[spoon-discuss] Re: [Spoon-business] Sex and the Nomic: Chapter 1

["Baron von Skippy" <baronvonskippy@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

> {{ _Sex and the Nomic: Chapter 1_
>
> [[
>
> They called her Bee.  They never said why.
>
> I had plenty of time, days and weeks, to speculate as I watched her, saw 
> her circulate through the men, saw them orbit around her.  Did her name 
> come from being the queen?  From having hundreds of males doting on her?
>
> Did she have a sting?
>
> I myself might have called her Mona instead, because of her smile.  She 
> always had a smile.  Every time I saw her, alone or toying with an 
> attendant, she bore a smile from her collection.  Sometimes it was angelic, 
> sometimes avaricious, sometimes sultry, occasionally cold as ice.
>
> Her smile was idyllic when I entered the tavern, listening to the Irish 
> trio on stage and sipping her drink.  As I approached the table, she turned 
> and met my eyes, and her smile changed.  It became predatory.
>
> "Hey, Blue Eyes.  Where've you been all my evening?"
>
> I shrugged off my coat and sat down. "Took a while to close up shop.  Am I 
> late?"
>
> "You seem to be breathing."
>
> I offered a debonair smile of my own, which I hoped didn't look too sickly, 
> as I signaled a waiter. "I mean, did I keep you waiting?"
>
> "Of course, silly.  Every minute I spent waiting for you to ask me out." 
> She sipped her drink, gazing at me, her smile shifting into patronizing. 
> "Well, now, I believe we're out.  Why am I here?"
>
> "Because I asked you to be.  Why did you come?"
>
> "Because you asked me to."  The smile slid into amusement, though I swear 
> her lips never moved.  Perhaps it was her eyes. "Am I drinking alone?"
>
> I tore my eyes away to find the waiter standing next to me. "Scotch on the 
> rocks.  Uh...double."  He nodded, glanced at my table companion, and headed 
> off.  I gestured toward the stage. "Good group, huh?"
>
> Her smile passed through satisfaction on its way to attentiveness as she 
> turned toward the performers.  My drink came shortly before the piece 
> ended.  She looked back, saw the glass in my hand, and gently clinked hers 
> against it. "To good judgment," she murmured.
>
> I blinked.  I had never heard that particular toast before, but it sounded 
> like a really good idea. "To good judgment," I answered, and sipped, hoping 
> to maintain some.
>
> Her eyes locked on to mine, drank them in, savored them. "Was there 
> something you wanted to ask me?"
>
> "Uh..." Only what it would take to get her between my sheets. "They call 
> you...Bee?"
>
> The smile turned thoughtful. "They do, do they?  Why do they do that?"
>
> "I'd...hoped to ask you.  Is it short for something?"
>
> Her eyes still held mine; her smile carried the leash. "Benomica."
>
> "...Oh.  That's very...uh...Where's it from?"
>
> "It's what I started with." The smile widened. "And what do they call you?"
>
> "Uh...G."
>
> "And what's that short for?"
>
> "It's short for, Gee, I'd really like to get to know you."
>
> Her smile showed a touch of pain. "Do you say that to all the girls?"
>
> "Only the ones who ask me my name..."
>
> She nodded slightly, and her eyes explored my face over her smile. "What 
> else do they say about me?"
>
> "Hey, look, I didn't mean..."
>
> "Then you shouldn't have said.  Don't say what you don't mean, don't start 
> what you can't finish.  Don't suggest what you can't live with."  The eyes 
> bore into me as the smile took on touches of the sinister. "Now, I believe 
> you started to tell me what...they say about me.  I don't believe you 
> finished yet."
>
> They said she was hot.  They said she was willing.  They said there were 
> men, and possibly even women, who couldn't keep up with her..."They, uh, 
> say you're a nice person to know."
>
> The lips pursed.  The eyes glittered. "Somehow I don't think they said 
> that.  Tell me now..." She reached over and slid the base of her glass over 
> the back of my hand.  I felt a slight chill that had nothing to do with the 
> touch. "What do they really say?"
>
> "They said..." Was this really me saying this?  "They said...you 
> had...rules."
>
> Her smile was beatific. "And so I do.  A lot of them.  And you have to 
> follow them all when you're with me.  But those rules can be changed, too.  
> Did they say that?"
>
> I took a deep breath. "They said you'd listen to any proposal."
>
> The smile widened. "There.  That wasn't so hard, was it?  And yes, I'll 
> consider anything you propose.  It may not pass, but I'll consider it.  But 
> like I said, don't suggest anything you can't live with.  Your proposal 
> this evening..." The eyes over the smile took on a wicked cast. "...might 
> be my rule tomorrow."
>
> "So it's...like...a game?"
>
> "No, it's not like a game.  It *is* a game.  I'm the game.  I have the 
> rules.  And you, I suspect, want to be a player."  She touched a sweet 
> smile to her glass and sipped. "Don't you?"
>
> "Don't you have a lot of players already"
>
> "Do you fear the competition?"
>
> "What?  Uh, no..."
>
> She leaned in close. "Do you feel like a winner?"
>
> My lips moved, but no sound came out.  I swallowed and tried again. "Yes."
>
> Her smile again turned to satisfaction. "Well, then, Mr. 
> Gee-I-wanna-get-to-know-you-better, it's your turn.  Make your move."  She 
> sipped her drink, watching me over the glass. "Propose something."
>
> Dancing.  A movie.  A weekend in the country.  A long walk along the beach 
> that ended at my place.  So many things I could have proposed that night.  
> Instead, what tumbled out of my mouth was...
>
> ]]
>
> {{ _Bondage_
>
> A Player (and not any other type of proposing entity) may place emself in 
> Bondage at the beginning of a nweek, before e has made any proposals in 
> that nweek, following two nweeks not in Bondage in each of which e made at 
> least two proposals.
>
> When in Bondage, a Player can make no more than half, rounded down, of the 
> number of proposals e made during the previous nweek.
>
> Proposals made by a Player in Bondage earn (or cost) twice the number of 
> score points they would otherwise.
>
> }}
>
> [[
>
> She blinked slowly, her smile contemplative. "That sounds...intense."
>
> "It's supposed to be, yes.  Restricted action can double the sensation."
>
> She nodded, her eyes still studying me. "Supposed to be...You haven't done 
> it before?"
>
> I gave debonair another shot. "Not with this game."
>
> "Ah.  Well, I'll try to find something comfortable for you, then."
>
> Debonair suddenly lost power. "For...me?"
>
> "You didn't think I would be the one restrained, did you?  I'm the game."  
> Her smile took on an odd warmth. "You're the player.  Stop by my place in, 
> say, an hour?  Plan to stay a while."
>
> She rose gracefully from her seat, touseled my hair, and headed toward the 
> door.
>
> I'm not sure how long I sat staring at where she'd been.  I do know that 
> two other glasses had collected around mine by the time an hour had passed.
>
> I hoped, as I got ready to go, that she didn't have a sting.
>
> ]]
>
> }}

-You know, it never would have occured to me to personify this game as a 
woman... maybe an evil soulless machine that destroys you slowly... I take 
it back, I've met girls like that.-

                                                  -BvS-

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