I arrived at Bonnie’s house twenty minutes early but found Victoria’s ten-year-old Honda CRV already parked in the drive. I drove around the block three more times before I finally pulled up to the curb. My co-workers had invited me to a causal supper and a game of Scrabble, the three of us, no reason for my palms to be sweating.
I put the Chateau Ste Michelle Riesling under my arm, carefully lifted the Pyrex dish with my seven-layer salad and set it on top of the Scrabble box, then I nudged the car door shut with my shoulder. Bonnie met me at the door. That’s when I knew I’d been set up.
“You look amazing!” I told her as I stood there juggling the salad, wine bottle, and game box. Bonnie’s recent regimen of diet and exercise had firmed, flattened, and lifted her curves. The change came about slowly, hidden by her work wardrobe of slacks and bulky sweaters. Tonight’s outfit put everything on display.
Bonnie wore black 3-inch heels, silver nylons, a hip hugging charcoal-colored skirt hemmed well above her knees, and a pale gray shell scooped to reveal her cleavage. Silver threads in her black open-weave wrap glistened under her porch lights.
Bonnie was late-thirties, never married—a decade older than me—quiet, reserved, naïve. Every Sunday she drove downtown to worship at the Baptist church where her father preached. My wife ditched me for our accountant two years ago, but I still hadn’t gotten the courage to ask Bonnie out.
“Mission accomplished!” she called back to Victoria, motioning me in. As I walked toward the dining room, she commented, “Nice slacks.”
I leaned over the dining room table to put down my salad. “Slacks, hell,” Victoria said, “nice ass!” I turned to face her standing by the china cabinet.
My eyes widened and my pulse raced. Victoria wore black heels stilettos, seamed thigh high nylons, and a skirt that barely covered the tops of them. A flimsy shawl draped over her shoulders and a silver chain wrapped around her waist. Her delicate, almost transparent blouse revealed a smoke-colored camisole underneath and the outlines of her nipples. “Wow!”
“Close your mouth, Jason,” Bonnie told me in a huff. “It’s impolite to gape.”
Victoria poured me a wine. The women had obviously started drinking much earlier. “A toast,” she said as we raised our glasses, “to the Widow’s Club.”
“To the Widow’s Club,” Bonnie and I repeated.
The Widow’s Club began thirteen months ago as a support group for Victoria after her husband got killed in Afghanistan. All the members worked for Midwestern Insurance Specialists and were single, but only Victoria was a widow. We came in a half an hour early on Fridays and took a 90-minute lunch hour at Berman’s Cafe. In the last five weeks Bob got promoted to Marketing, Cindy moved to West Des Moines, and Jillian met Mr. Wright. That left Bonnie, Victoria, and me.
I suggested, “Maybe we could do something after work instead.”
“We’d have more time to talk,” Victoria agreed. The Widow’s club provided respite from her ongoing depression, but now with only the three of us….
“Supper my place this Friday,” Bonnie offered impulsively. “Potluck?”
“That should spice things up….” Victoria’s sarcasm was lost on Bonnie. “Maybe, Jason, you should bring your Scrabble board?” She winked at me.
We set the table, plated the food, and finished the first bottle of wine before we finished our salads. Victoria opened a second bottle and poured everyone another glass.
“So,” I asked cautiously, “you decided to dress up?”
“Bonnie got the idea to dress slutty.”
“Me? No!” Bonnie stabbed the last bite of salad.
“Oh, I encouraged you to get out more. You said you didn’t need to because ‘Jason’s coming for potluck.’ I told you that was not a real date. You called it ‘practice.’ I said, ‘Like when you were twelve and practiced kissing with your girlfriends?’”
Bonnie protested, “I never did anything like.”
“It’s never too late to start.” Victoria reached for the pan of lasagna and served herself a healthy portion. “But I digress.” She turned to me. “Bonnie wanted to wear something that would get your attention.”
“So, Victoria took me shopping. But when she appeared at my door tonight, I realized she wanted your attention, too.”
“How do you know it was his attention I was after?”
We finished the second bottle of wine before we finished the main course. “Let’s save the dessert for later,” Bonnie suggested.
That’s when Victoria asked me, “Did you bring the Scrabble game?” She tried to sound casual, but it didn’t come out that way. I set up the game board while she cleared off the table. Bonnie turned off the lights in the kitchen and sat down across from me.
“I have some suggestions….” Victoria pulled a small hourglass from her purse. “When it’s your turn you will have ninety seconds to make your move.” She picked up the timer and turned it over. The sand started flowing to the bottom. “If you don’t make a word in 90 seconds, you automatically lose.”
“That would move the game along,” Bonnie agreed. “Anything else?”
“After each of us has made a word, we compare the scores.”
“Why?” I asked, though I suspected I knew.
“To make the game more interesting.”
“And how does it do that?”
“Because the person with the second highest score gets to tell the person with the lowest score what article of clothing to remove,” Victoria said deliberately. “The person with the highest score removes it.”
“Strip Scrabble? I love the idea. But why doesn’t the winner get to do both?”
“This keeps everyone involved in every show down.”
“Show down?” Bonnie asked.
“That sounds kinkier than, ‘turn to take something off.’”
“Why not call it a Strip Down,” I suggested.
“Strip Down it is.” Bonnie became quiet. “You can remove any clothing provided there are no impediments. For example, you can’t remove Bonnie’s bra prior to removing her blouse. If there’s a tie, each loser has to remove an article of clothing.”
“What if there’s a tie in the winner’s position?”
“Each winner gets to remove an article of clothing from the loser.”
“A Double Strip Down.”
“Exactly. The winner is declared when the Scrabble game is over or when someone loses all his or her clothing.”
“I don’t know…,” Bonnie started to say.
“You wanted Jason’s attention.”
“Are you in or out?”
“In,” I said enthusiastically, even though she wasn’t asking me.
Reluctantly Bonnie said, “In.”
We did rock paper scissors. Victoria made a scissors, while Bonnie and I picked paper. “I go last,” Victoria said. Bonnie and I went again. I did scissors, while Bonnie picked rock. “Jason goes first.” Later I realized the difference the order made.
We each pulled seven letters from the bag. Victoria turned over the timer. I made the word BRAT—four points doubled because it was the opening move. 8 points. I drew more letters. Bonnie followed with PARTIED. 12 points. She drew replacement letters. Victoria made DRAPE on a double word space. 16 points.
“I win. Time for the Strip Down,” Victoria said. “Bonnie, what should I remove?”
“Boring,” Victoria said.
“Let me take a picture anyway.” Bonnie grabbed my phone while Victoria knelt at my feet, untying my shoelaces, and removing my left shoe. As she removed the other shoe, her right hand massaged my inner thigh until she felt an erection. “Your play.”
I had lousy letters and couldn’t concentrate. I connected CLEAN to RATE to also make CRATE. Nothing special, but worth 16 points. Bonnie had trouble. She finally made NUDE. Only 6 points even with the double letter score. When I saw Victoria’s smile, I assumed she would win again. Victoria put PAT on a double word score. 10 points. She’d scored enough to pick what Bonnie would give up. “Jason, please remove Bonnie’s pantie.”
“What about my shoes?” Bonnie pleaded.
Victoria shook her head. “Your legs look great in those shoes. Besides, I’d like to know what you’re wearing under your skirt. Jason, take off her panties.” I hesitated. “Bonnie, you can sit there and let him grope for them,” she scolded, “or you can uncross your legs and stand to make it easier.”
When Bonnie stood, Victoria grabbed the camera and framed the shot. “Lift your skirt. Let him see.” Bonnie lifted her black skirt on both sides, revealing the tops of her silver nylons, the garter straps, and finally her silky black panties.
Victoria took pictures. I eased her panties down her legs as she lowered her skirt. By the time she stepped out of them, I hadn’t seen much, but I thrilled at the garment I held in my hands. Victoria turned over the timer, and I got to work.
You can’t win at Scrabble without good letters. My letters were crap. I made BEAN. Even, on a double word score, 12 points. Grimly serious, Bonnie made BROKEN with the B on the triple letter space. 18 points. Victoria made VOTE. 7 points. When I pour more wine, I’d seen her letters. She could have won the round with several other words or by placing the V on a bonus square. She wanted to lose.
“Jason, remove her skirt.” Bonnie reached for the phone to take the picture.
In the Widow’s Club, Victoria revealed she had dated little in high school, met her husband when she was fifteen, and married him her first year in college after he joined the Army. I doubted she’d ever been with another man. “The zipper is on this side,” she told me.
Bonnie took video as I lowered the zipper on the tiny black stretch satin skirt. Once unzipped the it clung to her slender hips. I knelt in front of her and gripped the sides. Victoria swayed from side to side as I peeled the skirt down her hips, her eyes focused on the camera, and on Bonnie behind the lens, until the skirt fell to the floor.
“Jason,” Bonnie asked, “could you step aside?” I stood up and put the skirt on the table. Bonnie zoomed in on Victoria’s panties, a black lace bikini with tiny ties on the two sides. “You’ve shaved.”
“It’s a special occasion.” Victoria grinned at me. “Jason, are you ready to play?” She turned over the hourglass.
I had 90 seconds. I made LOBE. 6 points. “Yes,” Bonnie said softly, but empathically. She added a D to CRATE for CRATED and then made DREAM going down. 17 points. Victoria used the letters I knew she had waiting. She placed her H on a triple letter score and made the word AH going down and RAH going across. 27 points.
“Victoria,” Bonnie said, reaching for the camera, “please remove Jason’s Dockers?”
When I stood I wondered, which excited me more, Victoria sans skirt removing my pants or Bonnie sans panties filming at action?
Victoria removed my belt and unbuttoned the waistband. Then she knelt, took the zipper in her teeth, and eased it down. The front of my pants spread open, but they did not fall. “A little help,” she called out.
Bonnie looked puzzled until Victoria slid to one side, snapping playfully at my waistband with her teeth. Then Bonnie understood. “Sure.” She knelt down and bit into my pants tugging down one side while Victoria tugged at the other. My pants dropped to the floor. Both women stopped to admire the tent at the front of my boxers before exchanging high fives.
Victoria emptied the bottle into Bonnie’s glass and mine. “More wine?” She returned with a fresh bottle as Bonnie and I drank, shyly making eye contact.
“I fear the wine is affecting the quality of my play.”
“Jason, it’s not the wine. Focus on your letters, instead of Bonnie’s breasts.” Victoria turned the hourglass over.
I focused on the letters. As the sand ran out, I connected the word SHEET to the word CLEAN, 15 points. Bonnie groaned. The panic in her face disappeared. She put NEW in the triple word score.
Immediately Victoria slapped down her word. “Double letter score for the M,” she announced, “and triple word score for MEAN. 27 points. What’s your score, Bonnie?”
“15,” she and I said in unison. “A tie.”
“Double Strip Down!” Victoria picked up the phone. “Face each other. I’ll take a photo.”
“I can’t do this.” Bonnie shook. “You two should play. I’ll go….”
Victoria put her index finger to her friend’s lips. “Sh-h-h-h-h-h.” She stepped back. “You’re beautiful.” She took a picture and showed it to Bonnie.
“I’ve seen Jason staring. He wants you.”
“No….” She set the phone down and walked behind me. “Watch.” In one fluid motion she pulled my boxers to the floor. My cock extended to its full eight inches, pointed straight at Bonnie. “You’re the reason he’s hard.”
Victoria handed Bonnie the phone. “Take a picture.” Bonnie zoomed in on my erection while Victoria stepped behind her. “Now watch what happens once I relieve you of your skirt.” My cock twitched. She pulled the skirt down. I imagined my face buried in that pussy, and my cock took on a life of its own.
Victoria nuzzled Bonnie’s neck. Her friend responded by grinding her naked ass into Victoria. “What about me?” I asked. The two women stopped.
“You should kiss her,” Victoria suggested while kneading Bonnie’s breasts. I stepped forward and kissed her. “Not there,” Victoria urged, “her other lips.”
I dropped to my knees, sucking, kissing, and licking. Soon her body shuttered. “That’s enough! That’s enough,” Bonnie gasped and pushed away. “That’s enough.” Flushed and breathing heavily, she turned over the timer. “Your turn.”
Victoria laughed as I scrambled to make a word. “Better hurry.”
The sand ran out. “You lose,” Bonnie said triumphantly. She made QUIET. 11 points. Victoria used the Q and took advantage of the triple word space. She made QUOTE. 45 points. “Take off his shirt, Victoria.”
“But my tie….”
“You always look good in a tie,” Bonnie told me. “Lose the shirt, Jason.” She moved behind me as Victoria prepared to unbuttoned the shirt. “Why don’t you count the buttons as you undo them.”
Victoria scoffed at the suggestion, but complied. “One.” Bonnie slapped her bare ass. Victoria jumped, but then recovered. “Two.” I heard the slap, louder this time, and saw Victoria jump again. “Three.” Slap. “Four.” Slap. “Five.” Slap. “Six.” Slap. Bonnie took pictures of Victoria’s bright red butt and me in my white T-shirt and tie. Somehow Bonnie had taken control.
The next Strip Down I lost my T-shirt. The next turn Victoria lost again. “I suppose you have to take off her shawl before we can make her take off her blouse,” Bonnie said.
“Not necessarily,” Victoria said. She eased the shawl off her shoulders and tied it around her waist. Its flimsy cloth did not cover much. “No impediment now.”
“The blouse,” Bonnie said.
I began immediately. “Should I count?”
“Please.” With each button Bonnie slapped my ass, a sensation I found pleasing. Once unbuttoned, I eased the blouse off Victoria’s shoulders. Her nipples poked against the silky fabric of the camisole. I reached for them.
“Not yet,” Veronica whispered. “Soon.”
We moved quickly through the turns, snapping pictures, rubbing our bodies together, and drinking. I lost my socks. Bonnie lost her sweater, garter belt, and shoes. Victoria lost her shawl. When we finished the third bottle, we uncorked a fourth. We were flushed and half-naked. My turn again.
In the wine induced fog I scanned my letters. A word formed. FIXES on a double word score. 26 points. “Beat that.” I turned over the hourglass. As if in slow motion I saw Bonnie move to her tray and remove a tile. Then another. Then another, until all seven tiles were on the board, NOTHINGS.
“With the triple word score I believe that’s 39, plus a fifty-point bonus for using all the letters. 89,” Bonnie said. Victoria scrambled for a word. ZAGS with the Z on a double letter score. 26 points. Another tie, this time with Bonnie the winner.
“Take off her panties,” Bonnie said. I reached to untie the strings. “With your teeth,” she said. I got down on my knees, bit on the string, and pulled. I moved to her right side and untied that string, too, but the panty wedged between Victoria’s legs. I bit down on the lace and pulled it away.
“Now kiss her.”
I ministered to her pussy, slowly backing her into the table. Bonnie photographed the action, until Victoria tensed and came with a moan that filled the room. “Kiss her again,” Bonnie urged, “on her lips, like you mean it.”
And I did. Gently. And I did mean it.
When I finished, Bonnie removed the tie, my last article of clothing. “I guess, that’s it. Game over,” I said. Bonnie still had her bra, nylons, and heels. Victoria wore nylons, garter belt, stilettos, and camisole.
“No,” Victoria said. “Bonnie and I need to play this out. You can referee.”
“Fair enough,” I said as I turned over the hourglass. “Begin.” Bonnie struggled with her word, then got wide-eyed as her time ran out. She slapped down WEIRD.
“I challenge that.” I said it before I even thought about it. Bonnie had misspelled WEIRD. As soon as I said it, she realized her error. Zero points. I peeked at Victoria’s letters. She had a half-dozen possible words. She put down NONE—4 points—saving her points for the next play.
“Jason. The blouse,” Victoria said. My cock ached for relief. Removing Bonnie’s blouse wouldn’t help. We stood up, and I faced her. I reached out to the first button. “Get closer,” Victoria ordered. I stepped closer, the tip of my cock touching Bonnie. She was wet and trembling.
I reached for the first button. “One,” I counted. I heard the slap, but I didn’t feel it. Victoria had positioned herself behind Bonnie. The slap startled her and pushed Bonnie’s body into mine. Embarrassed, I tried to move back. I unbuttoned another button. Slap! Victoria slapped harder than the first time. Bonnie’s body crushed against my penis, her lace-clad breasts pressed against my bare chest. I longed to enter her. Instead I stepped back before unbuttoning the third button. Bonnie mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
“Another,” Victoria said. I undid the next button. Slap! Backed up against the wall, Bonnie pushed into me again. I undid button number four. Slap!! Wedged between Victoria and me, ears formed in Bonnie’s eyes.
“We’re too close, Victoria. I can’t get to the buttons.”
“Here,” she said, stepping aside, “let me help.” Victoria grasped my penis and placed it at the entrance to Bonnie’s vagina. I could feel her cunt lips–wet and super lubricated–pressed against my cock. “Five.” I entered her. Bonnie shuttered. “Six,” Victoria whispered as I thrust again.
With Bonnie sandwiched between us, Victoria pushed forward, then retreated, forward, retreat, creating a gentle rhythm. We three breathed as one. Finally I felt Bonnie tense and I couldn’t hold out any longer. We came in unison. Victoria sensed it and stepped back. We awkwardly separated.
Victoria reached out and grabbed her friend’s shoulder. “You forgot something.” With the bottom two buttons still buttoned, Victoria eased Bonnie’s blouse off her shoulders, down her waist, and to the floor. Bonnie, empowered, stepped out of it and turned to face me. I loved her, and she knew it.
I turned over the hour glass. “Begin.”
Bonnie had been ready to place WEIRD, this time spelled correctly, but Victoria’s last word blocked the move. She looked up. “That’s not fair.”
“Time’s running out,” Victoria said, tapping the hourglass, an act that only made it run faster. Bonnie panicked. “Time.” She had lost again. Having seen Victoria’s letters, I knew she would win the round.
“I’ve got nothing,” Victoria said, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m going to forfeit my turn and exchange my tiles for a new set of letters. I guess we both lose.” She turned to me. “So, what do we forfeit?”
I considered my options. I pointed. “The bra.” Victoria stepped over and eased Bonnie’s bra straps down, stroking her shoulders while I took photos.
“Open the clasp,” Bonnie finally commanded. Victoria obeyed, and Bonnie pulled the bra away from her breasts and defiantly threw it on the pile of clothes on the table. Bonnie put her hands on her hips and thrust her breasts out as I took pictures.
“Is anyone else warm in her?” Victoria asked. I looked over. She stood next to the table holding the pitcher. She slowly poured the icy water down the front of her camisole which turned transparent and clung to her tiny breasts. Her nipples were erect. Goose bumps appeared on her arms and shoulders. I couldn’t take pictures fast enough.
“Victoria needs to take something off.” Bonnie’s voice was as icy as the water.
“The garter belt,” I said. Bonnie walked over to face Victoria and started to reach down to release the nylons from the belt. “Move behind her. Don’t block the shot.
That pissed Bonnie off, but she obeyed. She walked behind Victoria and slapped her butt. “Give me some room.” The slap startled Victoria, as did the tone in her voice. Bonnie knelt down and undid each of the four garters. She grabbed Victoria’s hips and swung her around so they were facing each other, then pulled the black lace belt down.
“My turn to kiss someone,” Bonnie told her. Victoria held Bonnie’s head, guiding her lips and tongue, encouraging her friend, until finally Victoria came with a shout, “Yes! Yes! Yes.” Fascinated by the interplay, I forgot to take photos.
“Let’s take a break,” Bonnie said. “I’m thirsty.”
That broke the tension. We looked at each other. We weren’t the same people we’d been when the game began. Bonnie lit the gas fireplace as Victoria and I pulled our chairs closer to get warm. I was naked, and she was wet. We drank our wine in silence.
Finally, Victoria stood up, and without a word removed her camisole, stilettos, and nylons. She sat down and reached for her wine glass.
Bonnie stood and silently stripped, too. “Game over.”
We began laughing.
“We’ve all gotten a little gamey,” Bonnie said. “Fortunately, my shower accommodates three.”
“What about your bed?” I asked.
“Large enough,” Victoria asked, “for a three-way between lovers, coworkers, and friends?”
“That,” Bonnie said, “may require some practice.” But no one laughed at the suggestion.
Now, every Friday night we leave work together. We tell our coworkers we’re going to play Scrabble, and sometimes we do. Others have asked to join The Widows Club, but none of us is ready for that next step. Everything is too new.
Victoria and I are giving up our apartments when the leases are up. We’re negotiating the room arrangements at Bonnie’s house. It’s a work in progress. We plan to eventually start our own insurance agency, but we need to stop having sex long enough to put together a business plan. I suspect it will be several months before that happens. No one at the office will be surprised.