Win

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. Finally, left with only my underwear and jeans, I punched the air as my striker volleyed the cross right into the top corner, yelling, “Champione, champione!”

Emily groaned and reluctantly pulled down her panties. “Bullshit,” she muttered. “You had a better team.”

“Mine was rated four stars, yours was four and a half.”

“Whatever.” She shuffled her feet uncomfortably under my gaze. “So … what do you want me to do?”

“For a start, you can stop covering yourself up – I know you wanted to win, but secretly you also wanted to lose, admit it,” I smirked.

“Is that an order?” Emily asked as she put her hands on her hips, baring her naked chest.

I thought for a moment. “Yeah; tell the truth, did you want to lose?”

“I would’ve preferred to win,” she said, then whispered in my ear, “But I don’t mind losing – not to you.”

“Good,” I smiled, taking out my phone and setting a timer for 30 minutes. “Let’s get started with …”