The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [173]
“What a beautiful set,” she volunteered as I handed her a glass of wine. “Where did you find it?”
“Mexico,” I told her, not explaining that I had won it in a tournament while on vacation there. “I was only sorry we didn’t have the chance to have a game ourselves.”
She checked her watch. “Time for a quick one,” she said, taking a seat behind the little white pieces.
I quickly took my place opposite her. She smiled, picked up a white and a black bishop and hid them behind her back. Her dress became even tighter and emphasized the shape of her breasts. She then placed both clenched fists in front of me. I touched her right hand and she turned it over and opened it to reveal a white bishop.
“Is there to be a wager of any kind?” I asked lightheartedly. She checked inside her evening bag.
“I only have a few pounds on me,” she said.
“I’d be willing to play for lower stakes.”
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“What can you offer?”
“What would you like?”
“Ten pounds if you win.”
“And if I lose?”
“You take something off.”
I regretted the words the moment I had said them and waited for her to slap my face and leave, but she said simply, “There’s not much harm in that if we only play one gave.”
I nodded my agreement and stared down at the board.
She wasn’t a bad player—what the pros call a patzer—though her Roux opening was somewhat orthodox. I managed to make the game last twenty minutes while sacrificing several pieces without making it look too obvious. When I said “Checkmate,” she kicked off both her shoes and laughed.
“Care for another drink?” I asked, not feeling too hopeful. “After all, it’s not yet eleven.”
“All right. Just a small one, and then I must be off.”
I went to the kitchen, returned a moment later clutching the bottle, and refilled her glass.
“I only wanted half a glass,” she said, frowning.
“I was lucky to win,” I said, ignoring her remark, “after your bishop captured my knight. Extremely close-run thing.”
“Perhaps,” she replied.
“Care for another game?” I ventured.
She hesitated.
“Double or quits?”
“What do you mean?”
“Twenty pounds or another garment?”
“Neither of us is going to lose much tonight, are we?”
She pulled up her chair as I turned the board around and we both began to put the ivory pieces back in place.
The second game took a little longer as I made a silly mistake early on, castling on my queen’s side, and it took several moves to recover. However, I still managed to finish the game off in under thirty minutes and even found time to refill Amanda’s glass when she wasn’t looking.
She smiled at me as she hitched her dress up high enough to allow me to see the tops of her stockings. She undid the garters and slowly peeled the stockings off before dropping them on my side of the table.
“I nearly beat you that time,” she said.
“Almost,” I replied. “Want another chance to get even? Let’s say fifty pounds this time,” I suggested, trying to make the offer sound magnanimous.
“The stakes are getting higher for both of us,” she replied as she reset the board. I began to wonder what might be going through her mind. Whatever it was, she foolishly sacrificed both her rooks early on, and the game was over in a matter of minutes.
Once again she lifted her dress but this time well above her waist. My eyes were glued to her thighs as she undid the black garter belt and held it high above my head before letting it drop and join her stockings on my side of the table.
“Once I had lost the second rook,” she said, “I was never in with a chance.”
“I agree. It would therefore only be fair to allow you one more chance,” I said, quickly resetting the board. “After all,” I added, “you could win one hundred pounds this time.” She smiled.
“I really ought to be going home,” she said as she moved her queen’s pawn two squares forward. She smiled that enigmatic smile again as I countered with my bishop’s pawn.
It was the best game she had played all evening, and her use of the Warsaw gambit kept me at the board for over thirty minutes. In fact