The Tutor (COMPLETE 6/7)

[david1877]

Silent (non-native english) reader normally, but I've created an account for this, because this is the best ENF story I've read so far.

I love the rather slow pace and setup, i hope there will be more or maybe some new dares, like streaking or something like that.

On the other hand, there are enough dares left for Tara and I can't wait to find out whats next.

Great Job.

[HankHill33]

Absolutely LOVED the latest addition!!! Poor Tara. But, no pun intended, I wonder if Tara would be open to maybe trying to get Fred into her panties on a probability wager. Just to loose and be hung up by some of her panties.

[Fred Key]

Tara’s been known to surprise…but what really makes a competitive person step up?

[HankHill33]

Tara’s been known to surprise…but what really makes a competitive person step up?

Well, I’m sure some of the softball team might be a help to having her step up to the plate. Hehe

[Fred Key]

Thank you to all the kind folks who have replied with comments and who have liked the piece. I have started working on a more pure ENF story, but this one isn't finished yet, so...

The Tutor, continued:

A week passed after that unbelievable night, and it passed, to be honest, with a great deal of nervousness on my part. After all that had happened, I began to wonder how I could have thought I would possibly keep my job as Tara's tutor. Surely, even if Tara had cleaned everything up before her parents got home, she would decide that what had transpired between us was a little too weird for comfort. I expected her to catch me in the halls of the school and publicly accuse me of trying to manipulate her, or start spreading rumors that I was some kind of sick freak.

Again, to be totally honest, I really didn't know how I felt about what had happened. I mean, of course I was still riding on air over the incredible opportunity I had been given, and the image of Tara's messy wedgie was flashing through my mind at least three or four times an hour. I could still see the slow rise of the seat of her cotton, flowery panties, still envision them disappearing in between those amazing cheeks, replaced by a thin coat of marinara sauce that trailed behind them. I could still hear her outraged squeals, and could still feel the cool cotton against my fingertips. The memories were overwhelming.What I mean is that I wasn't sure how I felt about being so overwhelmed in so odd a way. I had never considered myself a fetishist, but it was clear to me that there was something indescribably erotic about what I had done, something that I couldn't explain, but that was absolutely real. Did that make me a freak? I didn't think so. But it certainly made me unusual, didn't it?

I was quietly working myself into a state of panic about my deviance when, about halfway through the day, I saw Tara. Up until then, I had been able to avoid her, dodging around corners or into bathrooms when I saw her coming, but this time I was too late. I had been distracted by a conversation I was having with one of my friends, and when I turned to head for my next class, she was already standing there.

"Hi, Fred! How's it going?"

"Uh..ok. How about you?" I stammered in reply

."Listen, I've been having some trouble with my math again, and I could really use some help. Are you free on Thursday night?"

Was this some kind of trick? I looked around, trying to spot someone with a camera or hanging around, waiting to spring the joke.

"Fred? Are you looking for someone? We could talk later," Tara asked, looking perfectly serious. She had her planner out, and was leafing through it. "Or if Thursday night isn't good, I have practice Friday, but Saturday afternoon would work."

I was reeling inside. She wasn't kidding. She still wanted me to tutor her. She didn't think I was a freak! She was still staring at me, and I realized I hadn't said anything yet. I fumbled in my backpack, looking for my planner, trying to buy enough time to calm down. I knew if I tried to talk, I'd squeak like a 5 year old. There! I pulled the book out and flipped it open."I don't..oh, I have to be at the library for a project Thursday night. I guess Saturday is best?"

"OK," Tara said brightly. "That might work better for me, too. What time? 3:00?"

"Three is good," I replied, penciling it in. "Math review. See you then."

"See you!" And away she bounced, ponytail bobbing down the hall.

For the next four days, I split most of my free time between reliving the last evening I spent with Tara and trying to decide how to handle myself on Saturday. Should I pretend that the last meeting hadn't happened, and go back to working problems? What was she expecting? What was I expecting? I found it hard to concentrate, to say the least. I found myself drifting off in class, thinking about Tara. Could I bring up the game again somehow? What other math "demonstrations" could I come up with? In my notebook, I sketched out ideas, all of which seemed ridiculous when considered rationally, but the fantasies wouldn't go away.

Not that I wanted them to.

Saturday arrived. It was a pleasant day, warm and sunny, and I spent the morning outside working in the yard, trying to burn off some nervous energy. The hours felt like they were extended versions of those moments when you are in a car crash, or you see something falling, and you feel time slow down around you. It took a Herculean effort to restrain myself, but despite wanting to leave for Tara's an hour early, I managed to get there only a few minutes before three o'clock.

Ok, to be honest, I got there fifteen minutes early, looked at the clock on the car's dashboard, drove past Tara's house, and circled the neighborhood for another ten minutes. I'm surprised, actually, that the neighbors didn't call the police to report a car circling suspiciously.

I knocked on the front door, and a few moments later, Tara opened it. "Hi, Fred! Come on in," she said, "I was just reviewing my notes." She led me through to the kitchen, which looked as spotless as usual. No signs of last week's mess remained on the pristine white linoleum; Tara must have really scrubbed, I thought, to get all that up so cleanly.She must have caught my glance, because she smiled and said, "Yeah, I got the floor clean. I didn't think it would ever come up at first, but a little cleanser got rid of the spaghetti sauce stain. Well, most of it, anyway," she said ruefully. "I ran laundry twice, and it still didn't come completely clean."

I managed a weak smile, wondering how I was supposed to answer. She didn't sound upset, but I still wasn't eager to go probing so directly into her feelings about last week. "So, what would you like to review today, Tara?"

The blonde flipped through her notes, looking them over. She pulled out a sheet of paper with a few red marks. "Did I tell you I got an 83 on my probability quiz, Fred?" She passed the paper over to me proudly; indeed, she had done quite well, I saw. Tara had run through the easy questions with no difficulty, and answered the majority of the harder ones correctly. It looked like the only problem she had was that….

"I ran out of time," she said, watching my reaction. I just couldn't get to all the questions. But I got the ones I did get to try correct!"

"That's great, Tara!" I said, with genuine pleasure in my voice. When someone I'm tutoring improves, it makes me look good, too. "It sounds like you've got the hang of it."

"Yeah. If I was just a little faster, I would have gotten an A, though."

"Don't beat yourself up," I replied. "A B is above average. That's still darn good for someone who was struggling before. You ought to be proud of yourself."

"Well, you did help a little, too," she said, grinning. "Even if it was in an–unusual--way."

"Yes, well," I said, looking away and feeling myself turn bright red, "sometimes you just have to take a different approach to things."

"No, I'm glad you did," Tara said, much to my surprise. "I think it really made a difference--I was paying a lot more attention than in my math class, because I had more at stake, and it paid off. In fact, that's partly why I was glad you could come today."

"Excuse me?" I said, not sure I had understood her. She invited me back BECAUSE of last session? This was, in my mind, about as bizarre a turn of events as I could imagine. Or at least it was before her next sentence. As taken aback as I was by Tara's apparent lack of embarrassment at our previous session's odd methods, what she said next was light-years beyond in terms of shocking me.

"I was talking with one of my teammates," she said. Now it was apparently her turn to be embarrassed, as she was no longer looking at me, instead concentrating on her shoes. I could see the tips of her ears turning pink, and assumed the rest of her now-obscured face was doing the same. "When we got back the quizzes, I did so much better than she did, and she asked how I had studied, and I told her you were tutoring me, and, well, one thing kind of led to another, and I..um.. sort of told her about how you had made the stuff make sense to me."

"You told her about what happened?" I said, incredulously.

"No, not exactly," Tara replied quickly. "I..I just told her you showed me how probability worked in a way other teachers couldn't, and that it worked really well for me. And, well,I don't know how you feel about this, but….you know, she asked me if you could tutor her, too. We've got another quiz next Monday, and we both need to ace it! I kind of thought I could call her once you were here and invite her over for a joint session--I mean, if you think that would be all right? It would really help her out, and I could use the extra practice to improve my speed."

I was glad I was sitting down. "Tara, what exactly are you suggesting?" It was pretty clear, I thought, but too impossible to be believed without having it confirmed by Tara herself. This was no territory to make mistakes in.

Tara seemed to take a moment to gather her courage, then answered. "I guess I'm suggesting that we call up Jessica, ask her to come over, and that the three of us play a version of that dice game from last time."

And as my mind collapsed inward into a bubbling mass of goo, I heard myself say, "Oh. Okay."

"Look, if this is going to make you uncomfortable…" she began, a worried look on her face.

"No, it's fine," I managed, although I think my throat was swelling shut at the time. "I mean, if you're sure you want to…" I let the words trail off. What could I say?

Tara got up and went over to the phone and dialed a number. "Hello? Is Jessica there? Thank you!....Jess? It's me. Fred's here, and he says he's ok with tutoring us together if we want to. Can you come over? OK…..yeah, your notebook. Bye!" She turned back to me as she replaced the receiver. "Jess is on her way. She'll be here in a couple minutes--she lives like five minutes from here."

"Great," I said, my head still swimming. Then a thought struck me. "So–if we're going to be drilling like we did last time, Tara, um, I was wondering–um, if we should be working here at your house?"

"Huh?" Tara clearly didn't follow the question. "Why wouldn't we work here?"

"Well, I was just thinking that - um - your parents might interrupt us, and they might not approve of….of the mess?" I finished lamely.

"Oh," Tara smiled, suddenly understanding. "Don't worry about them. I'll have the place clean again before they get back. Not that I intend for it to get dirty this time! And they're gone until late tonight--they've taken Dan over to a TaeKwonDo tournament in Southlake." (Dan, I remembered, was her half-brother, the one I owed a huge debt to for having left his Dungeons & Dragons dice at Tara's house.)

"Good," I said, without thinking. Tara broke into a big smile and slugged me in the shoulder. "Hey," she laughed, "don't get any ideas!"

Too late, I thought. WAY too late.


Fifteen minutes later, Jessica arrived. Now, you may remember my description of Tara from earlier, but let me refresh your memory, because that's the sort of thing a writer needs to do when introducing new characters, and I, for one, have no intention of drawing the irate critiques of readers. Tara was lean and athletic, sandy blond with hair that looked soft but in fact was rather coarse. She had a slightly too angular nose and a perky smile, and her backside was absolutely phenomenal--tight and gently curved. I knew that better than most, as I had actually seen Tara's bare bottom the week before, just before administering what Tara had called "the single most disgusting experience of my life," a messy wedgie involving a bowl of cold pasta with marinara sauce. Last week she had come straight from practice, and had been wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, but today she was in a pink T-shirt and a pair of medium length shorts. Her hair was up in a ponytail again, leaving the back of her neck bare.

Jessica, by contrast, was almost totally different. Where Tara was on the tall side for a girl, her friend was short--barely five foot two, if I had to guess. Her hair was cut short, and was a natural chestnut brown. Her face was what a guy might call "nice." It wasn't the kind that you would stop and stare at, but if you got to know her, you would notice it was far from ugly, even if it didn't stand out as "gorgeous." I knew that she was as competitive as Tara, however, as she had a reputation as one of the more aggressive players on both the softball and the soccer teams. Last year I saw her slide tackle a girl a head taller than her so hard that the girl flew a good foot to one side before landing.

Tara let her friend in, and Jessica, no stranger to the house, dropped her knapsack on the floor by the stairs. "Got anything to drink, Tara?" she asked, plopping down at the table without preamble. "If we're gonna be studying, I need some caffeine. I am totally beat."

"Too much fun last night?" Tara asked in a suggestive tone, eyebrows raised, as she handed her friend a Coke from the fridge.

"Oh, I wish. You know I haven't had a date in months. I thought about going to that party at Steve's last night, but I decided not to, and boy, am I glad. I hear the police busted it up and got four kids for possession. Their parents are gonna shit bricks."

"Morons," I said, inserting myself into the conversation. "So why are you tired then?"

Jessica looked at me for a moment, then turned to Tara. "This is Fred? I thought he was the guy with the glasses from last year's bio class."

"No, that was Mitch. Fred's a grade ahead of us."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said, as I watched Jessica looking me over.

"No disappointment," she said, flashing me a quick smile. "Mitch was fat and all pimples. I wasn't looking forward to an afternoon of math with him."

"I hope I'm an acceptable replacement," I said, smiling back.

"We'll see. Tara says you're quite a tutor. She said you were responsible for her last quiz score."

"I wouldn't say that," I replied hastily. "She did the hard work to prepare for it."

"Don't be so modest, Fred," Tara said, sitting down at the table and sliding me one of the two cans of Coke she had brought over. "You did a great job of making it clear to me."

"So I hear," said Jess. "Tara said you used some unusual methods, too. What sort of methods?"

"You didn't tell her?" I said, looking at Tara with surprise. "I thought she knew."

Tara turned red with remarkable speed. "Well, I started to, but it was kind of hard to explain."

This was awkward. Jessica had no idea what had happened last session? There was no way I was going to be the one to bring it up.

"Tara, I don't know about this. If you haven't told her the way we did things…"

Jess looked at us intently. "What do you mean, how you did things? You tutored her, right? So you didn't just do drill problems or something. What's the big deal?"

I looked at Tara pointedly. After a moment returning my stare, she grimaced and turned to her friend. "Jess, remember when I told you that Fred did things differently?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," she continued, "I meant that he did things really differently. Instead of working problems, we–well, we were gambling. He used betting to try to teach me how odds and probability work."

"Whoa!" Jess replied, sitting back. "Tara, you were betting? That's so totally not you!"

"I know," she said, "but it made sense when we did it."

"So did you win? How much did you take him for?"

Tara hesitated. "Uh...no, I didn't win. I won a few times, but I ended up losing something like $200."

Jessica's mouth fell open. "Two hundred dollars? Holy shit, Tara! How could you lose that much money? That's like my whole paycheck from O'Charley's for a month!"

Now I could tell Tara was embarrassed. She was looking down, and seemed to be playing with her can of Coke instead of either of us. "I know; it was stupid. But I made a deal so I didn't have to pay it off in cash, so it ended up being ok. Mostly."

"What kind of deal?" asked Jessica, curious.Tara was really blushing now, and Jessica’s eyes shot wide. “NO WAY…Tara, you didn’t!”

Both of us looked at Jessica, horrified. “NO! Of course not, Jess! Oh my god, do you really think I’d do that?”

“No, but the look on your face—so explain!” Jessica said insistently, eyeing me like I was a lot less acceptable than Mitch all the sudden.

"Instead of cash, I bet forfeits until I was able to pay the debt. If I won the bet, I got credit for the cash. If I lost, I had to draw a penalty from one of these bowls we had…"

"Bowls?"

"Yeah, just something to hold them in. The more I bet, the bigger the potential payoff, but the worse the potential penalties were."

"What do you mean, ‘worse’ penalties? What did he make you do, Tara?" Jessica laughed, clearly enjoying her friend's embarrassment now that coerced sex was off the table and we were back on safer ground.

"Fred didn't make me do anything. It was my choice. I decided to bet, what to risk, and what kind of penalties were in play, so it was my own stupid mistake. Fred was actually really nice about the whole thing--at least until that last forfeit," she said, shooting me a glare.

"You didn't answer my question. What were these penalties?"

Tara squirmed in her seat. "Well,I had to let him pour a glass of water over my head."

Jessica laughed out loud. "You're embarrassed about THAT? Good grief, Tara, you're an even bigger prude than I thought!"

"I am not!" Tara retorted, though she blushed even more. "And for your information, I had to strip to my underwear, too."

"Hmmm," said Jess, "That's a bit worse, but still no big deal. That’s Truth or Dare level stuff."

"And then there was the wedgie."

"Wedgie? Oh, please." Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Not just a wedgie. A messy wedgie." Jessica looked at her blankly. "It's like a wedgie, but with messy stuff thrown in."

"What? Like he gave you a wedgie and then hit you with a pie or something?" Jessica asked, clearly confused.

"God!" said Tara, "Do I have to explain this to EVERYBODY? He dumped pasta sauce into my panties, then pulled them so high I that I thought I'd never get the marinara out of my butt. It was absolutely disgusting. You can't even imagine."

Before Tara had even finished her sentence, Jess was howling with laughter, her hands covering her mouth. "OHMYGAWD! You have got to be kidding me! Fred, tell me you got a picture of that!"

I shrugged. "Sorry. But it was pretty impressive." I couldn't help chuckling a little at the thought, and even though I could see Tara was trying hard to look very angry, she was having to work to keep from smiling at her friend, who was bright red and gasping for breath at this point.

"All right, Miss Smarty," Tara said, sounding like the world's most prim and proper 13 year old telling off a naughty little sister (did I mention that this girl was ADORABLE? Little things like that make me nuts for her), "you think that was funny? Let's see how YOU do today!"

Still breathing hard, Jessica wiped the tears from her eyes. "How I do? Are you joking?"

I looked at Tara, who suddenly had a very wicked little grin on her face. "Joking? I thought you said you wanted to get tutoring, Jess, and Fred is the best. You saw the results on that quiz. You asked me to see if he'd take you on. Now the only question is, are you still interested?"

And there it was again--that pose, hands on hips, one hip cocked, and a defiant look on that perfect imperfect face. She's just incredible, I thought to myself. Damn straight she is, my self thought right back.

Meanwhile, back in reality, Jessica was explaining to Tara why today wasn't the best day for this. "I mean, tutoring, fine, but I was thinking about practice problems and explanations and that stuff. Risking hundreds of dollars is way out of my league."

"I don't have that much with me today anyway," I said to Tara. It was a lie; I had nearly $400 in my wallet in tens and twenties, secretly hoping for a repeat of the previous lesson, though I had thought it an impossibility. Now I was looking at a chance to play forfeits with two seriously attractive girls! Tara was clearly on board; all I needed was a way to convince Jessica. And I had an idea.

It was Tara's idea, really; I just caught on quickly. She was playing on her teammate's pride and competitiveness, the same way I had played on hers at our last session. I knew Tara was smart, but I was impressed with how quickly she had learned all the same."Okay, you don't want to risk money?
Tara said, “That's fine; I don't have any either. But is it the money or the risk you're really afraid of? You're such a big shot making fun of me and telling me I'm a prude, but put a little bit of embarrassment on the table and it's you who starts making excuses." Tara twisted the knife a little harder, seeing Jess was wavering. "Well, if you're too worried to join us, I hope you won't mind leaving. I still want my lesson from Fred, and we need to get started. Maybe you'll work up the nerve some other time."

"I didn't say I was afraid of anything, did I?" Jessica replied angrily. "I said I didn't want to risk money on a math lesson."

"Well, then," I interrupted, seeing a window of opportunity, "I think I have an idea that will let me tutor you without any need to place bets."

"Really?" Tara asked. "Then you're in, aren't you, Jessica? Since the money was the problem, not the risk?"

Jessica was boxed in, and she knew it. "I'm in," she answered, almost hiding the nervousness in her voice, but not quite. "What's your idea?"

"Tara," I asked, "do you have a Monopoly set?"

"Sure. I'll get it." She dashed off, leaving me with Jessica for a moment. She was playing with her shoelace, and refused to look at me.

"Here you go," the blond girl said, returning to the room with the box. "What's it for?"

"You two are going to play a game of poker with monopoly money. It's the perfect way to teach probability. But we'll change the rules a little bit for our game." I turned back to Tara. "You don't still have those bowls of forfeits we made, do you?"

Tara smiled, turned to the drawer behind her, and pulled them out. "I kept them, just in case."

Jessica was looking very nervous again. "How are you going to change the rules? And what are those?"

"The bowls each have slips of paper in them, and each slip has a penalty. The first bowl has easy penalties, things that are no big deal. The middle bowl has medium penalties, which are a little bit bigger."

"Like having to strip to your underwear," Tara said. "They're plenty embarrassing, trust me."

"The third bowl," I continued, "has the hard penalties in it. Those are the big ones. Tara only had to pick one of those last time, but as you saw, she remembers it pretty clearly."

Tara's hands went to her backside reflexively. "Oh, yes. I remember."

Jessica turned to me again. "How do you know which bowl to choose from?" she asked.

"That's where the rules come in. You two will play the game, but as it progresses, you'll be playing for stakes other than money. Whenever one player runs out of money, they'll buy more by drawing from the forfeit bowl. The first time you run out, you pick a medium forfeit, and the second time, a hard forfeit. Your hands will also matter--sometimes we'll be playing stud poker, so occasionally I'll have you bet on the next card to turn up. And if you are the big loser--you run out of money three times--you have to roll a die. Whatever number that comes up is the number of hard penalties you'll draw since you lost."

Jessica, who didn't know much about what was in that bowl, didn't react to this, but Tara definitely turned two shades paler. This was going to be a serious game!

"But how is this going to teach us probability?" asked Jessica. "It sounds like an excuse to make us draw forfeits to me."

I turned to Tara. "Tara, here's your first test. Miss this question and you draw an easy forfeit." Tara started to protest, but I cut her off, "No complaining! You've had a full week to review, and besides, you were bragging about how well you did on the quiz. Explain to Jessica why this is a good way to teach probability."

"Uh--", Tara paused for a moment, "Well, first, it has random cards involved, so there must be odds involved, right?"

"Right so far. Go on. Where do the odds fit in?"

"Oh! With the hands. Like there's a specific chance of getting any hand on a draw."

"Well, yeah; there's 52 cards, so there's a 1 in 52 chance of getting any hand, right?" Jessica interrupted.

"No! That's not right," Tara replied. "If you have five cards, you have to multiply out to get the probability of getting any specific five, right, Fred?"

"Actually, no. You're closer, but you're still not thinking through the problem."

"What did I miss?" Tara asked grumpily.

"Think about it. How do you get a pair of twos?"

"You draw two twos," replied Jessica.

"Right. And what's the chance of drawing a two?"

"One in 52?" Jessica said.

"No," I said, "Try again."

Jessica looked at me, her head tilted to the side. "What other chance could there be? There are 52 cards." She waved her hand as if to say, that's all, right?

I waited.Jessica sat there, looking baffled, but Tara was quickly there with the answer. "There's a 4 in 52 chance. There are 4 twos in the deck."

"Good! That's right. And what are the odds of drawing a second 2, Tara?"

"Oh, crap!" Tara said under her breath, calculating furiously. "There's a 4 in 52 chance to draw one, so there must be another 3 in 52 chance of drawing the second two, so that's…"

"Wrong," I said, and pointed to the easy bowl.

"What do you mean, wrong? There's a pattern!" Tara said disbelievingly. "Each time has one fewer combination, and there are 52 cards...."

I shook my head. "There WERE 52 cards. Now there are 51, because…"
"...One was taken out," she finished disappointedly. "I forgot. And we went over it in class, too."

"You have to take your time, Tara, or you'll make silly mistakes. Didn't I warn you about that? Now I think you need a little reminder to be more careful." Again, I pointed to the easy bowl.

"Come on, Fred...is that really necessary? I'm going to be drawing soon enough," Tara said, flashing me one of her cute smiles. I was certain by now that she knew what an effect they had on me.

"If you keep forgetting basics, you'll be drawing many times. Quit stalling."

The smile quickly vanished. Reluctantly, the lithe girl pulled a slip from the easy bowl and handed it to me. I unfolded it, glancing at Jessica as I did. She was watching with interest, intrigued to see what would happen to her friend. I looked at the slip, then handed it to Jessica, who read it and laughed. "That's awesome! Can I do it, Fred?"

"Knock yourself out," I said, smiling.

"Do what?" Tara said impatiently. "Would someone please tell me what I drew?"

I read the slip aloud. WRITE "LOSER" ON FOREHEAD IN BIG LETTERS.

Jessica had already dived into her backpack and produced an orange highlighter. "Hold still, Loser girl," she said with a huge grin. She held Tara by the chin and drew out the word in two-inch letters. The bright orange stood out against her pale skin. When Jessica was done, she handed Tara a make-up mirror from the backpack. The blond rolled her eyes at her reflection. "Oh, that's real mature, guys."

Jess just laughed. "I think I like this game."

"Wait until it’s YOUR turn," Tara retorted. "Then we'll see if you like it."

"Ok, so let's play some poker, ladies!"

[Shagmaster5]

Can we expect a new chapter soon?

[Fred Key]

As soon as I can edit. I don’t want to have a bunch of random control characters popping up in the post, which is happening when I try to work on a mobile. But I’m glad you want more—it always encourages continuing.

[student]

There's tension caused by the unknown--and uncontrollable. It's the mathematical equivalent of a roller coaster. In this case, the coaster is a dark ride with loops and figure eights. Throw in competition against another person. The emotional roller coaster is created by humiliation.

I enjoyed this story. Thank you.

[rtnd26]

Great chapter! I really enjoyed the first parts too, but I thought it was a terrible way to teach probability when he's encouraging her to misjudge the odds

Looking forward to the next chapter!

[Fred Key]

Patient people, rejoice! The good stuff has arrived.

I gave each $100 in fives and tens, and dealt each five cards.The first few hands were uneventful. Neither girl was a particularly experienced poker player, and both were fairly nervous, so the bets were small at first. Slowly, however, as the two gained confidence, the bets grew. Jess won $25 with two pair, but Tara got $15 back the next hand with an ace high.

I was getting bored, and decided to force our first bet."Okay, new hand." I flipped one card to each of them, face up, and slid each one card face down. "First bet is to Tara."

Tara looked at her hole card, and at the 9 of spades face up on the table. "I'll pass."

"Jess?" The brunette passed as well. I flipped two more cards, one to each. Now Tara had a 9 of spades and a 5 of spades, and Jessica had a jack of hearts and a 3 of clubs showing.Both girls passed again. Apparently no one had a pair yet.

I decided to raise the stakes. "OK, this is for an easy penalty. Tara, it's your bet, so you choose first. Will the two cards I'm about to turn up both be even or odd, or will they split? Jess gets the option you don't take. Wrong answer draws the penalty."

Tara pondered the cards on the table. "Four odd cards showing. Let's see--13 cards in each suit, seven odd, six even. 52 cards, 28 possible odd cards, 24 left. 24 even cards left, too. So the chance of drawing one of each should be about even with the chance of drawing two odds or two evens. I guess I'll take the split."

"OK, Jess, you have both cards the same'." I turned over the two cards, a four for Jessica and an 8 for Tara. "Both even, Tara. You lose."

"Don't rub it in," she said. She reluctantly pulled a slip from the easy bowl and unfolded it. TWENTY PUSH-UPS was printed on it.

"Drop and give me twenty," Jess crowed, pointing to the floor. "Get going!"

Tara shot her a look, then lowered herself to the floor and began counting off the push-ups. "18…19…20." She was finished in under a minute, but it was still enough time for me to imprint the image of her tightly clenched buttocks rippling under her shorts on my mind. She sat down once again, but this time picked up ten dollars and dropped it into the pot. "I bet $10."

Jessica considered, then threw her $10 into the pot. "I call." I dealt the last cards face up. Jessica now had a pair of jacks, a 3, and a 4 showing. Tara had a 9, 5, 8 and queen. I didn't know what hole cards they held, but both seemed confident as we went to the final bets.

"I bet another $10," Tara said, laying the money into the pot.

Jessica looked at Tara's visible cards, then at her own hand, smiling. "I'll raise you $10 more." The pot was now up to fifty dollars, but Tara calmly added another $25 and looked at Jessica, as if daring her to match the bet.

A quick glance at Jess' cash reserve showed a very small stack remaining. She put the last $25 into the pot, then asked for a new $100 from the bank. "I don't have to take anything unless I lose, right?"

"That's right. But if you do, you have to draw an easy forfeit," I replied.

"Got it," said Jess. "I raise again, another $10."

Now it was Tara's turn to look carefully. Jessica's cards showed only one pair, but her bets suggested she had something more. Still, she thought, the best Jess can have is three of a kind.

"I call," the blonde replied, dropping another $10 into the pile in the center of the table.

Jessica turned over her hole card, which was a third jack. "Three of a kind," she said with a wide smile.

Tara's grin was even wider, though. She flipped over the ace of spades. "Flush!" She raked the pot over to herself. "Well, Jessica, it looks like it's time for you to learn what this game is all about. Forfeit time!" she squealed happily.

Jessica reached into the easy bowl, and pulled a slip out. She unfolded it and read it aloud to the two of us. GET SPLASHED IN THE FACE WITH A GLASS OF WATER.Tara was already up and headed for the sink before Jess had finished reading the slip. She came trotting back with a tall glass brimming with water. "Can I have the honors this time, Fred?" she asked sweetly.

"Knock yourself out!" I smiled. Jess closed her eyes tightly as Tara turned. With a quick snap of her wrist, she dashed the water into her face. Although it was quite a bit of water, most of it ended up on the floor behind Jessica; even so, the brunette gasped, water running down her face.

"You SUCK!" she said to Tara, who was now laughing at her damp friend. I reached behind me and grabbed the towel that was sitting folded on the counter (I guess Tara had planned ahead!) and handed it to Jess, who wiped herself dry. "I am SO going to get you for that!"

"We'll see," Tara said mockingly. "Right now you're the one who spent her first hundred. Another few hands and you'll be picking a medium penalty, and then we'll see who's going to get it."

"I'm not going to lose any more hands," retorted her friend, "so you better worry about your own penalties."

"Sounds like a challenge to me," I interrupted. "Each of you says that the other will be the next person to draw. Care to bet on that?"

"What are the stakes?" Tara asked.

"Whoever draws next gets a penalty upgrade--whatever bowl she would draw from, she has to draw from the next bowl up."

"No way!" objected Jess. "If Tara loses, she only would have to take a medium penalty, but if I lose, I have to take a hard one! Those aren't equal stakes!"

"That's true, Tara," I said. "What would you do to balance it out? Consider this another problem to solve. If you can't come up with what I think is a fair solution, you draw from the easy bowl again."

"Oh, that is NOT fair!" Tara sulked. "Fine. How about if I lose, I have to draw two mediums to your one hard, Jess?"

Jessica shook her head. "After what you told me about hard penalties, I still don't think that's enough. What if the loser just takes a hard penalty?"

This time it was Tara who rejected the proposal. "Uh-uh. You're behind in the game, so I should get some advantage. It wouldn't be fair if I didn't get to keep my advantage, since I won it fair and square."

The two sat and thought for a moment, then Tara spoke again. "What would satisfy you as a stake from me?"

Jessica narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow, which was pretty cute. Then that wicked look was back. "Tell you what–I'll put up TWO hard penalties as my bet."

"Jess, do you know what you're getting into here?" Tara asked, confused.

"I know, all right. I'll draw twice from your hard bowl IF you'll risk that famous Tara modesty of yours. If I win, you've got to pop your top for Fred here."

There are times when even the dumbest man on earth would know to keep his mouth shut. I'm not dumb. I kept my mouth shut. "WHAT?" said Tara, disbelieving.

"You heard me. It'll probably kill you just to take off your shirt, but if I win, you take off the shirt AND the bra, and give Fred a good look at you. Fred, I promise you that you'll be the first guy to ever see what's under there," Jessica said, turning to me. "Tara's hardly even been on a date, let alone risking holding hands."

"That's not true, and you know it," Tara shouted, blushing angrily.

"What was it you said to me earlier?" Jess said sweetly, "Something like put up or shut up, I think?"

"Two hard penalties for you against my shirt and bra? Fine. It's a bet," Tara snapped.

My life had just reached a new pinnacle. Either Jessica was going to draw two nasty punishments, or Tara was going to actually undress in front of me! I could hardly contain my excitement as I dealt the cards. “Ok, ladies - big stakes now, so we’re going to move to 5 card draw. No cards visible.”

Slowly, money changed hands as first Jessica, then Tara hit winning streaks. Tara's cash pile was larger than Jessica's, but not by terribly much. One serious hand could take it all.

Finally, a pause in the bidding occurred. Tara was trying to decide how many cards to take, two or three, and Jess was waiting her turn. I looked at the pot; it seemed like there was about $30 in already.I watched Tara closely. She was ostensibly looking at her cards and thinking, but I caught her eyes flicking up to watch Jess every second or two. She was trying to pick up some sort of clue as to Jessica's hand. Meanwhile, Jess was getting impatient. "Come on, Tara–how many cards do you want?"

Tara placed two cards on the table face down. I dealt her two new ones, watching her closely as she looked at them, but I couldn't tell if they helped her or not. Jess had quickly passed me three cards, and I handed her three replacements. She took one look, then grinned.

Tara bet $5, and Jessica called and raised her bet another $10. It was clear she had something good, but what did Tara have? The blonde seemed confident enough, because she asked for a new $100, knowing that if she lost the hand, that meant she lost the bet. She calmly raised the bet another $5, but if she had hoped to scare Jessica into folding, it didn't work. Jess raised another $10 instead, taking $100 to cover her bet and making this hand the one that would decide the bet. Finally, Tara called, the pot having swollen to upwards of $100. Both players wore a smile as they looked at one another."Three sevens!" said Jess, dropping the trio on the table. The other two cards were a 4 and a queen. She looked up expectantly.

Tara's face said it all. She put down her three sixes and the two junk cards with them. "Yes!" shouted Jessica, pumping her fist into the air. She raked in the pot, nearly $200, and started to sort it out.This changed the character of the game significantly. While Jessica was now down to her last $100 withdrawal from my "bank", she now had a large cash stockpile. Tara still had two withdrawals available to her, of course, but it looked like Jess now had more cash overall to work with.

By the way, did I mention I was going to see Tara topless?

You know how time just sort of slows down when you're in a car wreck? Everything goes into slow motion? Your brain works, but your body seems stuck? Well, that was nothing compared to the overload I was having at the moment. Not in my wildest dreams--no, that's a lie. Some of my wildest dreams involved a lot more than Tara taking her top off. But there's no way I would have believed this would happen in real life. Not today. Not now. If the house was on fire, I don't think I could have moved. I certainly couldn't talk.I didn't have to, though.

Jessica, having piled her winnings neatly, was now clapping loudly. "Let's go, Tara! Take ‘em off, baby!" She wolf-whistled at the blonde teen, who was still sitting there looking crestfallen. "Who's sorry now, loser?" Tara seemed on the verge of tears, but somehow she mustered up the courage to stand up. She turned away from us, but Jess quickly objected. "No way! You've got to strip in front of us--that was the deal. I want to see your face when you show Fred what you've been hiding under there."

Reluctantly, Tara turned back around. Her eyes were now brimming, but she quickly set her face with a look of steely resolve. I thought she would stare off into space or close her eyes, but she didn't. She looked directly at me. It wasn't an angry stare, though--more like she wanted to prove something to me. Her hands went to the hem of her pink T-shirt and she grasped it. With a swift motion, she shucked the shirt off over her head, but to me, it seemed like an hour as the fabric rose, revealing a flat belly, then just the bottom of a plain white bra. Up the shirt rose, and now I could see Tara's breasts snugly held by the undergarment, bare chest gleaming white under the fluorescent glow of the kitchen lights. Then she was free of the shirt, shaking her hair out as the ponytail pulled free of the neck of the clothing. She was still looking straight at me. I can't describe to you how beautiful she was. The defiant look on her face made her even more spectacular.

Jess clearly wasn't seeing the expression on her friend's face, or she just didn't care. Either way, she was doing her best to humiliate Tara. "Look at those hooters!" she said, faking astonishment. "Never before seen by man or beast, Fred. That's virgin territory you're discovering!" She laughed at her own joke.

I kind of wanted to slap her. What had Tara ever done to her to deserve this? I guess competitive athletes really are a different sort, and trash talk is trash talk.

"OK, Tara, time to take that bra off," Jess continued. "You don't want to keep your audience waiting, do you? Would you like a drumroll?"

Tara continued to ignore Jess, although she was blushing bright red now. She stood there motionless for a moment or two, and I thought for a second that she might quit, throw me out, and find a way to get Jess to keep quiet about the whole thing. Jess wasn't having any of it, however. "You told me to put my money where my mouth was, Tara. Your turn to step up now. Lose the bra!"

Tara's hands went behind her back to the clasp. I saw her fumbling for a moment, and then she was bringing them forward again, the straps now hanging loosely on the tops of her milk-white shoulders. As her hands came back around to the front of her body, she dropped her shoulders. The small piece of white fabric slid down her arms, and fell to the ground. And just like that, Tara was standing in front of me, naked from the waist up. She placed her hands to her sides, and in a dangerously low voice, said "Is that good enough for you, Jessica?"

I know you want to know what Tara's breasts looked like, but honestly, I've never figured out how to describe that sort of thing. I mean, it isn't as if I haven't seen a nice pair since, but there are only so many words that one can use to paint this particular picture. I don't know what her chest size was, nor would I want to guess, but from my limited experience, she seemed to have average sized breasts. Like the rest of her body, they looked firm, not particularly bouncy. Each was about the size of an apple, and the creamy skin was tipped on each by a small aureole, perhaps a bit bigger than a quarter, of a dull rose color. Her nipples didn't stick out particularly. I saw that freckles really do appear just about everywhere on a girl with freckles.

Even now, as I read over the description I just wrote, I can't for the life of me figure how to communicate to you how incredibly beautiful Tara is. You can't put it into words. The gentle curve of a breast, the flow of hair on a bare shoulder, the modest blush, the tapering waist--alone, they are beauty, but taken as a whole, the result is overwhelming. Even the tear that rolled down her cheek did nothing to detract from her radiance.

Then it hit me. Tara was crying. She was standing there, looking straight at me, trying to show nothing in front of Jess, who was cheering "Go, Tara!" over and over again, but she was crying. I hadn't seen her date before, and I knew that she wasn't the type to have gotten wild at a party or something, but I hadn't realized how big a thing this was to her. I was the first guy to ever see her even slightly undressed, and now, less than a week later, I was the first guy to see her breasts. Not voluntarily, but because she had lost a bet.

I couldn't imagine how she felt. There was nothing I could say that would change that.I looked back at her, and I willed my face to communicate everything I wanted to say to her, everything I had ever wanted to say. I mouthed the words "You're beautiful" to her. And I swear to you that, despite the tears, her face collapsed into a weak smile.

"I think that's enough," I said. "Tara paid off her bet. She can put her clothes back on." With a grateful look, Tara dropped to her knee, grabbed her bra, and quickly put it back on, then drew her T-shirt over her head.

Jess smirked. "Wow, I didn't think you had it in you, Tara. But aren't you forgetting something?"

"Forgetting something?"

"Yeah. You didn't just lose the bet. You also cashed in your first hundred. You owe an easy draw."