Loss

At first we bantered a little while playing, but as more and more clothes were lost we descended into competitive silence, only broken by cries of triumph and defeat as the ball thundered into someone’s net. Then, in the course of about thirty seconds, Emily’s center midfielder dribbled the ball almost the entire length of the pitch, drawing my defenders, and passed it across to her winger, who placed it, first time, well out of my goalkeeper’s reach. My stomach sank.

“Yes! Suck it, bro,” Emily jumped up onto the sofa. “Take those boxers off!”

“I fucking had you,” I muttered, obeying her all the same.

“Oh yeah? Who’s still got their underwear?”

“You’ve only got half your underwear,” I said, gesturing to her naked chest.

“Still more than you, ****,” she grinned.

“Oh, you bitch,” I laughed angrily.

Emily coughed and assumed a regal pose. “You will address me as ‘Mistress’ from now on, ****,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes.

I held her gaze for a second, then looked at the floor. “Yes, Mistress,” I said.