ChessChapter 2
John T. Jones stood up from their table at the end of year dance and swayed slightly. Like many others, they had smuggled some alcohol in, but had arrived well-lubricated already. Then he set off across the floor towards the other side; beside him his Vice-Captain Vince tagged along. John had an IQ of over a hundred; Vince, maybe not so much. He was just muscle, his brain had muscles; he had once got a girl to stand on his big toe and then lifted it up. A toe that could lift a girl on its...