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Message-ID: <51992asstr$1127106607@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Jim C" <jimc_author@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lucky Stiff by JiMC (16 of 46)--MF, FF, mc, md, magic, romance
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Date: Mon, 19 Sep 2005 01:10:07 -0400
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This story is copyright (c) 2003-2005.  All rights are
reserved by the author, including that of publication.
Posting on-line is only allowed when permission is explicitly
granted by the author, and then only for the complete story,
including this disclaimer.  Contact the author at
<jimc-author at excite dot com> for more information,
referring to this story ("Lucky Tickets 2: Lucky Stiff").

I explicitly grant permission to post this story to
StoriesOnline.net and asstr-mirror.org.

The following is a work of fiction and is just a fantasy.
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental and entirely unintentional.  There may be
references to people in a historical context, but they are
not really characters in this story.

This is a story that describes sexually explicit situations
in a fictional universe that only vaguely seems similar to
the one we live in.  Most of the characters in this story are
under aged.  However, the target audience is adults (people
over the age of eighteen) with broad minds.

* * *

This is a sequel to the story "Lucky Tickets," and as such,
you may want to read that story first to get a better
introduction to the characters present in both stories.  Like
a lot of sequels, it's not really meant to be read out of
order.

* * *

Chapter 16--Ticket Abuse

        Ya got trouble! (Oh, ya got trouble!)
        Ya got lots and lots 'a trouble!
        That game with the fifteen numbered balls
        Is the devil's tool! (Devil's tool!)
        Oh yes, we've got trouble, trouble!
        (Oh yes, we've got trouble here, we've got big, big trouble)
        With a "T"! (With a capital T!)
        That rhymes with P! (That rhymes with P)
        That stands for pool! (That stands for pool!)
                -- Ya Got Trouble (Robert Preston / Music Man)


    About a week after Kristen's birthday party, I was in the
lunchroom.  Kristen, Patty, and I were sitting at our usual
table.

    "Where's Sherry?" asked Patty.

    I looked around and didn't see Sherry.  "I don't know," I
answered.  "She was in History during first period.  Maybe
she's with a teacher.  Funny, she didn't mention anything to
me."

    The subject of Sherry was dropped as Kristen and Patty
started chatting about various colognes.  Kristen wanted to
do an outing to an upscale department store where Patty could
try various scents to find one that was positively Patty's
own.

    Of course, I had little interest in the conversation,
except for the fact that I thought whatever perfume Kristen
used was probably the nicest one in the world.  Nobody will
ever get me to admit anything else!

    I excused myself from the girls, and went to the boys'
room.

    As I pushed the door in to the bathroom, I heard a guy's
voice saying something loudly as I opened the door.  As a
result, I was quiet as I entered, trying to place the voice.

    The voice belonged to Tim Hawking, a sophomore who was in
the high honors track.  Everybody figured him to be a cinch
for valedictorian of my grade--he was bookish since
Kindergarten.  I was amused at how unlike Tim was to somebody
like Camille; they were both the smartest kids in their
respective classes.

    "You know, you really suck at this!" Tim complained.

    I don't know why I continued to be quiet, but the boys'
room was empty, which was normal for the middle of class.
There was nobody at the urinals, and it was very unusual for
boys to make conversation between stalls.  I couldn't see Tim
or whoever it was he was chewing out.  Additionally, it
seemed so out of character for him; he was usually at the
receiving end of such hazing from the bigger students.

    It took a few moments before I saw that one of the toilet
stalls was occupied, confirming my suspicions that Tim was in
one of them.  I saw a pair of jeans crumbled at the base of a
pair of a guy's legs.  I also saw somebody kneeling between
his legs--a pair of silky legs that looked like a dancer's
legs.  The fact that I could make out a short white skirt
that came down just below where the barrier panel to the
toilet was made me realize that the kneeling legs most
definitely didn't belong to a male.

    There was a girl kneeling between Tim's legs as he was
sitting on the toilet!

    I wasn't really interested in Tim's love life--we hung
out in different circles.  Still, the act seemed so
blatant--totally unlike the Tim that I knew.  His prior
complaint sounded even more out of place to me.

    I was still silent when I heard the tell-tale sounds of
sucking and grunting that indicated the oral activity that
was obviously taking place.  I shrugged, and I decided to
make myself scarce.  I wasn't against having a quickie at
school, but I figured that my activities with Kristen were a
bit more discreet.  Hall monitors occasionally came into the
toilets to make sure there wasn't any smoking of tobacco or
other substances happening; I thought Tim's lack of
discretion would eventually get him caught.  I mentally
shrugged at the idea.  I would have thought Tim to be much
smarter than that.

    As I tiptoed quietly out the door, I heard Tim once again
loudly say, "You are the fucking worst whore that I've ever
met!"

    Well, it wasn't a big stretch to say that I was quite
unimpressed with Tim's bedroom manner, even if he was
actually in the boys' room.  Calling your girlfriend a
"whore," especially in a public place, was not a way to keep
a girlfriend.  I wondered what kind of girl would take this
sort of abuse from a guy.

    I walked upstairs to the other boys' room, and was
finally able to relieve myself.

    Back in the lunchroom, Patty and Kristen were talking
about swimwear, which was a strange subject being that it was
still winter here in the Midwest.

    Sherry walked into the cafeteria about five minutes
before the bell sounded indicating the end of lunch.  I
looked over to her, and her eyes met mine.  Immediately,
however, Sherry looked away from me.

    What was bugging Sherry?  Neither Patty nor Kristen
seemed to notice Sherry enter the lunchroom, so I excused
myself again and walked over to where Sherry was.

    "What's the matter, Sherry?" I asked.  "Teacher problems?"

    "Um... nothing... well..." Sherry paused, trying to find
the right words to say.  "Can I ask you... for... I need help
with some homework."

    This was a totally different Sherry I was talking to.
Ever since Camille talked Sherry into being a cheerleader,
Sherry became more outgoing.  Being one of the few sophomores
on the varsity cheerleading squad made her part of the "in
group" at school.

    Right now, I saw none of the confidence that Sherry
lately showed.  "What's up, Sherry?"

    "Please may I come over to your place and Kristen's
tonight?  I need to ask you guys something."

    "Of course, Sherry.  Do you want me to ask Kris...?"

    "Please!" Sherry begged, interrupting me.  "Ask her
later.  I'll see you in English and you can let me know if I
can't come over, but it's very, very important!"

    Without waiting for an answer, Sherry ran out the
lunchroom door.  I watched her leave, completely mystified
about Sherry's behavior.

    I looked back at the table where Kristen and Patty were,
and they were both looking at me.  The bell rang, and the two
girls walked over to me.

    "What did you say to Sherry to make her run away like
that?" Kristen asked me.

    "I didn't.  She asked if she could visit us tonight and
that it's very important.  I said that I'd first clear it
with you, Kris..."

    "Of course, she can come over," Kristen said.

    "I figured that.  I told her that I was going to ask you
and she ran away.  I'm not sure what's bothering her, but it
seems to really be upsetting her."

    Patty burned her gaze into me for a moment and then her
look softened.  "I'm pretty sure she's over her infatuation
phase, Jim.  Maybe she's having problems at home?"

    Kristen suggested, "Maybe her cousin Dale?"

    I sighed and shrugged.  "I'm not sure."

    "It better not be Dale!" Kristen said with a menacing
coldness to her voice.

    "Will you see Sherry later?" Patty asked, turning away
from Kristen.

    "We have English for last period."

    "If she still seems upset, find me after class," Patty
offered.  "I can drive her home, if necessary.  I'll try to
find out what's bothering her."

    "Thanks, Patty," I said, feeling much better.  If anybody
could read another person's emotions, it was Patty.

    Patty turned back to Kristen and said, "We'll find out
the problem, Kris.  I'll see you when class is over."

    Kristen nodded, her eyes still flashing their anger,
obviously thinking about Dale.

    The two of us watched the red head leave the lunchroom.

    "I need to get to gym," I told Kristen.

    "Yeah," Kristen said, anger still in her voice.

    Gym was uneventful, and I put thoughts of Sherry behind
me during the class.  I attended French class afterward, and
thought a bit about Sherry, but figured that either Patty or
I would get to the bottom of things by the end of the day.

    As I was leaving French, my seventh period class, I found
Camille waiting for me at the door to my classroom.

    "Jim!" Camille said.  "I need to speak with you."

    "Sure, Cammy," I said.  "I'm heading to English..."

    "You're going to have to skip it, Jim.  It's very
important."

    This was a day of mysteries and "very important" things.

    I sighed.  Camille was a real friend, however, and I
could never turn her request down.

    "Let me find Sherry and tell her that I'm not..."

    "No, Jim," Camille said.  "This is important, and I'm
pretty sure it concerns her."

    Now I was really interested.  Maybe Camille could explain
Sherry's weird behavior.

    Camille and I went toward the band room.  It was one room
that I had access to, and I knew that it was empty after
seventh period, which is when the orchestra rehearsed.  Mr.
Ryan, the orchestra leader, might still be there, but he
never had any problem with me coming and going at any time.

    I passed Amy Grant on my way into the band room.  She
gave me a shy smile as I passed her.

    The band room, as it turned out, was empty, and Mr. Ryan
was just leaving the room.  He smiled at me and didn't say
anything about me using the room with Camille.

    I turned to Camille.  "What's up..."

    "Jim, something terrible has happened... is happening
right now!" Camille looked frantic.

    "Tell me what it is."

    "Do you know Tim Hawking?" Camille asked.

    What a coincidence!  I had walked in on Tim getting a
blow job in the boys' room earlier and now Camille just
mentioned him.

    All of a sudden, I realized where I saw those athletic
legs and the short white skirt.  Sherry was the girl in the
bathroom with Tim!

    Camille must have seen the expression on my face.  My
blood ran cold as I realized that Sherry was the person who
Tim referred to as a whore and how her oral talents sucked.

    "Tim Hawking and Sherry Jordan," I said.

    "Tim Hawking and almost half of the entire fucking
cheerleading squad," Camille said.

    "What?" I nearly shouted.  Tim was not the kind of person
who would attract the amorous attentions of most of the
cheerleaders.  Well, neither was I, although most of the
cheerleaders were quite friendly to me after Kristen's
Halloween party, Sherry's initiation, and Kristen's birthday
party.

    "Well, with what I've heard of his attitude, he won't be
with many of the cheerleaders for long," I said.

    "You were there with him!  I saw you come out of the
boys' room!" Camille said.

    "I walked in and heard he was doing something in the
bathroom.  I discreetly left as soon as I noticed.  I didn't
realize he was with Sherry until just now."

    Camille shook her head, as if I wasn't getting it.  "You
don't understand, Jim!"

    "Huh?  What don't I understand?"

    "Tim Hawking has tickets!"

    I felt the blood drain from my face as Camille uttered
those words to me.

* * *

    I steadied my breath.  "What do you know about Tim and
the tickets?" I asked.

    Camille spat out.  "That mother fucker gave one to me!"

    "Oh, no..."

    "No, Jim," Camille said.  "I mean, he looked so confident
when he gave it to me.  I looked at it for a second, not
believing it, when I realized that if I didn't pretend to
react, he'd know that there's something special about me."

    "You went along with it?"

    "He just asked for a blow job.  He told me to go into the
bathroom and blow him.  I've done worse before."

    "And you did?" I asked, looking at Camille's outfit.
Although I now knew that it was Sherry with Tim during lunch,
it seemed to be an automatic response.

    "He tried to make me go into boys' room, but since he
wasn't specific when he asked me, I told him that I'd only do
it in the girls' locker room," Camille explained.  "He almost
gave me another ticket, but decided that he wouldn't mind
visiting there after all.  I chose that room because I knew
the coaches don't have class during second period.  Anyway, I
did him, and he wasn't very nice about it.  He has a mouth on
him.  I would be damned if I gave him anything good, though,
which is probably why he complained so much."

    I shook my head.

    "Fuck him!" Camille spat again.  "Anyway, he tells me
that he heard that I should be better, and that I'm a prissy
cunt.  He then gives me another fucking ticket, and tells me
to practice improving my oral skills every night, to learn
how to deep throat, and to be ready for him on Saturday."

    "Saturday?" I asked, confused.

    "My cousin Jackie is throwing a party, and he must have
found out from one of the cheerleaders.  I was going to
invite you and Kristen, and then this asshole comes up and
makes me blow him during second period.  I was steaming mad
when I got to the lunch room during the next period, when
Maria told me to tell Jackie that she invited Tim Hawking."

    "Oh, fuck!  Maria, too?"

    Camille nodded.  "I went looking for you during fourth
period.  I saw Kristen and Patty, but you were nowhere to be
seen.  Then I saw you come out of the boys' room.  I was
about to run after you when I saw Sherry leave, closely
followed by Tim!  I hid so that Tim didn't see me, but I was
floored--I thought you and Tim were in cahoots, trying to
bang the entire cheerleading squad.  I was about to figure a
way that I could slice the dicks off of the two of you when I
realized that you knew that the tickets don't work on me."

    I winced at Camille's description of her concept of
vengeance.  Camille and Lynette were both quite protective of
their squads.

    "I didn't have any idea about Tim, except that I heard
him with somebody when I was in the boys' room.  He was quite
rude and it embarrassed me.  I left before he knew I was in
there--it was uncomfortable for me to be there.  I didn't
realize he was with Sherry until just now."

    "How the fuck did he get your tickets?" Camille asked.

    My eyes shot open--Camille was right!  I fumbled for my
attach� case, and opened it.  I looked for and found my
tickets.  "They're here," I said.  "Did the tickets that Tim
give you disappear?"

    "Um, no," Camille said.  "They only disappear when
they're used.  He didn't use his..."

    Camille opened her purse and pulled out two tickets.  I
looked at the numbers.  "196 and 197."

    I looked at my roll.  I knew that I didn't use nearly two
hundred of them.  I saw that the first one was 38.

    "He didn't get them from my roll," I said.

    "There are two rolls of tickets?" Camille asked, suddenly
horrified.

    "I don't know," I said.

    For all I knew, there could be hundreds of them.  I
didn't want to consider that right now in front of Camille,
who felt herself a victim of them.  Even two rolls were bad
enough.

    Suddenly, something else fell into place.  "Wait.  Did
you say that Tim asked you to practice giving head?"

    Camille's eyes darkened as I reminded her.

    I didn't need her to answer, but added, "Every night?"

    Camille nodded, still fuming.

    "Oh, my god.  Sherry!"

    "What, Jim?" Camille asked, confused.

    "Sherry asked to come over to Kristen's apartment.  It
looked as if she was ashamed..."

    "Oh, fuck, Jim.  This ain't funny at all.  He's going to
destroy the girls' lives!"

    I nodded sadly.  How do you fight somebody who has
tickets?

    "Where does Tim have his tickets?" I asked.

    "He pulled the ones he gave me out of his jacket pocket."

    "He probably keeps them handy in case an emergency comes
up," I said, mostly to myself.  I followed the thought and
realized that it meant that I couldn't give a ticket to, say,
one of the bigger students, and have him knock Tim
unconscious.  If Tim managed to give the guy a ticket first,
he could find out that I was the person who set him up.

    "I've got to think this through, Cammy!" I said.

    I calmed myself down, and considered my options.

    After a few moments, I realized that I had three
advantages over Tim.  First, I possessed my own roll of
tickets, and Tim may not know about them.  Second, I knew
that Camille seemed to be immune to their effects--even
Tim's, thank goodness.  Third, Kristen and Patty knew about
the tickets.  Now, even if Tim managed to find his tickets
the same time that I did--and this was unlikely, or we
probably would have heard of his antics sooner--Camille
probably had the most experience with the tickets, even if
only on the receiving end.

    I pointed this out to Camille, who had already reached
the same conclusions.  We talked about possible situations,
but didn't come up with anything concrete.  Camille had an
interesting suggestion which might work on alleviating
Sherry's orders, however.

    In addition, Camille agreed that Kristen could be a good
ally.  We needed to come up with a foolproof plan by Saturday
afternoon.

    "Oh, Jim?" Camille said right before the class bell rang.

    "Yes?"

    "I know that I've thanked you for showing maturity with
those tickets," Camille said, giving me a friendly kiss.
"Now I better warn you: Kristen might be on Tim's list of
targets.  She is the richest girl in school, probably in the
county!"

    Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!

* * *

    Kristen was at her Camaro when I ran out of school.
"Kristen, quick, we need to get to the apartment fast!"

    Kristen didn't ask me why, but she got into the car and
before I even my seat belt was fastened, she was peeling
rubber out of the parking lot.

    "Where's the fire, Jim?" Kristen asked.

    "Tim Hawking," I said.

    "Tim who?"

    I looked at Kristen.  There was nothing on her face that
told me that she was playing dumb.

    "Tim Hawking.  He's the high honors nerd in tenth grade."

    "I might have heard of him, but his name doesn't really
ring a bell," Kristen said.

    "Kristen, do you trust me?" I asked, seriously.

    "Of course, Jim."

    "I've been told of an emergency.  It involves Camille,
Sherry, and probably all the cheerleaders."

    "You've been invited to Jackie Lombardi's orgy!" Kristen
smiled.

    "Orgy?" I asked, shocked.

    Kristen laughed.  "Her party.  Camille asked me about it
before homeroom.  We're free on Saturday.  Camille was going
to ask you about it sometime today."

    I sighed.

    Kristen pulled through the security gate and into our
driveway.

    I didn't feel good until I looked back and saw the gate
close.

    Once we were parked, I pulled a ticket from my attach�
case and said, "Here, have a ticket."

    "You have one wish," Kristen intoned.

    "Kristen, I want you to be aware of me making this
request.  I want you to honestly answer the next two
questions."

    "Your wish is my command," Kristen said.  "What the fuck
is this?" Kristen demanded.

    I knew that I would be sorry no matter how Kristen
answered this next question.  "Do you know Tim Hawking and
have you received a lucky ticket from anybody other than me?"

    "No, and yes, and what is this shit?"

    "Whoa there!  No and yes?"

    Kristen looked at me, confused.  She nodded, but didn't
seem to understand.

    I gave Kristen another ticket.

    "You have one wish."

    "I want you aware of me making this request, also.  I
want you to tell me exactly who, other than me, has given you
a lucky ticket."

    "Debbie Lombardi gave me some a few years back and has
given me a ticket to make me forget what she asked.  The only
thing that I can tell you is that none of her wishes other
than the one to forget are still in effect, although she has
about twenty thousand dollars of my money."

    Kristen shook her head.  "What the fuck was that all
about?  Debbie Lombardi has tickets?" After a few seconds,
Kristen shouted, "TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!  I got in all
sorts of trouble for that!"

    "It's a long story, Kris," I said.  "I'm sorry if it
sounds as if I don't trust you, but I needed to do this," I
said, truly sorry.  "Tim Hawking is a tenth grader and he's
using Lucky Tickets to have sex with the cheerleaders.  I
figured that you might be a possible target due to your
wealth."

    "I have no idea who the fuck..." Kristen paused, her eyes
opening wide.  "You said Debbie Lombardi has tickets.  Now
there's somebody else in school who also has tickets?"

    "Debbie had tickets," I said, emphasizing the fact that
it was past tense.  "At least, she did according to Camille,"
I added.

    "How does Camille know?" Kristen asked.

    Oh, fuck.  I never told Kristen about Camille.

    I decided to skirt that question, and instead told
Kristen about the boys' room during third period, and what
Camille told me about second period.

    Kristen's eyes narrowed at me as I told my story.  I
could see her getting angrier and angrier as I continued.

    Finally, when I was finished, Kristen simply shook her
head.  "You are lying to me, Jim."

    Before I could answer, Kristen stormed out of the car and
went upstairs into our apartment.

    I sat quietly for a few moments before getting out of the
car.

    I tried the door that led into the back of the garage.
It wasn't locked.  That was a good sign.  I may own the deed
to the apartment, but I lived there with Kristen's good
graces.

    As soon as I entered the apartment, Kristen threw a
pillow at me.  "You sleep in the living room, Jim!"

    "Kristen, please listen to me!" I begged.

    Kristen shook her head.  "You lied to me, Jim!  Camille
couldn't intentionally do a bad job with a boy.  Debbie told
me... well, everybody knows that Camille has a lot of
experience.  And Camille couldn't know about his tickets if
she was given one."

    "Tickets don't work on Camille," I blurted out.

    Kristen looked at me.  After a minute of silence, she
slowly asked, "What did you say?"

    "Tickets don't work on her," I said.  "I promise, Kris.
It's what we talked about a few weeks ago at Lake Shore
Point."

    I could see a million thoughts entering Kristen's head.
Before she could ask her questions, I said, "We have another
problem, Kris.  Remember how weird Sherry acted in the
lunchroom?  I believe that she's been told to practice giving
blow jobs and to learn deep throat.  She asked to come here,
Kris!"

    "Sherry?"

    "Yes.  I also invited Camille over."

    Kristen rolled her eyes.  "You are not going to have an
orgy here!"

    I gave Kristen a dirty look that must have worked because
her look almost immediately softened.

    "I'm sorry, Jim," Kristen said.  "It's just that... you
know... those tickets... I mean, you don't use them... or at
least I don't think you do..."

    "Please, Kristen," I said.  "I know that I hurt you with
them, and I have stopped using them.  However, we now have to
deal with the fact that somebody else also has them."

    Kristen was quiet for a few moments.  I could see her
start to calm down.  "I still don't think that I want Sherry
to be practicing on you..."

    "I think we have a solution for that," I said,
remembering Camille's brilliant idea.  "Camille has a...
well... she has one of those... rubber..." I couldn't
continue.

    After a few moments, Kristen's eyes opened wide.
"Didoes?" Kristen asked, incredulously.

    "Yeah," I said, reddening.  "She says it's kind of big,
but Sherry can practice on that."

    For the first time since I handed Kristen a ticket that
day, Kristen actually smiled.  "Cammy comes up with the
strangest ideas.  Now tell me about Debbie Lombardi and
Camille."

    I told Kristen most of what I knew that Camille told me a
few weeks earlier, omitting some of the things that weren't
very pertinent, including how the tickets had been used on me.

* * *

    Camille was at the apartment about a half hour later.

    Kristen looked at Camille quite strangely.  I decided to
demonstrate Camille's immunity quite dramatically.

    Without warning, I pulled out a ticket and handed it to
Camille in front of Kristen.

    Camille looked at me, and then at Kristen.  She said,
"Fuck you, Jim!"

    Kristen was quite surprised.  "Huh?"

    "Do you want me to do the 'You have one wish' bit, Kris?"
Camille asked.

    "They really don't work on you?" Kristen asked.

    "I can't tell you," Camille said, looking at me for
support.

    "Now do you believe me, Kris?" I asked.

    "Let me see that ticket, Cammy."

    "I... I can't."

    "Why not?" Kristen asked.

    "I can't tell you," Camille said, this time looking
extremely frustrated.

    I didn't expect this.  "It might be because if she hands
it to you, you'll be forced to grant a wish."

    Camille shook her head.  "I can't tell you," she repeated.

    "Kristen, if and when I find out, I'll let you know as
much as I can possibly tell you," I assured my Goddess.  I
had told Kristen earlier that Camille could only talk about
the tickets with me.

    Kristen looked from Camille to me and decided that she
should change the subject.

    "Where's your toy?" Kristen asked Camille.

    Camille finally smiled.  She had a bag with her, and she
rooted around on the bottom of it and pulled out a realistic
looking penis, if you considered a thirty inch double-ended
penis to look "realistic."

    "Ooh," Kristen said, her eyes transfixed.  "It looks like
it was made for sharing!"

    Camille rolled her eyes at that remark.

    "Put that away," I said to Camille.  "It's making me feel
inadequate!"

    Kristen laughed and said, "Oh, poor Oogie Woogie!  I'm
quite familiar with yours, and you should be proud."

    I received one of Kristen's patented dick hardening
kisses.

    After we broke our kiss, Camille asked Kristen, "May I
try?"

    Camille showed me that despite Kristen's patent, she was
quite capable of giving me her own version of that same kiss.

    As Camille kissed me, Kristen unfastened my pants, and
showed me that she had the fucking nerve to actually measure
me against that rubber monster that Camille brought with her!

    After Camille and I broke our kiss, Camille looked down
and said, "I haven't seen that since New Year's Day."

    "Don't be getting any ideas, Cammy," Kristen said,
laughing.

    I breathed a sigh of relief.  I'm glad Kristen wasn't
angry at me about all this.

* * *

    Sherry arrived about seven in the evening.  Her mother
announced Sherry over the intercom.

    "Come on up," I said, trying not to scare Sherry too much.

    Sherry arrived in the apartment a couple of minutes
later.  She seemed surprised to see Camille in the apartment.

    Before Sherry could tell us her problem, Camille took
over.  "Jim, Kristen, and I know all about Tim Hawking."

    Sherry looked shocked.  "He said... I mean... I'm
supposed..."

    I had a ticket at the ready.  I handed it to Sherry.

    "You have one wish," she monotoned.

    "You are not to obey any of Tim Hawking's wishes."

    "I cannot grant that wish."

    Shit!  It was worth a shot, anyway.  I tried another
strategy.  "All right, then," I said.  "You will no longer
accept a ticket from Tim Hawking."

    "Your wish is my command."

    Sherry looked confused.

    I handed Sherry another ticket.

    "You have one wish."

    "You will not find Tim Hawking in any way attractive."

    "Your wish is my command."

    Sherry shook her head.  "What's happening to me?  Things
are starting to go weird..." Sherry looked quite confused for
a moment.  "It's been a fucking weird day!"

    "As Cammy told you," I said, "we know about Tim Hawking.
Camille has a way for you to obey him without involving me."

    "Huh?" Sherry asked, confused.

    Camille reached into her bag and pulled out that monster
dildo.

    I excused myself and went downstairs.  I didn't have any
intention of embarrassing Sherry while the girls gave her
"lessons" in orally pleasing a guy.

    For Kristen's birthday, one of her mother's presents was
for the two of us.  It was a pool table, and we put it into
one of the rooms downstairs that Kristen earmarked as a new
playroom.  I decided that if I were to build a music studio,
it would be nice to have a good stereo and some entertainment
nearby, so we made one of the rooms a playroom and Kristen
taught me how to play pool.

    Kristen was a much better player than me, but she was
helpful in showing me how to improve my game.  She said that
when I got better on the bank shots, she'd teach me nine-ball.

    I played a few games, and in the middle of my fourth rack
the girls came downstairs.

    I didn't look at any of the girls, but continued to
attempt to sink the balls numerically.  I just sunk the nine
and was aiming at the ten.  I didn't even look up as I said,
"How did the lesson go?"

    "We managed," Camille said, not wanting to embarrass
Sherry.

    "Want to play teams after you finish this rack?" Kristen
asked.

    "Which teams?" I asked.

    Camille answered.  "Jim and I, Sherry and Kris."

    I looked up from my shot.  "Really?" Up until that day, I
never played with anybody other than Kristen.

    "Eight ball, Sherry breaks," Camille said.

    Camille sounded quite sure of herself.

    "Stakes?" Kristen asked.

    "I have twenty dollars," Camille said.

    Kristen and I never played for money before.  We played
our own variation, strip pool, but I wouldn't suggest that
with Sherry around.

    "Want any handicap?" Kristen asked, grinning.

    "Jim.  Sherry's your handicap!"

    Kristen giggled, while Sherry and I blushed.

    "Who breaks?" Kristen asked.

    Camille said, "Sherry."

    Kristen laughed as I sunk the fifteen.  She was going to
show Camille how ruthless she was at games of skill.

    Camille helped me assemble and rack the balls.  She did
it quite professionally.

    Sherry saw the rack of cues, and picked one that was
probably about three inches too long for her.  When Kristen
was teaching me the basics, she told me to use smaller cues
as a way for me to learn control, and she now suggested a
different smaller cue for Sherry.  Sherry took her suggestion
without comment.

    Camille picked out the cue that happened to be Kristen's
favorite.  When Camille noticed Kristen's reaction, she
handed it to my Goddess and took another one of similar size.

    Sherry inexpertly chalked her cue and Kristen helped her
line up her shot.  It wasn't quite strong enough, but a
striped ball managed to fall.

    "Stripes!" Kristen called, proudly.

    Camille simply shrugged.

    Sherry tried to line up another shot from a long
diagonal.  Her target bounced onto the two corner rails
instead of into the pocket.

    "May I?" Camille asked me.

    "Of course," I answered Camille, regally.  "Age before
beauty."

    "Hey!" Camille protested, but continued lining up her
shot.

    Camille managed to clear the solids.  I noticed after she
banked the three ball that she ran them numerically,
finishing with a two bank shot that sunk the eight ball.

    The three of us realized that Kristen was just hustled on
her own table!  We all laughed at the dumbfounded expression
on Kristen's face.

    "You guys never ask me where I spend my Sundays," Camille
said, sticking her tongue out and collecting Kristen's twenty
dollar bill.  "Since I was twelve years old, I've been
playing at the Brew Lounge."

    "You need to be eighteen to go there," I pointed out.

    Camille shrugged.  "Sunday afternoons they allow me to
play for a couple of hours in between lunch and the time the
real players come in.  Fifty cents a game to cover the coin
slots, and Louie used to teach me shots when the bar was
mostly empty."

    "Louie?" Kristen asked.

    "Used to be the bartender there until he passed away,"
Camille said.  "I used to go there to get away from... my
sister."

    Kristen and I nodded.  Kristen now knew about Camille's
relationship with her sister.  Sherry also seemed to know
that Camille had a rocky relationship with her sister.

    "You're welcome to use our table here if you ever want to
use a table for free," Kristen offered.  "Sherry, too,"
Kristen quickly added.

    Camille laughed.  "I haven't paid for a game since I was
thirteen.  The guys thought it was cute that such a young
girl would play them for the cost of a game."

    "You're both still welcome."

    "Maybe I'll take you up on it.  I bet Jim can use a
better teacher."

    "Hey!" Kristen objected.

    "I need to get home," Sherry said, quietly.

    "What time is your mother picking you up?" I asked.

    "She should be here in five minutes."

    We all went back upstairs, since the main house intercom
wasn't yet wired into the playroom.

    The intercom was buzzing just as we entered the
apartment.  "Miss Kristen, Mrs. Jordan is here to pick up her
daughter," Wally said as Kristen answered the intercom.

    "Where is she?" Kristen asked.

    "She's just entering the parking area," Wally answered.

    The four of us went back downstairs to drop Sherry off.

    "What's in the bag?" Sherry's mother asked her daughter
as she entered the car.

    Before Sherry could answer, Camille opened the bag and
pulled out what I recognized were the pompoms that the
cheerleaders used last year.  "For practice," Camille
explained.  She most certainly did not reveal the rest of the
contents of the bag, and Mrs. Jordan didn't bother to ask.

    We all bade the mother and daughter good-bye, and watched
the car depart.

    Instead of going back to the apartment, Kristen and
Camille headed straight for the pool table.

    The two girls showed me how to play a game they called
Cutthroat.  Apparently, the normal rules were that each of us
were given five balls, and the object was to sink your
opponents' balls.

    Of course, I was the first one out, followed by Kristen.

    Neither girl thought this was quite fair, so they
improvised new rules.  Each girl would have ten balls, both
of them sharing my balls.

    No matter how we played the game, Camille won.

    I eventually grew tired of losing, and ended up watching
the two girls play.

    Kristen asked Camille if she'd like to spend the night in
the spare room.  Camille only accepted when Kristen promised
to allow her to wear one of her outfits to school the next
day.

* * *

    When I woke up the next morning, I noticed Kristen wasn't
in bed.  I went to the bathroom, and Kristen wasn't in there,
either.  I looked all through the apartment, and noticed that
the spare bedroom was empty as well; Camille's bed didn't
even look as if it was even slept in.

    "Wally?" I called out.

    "Steve here, Jim," answered the intercom.

    "Sorry," I said, forgetting that Steve did the night
shift.  "Any idea where Kris may be?  Is she in the main
house?"

    There was a delay.  "I show the lights on in the pool
room."

    Pool?  "Do you mean the Solarium or the room downstairs
over here?"

    "Downstairs--your billiard room, sir."

    I sighed.  "Thanks, Steve."

    Since I was only wearing boxers, I went back into the
bedroom and grabbed my robe.  I decided against slippers and
went barefoot downstairs into the playroom.

    The girls were playing pool.  Kristen was completely
nude, and Camille was topless.  Camille was holding a cue in
her hand.  There was only the nine ball on the table.  "If I
sink this on a bank, I get you as a slave for two weeks, or a
night with Jim."

    "A night with who?" I asked.

    Both girls were startled when they noticed that I was in
the room.

    "Jim!  What are you doing up so late?" Kristen asked.

    "Late?" I asked.  "It's six thirty in the morning!"

    "Really?" both girls asked together.

    Camille laughed.  "Kristen is a compulsive gambler." I
watched Camille line up an unusual shot.  The cue ball lay
just inside one of the corner holes, and the nine ball was
positioned in the exact same position inside the corner hole
opposite on the same end of the table.  Instead of making the
short shot from one pocket to the other, Camille was going to
bank the shot.

    Knowing what I did about bank shots, I figured that
Camille would aim for the direct center of the opposite rail
on the other side of the table to make a V-shot toward the
corner.  I never had any luck with this sort of shot, and
wanted to see how Camille would do it.

    Camille wasn't aiming where I expected, though.  Instead,
she was aiming for a spot between the opposite side pocket
and the corner diagonal pocket.  Camille took her shot, and
it hit where Camille aimed, bounced to the center of the rail
between the two opposite corners, then bounced on the side
rail almost exactly opposite the first cushion she hit.  The
ball continued its motion and just missed the nine ball.

    "Aha!" Kristen laughed, as the ball's speed was much
slower now due to all the banks.

    The ball continued moving, albeit slowly, and hit the
rail next to the corner and then banked one more time to hit
the nine ball with a perfect kiss, sending it into the hole
with the cue aiming safely away from the hole.

    Kristen's jaw dropped.  I replayed that shot in my mind a
few times.  If you drew a picture of the ball's motion, it
would look like a fish without the tail completed.

    "Which is it, Kris?" Camille taunted.  "A week of slavery
or a night with Jim?"

    Kristen looked crushed.  She didn't seem to like either
alternative.  "How about more money?"

    "I'm up over six thousand already," Camille said.  "If I
accept more, I'll have to start declaring income tax!"

    "Six thousand?" I asked, totally shocked.  "You bet six
thousand on a game of pool?"

    "Nine ball," Kristen corrected.  "And the last money bet
was only a thousand."

    "I refused to continue allowing Kristen to 'double or
nothing' at five thousand, one hundred," Camille explained
with a smirk.

    "Five thousand, one hundred and twenty," Kristen
corrected.  "You've got to lose sometime."

    "Six thousand dollars?" I repeated.

    Camille explained.  "Kristen is of the opinion that there
is luck in a game of nine ball."

    "Six thousand?" I repeated, waiting for Kristen to answer
me.

    Kristen looked at me.  "Six thousand, one hundred, twenty
dollars, plus five nights with Camille, all the clothes that
I was wearing, an hour that I have to diddle Cammy, and now
an additional two weeks of complete slavery.  I also had to
kiss Camille's breasts."

    "Are you guys fucking crazy?" I asked.

    "I'm fucking you," Kristen answered sweetly.

    "You need help, Kris," I said, quite angry.  I turned my
back to Kristen and decided to leave this completely
intolerable situation.

    As I walked out of the playroom, Camille said, "I'm not
holding you to any of this, Kris.  I was just happy to play."

    Kristen didn't come back into the apartment for ten
minutes.  She came in with Camille.

    I set out scrambled eggs, low-fat bacon, some English
muffins, and coffee.  Kristen did not look me directly in my
eyes.

    I remembered this sort of reckless behavior.  It was my
real father, the alcoholic.  I wanted to shake some sense
into Kristen, but I realized that this wouldn't work.  I
learned that alcoholism was a sickness, and Kristen's
compulsive gambling was similar.  A sickness.  Maybe my
tickets could help her, but I was feeling quite sensitive
about the tickets with the Tim Hawking situation.

    "Jim..."

    If Kristen couldn't look me in the eyes, then I knew that
I didn't want to hear what she was going to say.

    "Not now, Kris.  Eat."

    "But, Jim..."

    "Jim is right, Kris," Camille said, softly.

* * *

    After breakfast, Kristen went to the bedroom.  I knew
that she was going to take a shower, which usually was a two
person activity.

    "I was pulling her leg, Jim," Camille said.

    "Kristen is fiercely competitive," I said.  "If she owes
you money, she'll pay.  She'll probably even be your slave.
You should have known better once you realized that she
wouldn't stop."

    "I was having too much fun watching her get angry,"
Camille admitted.

    "Having fun is one thing," I said.  "Feeding a sickness
is another."

    "I know," Camille said, casting her eyes downward.  "I'm
sorry."

    "I don't want to be angry with you, Cammy," I said
softly.  "Kris' problem is a distraction now.  We still need
to figure out the answer on how to deal with Tim Hawking.
Let's focus on that.  Let's avoid pool for now and work
together on dealing with Tim."

    I really had no intention of staying angry at either girl
for long.  Yes, Kristen was my Goddess, but she was also
human.  She may have her own weaknesses and problems, and I
would learn to deal with them.  Maybe Camille's making
Kristen's gambling obvious would make it easier to deal with
it sooner, before Kristen did anything that she'd really
regret.

    I left Camille and went into the bedroom.  The door to
the bathroom was open, and I could hear the water running.

    I took off my robe, my boxers, and then entered the
shower with my Goddess.

    Kristen turned around when she felt me enter the shower
and she gave me one of the biggest kisses she ever gave me.

    "I'm sorry," Kristen said when we finally broke our kiss.

    "We'll work it through," I said.

    I saw hope in Kristen's eyes as I started to soap her
lovely body.

    After we emerged, Camille was already dressed in one of
Kristen's more modest outfits.

    "Jim," Camille said.  "Before we leave, you should do
something."

    "What?" I asked.

    "Remember the last two wishes you told Sherry?"

    Oh, yeah.  I delayed doing this before, since I didn't
want to do it in front of Sherry, but I realized that I
needed to "protect" Kristen as well.  In fact, it might be a
good idea to "protect" the entire cheerleading squad.

    I pulled out a ticket and Kristen took it.

    "You have one wish."

    "You will never accept a lucky ticket from anybody other
than me."

    "Your wish is my command."

    I smiled, but my smile faded when I realized that I added
the "anybody other than me" part.

    Was I really that much better than Tim Hawking?

--
jimc_author@hotmail.com

JiMC is only a pseudonym.  Respect my privacy and I'll respect yours.

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