Any game to get her clothes off

I shake her hand, “You’re pretty competitive.”

“I like to win.”

“At any game?”

“At any game.”

“Have you ever played beer pong?”

She laughs, “Of course.”

“When everyone goes to bed, we’ll play a game. Just make sure you wear exactly ten pieces of clothing.”

Her eyes narrow, “Are you trying to get me naked? We’re both married.”

You counter, “If you’re so good, I’ll be the one who’s naked and you’ll be cheering in victory and my humiliation.”

Outside on the back porch, everyone is asleep, the late November breeze chills the vodka I poured into the twenty red solo cups instead of water.

Your sister-in-law steps out the sliding door. Bundled up with ten articles of clothes. She cockily smiles as the wind blows back her hair, “You’re going to get frost bite after I get you naked.”

Ping-pong ball. Ten cups. One on one. Let her go first. She missed. Try not to laugh.

Drain your shot.

She whines at the vodka. Takes off her right glove. “It was making me lose my grip anyway.”

Her ball lands in your cup.

It’s on.