Up For Review:
Checkmate or Le Chat a une Belle Queue (revision)
"That's check and mate," Carol said. She smiled. The man she'd beaten shook his head. Carol got up and walked to the counter of the bar. I followed.
She sat on one of the stools. "Nice game," I said. She swiveled a quarter turn in my direction. Creamy breasts in the cut of her gown. Nipples nearly in view.
"Max," she said. "Max Marteau. I thought that was you. Thinking of taking up serious chess?" A smile flickered across her face - the same kind of smile she'd given that man across the chessboard.
"Just checking things out," I said. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"The wine's not very good here," Carol answered without so much as a glance at me. "Much the same as the chess. Maybe I have to find a new club."
"You never know," I told her.
"That's the trouble, I do." She'd set her little pouch of a handbag on the bar, and now she was stroking it with her fingertip. "It's so boring."
Typical talk from the pretty Carol Ann Chase. Okay, more than pretty - beautiful. Long lean figure. Flowing black hair. Dark expressive eyes. So proud. So confident. So out of my league. That didn't stop me from wanting her.
"Maybe one day," I mused.
"One day what?" Something of a challenge in her voice.
"Maybe one day you'll lose."
Carol gave me a look of disbelief. She'd recently won a tournament of the top players in the city. Next stop, the nationals.
"I've got some good wine at home," I said. "Some good Beatles' tunes, too. "What do you say?" I knew from an article in our high school newspaper that the Beatles were her favorites, at least in those days. She was aloof then, too, never giving me a second look. Okay, I'd never dared to ask her out.
"All right," she said.
"All right? Really?"
"Hold this." She gave me her little purse, smoothed her satiny slip of a dress, and strode toward the door. I followed.
I was still holding her bag when we reached my car. "Thanks," she said, taking the purse. "Nice wheels." She slid into the back of my silver Jag.
"Um," I said.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
I hesitated a moment, then slipped behind the wheel and headed for my apartment.
I didn't live far away. As I drove I tried to think about the chess moves "Meow," my ICQ friend from Russia, had given me. A chess expert, Meow had done a detailed analysis of Carol's strategies and the best ways to counter them. As I turned onto my street I ventured a glance into the rear-view mirror. Carol wore an impassive grin.
At home I put on Revolver and opened the wine. "Nice pop," Carol said. She picked up the cork. "Mise en bouteilles dans nos chais," she read.
"French, right?" I said. "What's it say - "one size fits all"?"
Carol laughed. "You took French - you should know. I remember you from Miss Parks' class."
"You do?"
"Sure, it was barely ten years ago. Anyway, I remember everything. You sat behind me junior year. One time you came into class with a wet spot."
"I did not."
"You did. It was cute. Probably you weren't good opening the wine back then." She held out her glass. "Pour me a lot. I'm thirsty."
We sat on the couch and drank wine and talked about high school. The teachers we liked and hated. The kids we knew and what happened to them. The music we liked then. The music we liked now. "No one will ever be as good as the Beatles," Carol said. "Do you have the White Album? Can you open another bottle?"
"Back in the USSR" came on. I poured the wine. Carol and I sat closer. "Yummy wine," she said.
"You probably thought I was a nerd back in high school."
"You were a nerd. But a cute nerd. Like a little puppy."
I risked putting my arm on the sofa behind her.
"Not much of a chess player, though," Carol added.
"Maybe I've improved," I said. I let my hand touch her shoulder.
"Maybe," Carol said. "But doubtful. Back then we played twenty times and you never came close to a draw. You just couldn't see far enough ahead."
"Twenty three times," I said. "But I have improved."
She smirked.
I stood up and strolled over to the chess table in the corner. The pieces were all set up. "There's one way to find out."
"Just when we were getting comfy," Carol said. "Men."
"Bring the wine if you want." I raised my glass.
It was a low table. I was sitting cross-legged - something Carol couldn't do comfortably in her tight dress. "I see you have white," she said, settling herself with her legs folded to the side. She didn't look especially comfortable that way either.
"Would you rather be white?" I offered. "We could switch."
"Naw, it's your home. You get home court advantage. How much should I spot you? A bishop?"
"No way," I said. "I'll play you even."
"Even, humpf. There's no way that will be fun. It'll be a massacre."
"You want to bet?"
"Bet? What kind of bet?"
"Just something to make it interesting. Say, I win, you agree to spend the night with me."
"Humpf," Carol snorted.
"You afraid?"
"Hardly."
"Okay then."
"Yeah, but what do I get when I win?" Carol asked.
"What do you want? How about if you win I agree to spend the night with you?"
"Ha ha, very funny."
"Just a thought," I said.
"Here's a thought. How about the Jaguar?"
"The Jaguar? My Jaguar?"
"Don't tell me it's your daddy's."
"It's mine."
"So what do you say? Am I worth risking your Jag?"
Trying not to tremble, I moved the pawn.
"Last chance to take the bishop," Carol said.
"Play," I said.
Carol's queen bishop pawn hopped out. The first six moves were straight out of the book - the Karo-Kann Defense, just what Meow had predicted. We exchanged pawns at three and at seven. On eight she took my knight, allowing me her bishop.
"You really didn't want that bishop," I said.
"Even when I was little there was something about them," Carol said.
"What?"
"I don't know. Maybe they look a bit too much like little boys' weewees." She smiled at me and pointedly dropped her gaze to my groin. "Mm, no wet spot yet," she said. She advanced her pawn towards my king.
At move eleven her knight took my bishop. "I thought you didn't like them," I said.
"They have their uses," she answered.
Two moves later we traded knights. My pawn structure looked bad. My queen was threatened. But the game was going just the way Meow and I had discussed. Carol was clearly bothered by the position.
"Uncomfortable?" I asked.
"No," she insisted. "Except how come your chess table is so damn low? It's really hard to sit like this."
"You can take off your dress," I said. "I wouldn't mind."
"I'm sure you wouldn't," Carol said. "You probably know I'm not wearing anything under."
"Really?"
"Come on, don't act innocent - I've seen you peeking."
"Right," I said. "It probably would be pretty distracting to see you naked. Might affect my game. Maybe you should stay dressed."
"Or you could take off your clothes. Make it even."
"Fair is fair," I said, and I shed my shirt and trousers.
"What about the briefs?" Carol said. "As long as they're still so clean and dry. Or are they hopelessly snagged on something?"
"Not hopelessly." I removed my underwear.
"Mm," Carol said. "Nice bishop."
"Thanks. Now you."
"I don't know," Carol said. "Maybe I've changed my mind."
"Suit yourself. It's all the same to me."
"Sure." Carol grinned. "But your bishop might be mad. I like that little dance he's doing. How much bigger can he get before he explodes."
I didn't answer. Carol stood up and her dress slipped to the floor. I looked at the silky puddle. I looked up Carol's long slim legs. Her pudgy little wedge of jet black pussy fur stopped my eyes. So sleek and smooth. So soft. Carol bent low over the board. Her breasts swayed. Her areolas were fat and caramel colored, her nipples pebbled and poking the air only inches from my eyes. She pushed her queen up a rank so it stood at her king's side. "Your move, hotshot," she whispered. She stood there looking down at the board, looking at me, her hands on her hips, waiting.
I pushed the queenside rook in a square. An innocent looking move, but devastating down the road, or so Meow had assured me. Carol studied the board for a long time. I studied Carol. Slowly she lowered herself to her knees. A long minute later she reached for her rook. Her wrist quivered. Such a nice thin wrist. Such slender arms. Such long lovely fingers. She picked up the rook. She put it down right where I knew she would. Perfect. She was mine now, and in a few more moves she'd know it. Maybe she knew it already.
I moved my bishop. Now we'd trade queens. Then rooks. The big move was coming up.
"Pretty clever," she said, and she sank back so she was sitting Indian style. "Maybe I've underestimated you."
"Should I put on Abbey Road?" I asked.
"Please."
When I came back Carol had my captured bishop in her hand. As she studied the board she rubbed the head of the piece lightly alongside her left nipple.
"Lucky bishop," I said.
"Oh," Carol said. "You startled me."
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to disturb your concentration. Just go on doing what you were doing."
"Right." She set the bishop at the side of the board. Then she picked it up again. "It does have a nice weight to it. God, it must be a pound. And a nice feel. Marble? Alabaster?"
"Ivory," I said. "The blacks are ebony."
"Nice." She touched the tip of the bishop to the moist line between her lips. Mimicked a peck of a kiss. "Now you be good," she said to the bishop. Then she lowered him back to her breasts, to each nipple tip. "Pretty playful for clergy, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh," I agreed.
The bishop circled Carol's left nipple. "Pretty naughty, too. I wonder how naughty he'll get." The bishop moved to the other nipple. Around and around he went. The nipple fattened. "Do you think he'll be satisfied with tits?" Carol asked. "Or do you think he wants more?"
I gulped. "More." Air swallowed the sound.
The bishop slid down. Nosed Carol's belly button. "Seems like he wants in," Carol said. The bishop nosed and nibbled, nibbled and nosed. "Poor bishop, that's not the way." She held the bishop up. "Do you want to know the way?" she asked the bishop. Gripping the ivory figure at the base with thumb and forefinger, she twirled him slowly side to side. "He does," she said to me. "He wants to know the way. Can you tell him?"
"Um," I said.
"Ah! Um," Carol said. "Um's the way," she said to the bishop.
"No," I said. "Not 'um.' Lower."
"Lower than um," Carol said. "Hm, what could be lower than um. Vum?"
All I could do was snort.
"Not vum? Lower than that? How about xum." It sounded like she was clearing her throat while saying 'come.' "Okay," Carol said. "Xum it is. Let's try xum." The bishop made his way down Carol's belly. Slowly across the smooth skin, up the small hill, onto the shiny black pelt.
"Quite a tangle," Carol said. "Is he making progress? Is he going the right way? Is this the way to xum?"
I nodded.
"Psst, Bishop," Carol said. "He says you're on the right track. What a thick little forest, though, so dark and tight and tangly. Maybe you should be dropping breadcrumbs." The bishop inched his way ever-so-slowly through the hair, down to the wispy point of it. "Oh," Carol said, leaning back. "Oh - looks like light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. See, the bishop has found his way through the forest and into the ..."
I watched the bishop nuzzle Carol's clit. "Tree," Carol concluded. "Or some kind of impediment. This little lump seems to be blocking him. Do you know what it is?" The bishop moved the lump left and right. Circled, poked, prodded. "Not so little," Carol said. "It feels like it's growing. It feels big as a banyan. And sort of slippery. Yes, slippery, and getting slipperier. It feels like ... mm, yes, it feels like ... yum. Success!" The bishop, twisting side to side, pushed between Carol's sex lips until he was completely ensconced. Carol nudged him in a little more, and now only the base was showing, and now not even that. "Oh, my," Carol said, "What a yummy bishop you have. But now I'd better figure out my move." With the bishop completely inside her, Carol put her chin in her hands, but instead of studying the board, she studied me.
"Would you consider accepting a draw?" she said at last. "The game could still go either way. Who knows, you might get too greedy. You might blow it."
"I was really hoping for a mate," I said.
"Me, too," Carol said, standing up, coming over to me.
"So if I agree to the draw, what happens with the bet?"
Instead of answering, she reached between her legs. The ivory chess piece, shiny with her slickness, popped into her palm. "I believe this belongs to you," she said. She touched it to the side of my nose then used it to knock over my king. "I get the Jag, and you get me. How about it?"
"For tonight?" I asked.
"For ever," she said. "For ever and ever. Now lie back and fuck that big fat bishop of yours into my wet spot." She pushed me back. She straddled me. She sank down. I went in.
"Oh, my, he is big. Big and yummy." Her silky cunt clenched.
"Taille unique," I whispered. "Ajustements tout d'une taille."
"Mm," she purred. "Meow."
END
This is the revision of a story after going through The Fish Tank. Click here to see the original.