Chapter 33: Strip Poker Escalation
The air in Mara’s stateroom was already thick with anticipation and the clean scent of her perfume. Zack shuffled the deck with practiced, nervous hands, the flick-flick-flick of cards the only sound. Mara sat across from him in a plush armchair, wearing a silk blouse and tailored slacks, her legs crossed. She looked like a CEO about to negotiate a merger, not a woman playing strip poker.
Rebecca, perched on the edge of the bed next to Charley, was already blushing. “I’m not very good at poker,” she murmured, her fingers playing with the hem of her sundress.
“That’s the point, Teach,” Mara said, a sly smile on her lips. “We’re not here to be good. We’re here to be… distracted.”
Ginny, lounging next to Molly on the small sofa, gave a dry chuckle. “Distracted from the fact that Jan is currently trying to coax gremlins out of a ventilation shaft with, I assume, sexual promises? Deal the cards, Zack. Let’s get this civilized orgy started.”
Zack dealt. The first hand was a tentative thing. Rebecca, true to her word, folded immediately with a pair of threes.
“Rule is, you fold, you lose an article,” Molly announced, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her voice was light, playful. “That was the rule last time.”
Rebecca’s blush deepened, but a spark of excitement flashed in her kind eyes. She looked at Charley, who gave her an encouraging nod, his own face a mixture of awe and mild terror. With deliberate slowness, Rebecca reached for the buttons of her dress. They were small, pearl things. She popped the first one, then the second, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts encased in simple white cotton. By the fifth button, the dress gaped open. She shimmied her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to her waist. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Oh, Rebecca,” Molly breathed, a genuine, appreciative smile on her face.
Rebecca’s pert breasts, crowned with pale pink nipples already tightening in the cool, air-conditioned air, were now on display. She kept the dress pooled around her waist, her shyness warring with a growing sense of daring.
“Your bet, Mara,” Zack said, his voice slightly strained. He was trying very hard to look only at his cards.
The game escalated quickly after that. Ginny, competitive to her core, lost the next hand on purpose. “Double or nothing on the next?” she purred, standing up. She wasn’t wearing much to begin with—a thin tank top and a short skirt. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, a simple black lace, and peeled them down her long, willowy legs with agonizing slowness. She stepped out of them, kicked them aside, and sat back down, her bare skin whispering against the sofa leather. Under the table, unseen by Mara, her foot found Zack’s calf and trailed upward.
Molly, seeing her lover’s move, upped the ante. She leaned forward to place her bet, her substantial cleavage straining against her low-cut top. Her hand “slipped” and landed on Zack’s thigh, her fingers tracing a small, deliberate circle. Zack froze, a card dangling from his fingers.
“Molly,” Mara said, her tone amused and warning.
“Sorry, counselor,” Molly said, not sounding sorry at all. She didn’t remove her hand.
The door swung open without a knock.
“We come bearing pepperoni and a complete lack of gremlin-related trauma!” Mike announced, balancing three pizza boxes. Casey followed, carrying a sleeping Rick in a chest carrier. Stacy brought up the rear, her sharp eyes scanning the room, landing on Rebecca’s exposed chest and Ginny’s deliberate nudity. A slow grin spread across Stacy’s face.
“Pizza’s here,” Casey said, her tomboyish demeanor unchanged by the semi-nudity in the room. She eyed the game. “Who’s winning?”
“Clothing is losing,” Ginny quipped.
Stacy set down a six-pack of imported beer. “I see you started without us. What’s the buy-in?”
“Your dignity,” Mara said. “And your shirt. Casey, you’re in. Mike, you can be the bank. And Stacy… sit. Let’s see if you can focus better than my paralegal.”
Zack, under Molly’s ministrations, was visibly flushed. Mara watched him, her own arousal a slow, warm pulse between her legs. She loved seeing him like this, wanted and flustered.
They rearranged, pushing the coffee table aside, sitting on cushions on the floor. The pizza boxes were opened, filling the room with the greasy, savory smell of cheese and spices. For a few minutes, there was just the sound of chewing and soft laughter, a bizarrely normal moment. Rick slept soundly against Casey’s chest.
Then Casey lost a hand to Stacy. “Damn,” she muttered, pulling her simple grey t-shirt over her head in one swift motion. She wasn’t wearing a bra either. Her breasts were smaller than Rebecca’s, with dark, peaked nipples, and bore the faint, silver lines of recent motherhood. Mike watched, his love and hunger plain on his face.
“Double or nothing, Stacy?” Casey challenged, a glint in her eye.
“You’re on, Picasso,” Stacy said. She was wearing a tight athletic tank. When she lost the next hand, she didn’t hesitate. She pulled the tank top up and over her head, revealing a supportive sports bra. “This counts as one,” she declared.
“Bullshit,” Casey laughed. “The bra too.”
Stacy’s competitive grin matched Casey’s. With a dramatic sigh that made her sculpted abdominal muscles flex, she reached behind her back, unclasped the bra, and let it fall. Her breasts were magnificent—full, high, and firm with large, dark areolas. She shook her hair out, completely unselfconscious. “Happy?”
“Extremely,” Mike said, earning a playful elbow from Casey and a laugh from everyone.
The game dissolved after that. The pretense of poker melted away under the weight of shared food, laughter, and simmering, exposed desire. Zack was the tipping point. Molly’s hand had never left his thigh, and Ginny’s foot was now rubbing his crotch over his pants. He was painfully hard.
“Zack,” Mara said, her voice a low command. “Stand up.”
He obeyed, stumbling a little. His erection tented his khakis unmistakably.
Mara rose from her cushion with predatory grace. She walked to him, her eyes locked on his. “They’ve been teasing you all afternoon,” she said, her fingers going to his belt buckle. The metallic clink was loud in the quiet room. “I think it’s time they learned why you’re mine.”
She unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and tugged them and his boxers down to his knees in one firm motion. His cock sprang free, thick and straining upward, the head already glistening. A collective, soft intake of breath circled the room.
“Wow, Zack,” Rebecca whispered, her voice full of genuine, warm admiration.
Mara didn’t look away from Zack’s face. “Molly. Ginny. You wanted to play. Come here.”
The two women exchanged a glance, then slithered off the couch. Molly dropped to her knees in front of Zack, her big blue eyes looking up at him through her glasses. “Can I?” she asked, her breath ghosting over the head of his cock.
“Yes,” Zack gasped.
Molly didn’t use her hands. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, sliding her full, pink lips down his shaft until her nose brushed his pelvis. She swallowed, the tight, wet heat making Zack cry out. Ginny knelt beside Molly, watching for a moment before leaning in to lick and suck at his balls, her tongue flat and rough.
“Fuck… oh god,” Zack groaned, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch.
Mara watched, a queen observing tribute being paid. Her own need was a sharp, demanding ache. She unbuttoned her silk blouse, shrugged it off, then unclasped her own bra. Her breasts were high and proud, with erect, dusky nipples. She saw Mike watching her, his mouth slightly open, and she held his gaze as she stepped out of her slacks and panties.
Casey, seeing her husband’s expression, smiled. She shifted the sleeping Rick to the center of the big bed, surrounding him with pillows, then crawled over to Mike. She kissed him, hard, her tongue plunging into his mouth as her hand wrapped around his cock through his jeans. “Want to watch?” she murmured against his lips. “Want to see Mara take what’s hers?”
Mike could only nod, fumbling with his own zipper.
It became a wave. Charley, overwhelmed but enthralled, gently guided Rebecca to lie back on the rug. He kissed her breasts, then lower, pushing her sundress up around her waist. He buried his face between her thighs, and Rebecca’s shy moans filled the air.
Stacy moved behind Casey, her strong hands sliding around the other woman’s torso, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples. Casey arched back against Stacy, grinding her ass against the fitness instructor’s tight abdomen. Mike, now naked, positioned himself in front of his wife. Casey took him into her mouth with practiced ease, her eyes closing in bliss as Stacy’s hands wandered lower, dipping between Casey’s legs from behind.
Mara finally joined the trio at the center. She put a hand in Molly’s blonde hair, not forcing, just guiding. “Share,” she said.
Molly pulled off of Zack’s cock with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening head. Ginny immediately took her place, sucking him deep with a hungry, groaning sound. Molly turned her head and kissed Mara, letting her taste Zack on her tongue.
Mara broke the kiss, her eyes burning. “On the bed. Now.”
Zack, led by Ginny’s mouth, stumbled towards the bed. Mara pushed him down onto his back. She straddled his hips, but didn’t take him inside yet. She looked over at the others—at Rebecca coming apart under Charley’s tongue, at Mike fucking Casey’s mouth while Stacy’s fingers worked Casey to a shuddering climax from behind.
“This,” Mara stated, her voice hoarse with power and lust, “is my vacation.”
She impaled herself on Zack in one smooth, violent drop, sheathing him completely inside her. The sensation was so intense she saw stars. She rode him with a fierce, grinding rhythm, each plunge wringing a choked sob from Zack’s throat. Ginny and Molly were beside them now, kissing each other, their hands roaming over Mara’s sweat-slicked back and ass, over Zack’s heaving chest.
The room became a symphony of skin, of wet, slapping flesh, of guttural moans and sobbing breaths. The smell of sex and pepperoni mixed into something primal. Zack’s hands gripped Mara’s hips, his fingers digging in as he thrust up to meet her punishing pace. “Mara… I’m gonna…”
“Come,” she ordered, slamming down onto him one final time.
His orgasm ripped through him, his body bowing off the bed as he emptied himself inside her with a raw, broken shout. Mara felt the hot pulses and it triggered her own climax, a blinding, shuddering wave that clenched around him, milking him dry.
They collapsed in a heap. For a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing. Then, a soft, slow clapping.
Mike was leaning against the wall, Casey nestled against one side, Stacy the other. All three were sated, smiling. “See?” Mike said to Casey, his voice drowsy. “I told you she was an nine-point-five.”
Casey giggled, a drunk, happy sound.
From the bed, little Rick let out a soft, sleeping coo, utterly undisturbed by the debauchery that surrounded him.
A frantic, high-pitched chittering echoed from the air conditioning vent above the minibar. A small, clawed hand reached out, swiped an untouched breadstick from the pizza box, and vanished back into the duct.
Mara, still lying atop Zack, turned her head toward the sound. She sighed, a long, exhausted exhalation that held the ghost of a laugh. “Someone,” she murmured into Zack’s shoulder, “put that breadstick on my tab.”
“Someone,” she murmured into Zack’s shoulder, “put that breadstick on my tab.”
Laughter, soft and spent, rippled through the tangled bodies. The moment of post-coital clarity was thin, shattered by another, more insistent chittering from the vent. This time, a pair of gleaming black eyes peered out, followed by a snout sniffing the air thick with sex and pepperoni.
“Okay, that’s just rude,” Ginny stated, peeling herself off of Molly. She reached for a pillow and threw it at the vent. It bounced off harmlessly. The eyes vanished with a squeak.
Mara finally rolled off of Zack, her body humming. She looked at the wreckage of her ordered room: clothes strewn like battle flags, pizza boxes gaping, the lingering, musky scent of their collective pleasure hanging in the air. A fierce, possessive satisfaction settled in her chest. This was her chaos. She had orchestrated this.
“We’re not done,” she announced, her voice regaining its steady, courtroom composure. She sat up, naked and magnificent. “Poker was a warm-up. A new wager. Losers perform a sexual act of the winner’s choosing. No limits.”
Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. A slow, sardonic smile spread across her face. “I’m in. What’s the contest?”
Mara’s eyes landed on the room service menu. “Hot wings. The Caribbean Hellfire sauce. Who can eat the most in three minutes without a drink.”
“You’re a monster,” Mike said, admiration in his tone.
“I’m a lawyer. I define the terms of engagement.” Mara stood, wrapping herself in a silk robe that did little to conceal her nakedness beneath. She called room service, ordered four plates of the wings with extra sauce, and tipped the bewildered steward an obscene amount to forget the state of the room when he delivered them.
Deep in the ship’s service deck, the air was cold and smelled of oil and stale circulation. Conduit pipes lined the low ceiling like metallic intestines. Jan held her compact open, the mirror showing frantic, skittering green motes moving behind the walls. Godfrey sneezed at a whiff of ozone.
“They’re in the main data trunk line,” Bethany said, her voice modulated and cool through her Golden Wand sunglasses. She held a small, bronze device that hummed softly. “If they sever the fiber optics, navigation goes manual for twelve hours. We’ll drift.”
“So we bait them out,” Jan said, rummaging in her patchwork satchel.
Hank leaned against a pipe, his arms crossed. He wore a look of profound annoyance. “This is bullshit. Stacy got to go play poker. I wanted to play poker. Mike said they were ordering pizza.”
“Stacy is on Rick duty,” Jan said, not looking up.
“Rick is a month old. He sleeps and poops. What’s to duty?” Hank groused.
Fatima, elegant even in the grim lighting, placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was calming. “The sooner we resolve this, habibi, the sooner we can have our own private game. Just you and me.” Her dark eyes glinted. “I will even let you deal.”
Hank’s irritation evaporated, replaced by a boyish grin. “I like that idea. What are the stakes?”
“The usual,” Fatima purred. “You lose, you massage my feet for an hour. I lose…” She leaned close, her lips brushing his ear. “I swallow.”
Hank’s breath caught. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s hunt some gremlins.”
Jan finally produced a small, intricate device of brass and crystal from her bag. It emitted a soft, high-pitched whine. “Golden Wand energy cell. Spent, but it’ll still glow for them. They can’t resist shiny, complex tech.”
Bethany’s head snapped toward Jan. “Is that a Mark III aura resonator? You cannot use that as bait! It’s calibrated equipment!”
“It’s junk now,” Jan argued, placing it on a junction box. “The gremlins fried it yesterday. Look, it’s not even sparking right.”
“That is not the point! You don’t leave Order equipment lying around! It’s a violation of protocol and basic security!” Bethany’s voice tightened, her professional demeanor cracking.
Liam, who had been quietly observing a spiderweb in a corner, chuckled. “Lass, it’s a bit o’ scrap. The wee beasties already kent we were here. A little glitter for them tae chase seems sound.”
“It’s not sound, it’s sloppy,” Bethany hissed.
Dale and Vivian hung back, a united front. Dale watched the argument with a former security officer’s analytical eye, while Vivian’s shadow-tendrils unconsciously wrapped around his wrist, a silent, protective anchor. In the darkness above a support beam, several pairs of eyes watched the humans quarrel. Small, clawed hands covered mouths to stifle giggles. The shiny-thing was pretty. The loud one in the pink hair was funny.
The wings arrived in Mara’s room, steaming and reeking of scorched chili and vinegar. The container seemed to radiate heat. Stacy cracked her knuckles. “I did a hot wing challenge for charity last year. This is nothing.”
Ginny flexed her fingers. “I’ve got a cast-iron stomach and a competitive streak. Let’s go.”
Mara, now the imperious referee, set a timer on her phone. “Three minutes. Most wings, meat cleanly eaten from the bone. Ready? Go.”
The two women dove in. For the first minute, it was a savage, focused chewing. Sauce smeared across chins and fingers. Then, the heat hit. A visible flush climbed Stacy’s neck, but she powered through, stacking bones with mechanical efficiency. Ginny’s eyes began to water. At the two-minute mark, she gasped, reaching for a napkin.
“No drinks!” Mara reminded, her tone merciless.
Ginny’s pace faltered. She choked down another wing, tears now streaming freely, her face crimson. Stacy, sweating but steady, finished her sixth wing as the timer buzzed.
“Fuck,” Ginny wheezed, fanning her mouth. “Oh, fuck, that’s capsaicin extract. That’s not food.”
Stacy wiped her hands, a triumphant gleam in her eye. “Pay up, Minerva.”
Ginny, still breathing heavily, looked from Stacy’s victorious smirk to the others watching. The defeat burned worse than the sauce. “Fine. What’s my penance, Coach?”
Stacy leaned back on her elbows, her powerful body on display. “You see Zack over there? He’s recovered. I want you to ride his face. Make him taste that hellfire on you. And don’t you dare come until I say you can.”
A new, different heat flooded Ginny. She licked her sauced lips. “Yeah. Okay.”
She crawled over to where Zack was lying, still semi-hard, talking softly with Mike. Without ceremony, she straddled his head, her thighs framing his face. She lowered herself onto his mouth. Zack, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. His hands came up to grip her hips, and his tongue delved into her, lapping at the spicy, swollen flesh.
Ginny’s head fell back. “Oh, shit. That’s… fucking hell, your tongue is cool.” The contrast was electric. The burning heat of the sauce met the wet, relentless cool of his mouth, creating a sensory overload that made her thighs tremble.
“Now, a side bet,” Casey said, her voice cutting through Ginny’s stifled moans. She pointed at Charley. “You. Me. One wing. First to tap out loses.”
Charley, ever the good sport, nodded. He looked at Rebecca. “For you,” he said softly.
They each took a wing. Casey bit into hers with a tomboy’s relish, chewing stoically. Charley took a bite, chewed twice, and his eyes went wide. A tear escaped immediately. He held it for a heroic five seconds before his hand shot out, slapping the floor in surrender.
Casey swallowed her bite, a smug smile on her face. “Pay up, teacher.”
Charley was gulping air, his face on fire. “What… what do you want?”
Casey’s smile turned wicked. She looked at Rebecca, who was watching with rapt, turned-on attention. “Becca, you’ve been so good. Why don’t you go play with Mike for a bit?” She then turned back to Charley, lying down on the rug and spreading her legs. “And you. Get over here and eat my pussy until I forget my own name. Consider it… detention.”
Rebecca’s breath hitched. She looked at Mike, who gave her a gentle, goofy grin. “If you want,” he said.
She did. She moved to Mike, kissing him softly as her hand wrapped around his renewed erection. Meanwhile, Charley, obedient and eager, knelt between Casey’s thighs. He pressed his mouth to her, his tongue tracing firm, deliberate circles around her clit. Casey gasped, her back arching, one hand tangling in Charley’s hair.
“Yes, just like that,” Casey moaned, her eyes locking on Rebecca and Mike. “Watch them, Charley. Watch her suck my husband’s cock while you taste me.”
Rebecca, encouraged, took Mike into her mouth. She worked him with an enthusiastic, messy rhythm, her blonde hair swaying. Mike groaned, his fingers threading through her hair, his hips giving gentle thrusts. The room was a cacophony of wet sounds, sharp gasps, and low commands.
From the vent, the gremlin watched, crunching the stolen breadstick with tiny, sharp teeth. It tilted its head, utterly fascinated by the strange, noisy rituals of the hairless apes. It found a loose wire above the vent and, with idle curiosity, gave it a sharp tug.
On the service deck, a bank of lights above Jan and Bethany flickered violently and died, plunging them into emergency red lighting.
“See?” Bethany snapped. “They’re in the lighting grid now!”
Jan just grinned in the crimson dark. “Perfect. They took the bait. They’re following the energy trail right where we want them.” She looked at Hank and Liam. “Get ready. They’re about to come pouring into the laundry chute.”
In Mara’s room, under the steady, artificial sun of the ceiling lights, Stacy watched the second hand on her watch. Ginny was writhing above Zack, her body taut as a bowstring. “Not yet,” Stacy commanded. “Hold it.”
Ginny sobbed, her fingers clawing at the carpet. Zack’s tongue was a relentless instrument, driving her higher. “I can’t…!”
“You will.” Stacy’s voice was iron. She watched the sweat drip between Ginny’s shoulder blades. She watched Casey’s toes curl as Charley drank from her, watched Rebecca’s cheeks hollow as she took Mike deeper. Mara met Stacy’s gaze across the room, a silent toast between generals.
Stacy finally nodded. “Now.”
The permission broke Ginny. A raw, shattering cry was torn from her throat as her orgasm exploded, shaking through her frame. At the same moment, Casey’s hips bucked off the floor against Charley’s face, a choked scream of release echoing Ginny’s. Mike, with a grunt, pulsed into Rebecca’s welcoming mouth.
In the sudden, breathless quiet, the only sound was the hum of the ship and a distant, victorious squeal from deep within the walls.