King and Queen

A wonderful aroma of cinnamon apples filled the air. Clarissa patiently waited for her husband to return home. 

The door flew open as the winter winds took hold of it. Greg pushed against it to seal it shut then stomped his feet, ridding himself of the wet snow. 

“Sorry, I’m late…again.” 

“I understand. You’re a busy man who works so hard for us. That’s why I wanted to surprise you with a special game night.” Clarissa showcased the dimly-lit dining room with her arms.  

“A game night?”  

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. I bought your favorite drink.” 

Greg saw the Jack Daniels bottle sitting next to two cans of Coke and a tall glass of ice. 

“I suppose we can play a round or two.” 

“Good, because I want to add a twist,” she said flirtatiously. 

Greg sauntered towards his wife with a slimy smile plastered on his face. “Oh? What kind of twist are you thinking?” He lifted her shirt slightly with his fingertips, then gently squeezed her bare-skinned hips.

Clarissa backed away, shaking her finger to and fro. “Nuh-uh. Not yet, mister. You have to win in order for my clothes to come off.” 

Greg dropped his briefcase. His coat fell when attempting to hang it up, distracted by his playful wife. 

“Sounds like a good evening.” 

Greg fixed his drink, took a sip to check his ratios, then sat down. Clarissa sat across from him. She took a sip from her drink of choice, a dirty martini with a little plastic sword that held two olives. 

“You know the rules, right? The loser of the round takes off a piece of clothing. Since we’re betting our clothes, I didn’t feel the need to bring out the poker chips. Is that alright with you?” 

Greg took another sip of his drink. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Be prepared to get naked.”  

Clarissa smiled and shook her head at him, then dealt the cards. 

The two fanned out the cards in their hands and organized them. 

“How many do you want, good sir?” Clarissa said in her botched British accent. 

Greg gritted his teeth and cringed his neck at her poor attempt. “I’ll take two.” 

“Alright.” She took two from the top of the deck and exchanged those for the ones that he was discarding. “I’m going to take four.” 

Greg busted out a laugh. “Already having some bad luck over there?” 

“I’m not telling.” She breasted her cards and playfully glared at him. 

“Well, you’ll have to soon.” He fanned out his hand. “An ace, jack, seven, five, and two of hearts. That is a flush, I believe.” 

“Sounds right. My turn.” Clarissa shared her measly three-of-a-kind of sixes. “I guess I lose that round, right?” 

“That’s correct, darlin’—off goes the shirt.” 

Clarissa looked down at her buttoned shirt. She pulled at it, popping off the top button, then the next…then the next. Lifting her gaze slightly, she saw Greg’s face turn the color of the freshly fallen snow that lay just outside their walls. 

“Anything the matter?”  

“Fine…” He took a couple big gulps of his drink. “Really, I’m fine. Let’s keep playing.”  

“Are you sure?”  

“Yes.” 

Greg gathered his cards and pushed them over to his wife to shuffle and deal again. 

As she dealt out the second round, she asked, “So, what do you think?” 

Greg was drinking his drink again. He could hear his heart speeding up. Beads of sweat began to form at his hairline.  

“About what?” He shakenly placed his drink down. 

“My new brazier.” Clarissa modeled her deep burgundy lace bra by cupping her breasts with her hands and easing them down her hourglass figure. It was low cut, and it presented her breasts perfectly. 

“It looks great on you,” he choked out. Greg took another sip then cleared his throat. “I’ll take two cards, again.” 

“Ah, yes. Your favorite number isn’t it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You seem to like that number. Two cards, two women, two lives…”  Greg struggled to swallow, but finally did and rushed to freshen his drink with more Jack Daniels, this time withholding the Coke. 

“I’m going to take just one this time. I seem to have the upper hand this round.” She raised her glass as if for a “cheers”, then took a sip. “Let’s see what you have.” 

Clarissa looked across the table to see Greg sweating through his shirt and breathing heavily.  

He pulled at his collar, then tossed his cards on the table. 

“See, there’s your favorite number again. Unfortunately, your two pairs of twos and fives are no match for my full house. Ironic, isn’t it? Kings and queens…husbands and wives. But one of these kings has two queens. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?” 

Greg jerked his head. He grabbed his arm and winced. Clarissa stood from her chair and ‘cat-walked’ over to him, her olive skewer in hand. He opened his mouth to talk but Clarissa sat in his lap and placed her finger on his lips. 

“No.” She shook her head slowly with a pouty lip. “It isn’t fair for a man to have two women, which is why I killed one of your queens and am now killing the king. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?” 

He mouthed a silent, “No.” 

“Here, let me cool you off with some poisonous ice.” She dragged a cube across his lips. “Did you know that not only can hydrogen cyanide be found online for any old queen to buy, but it has a freezing point of seven degrees Fahrenheit.”

Greg, gasping for air at this point, widened his eyes.

“Oh, and this old thing,” Clarissa puffed up her chest, “I didn’t go out and buy it. It’s the same bra that you gave to your secretary. She’s out in the garage waiting for you. I mean, she’s dead, of course, but you’ll be together shortly…in hell.” 

Greg had stopped breathing in the middle of her sentence.

Clarissa shrugged and ate her two olives from her drink. “I guess I won that round."