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He stood over a set of laundry baskets lined up along the floor with wooden backboards marked with red spray-painted circles. He tossed a plastic baseball back and forth from one hand to the other.
“Yes, my man, ready to try your hand…”
“How much?” Braden asked.
“Three dollars for three balls, five dollars will get you six.”
I looked up at the purple teddy bears dangling from the colorful lights of the game stand. A few pink flamingos were peppered in among them. In any other situation, I’d love to win a prize from my man, but at the moment, taking home a stuffed animal was the farthest thing from my mind.
“Here’s ten,” Braden said, handing over the bill.
The man’s eyes lit up. Foot traffic passing the stand was almost nonexistent at this point and he’d probably given up on the idea that he might make some last minute cash. I had no doubt he pocketed at least some of the money he took in.
“So that’s umm…that’s uh…twelve tries, my friend.”
“So here’s the deal,” Braden whispered as he leaned in closer to me. “I get the first six balls. For each ball that I get into the basket, I get a request for tonight. And you can’t tell me no. Whatever I want to do to you, or whatever I want you to do to me.”
Now this is a fucking game.
I scrunched up the corner of my mouth, thinking about the rules. Seemed easy enough.
“And the other six balls?” I asked.
“All yours. Every ball you sink in the basket gives you the same power. You can either request or deny a request.”
I had no illusions about being a star at this game. I’d suck at it. As far as I was concerned, he could use all twelve balls. I couldn’t imagine his requests being anything I’d be opposed to. I just wanted to ditch the games and go to the backseat of his car.
“You’ve played this before, haven’t you?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
I moved out of his way, “After you.”
Braden stepped up to the counter and handed me his soda cup. I took a sip. The attendant tossed him a plastic ball. Braden held it up in front of his face like a basketball player about to go for the game-winning foul shot.
He tossed it. It bounced off the backboard and c
ompletely missed the basket. I watched the ball roll across the dirt floor and laughed.
“Just warming up,” he said.
“Take your time. We’ve got like…I don’t know, an hour left.”
He missed again.
“You can borrow some of my balls if you have a strong desire to win,” I offered.
As he was about to throw his third ball, I stepped up behind him and reached around his waist. I put my hands in his pockets and rested my head against his back.
He didn’t throw the ball.
I let my right hand feel around in his pocket until I found it. His dick was soft, but it was there, and I took it in my grasp. I felt it growing in my hand, lengthening and widening for a second time this night.
“Good luck,” I whispered in his ear.
I’d forgotten about the attendant, who had turned away from us, giggling through his chipped teeth, pretending he wasn’t watching us out of the corner of his eye.
Braden turned his head to the right, searching for me, but I was out of his line of sight.
