ‘This is wonderful. Thank you.’ She knew who I had done it for.
As luck would have it, Christina and I faced off against Carmen and Darren in the first game. I found it hard not to stare at my partner. I couldn’t tell if Christina was blushing, because of her dark skin, but she was certainly aware of my attention. Even Carmen’s incredible cleavage couldn’t distract me from Christina’s shining eyes and shy smile.
We lost.
I had to play with Massimo in the second game, but even that couldn’t spoil my mood. At the break, I served the tajine. Jake and Massimo were unimpressed. Fuck them. The girls all complimented me, and Darren thanked me for making one vegetarian.
In the final game, Beth was my partner, against Jake and Darren.
– ‘You couldn’t have made a Cuban dish?’ she teased. ‘If I’d known you could cook, I would have placed my order.’
After the cards, I managed to speak to Beth alone.
– ‘Can you give me Christina’s number?’ I asked.
Beth gave me a long look. ‘Yes, I can. But you have to understand something, right from the start: Chris is not Abigail. And she’s certainly not Carmen.’
– ‘I know.’
– ‘Don’t fuck this up.’ said Beth.
******************************
I asked Christina out for coffee the following Saturday afternoon. She hesitated at first, but then agreed.
She looked great in jeans and a t-shirt. But she seemed a little ill at ease.
– ‘Is everything ok, Christina?’ I asked her.
She shook her head. ‘No, Norm. I have something on my mind. I want to get it out in the open. I should probably just say it.’
I nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
– ‘I know all about you and Abigail.’ She looked me right in the eye. ‘And you and Carmen. Well, maybe not everything. But you’ve slept with two of my friends, just recently. Did you know that I knew?’
– ‘Yes.’ I admitted.
– ‘OK. Neither of them seem angry, or upset with you, so I assume that you parted on good terms. You have parted with them, right?’
– ‘Yes. All over. All done.’
Christina took a deep breath. ‘Well, here it is. They – and you – may all be comfortable with that. But I’m not. I won’t be the third notch on your belt, if that’s what this is about. It hurts me to say this, Norm, because I like you. But I don’t trust you. Yet. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I don’t trust your motives. I refuse to be number 3 on your record sheet, or your scorecard.’
– ‘What … what can I do?’ For a moment, I considered revealing the bet, and telling
her everything.
– ‘I don’t know, Norm. Give me time. Keep it at this level for a while. Let me get to know you better. We can just kill some time together until I can decide if you’re trustworthy.’
– ‘What is your friend, that you should seek them with hours to kill? Seek them always with hours to live.’ I’m not sure what possessed me to utter those lines. They were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. Edgar Allan Poe was horrified.
Christina looked at me in disbelief. ‘Kahlil Gibran? You’re quoting ‘The Prophet’ at me?’
– ‘It just came out.’ I confessed, sheepishly.
– ‘Change of topic.’ said Christina. ‘Have you finished with Omar Khayyam?’
******************************
The next bridge game was at Beth’s. There were two very significant changes. For one thing, Jake was not there.
– ‘I broke up with him.’ said Beth.
– ‘I’m so sorry.’ I said.
– ‘Don’t be. It was overdue.’
– ‘Are you OK?’
– ‘Fine. I had plenty of time to think about it.’
The second big difference didn’t occur to me until a strange woman walked in. With Jake gone, Emily was here to take his place. She was a brunette, in her late 30s if not just on the other side of 40. She wore a bit too much make-up for my taste, but she had a trim body and a saucy way of sizing people up.
I said Hello, and she studied me like some kind of lab specimen for at least 5 seconds before she held out her hand and said ‘Emily’.
As luck would have it, Emily was my partner for the first game. We were up against Beth and Darren. Emily turned out to be a fair bridge player. Her analysis at the end of a hand was spot on. But there was something just a little odd about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
We had a short break. Inspired by my tajine performance, Beth had whipped up Cuban sandwiches. It looked like ham and Swiss cheese to me, but there was more to it than that.
– ‘Some people call it a ‘mixto’.’ said Beth. ‘You need Cuban bread, roast pork, Serrano ham, and Swiss cheese. Toss in a dill pickle, and some yellow mustard, and you’re good to go.’
– ‘Nice’ I told her.
– ‘I hope this isn’t becoming a tradition.’ said Abigail. ‘I can’t cook.’
– ‘You and me both, sister.’ said Carmen.
Massimo came over to talk to me. He jerked his head in Emily’s direction. ‘Doable, right? Was I right? And how are things with you? Still stuck at two?’
– ‘Same as you, Mass.’ I said.
– ‘Yeah, but I’m workin’ on it, Normie. I’m workin’ on it.’
In the second game, Darren and I switched partners: he was with Emily, while I had Beth. It was an excellent rubber, with exciting play. Of all people, though, it was Beth who was a bit distracted. She made a slight error, and it cost us a trick. It didn’t matter, since we were down two in any case, but it was unlike her.
– ‘You OK?’ I asked.
– ‘Yeah, yeah. Just tripped up. Sorry about that.’ she said.
When I got home, Edgar Allan Poe and I had a conversation.
POE: ‘You, Sir, are in the process of losing this fucking bet.’
ME: ‘I know, I know. But what am I supposed to do?’
POE: ‘Any imbecile could determine the proper course of action. You knock boots with the delectable Beth, and then turn your attention to Mrs Emily. May I suggest that you use bridge as your conversational gambit. She seems to be somewhat of a student of the game.’
ME: ‘She’s married. And if I slept with Beth, I could say goodbye to Christina.’
POE: ‘Your dark-skinned inamorata is young. She will get over it, in time. With a modicum of luck, she will have forgiven you before the expiry date of your wager with Signor Massimo.’
ME: ‘She won’t. You don’t understand: I think I’m in love with her.’
POE: ‘That is an unfortunate complication in what is otherwise a simple matter. You are familiar with the expression ‘Horns of a dilemma’?’
ME: ‘Lose the bet, or lose Christina?’
POE: ‘If not both.’
ME: ‘I am so fucked.’
POE: ‘It certainly appears that way.’
******************************
I chose Christina. I took her out to the park, and to a play (which she enjoyed at least as much as I did). We went out to dinner, and to see a blues band. She could do classy, or grungy, or casual, and look delicious on every occasion.
She seemed to be enjoying my company. And all that time – a month – I never even tried to hold her hand. No kisses on the cheek, no snuggles. I parked in the friend zone, and got comfortable there.
We had bridge night at Carmen’s. I had Abigail for a partner, then Carmen, and in the final game, Christina. We played together brilliantly, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Beth and Massimo couldn’t stop us. Best of all, Christina smiled throughout. We were just like a couple – except for the no sex on the horizon part.
Two weeks later we played at Darren’s. I had to partner with Massimo, but against Beth and Christina. Strangely enough, Massimo wasn’t flirting as outrageously as he normally did. Then, in the final game, Beth and I took on Darren and Emily. This time, the vibes from Beth were even more noticeable. She was uncomfortable, and it was affecting her play.
At the end of the evening, I asked her about it. ‘What was that all about? Was it Emily? That’s the second time I’ve seen you act weird when she was at the same table.’
Beth sighed. ‘Look, Norm, it’s not a big deal.’
– ‘But you seem uncomfortable. Can I help?’
– ‘Alright, alright! I’ll tell you. But this goes no further – understand?’ When I nodded, she continued. ‘It’s Emily. She’s coming on to me.’
– ‘What? Are you sure?’
– ‘Every time. Tonight she was playing footsie with me under the table.’
– ‘You’re kidding.’ I said. ‘She’s married.’
Beth rolled her eyes. ‘What does that have to do with anything? She comes on to all of us. When she comes to see her husband at work, at staff socials, and over cards. She does it all the time.’
– ‘Why did you invite her, then?’ I was perplexed.
– ‘Her husband is Abigail’s supervisor. And good friends with my supervisor. Plus, you’ve seen her play: she’s a good bridge player. How could we say no?’
– ‘I sympathize.’ I said.
Beth laughed. ‘No you don’t. You’re a male. You’re already picturing some lesbian action in your head.’
******************************
Christina and I had been dating (sort of) for almost two months. She had still given no sign that we any closer to her mysterious ‘trust’ zone. And that meant that we were no closer to any meaningful physical contact. But I was handling it pretty well.
Until I got her text, about a week after the bridge game at Darren’s. We had gone out for a movie and ice cream only three nights before. Her message was simple: ‘We have to talk. Can you meet me at Audrey’s after work?’ Audrey’s was a small, quiet cafe that we both liked.
‘We have to talk’. Was she ready? I tried to keep my hopes in check. I replied in the affirmative.
She was waiting for me when I arrived. And she wasn’t smiling. In fact, the look on her face was as serious as I’d ever seen it.
– ‘What is it?’ I asked immediately. ‘Is something wrong?’
Christina looked me in the eye, but she didn’t answer. She put her hand on the table, and opened it. On her palm lay a crumpled napkin.
I recognized it. It was the very same napkin I had written on some five months ago, outlining the terms of my bet with Massimo. I didn’t have to look to remember exactly what it said.
Full vaginal intercourse
No breaking up the girl’s relationship (if she is in one)
No revealing the secret
The girl must consent (no drugs / excessive alcohol)
The girl must admit it afterwards
Must take place within the next calendar year
Christina’s voice was very soft, and a little unsteady, but I heard her
clearly.
– ‘Norm, tell me the truth: did you make a bet to sleep with all four of us? Did you make a bet with Massimo?’
There was no place to hide. And I couldn’t lie to her.
– ‘Yes.’
Christina must have been holding her breath, but she let it out now. She pushed her chair back from the table, and stood up. I stood up too.
– ‘Christina, can I … I want to explain.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hear your explanation, Norm. And I don’t think that I want to see you again. Please don’t call.’
She dropped the crumpled napkin on the table, and walked out.
I let her go.
Myra
- 25.07.2021
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