Something akin to strip poker.

It might be your built-up tension shifting your words, but you decided on something nefarious… “You ever played strip poker?”

Half-Gob’s expression becomes suspicious of you. “Yes…?”

You’re a little surprised to hear she has, but you proceeded anyway. “Whoever gets pinned has to remove an article of clothing. Makes the game a little more exciting.”

Half-Gob’s expression becomes annoyed. “Is this what you had in mind the whole time? To get me naked and god-only-knows-what-else?”

“Oh,” you feign bashfulness. It must not be as good as your confidence suggests. We can just tangle for no risk or gain.”

“RiSk or gAiN,” Half-Gob scoffs. “Even though I know this is some kind of perverted ploy to get me undressed, I know by experience you aren’t anything to worry about.”

She slaps her hands together and cranes her neck as she walks over to the center of the mat. With her hands open, she hits both of her thighs. “Alright. Get over here so I can win again.”

“You shouldn’t understate me this time,” you tell Half-Gob. “You caught me off guard last time, but now that I know what I’m facing, I won’t be going so easy on you. Besides, now I know there’s a decent prize on the line-”

Half-Gob tackles you. She’s light, so she doesn’t knock you down or push you that far, but as she tangles and throws her total weight around, you fall to your back as the inertia of Half-Gob practically drags you back. There’s so much **** in your landing that all the air gets knocked out of your lungs. For at least 3 seconds, you’re gasping for air with Half-Gob looking down at you.

“Does the winner get to choose what comes off, or is it up to the loser?”

You get to your knee, run your fingers through your hair, and get it out of your face. “How many pieces of clothing are you wearing?”

“What’s it matter?”

“I need to know how many rounds need to be won before one of us is stark naked.”

Half-Gob laughs, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “I’m wearing the same amount as you. Pants, shirt, underwear.”

You look at her, specifically her chest region. She crosses her arms, so you look at her eyes. “No bra?”

“Hell no,” she says but doesn’t elaborate on why. Now, you can’t help but notice how much she bounces with every step. Go figure. You stand in the center of the mat, working out rules (there are none as long as you don’t kill each other.) Going forward, your game of "strip and pin" begins now.

As soon as you agree on the terms, Half-Gob jumps you, but unlike before, it takes her an extra second to get you on the ground. Her toned legs pin you to the floor as you feel your joints nearing dislocation. On top of it, you can feel her naked torso beneath her crop top as your wrist slides between her breasts. Your mind spurs with lewd visions. Apparently, your mind knows this isn’t life or ****, so it wanders aimlessly in a realm of nude women and sexy entanglement.

As you struggle and wiggle, Half-Gob slides her butt closer to your face, trying to keep you in the lock. Finally, she almost pulls your arm so hard you think she’s ripping it off. You yank your arm away from Half-Gob as soon as she feels you tapping her leg to let go.

You’d be more scared of her if you weren’t so turned on for some reason. She looks at you and cocks her head. “Take off your shirt.”

“I know the rules,” you spit out, pulling your shirt off and throwing it beside the mat. You think about small talk but don’t even bother.

Half-Gob seemed only slightly amused with her choice. She jabs your ribs with a loose fist. “Looks like you’re experienced, at least. I’m surprised you can’t handle this better.”

“Handle a 120-pound **** machine better? Sorry, I don’t have much practice.”

She hides it well, but the corners of her mouth tighten briefly in a subtle smile. “A few more wins on my side, and I’ll see what you have been practicing with.”

Your brows lift in curiosity. “What are you implying, Gob?”

This time, she smiles fully, full of unexpected delight. “Let me win and find out what I mean. Save ourselves both the trouble.”

“So, you are nervous? Unless there's some other reason you'd want me to forfeit my my chances now."

“I’ve never been one to underestimate my opponent. That’s a rookie mistake,” Half-Gob crosses her arms. “Nervous is the wrong word, anyway. More like…respectively curious.”

“Are we adding more to the wager?”

“No,” she says flatly. She gets into a stance. “Enough stalling. Hajimemashou!”