Pantsing and Stripping Forums

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The female, nineteen-year-old chess prodigy strode into the room with an aura of confidence. She had quite a presence. Beautiful, with confidence that bordered on arrogance. Eveything about her was polar opposite of the group of eleven college-aged chess players awaiting her arrival. They wore dark academic clothing and sported haircuts suited for mathematicians. Beth was like a beam of feminine energy cutting through their drab environment. Her clothing was trendy and looked like she could audition for American Bandstand as a background dancer on the enormously popular television show.

Her outfit was daring, particularly given she was the only female present in the private meeting space. She was wearing a cute patterned skirt with floral greens and blues with a hem at mid thigh and an off-white buttoned blouse that cinched around her waistline offering a peek of her torso with any slight movement. Her legs were bare, shapely and proportionately long for her height. Her entrance brought with it the feminine sounds of sensible dark heels clicking on the hardwood flooring. Her hair was short, cut in a style that was common among professional women in Manhattan offices. Her natural, fiery red hair and her inquisitive wide eyes took on the look of an unlikely challenger.

The chess club on the campus of Wentworth Academy was home to a select group of young men. Their private meeting space was off-campus above an old furniture store and was used solely for all things dedicated to chess. It was part library with a bookcase full of dog-eared copies of manuscripts that were standard among enthusiasts worldwide. Diagrams and notebook pages were tacked on the walls with hand-scrawled puzzles and challenges for their rivals to solve. A single card table was arranged conspicuously in the center of the room with their premium wooden chess set arranged with precision.

It had been nearly a month since their challenge had been made. It began one rainy afternoon as the boys gathered listening to their idol, Beth Harmon, on a radio talk show. Beth was asked a series of questions about her chess career. The host was reasonably well-prepared and knew the game's essentials. He asked Beth how males reacted to being defeated by a woman. She laughed and explained that her favorite opponents were wealthy college boys who think they've mastered the game because they play within their own campus. I haven't met a college player capable of beating me. She remarked casually. The young men nearly fell off their chairs!

The president of the club, Mitch Ferris could not contain his laughter as he pitched the idea of using her overconfidence against her! Newspaper articles about Miss Harmon sometimes noted her obsessive, somewhat imbalanced behavior. Reports of her outburts in public and struggles with alcohol tainted her reputation and limited her income from endorsements and public appearances. She was, at times, quite the trainwreck. By all accounts, Beth Harmon was a mess financially, broke. The Wentworth Chess Club, on the other hand, had support from wealthy sponsors and raised funds through dinners and live events. As a result, the club had managed to accure an impressive savings account.

It was an impulsive letter- a product of male testosterone and lots of laugher in the room. Yet, the typewriter clacked away as the boys composed their crude, immature challenge.

"The Chess Club of Wentworth Academy, formally challenge you to a match. Enclosed is a copy of a recent bank statement showing our organization has in excess of $1,000 US dollars in our club's account. These funds shall be wagered in a single match to be played between you and our top player on Sepember 15th at noon at the Wentworth Academy Chess meeting room. This will be a private invitation for you and members of our club only."

"It is my hope that the prize money has enticed you to continue reading, Miss Harmon. However, there is a special clause. A victory for you will earn you the entirety of funds referenced above. Should you lose, and by your estimation there is zero chance this will occur, your loss will be immediately followed with you entertaining the chess club with a tabletop burlesque routine that will end with you fully in the nude. We realize this is an outlandish proposition, and we ask you to pardon our indecent wager, but surely a prodigy of your skill level have nothing to fear as you'll certainly get the last laugh on a room full of college amateurs. Please respond within one week's time to formally accept or decline. (phone number here) We will assume no response to mean that you lack confidence in your skill and lied publicly on the radio show."

Beth stood in the middle of the room as an envelope full of cash was handed to her for inspection. The thick stack of $20 dollar bills was wide. She counted fifty, crisp bills and felt slightly light headed. It was more money than seen in many months. Having counted the prize money, she gave the president of the organization a gentle nod of approval, handed it back and leveled her eyes across the room, scanning for her adversary.

****

The evening Beth returned the chess club's challenge was a surreal moment. Doug covered the mouthpiece and motioned for the crew to gather around. "It's her", he said in an eager hiss. She was speaking, but no one could hear her, except Doug.

"Oh, really?" Doug said in a strangely flirty tone, "You think we should reconsider giving our money away?" The room chuckled. Was it truly her or was someone playing a prank on them?

"Well, Miss Harmon, as much as we appreciate your concern, we spoiled college boys don't scare easily. So, the wager's on if you say so."

The room was dead still. So quiet, in fact, her reply over the telephone was audible. "Then... I accept. See you in two weeks, boys!" she said condescendingly, hanging up.

The room went wild. Whistles and cat calls erupted. But then the young men abruptly realized their wild wager meant that one of them would be facing off with a genius. The odds of beating her were slim.

Billy called in a favor. One of the club's past members was an elite player who was an expatriate in France. Fortunately, Dennis Rencia was visiting family in the United States. He hadn't been active on the chess circuits in years, but he agreed to stop by the club to give a few lessons.

Dennis was now in his late twenties, but smiled brightly as he ascended the stairs to the chess club's meeting area. He'd practically lived here during college. The young men toyed with the notion of disguising Dennis as a college student and claiming him as a club member. But that idea was struck down. The win needed to be fair and legitimate.

Dennis flipped off his coat and clasped his hands. "You aren't going to beat her with a trick move. And, frankly I don't think anyone in here can match her intellect." he said crushing their hopes. "But I've been working on something," he said with a mysterious tone, "I'm a volunteer at a documents restoration society in France. Some of the writings are from over 800 years ago. Among them are a series of dissertations on chess that have never been published or shared. If we have any hope, whatsoever, of seeing if Beth is a natural red-head, it's up to the writings of a Persian King circa 1250 AD."

He opened a series of mysterious pages of handwritten text with the familiar chess grid on it. "This king's theories and moves are unlike anything I've ever seen. Gentlemen, I'm going to teach you seven axioms from this book and we are going to run games around the clock until our match with Miss Harmon."

The moves were foreign, oddly clumsy, yet once understood they created formidable shapes on the board. Pieces defended each other, yet positioned in aggressive ways for counter moves. Everyone could agree on one thing- these moves were wildly unpredictable and unknown. By day three their elected champion was designated. Dean Saunders would be squaring off with the gorgeous young lady. A cheer and toast was made.

*****

Among the group of young men admiring Beth Harmon was Dennis Rencia. While technically a non-member, he wasn't going to miss this match for anything in the world.

Beth took her place at the table. She was not here to socialize. It was hard to tell if she was fearless, or so sure of her skill that the notion of losing and performing a humiliating strip-tease for the room hadn't entered her mind.

This seems interesting. I haven't actually seen the Queen's Gambit on Netflix. But I'm savvy enough with pop-culture to recognize the name and appearance of the main character portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy. So I'm hoping that passing knowledge of the show's existence, a rudimentary understanding of the mechanics of chess, and an appreciation for the female form are all that I'll actually need to enjoy this story.

Dean took his chair opposite Beth and he could not help allowing himself the pleasure of allowing a boyish, giddy smirk from crossing his face at the mere thought of getting the last laugh on his opponent. Dean wasn't their highest ranked player, but he was a master of mixing playing styles and improvising. He was a natural for the Persian system. The club was relying on him to have the best game of his career!

Beth randomly drew "black" and would therefore have a slight disadvantage of moving second. In moments, an awkward hush fell over the room as the game began.

Dean and Beth's opening moves alternated with pawns advancing, followed by the usual procession of secondary pieces darting out from their starting positions. The room was silent observing the young female's moves as well as her facial responses. By the seventh move she looked uncomfortable, perhaps even a bit uncertain. The ancient system was beginning to take shape on the board across from her and Beth could not recognize it as any standard opening. She noted that her opponent held superior positions. It was enough of a concern for her to slow down and pinch her lower lip momentarily between moves, but her eyes remained fixed on the board with a fierce intensity.

The game escalated to a new level as pieces were exchanged. Sacrificed pawns exited the board on both sides, followed by more significant pieces. Through it all, Beth Harmon's expression remained neutral. By all accounts neither player held an advantage, yet. The room was like a wall of male hormones surrounding the young woman. Each move she made was an opportunity for her to potentially make a blunder, or a game winning move. The boys made creepy eye contact with her, of course, but it seemed to have no effect on her concentration.

The middle game was full of minor adjustments and subtle strategy on both sides. Dean was playing the Persian King's axioms brilliantly. It was forcing her to play a reactive game as Dean's white side of the board was advancing control over squares and diagonals.

By move twenty the look on Beth's face changed abruptly. Everyone in the room could see it plainly. No one spoke, everyone held his breath. Dean's Knight moved to a dark square, putting her in check. There was no way to move her King and defend her Queen, so she was forced to make the move and watch her Queen swept from the board with his response move. Her eyes blinked quickly and she took a long swallow from her glass of ice water. She was in grave danger now.

Dean capitalized on the shift in power by slaying her Rook in a trade that she could not afford. She was literally down to a handful of pawns and Knight, while Dean still had a powerful Rook on his side. A surge of boyish excitement could be felt as Beth's King retreated backwards, there were no options left for her. Dean's Rook swept the board systematically as he advanced a pawn to Queen status to punctuate the victory. A beginner could see the game was over. There was no need to play out the final moves.

Beth Harmon had lost! The look on her face was calm, until the depth of reality came crashing down on her. A fiery blush came over the young lady. How did this happen? She asked herself this question and frantically replayed segments of the game in her mind's eye. She focused on the back wall and allowed the board to blur into a pattern of hazy squares.

The chess players of Wentworth had always maintained a high degree of sportsmanship, always noble in victory as well as defeat. But, the young men could not help celebrating Beth's defeat. Beth wanted to die. She could not make eye contact with anyone. She was pulled out of her fog by the words of the charismatic chess club president, Mitch. "Gentlemen, I think it's only right that we congratulate our visitor on playing a fine game." he said, in a condescending tone. "But the man of the hour is our own, Mr. Dean Saunders!"

Her opponent, Dean became an instant hero with a room full of his peers slapping him on the back. But nothing stung as much as the immature hoots and cat-calls that were being made at her expense. Beth knew why those sounds were being made. She was now "obligated" to meet the requirements of the wager.

Mitch Ferris continued, "Miss Harmon, we are so very sorry that you will not be leaving with the prize money." he said with a feigned frown. "And it pains me to remind you of our little wager." he said with a room full of overt perverts laughing. "After all, a bet... is a bet."

All Beth could do at the mention of their agreement was nod her head slowly with a look on her face that was full of deep regret and torment. Was no one going to stand up and stop this vulgarity? She paused praying that a lone gentleman might pronounce this wager distasteful and wrong. She'd learned her lesson. The boys had made their point. She wasn't unbeatable, after all.

From the back room came a two foot high wooden platform. It was heavy and required three of them to move it into the center of the room. The hastily constructed thing was obviously a makeshift stage for Beth. It was the epitome of crude- both in its intention and its roughly assembled form. Its presence gave Beth weak knees and her hands involuntarily clenched into fists. She kept her insecurities and fears in control around groups with her chess prowess. Those were no longer applicable. Having lost, she was just a girl now. A girl surrounded by vindictive, petty, disgusting males!

The crude behavior escalated as Mitch signaled his pals for music. Somewhere within the room a record player needle made contact and an instrumental jazz combo's recording of the classic burlesque theme filled the room. The drums and rhythm pattern suggestive and lewd. Each note mocking Beth Harmon.

Mitch reached out his hand delicately and gave Beth a gentle nod and assisted the long-legged young woman onto the platform. Immediately, she felt a mix of emotions. Self-loathing at her impulsive nature, and complete and utter humiliation. Accepting the bet was clearly idiotic, but she could not undo that now. Her face blushed uncontrollably as she allowed her left shoe to slip away from her foot. The room applauded and whistled wildly!

In all her meekness, Beth managed a strange smile. It was involuntary, of course, a nervous contorting of her lips. Her body was off beat, but no one was noticing as her other shoe slipped off- leaving her barefoot with painted toenails on display. It was a symbolic surrender. She was accepting the terms of her loss and the boys exchanged glances. This was really happening!

Glad to see this here, enjoying it so far. The setup makes enough sense to let disbelief be suspended. Looking forward to the end, hope it's fairly lighthearted.

Please continue this was so well done, written well enough and true enough to the character/series you could almost see it happening

Listen up- I made an account just to say this one thing: this story NEEDS to be continued. Anya is adorable, Queen's Gambit is huge, and her character is cute too- and you made it even better by making it into a plausible classic ENF scenario.

If you made it this cute that her toes are out, I want the rest. Please please consider finishing this. Your writing is good and this could be a legendary little ENF story.

I agree. Would love to see a continuation of this great story!

I also made my account just to comment and ask that you please continue. I would love to read anything else you have to write too

Also I’ll let everyone know that our author here has a deviant art account that I found searching for “Queen’s Gambit ENF” and that if they’re discouraged they might not be checking here. I did chat briefly with them to affirm that there is support, but maybe a few of us should validate that.

Happy New Year and thanks so much for the feedback and kind words. I'll be sure to complete this story soon.