Skin Games

(Author note here! I hope you enjoy my story and its setting. I know this is a long intro, so I've made a summary at the bottom of the page. I won't be offended if you skip to it, I promise!)

Things just weren't going my way. I was sitting on the curb in front of my local bank, staring down a foreclosure warning. The bank was taking my home in ten days unless I could pay them two grand. I'd been behind on bills since I was fired from my job, refusing to do those "after-work favors" my boss wanted from me. "It's nothing serious, Sophie," he'd said, "I just want to see you... more comfortable. With this heat I bet you're dying to get out of that skirt!" It might have been kicking him in the dick that actually got me fired, but I couldn't have been happier. As I looked at that paper, though... At that moment I really wished I had my job. Hell, I'd take any job.

As I stared that paper down, willing it to change, or disappear, or... or something, I heard a polite cough behind me. "Is everything alright, miss? You look distraught." I turned myself around to see a tall, smiling man, probably in his forties. He had a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, rounded glasses, a polished cane and a straw sun hat, which clashed horribly with his brown suit. "I'd join you down there, but with my knees I'm afraid I'd be stuck there for hours." He chuckled softly at his joke, and I couldn't help but smile. He flipped the cane around in his hand, offering the handle to me while he held the other end. I was worried I'd pull him off his feet, so I refused and stood up myself. He shrugged, still softly smiling, and righted his cane as he continued. "I can't help but notice that paper you're holding. Hard times?"

"I'm sorry, Mr., uh..." "Richardson," he said with a bigger smile and a tip of his gaudy hat. I started again, saying "I'm sorry, Mr. Richardson, but I've had a long day. Thank you for caring, but I'm just gonna be going home now." I turned and began walking away. "I can get you that money in two days," he calmly said. Well, that stopped me. I turned back towards him, but he began walking away himself. Well, I had no idea who this Richardson guy was or what he wanted, but if he could save my house he had my attention. I walked up alongside him. "What do you mean?" I asked. He addressed me without breaking stride, still smiling. "I've got a simple business proposition for you. There's a little diner here that I adore. Let's talk details in there, and afterwards you can tell me to shove off, if you want, or we can do some work."

We got to the diner and sat in a booth near the window. He took off his hat and set down his cane on the table. For the first moment since I met him he wasn't smiling. Instead, he had a furrowed frown as he stared into the table. After a few moments of this he spoke. "How much money do you need?" I looked at him and replied, "It's not polite to talk money with a stranger." His smile returned. "And yet here you are," he said, "only hoping that I can pay your debts. And I assure you that I can. Now," he looked at me and asked, "how much?" I fidgeted in my seat, before mumbling, "Two grand." "Mmm," he replied, if that counts as a reply. "I can get you ten." I felt my breath catch at that. But there were also sirens going off in my head. This was just too good to be true.

"I know what you're thinking, and yes, it sounds too good to be true. I suppose I should explain what I do and, more importantly, what you'll be doing."

"I run a game show of sorts, designed specifically thinking of people short of funds and in dire situations -- people in situations like your own. Here is where you come in. The game is simple. You enter my driver's car where we blindfold you. We drive you to a random area of the city - or its countryside. We remove your blindfold, give you a picture and an address, then leave you. You find your way to that address, stand where the picture is taken, and receive your prize."

It sounded harmless enough. I didn't buy it. I leaned towards Richardson, over the table. "And what's the catch?" I asked. He chuckled once more. "You're a clever one! You realize nothing in life is truly easy." He leaned closer as well, and lowered his voice. "There is a bit more to it. When we remove your blindfold, we also remove all your belongings. All. Your belongings." He raised his eyebrows, emphasiszing the word "all." I sat back, dumbfounded. I'm sure my jaw was in my lap. "Although," he mused to himself, "I suppose it would only be fair and decent to let you keep your shoes."

That crossed the line. "Fair and decent?" I slid out of the booth and stood up, then stomped over to him and hissed through my teeth, "You want me to walk through the city, baring my tits and ass, and you have the balls to say 'fair and decent?'" He looked up at me, completely unfazed. His reply was calm. "A simple task, for what you'd be receiving." His unshakable cool caught me off guard, and I faltered. He smiled yet again and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a phone, and on its screen was what appeared to be a contract. He then pulled out a stylus and held it out to me.

"You have two options. You can toss that pen at me and storm away, or you can sign that page, play my game, and earn yourself ten thousand dollars. What will you do?"

I was at a loss. I began numbly scrolling through the contract. Run naked through the city? Ten thousand dollars? I could barely read with all the thoughts swimming through my head. But what I could read, though, seemed legit. The contract guaranteed that if I went through with this perverted game, I would get 10 grand. As much as I hated the idea (and believe me, I hated the idea) I needed that cash. I snatched the stylus from Richardson, and signed my name.

Sophie McAlister

Richardson beamed as he pocketed the phone and stylus. "Excellent! Now, let's get started." He slid to the edge of his booth, retrieving his cane and awful hat. He opened the diner door for me, then ushered me towards a black SUV, with fully tinted windows. A blonde man in a black suit and sunglasses stood by the car and opened the side door as I approached. Guess I wouldn't be sitting up front. I climbed into the SUV, then turned toward Mr. Richardson as he asked me a question from the street. "Forgive me for doing this out of order, but what is your name, miss?" "It's Sophie," I replied.

"Well, Sophie," he chuckled once more, "welcome to the Skin Games." He smiled at me as a heavy bag was thrown over my head from behind.

(Summary: Sophie needs cash and is approached by Mr. Richardson with a game: Get blindfolded and taken somewhere random in the city (or its countryside,) take off the blindfold and all your clothes (shoes allowed,) make it from point A to point B, and stand in the spot where a picture was taken. Sophie agrees to the rules, now where is she taken?)