Greta's Game

Greta’s Game

By K.C. Silkwood

Greta’s Game

By K.C. Silkwood

Copyright K.C. Silkwood

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GRETA’S GAME

From the day she moved into the big house on
Chestnut Street, Greta Steele was the hot topic of conversation
among her neighbors. At first, people wondered why the stunning
brunette had no husband, no children, and apparently not even a
boyfriend. She had to be nearly 40 years old. Had she never started
a family? Then why did she need a home so large, so grand? And what
did she do for a living? Greta was tall, slim, elegant, and she
dressed and acted like someone with both money and class. Was she a
fashion designer? A retired supermodel? Maybe some European heiress
who had fled her homeland? She did have the trace of an accent,
which only added to her mystery.

The riddle was solved when Greta invited all
the neighborhood women to her home one Saturday afternoon for
drinks and h’ordeuvres. The girls spent hours chatting, mingling,
and wandering through the spacious house. Once everyone was nice
and mellow from the alcohol, Greta gathered them in the huge living
room and revealed her secret.

“Ladies, I know you’ve been wondering who I
am and what I do,” she began, standing in the center of the room so
everyone could hear her. She wore a simple black dress, her dark
hair falling to her shoulders. Because her skin was so pale, her
bright red lipstick and nail polish looked bold and dramatic.
“Well, allow me to dispel the mystery.” She held up a glossy
catalogue with a photo of a nude blonde woman on the cover. The
woman’s lips were coated with bright silver lipstick, and she
puckered them as if blowing a kiss at the camera. “I’m the founder
and CEO of Steele Kisses, one of the world’s largest manufacturers
of adult toys and intimate wear.”

A collective gasp rose from the group of
ladies. “You mean…like sex toys?” one timid girl asked.

“Toys, accessories, personal pleasure
devices, whatever you’d like to call them,” Greta confirmed. “Also
oils, lotions, creams, and a full line of lingerie and intimate
wear for both women and men.”

The room erupted into excited conversation,
and soon the women were passing the catalogue around. Some blushed
and gasped when they saw the offerings inside, while others begged
to see the items in person. Greta brought out two black duffle bags
filled with various novelties, which caused even more of an uproar
as the ladies held up pairs of crotchless panties or hefted
frighteningly large dildos in their hands. A few of the women
refused to touch the items; others took Greta aside and asked if
they could buy some on the spot.

“Sorry, girls, I only keep a few samples here
at the house. But I’ll give you each a catalogue to take home, and
you can order anything you like.”

As late afternoon approached, the women began
to leave in small groups. Greta handed each person a catalogue at
the door, along with whispered enticements of a “friends and
neighbors discount.” Finally, there were only four women left.
Greta ushered them to a quiet corner of the living room where three
love seats were arranged in a C shape with a large glass table in
the middle. Greta sat alone on one of them, and the other girls sat
in pairs.

“There, that’s more cozy,” she said. “Now
that the crowd is gone, we can really get to know each other.”
Greta looked at the girl across from her. “You’re Jennifer, right?
And if I remember correctly, you’re a yoga instructor.”

“That’s right! Good memory,” Jennifer said.
She was tall and tan with brown hair and a fit, toned body. “And
this is my little sister, Jan.” The girl beside Jennifer smiled and
gave a finger wave. She had the same brown hair as her sister, but
was shorter and slimmer with a body like a gymnast.

“Jan and Jennifer. That’s cute,” Greta said
with a smile. “And what do you do, my dear? You look as fresh and
young as a teenager!”

“I just turned 21, actually,” Jan said. “I’m
still in college, but I graduate next year.”

“How lovely.” Greta turned to the two women
on the other loveseat. “Now you with the red hair…it’s Lacy,
correct? And I believe you’re a school teacher?”

Lacy nodded. Her long, curly hair fell
halfway down her back, and she had bright green eyes and a small,
upturned nose. “Yes, I am. High school math.”

“And you’re Rosa,” Greta said, shifting her
gaze to the Latin beauty next to Lacy. “But I’m sorry, I can’t
remember what you do.”

“Basically whatever I want,” the girl said
with a laugh. Her black hair was longer than Greta’s and she wore
plenty of mascara to highlight her big brown eyes. “My husband
prefers that I stay home. He owns an insurance company and makes
plenty of money on his own.”

“That’s wonderful,” Greta said. “And you
girls have all known each other for a while now?”

All four women nodded. Jennifer, Lacy, and
Rosa were in their 30s and had lived on Chestnut Street for years.
Lacy and Rosa knew Jan because she spent so much time visiting her
big sister. Although none of the girls were close friends, they had
always been cordial to each other and socialized from time to
time—except for Jennifer and Rosa, who had been feuding ever since
Rosa flirted with Jennifer’s husband at a dinner party after too
many margaritas. That was over a year ago, and the bad blood still
hadn’t cooled down yet.

Greta smiled and clasped her knees. “Well,
then. Now that we have such a small group, would you ladies be
interested in playing a game?”

The girls looked at each other. “Like poker
or something?” Jan asked.

Greta laughed. “No, I was thinking of
something a little more…provocative.”

“Like
strip
poker?” Jennifer asked.
“Aren’t we too old for that? Besides, it’s just us girls.”

“No, I had something else in mind. It’s a
game to help me get to know you all better. A game that truly
reveals a person’s inner psyche. Are you familiar with the game
called
Would You Rather?
”

Jennifer and Jan nodded. Lacy looked
uncertain, and Rosa shook her head no.

“Let me explain it then. It’s a conversation
game, designed to stimulate discussion and debate. A person is
asked to choose between two bad options, such as
Would you
rather eat a raw egg or lick the bottom of someone’s shoe?
Another one might be,
Would you rather shave your head bald or
get a tattoo on your face?
See how it works? The choice a
person makes—and their explanation for that choice—reveals a lot
about them.”

Most of the girls laughed, but Rosa merely
frowned. “Sounds silly to me.”

“It’s actually very thought provoking. And
my
version of the game reveals even more about a person’s
psychological makeup.”

“What’s different about your version?” Lacy
asked.

Greta leaned back and crossed her slim legs.
“I believe that actions speak much louder than words.
Saying
you’ll do something is far different than actually doing it. So in
my version, the players must perform the action they choose.”

The women gasped and groaned. “Like, you
really make people shave their heads or eat raw eggs? Gross!” Jan
said, shivering.

“Most of the choices in my game aren’t
radical or permanent. There is no head-shaving, no tattoos…once the
game is over, no physical alterations are visible. In other words,
you wouldn’t look different to anyone who saw you. And I also avoid
the more…
distasteful
choices. I wouldn’t ask anyone to eat a
raw egg, a bug, a spoonful of dirt, or anything else unhealthy or
unsavory.”

“Well, then…” Jennifer began. “I
guess
it could be fun.” She looked to the other women for confirmation.
Jan and Lacy shrugged, and Rosa let out a deep sigh. “I don’t
know,” the Latin beauty said. “It sounds lame to me.”

“What’s the matter?” Jennifer asked.
“Scared?”

Rosa sat up straight. “Are you joking? No
way. Fine, I’ll play your stupid game.”

“Excellent!” Greta said. “But I need to
finish explaining the rules. My game has one more variation from
the original. In my game, you’re given two options. Both are bad,
but one is worse than the other. You may choose to perform the
first action yourself, or you can force another player in the game
to perform the second option—the worse one.”

Jennifer frowned. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t
everybody
choose to let the other person do the gross
thing?”

“Not necessarily, Jennifer. This game not
only reveals your own tolerances, it also reveals your true
feelings for family members,”—she looked at Jan—“and friends”—she
looked at Lacy—“and…others,” she finished, her eyes skimming over
Rosa.

“So let’s do it,” Rosa said, glaring at
Jennifer. Lacy drained her wine glass and nodded. Jan took another
sip of her own wine and said “Okay, sure.”

“Let me get the materials,” Greta said,
standing up. She left the room and came back a few minutes later
with a stack of pink index cards, a spinner, and a fresh bottle of
wine. She also fetched the two black duffle bags filled with sample
products and set them on the floor at her feet. Once everyone’s
wine glasses had been refilled, Greta announced the start of the
game.

“Here’s how it works,” she explained, placing
the spinner in the middle of the table. It was a round piece of
cardboard the size of a small plate, divided into four equal
sections numbered 1 through 4. In the center was a small plastic
arrow that could be spun with a finger, like in a child’s game.
“We’ll start with Jennifer and go clockwise from there. When it’s
your turn, spin the arrow to see who will be your co-player in that
round. I’ll assign the numbers; Jennifer is one, Jan is two, Lacy
is three, and Rosa is four.”

“What about you?” Rosa asked. “Don’t you
play, too?”

“No, I only run the game.” She chuckled and
smoothed her dark hair away from her face. “I’m afraid I’m a little
too old for this much excitement.”

“Are you kidding?” Jennifer asked. “You don’t
look a day over forty. That’s not old.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I’ll turn 48
next month. Regardless, I’ve found it’s helpful to have one person
in charge of the game.” She reached into one of the black duffle
bags and pulled out a large empty envelope. “And the first order of
business is to collect your offerings. Ladies, please hand me your
wedding rings.”

“What?” Rosa gasped. “Why?”

“That’s how players buy into the game. Once
the game starts, no player is allowed to quit before the game is
over. If you do, you forfeit your offering. Otherwise, you get it
back at the end of the game. I’ve found wedding rings to be the
perfect object.” After a little frowning and complaining, Jennifer,
Lacy, and Rosa pulled off their wedding rings and placed them in
the envelope. “But I’m not married,” said Jan. “So what do I
use?”

Greta scanned the young girl up and down.
“That gold necklace and locket looks valuable. Is it important to
you?”

“Well…yes. It belonged to my
great-grandmother.”

“That’s perfect, then! Please take it off and
give it to me.”

Greta left the room with the envelope full of
jewelry and came back empty-handed. Then she sat down again and
reached for the spinner. “All right. Before we start, I’ll do a
demonstration to show you how the game works. That ways there’s no
confusion once the game is officially underway.” She flicked the
spinner with a red fingernail, and the plastic arrow landed on the
number 2. “So my co-player for this round would be Jan. If the
spinner lands on your own number, of course, you simply spin again.
Now then, the game master picks a card and reads it.” She peeled a
pink card from the top of the stack and smiled as she scanned the
words. “The game master would now say to me,
Would you rather
stand on one leg for two minutes, or ask Jan to stand on one leg
for ten minutes?
Then I can choose to perform the action
myself, or command Jan to perform the tougher action. Does everyone
understand?” All four women nodded. “I must ask one more time. Like
I said before, no one can leave the game once it begins. If you do,
you forfeit your offering.”