Bad Moves

That crazy bitch slapped me!

Alright, fine, I... probably deserve it for riding her as hard as I have (and will, if all things play out right). But after all the crap she gave me and everyone else? At the very least she deserves it, and hey, maybe this'll end with a great attitude adjustment for her. And if not... well, there's always the chance the weekend brings me some new options to do just that. But right now, as I listen to our history teacher drone on about the Civil War, I've a more immediate target dead in my sights.

Donna Chen sits diagonally to my left, a chair closer to the front of the class and farther from me. With her so close, now seems the perfect time for me to help setup our little "duel." I have more than enough for the hotkey that ensures victory, but the new options for her on Custom Girls leave me wishing I slowed my pace.

Can only eat or drink if she's being hand-fed by someone: 10 gems.
Produces excessive saliva at all times: 3 gems.
Her tongue becomes extremely sensitive: 2 gems.
Offers blowjobs to whoever beats her in a game: 50 gems.
Undresses or dresses as she loses or wins a game: 10 gems.
Masturbates with escalating sensitivity as a game drags on: 20 gems.
No one objects to her being groped as long as she's in the middle of a game: 38 gems.
Makes poor moves or decisions in a game based on how aroused she is: 5 gems.

The options on march are ridiculous, nevermind tempting, but I need to secure a victory in a board game she seems the master of while I barely know how to play. While making her play bad while aroused--if combined with one of the arousing customizations--seems like the play, nothing would prevent her from demanding I stop arousing her... or worse, sending me to Hatts for trying. In the end, securing her bad plays is mandatory... but I might as well enhance the inevitable victory make-out...

DONNA CHEN:
Hotkey: Bad Play
Sensitive Tongue
Total Cost: 7. OK?

With a click, I secure her defeat... and a hotkey that's presently grayed out. She's not playing games at the moment, so I suppose that makes sense. With nothing else to do but wait, I cycle through the girls in this class and the neighboring ones. I'm far less interested in them, sure, but it's still neat to glance through their options and see what each is fixated on. Given the gems I could earn by just modifying four random girls...

No, no Dave, self-control! Every gem counts, and making four random girls show their cleavage off a bit more isn't going to get the numbers I need to cross that 1,000 mark.

Satisfied, I take on the impossible task of trying to focus on the remaining lessons of the day instead of what the end of the school week promises.

The Chess Club meets in Room 153, a fact I briefly forgot until I finally found the heavy-set Chris Dodge, infamous mouth-breather and chess-playing nerd of the senior class. Chris was decent-enough people, just not part of my circle; but he was round and could be spotted in the halls from anywhere thanks to growing to 6'3",
and his loitering around a classroom meant I found the room Donna told me to remember.

Inside was a predictable assortment of seniors: four boys, the only one I know being the colossal Chris, and just two girls: Wendy Peppernickel, a quiet, frail girl who's worn a medical eyepatch since the schoolyear began, and the dominating presence named Donna Chen.

Donna's shyness in most other environments is apparently put on a shelf somewhere before she gets here: she meets my eye with a determined furrow on her brow that is slowly joined by a suspicious smile. She has the air of competition, the same as when my attempt to trick her went south. It proves difficult to not let this intimidate me.

I silently nod my greetings to the relative strangers. The room itself is otherwise vacant: a standard classroom, one used for some rotating junior classes, is sorted into joined desks with fabric chess boards and cartoonishly large game pieces sitting atop them. The only one that stands out is the one Donna sits at: a small wooden box with two digital clocks and two corresponding buttons awaits our play, each clock currently standing steady at 00:20. “Hey Donna,” I casually offer.

Donna does not reciprocate. “You were almost late, and our club meeting begins at 3:00PM. Our game will have time-limited moves due to this small window of time: 20 seconds per move. I hope you understand.”

There are lots of ways to take that, but I just offer a grin before taking the seat opposite to her. I settle my phone on my lap with her page open and ready. I glance down at the pieces: she set me up to play as white, something my amateur knowledge of the game takes to mean she's giving me the handicap. Twenty seconds, though? Without my trump card, I'd be toast. “Any special rules or restrictions?”

“The clock starts when you make the first move.”

I move a pawn to f4, though I only know that thanks to the cloth board having letters and numbers running along its edges. The piece taps the sheet and my fingers let it go... earning a snigger from the peanut gallery. I glance about, unsure-

“Hit your side of the clock when you complete your move.”

With a mumbled apology, I do so... and her clock barely has time to move to 00:19 before Donna reaches for a pawn-

Press.

... and drifts over to the farthest, corner pawn on the king's side and shoot it forward two spaces. The peanut gallery is stunned... and Donna herself wrinkles her brow, but only after she's presses the button to confirm her move.

I play another push: a pawn sliding forward on an intercept path. Press. She moves her pawn forward and directly into my pawn's path, baffling all present save me. I take the pawn; the first kill is mine, though I'm not sure that's all that important in chess... at least, not yet.

Click.

Press. Click.

We perform a similar dance as she continues to refuse to take my **** pawn with the rook, letting it march headlong into the frontlines as her army fails to react. Instead, she dances with her knights, throws pawns into useless schemes, and lets her queen live in squalor with her confounding king as I'm permitted to, admittedly clumsily, claim her people piece by piece. Her club is no less baffled: they sit at the surrounding tables and play slow games themselves while spending much of their time trying to understand what Donna, who has soundly beaten each of them, is even trying to do here. Donna herself seems... oddly aware of her mistakes, despite her awareness being turned off. She questions her plans as she seems to make them, albeit not questioning the moves she makes... at least, that's as far as I can guess between how the app works and her intense silence-

“What are you playing with beneath the table?”

My eyes flick up just before I'm about to grab a pawn's tiny head and claim her suicidal knight. “What?”

“Your hand is flexing beneath the table... and I have to wonder if it relates to how this game is going.”

How... how did she even catch that?! Relax, Dave, just flow with it. “How... would I cheat with that? I'm just keeping my hand on my phone to make sure I don't miss a call; it's on vibrate-”

“I didn't mention cheating.” Her eyes narrow. Shit, she didn't?

“You're... implying it.”

Her mouth moves behind closed lips, as if she's tasting my defense... or perhaps feeling out her new, sensitive tongue? “Your move.”

Note to self: get a phone case, a privacy screen, and better fibs if I want to keep the existence of the app a secret. No longer hesitating, I take her knight.

“This game is... ” She doesn't finish the thought aloud, but her narrow eyes speak her suspicion plainly. But it's impressive: perhaps she's just too smart for awareness filters to keep her mind off how stupidly she's playing. Her finger goes onto her pawn as she prepares to throw it in my bishop's path for no reason. “My bishop should have taken your knight at f3.”

“At f...?” My eyes quickly trace the number and letter to find my knight... and, sure enough, her bishop happened to be at b7 after a confounding, idling move earlier. There were no longer any barriers to that move, and the pawns that would guard that knight were now long since moved up... she's right.

“My opening was non-traditional... my moves have all been self-destructive, pointless, even geared towards letting you win. I never make moves like these; I never let anyone win as long as I've means to prevent it.” Click.

I go ahead and let my bishop take pawn; I add it to my growing collection of pieces. “What do you think it means, then, that you're letting me win?” Click. Press.

Then, Donna makes her gambit. “Rook to a1, taking your rook and putting you in check. You have three moves to deny the check, none of which prevent checkmate in one more move. My win. Concede.” The others in the room exhale as if in relief...

... but Donna's fingers are quivering. At first I fear she's resisting my command, but she's looking at me with expectation... and perhaps a bit of fear. She knows that's not the move she'll make--and after looking at the board for the whole of her twenty seconds, I confirm that I really am in that lousy a position--but she's using this invitation to concede as an excuse to hold back her move. Clever girl.

“It is rude to not concede when you've so obviously lost.” She reveals her desperation too nakedly... and it is perhaps my sneering confidence that makes her eyes go wide.

She knows... that I know... she won't make those moves.

Am I being paranoid? I'm being paranoid. I convert my smile into a grin. “I've been called rude all my life. Why stop now?” Her eyes narrow. I think she took the diversion... and why wouldn't she? It's easier to believe I'm an asshole than the idea that I'd somehow read her mind. “I won't concede. Now play your move.”

Her hand does indeed go to her rook... and slides it just in front of mine at a2. I nudge my rook forward and capture it. The peanut gallery has its grumblings, mystified gasps, and disbelief. I glance about with a smirk. Behind me, the one-eyed chess player just stares at my rebellion with the awe of a child, and it's hard not to feel a bit proud about it. I couldn't care less about the rest.

Click. “You're... making me perform poorly, somehow.”

My hand knocks over my queen when she rattles me with that one. “H-How is that-?”

Donna Chen crosses her arms as she glares at me. Fuck, did I just give myself away? In a commanding voice, she explains, “There is no logical explanation for why I am playing this way, nor why it feels perfectly natural to do even though I know the moves are, as a basic premise, utterly foolish, even suicidal. Failing to grasp a logical explanation, I must analyze the illogical: that I have some buried, misconceived belief that letting you win will benefit me, somehow; that you're somehow able to exert influence over my movements; or that I have developed some psychological necessity that mandates defeat in a game where only the masters manage to bring me low.”

My clock ticks down towards zero as she continues, “I do not flirt down, and I feel no need or drive to lose. The other illogical scenarios--aliens and the like--are more farfetched. Meanwhile, you've been fidgeting with your pocket this entire time... and I am very curious to see how this game goes when you do not.” I swallow hard as she crosses her arms and gives me a gentle, expectant smile. “You've run out of time, forfeiting your next move. I could recover a strong position by moving my knight to d4 and threaten the queen you rather pointlessly moved there.” Her hand drifts towards the knight in question, and I realize too late I forgot to press the button.

Press. Her hand freezes over the knight... and drifts over to the pawn next to it, moving it up to be consumed by my own.

“Your hand flexed... what could that possibly mean?”

“It means...” I need to relax. She can't know... and maybe I've not been as slick as I thought I was, or maybe she's some crazy teenaged detective, but in the end I don't have to give up a damn thing. So I imagine how this would all sound if I had no Custom Girls app... what would I say? “It means... you're acting weird and talking crazy. If you're trying to embarrass me, or confuse me, fine; but that's not going to work.” I take the offered pawn, putting me in line to eat her knight. “Fact is, I think you're into me... and that's why, when I beat you in this crappy game you love so much, you're going to come over here and give me a deep, sloppy kiss... and you're going to enjoy it.”

The room is stunned into silence... well, the room save for one. Donna permits herself a small, terrifying smile. She moves her king onto a terrible path forward. “Then put both hands where I can see them while we finish this game.” Click.

“I'm not going to miss a call or text just to satisfy you.” Pawn takes knight, and now threatens bishop. Click. Press.

Her king lunges forward, madly. It's a bad move, to be sure... I just don't know how to take immediate advantage of it. “I admit it doesn't make sense regardless: what could your pocket have that makes me move as such?” Click.

“I told you, my phone.” To convince her, I cleverly flash my phone up into view, its back facing her... and its front, not-so-cleverly, pointed back behind me where a forgotten Wendy and Chris were still playing their mock game. I tuck my phone back into my pocket, finger on the button for bad moves... surely no one saw it, right? No one behind me raises a racket, so I relax in my seat. I press on in an attempt to sound innocent, “I think I just have you sorted out better than anyone here. Did you ever reward someone for beating you by making out with them?”

“If you continue being inappropriate-”

“Just do what you're told, Donna, and keep playing.”

A blush rose into her features that was surely not embarrassment alone. Anger bubbles inside the Chess Queen, but she does her best to relax her breathing. She narrows her eyes as the latest press of her button urges her to move another piece--another bad move, but more legal than putting her own king in check--but she flourishes her hand and, with a slow, angry push, tips her king down to face the white tile behind it. “I concede.”

The others have been watching, so there's no nova or explosion of shocks and gasps... only confusion and silence. The reactions only come after she stands, walks over to me with her distrusting eyes, and bends down to meet my face. I smile my acceptance of her concession.

Her awkward, virgin lips press against mine as her body guides her to clumsily do what Alice was obviously better at. My tongue darts between her sealed lips until her mouth finally opens... and a touch on her tongue earns me a gasp into my mouth. She mounts me, skirt hiked up on my legs, as she tightens her embrace and lets her tongue be caressed and molested by my own...

... and then breaks away with a stunned, horrified haste. The "makeout" couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds... what gives?! Did Alice just define "makeouts" way more favorably than Donna?

Donna, to the room of vacuumed lungs and agape mouths, can only rub her mouth against the back of her hand as if to try and clean my spit from her. Her eyes glisten, but her voice is even as she declares, “You're a curiosity, Mr. Haines... I'll give you that.” At last, she forces one more of her devilish smiles... and despite seeming to be on the verge of crying, she leaves me feeling more worried than victorious.