[Everard]

Lynda and I had split up again. It happened with monotonous regularity, about two or three times a year. The latest one had been in October, and Christmas came and went with no contact between us. But I knew it would happen eventually because we’d never stopped being good friends, and anyway we still fancied the pants off each other. Then about a fortnight after Christmas, the phone rang and I answered it to hear an incredibly sexy voice saying, “Well hello there,” and I knew it was her.

“Hi Lynda, what can I do for you?”

“Well Everard, I was just wondering whether you’d like to take your favourite lady out for a New Year drink.”

“That’s a good idea, could you get off the phone so I can call her?” A lovely giggle from the other end told me she had taken no offence at the silly joke, and within an hour we were sat together in a cosy little pub, chatting away as if we’d never been apart. Looking into her eyes made me remember why I loved her, and forget why we’d parted.

At the end of a very convivial evening, we strolled arm in arm back to her house where I’d left my car. She asked if I’d like to come in, and we stood in the kitchen while she made coffee, chatting a bit more. We made ourselves comfortable on the couch and after a while she asked me whether I wanted to watch anything, or put some music on.

I said, “Why don’t we play a game?”

“Any suggestions?”

“What about some Triv for old times sake?” – to which she readily agreed.

We had always enjoyed Trivial Pursuit and the good-natured banter it invariably provoked. My reasons for suggesting this were twofold: Firstly, I was quite good at it; indeed whenever the relatives got together for Christmas at my brother’s house, his wife refused to play it if I was there, unless we were in teams, and she was on mine. Secondly because in an idle moment, I had worked out a new way of playing it.

I said, “I’ve worked out a new way of playing it.” (There, I told you I’d worked out a new way of playing it.) “Mine involves forfeits.”

“What sort of forfeits?”

“Items of clothing.”

I went ahead and outlined my rules:
1. No sneaking off and putting on extra layers before the game starts. (Lynda looked a bit peeved at this; it had been warm in front of the roaring fire and she’d just decided not to put on her pullover – but then I’d just discarded mine so at least we were even.)
2. Pairs of things – socks, gloves, etc – count as one.
3. I let her choose this one; it’s whether or not you include non-clothing items. She chose not to and I could see why, it put her at a disadvantage. She only had on a pair of earrings; I had my watch, cufflinks, a ring, and my specs.

Then I explained how it works. This was a bit nerve-wracking because I hadn’t actually tried it yet, so wasn’t even sure it would work. You had to throw a six to start and the first player to get one would select one of the other players to remove an item of clothing. Then the pieces would start moving but for the first question answered, a successful player would nominate, and an unsuccessful player remove one item. Then all proceeded as normal until reaching the end of a spoke, where a correct answer earns you a wedge. (We used to call them ‘cheeses’, and spent many happy hours trying to decide what type of cheese each colour represented.) Here a wrong answer meant the player had to remove one item, but a correct answer meant that player could either nominate, or choose to replace an item he/she had previously removed. The same applied in the centre hub.

Yes I know it’s complicated, believe me I spent ages working it all out. Now the theory was over and it was time for the first test flight. We got out the board, and sat facing each other on the hearthrug, like we’d done so many times before.

I threw a six first so off came Lynda’s boots. Then I made my first throw and landed on my favourite, pink for Entertainment. I selected a card, which asked me the name of Cliff Richard’s backing group and was immediately accused of cheating.

“How could I possibly have known what was on the card?” I protested, but to no avail. To keep the peace, I chose another card. This one asked for the hometown of some grunge band I’d never heard of so I guessed Seattle. I was right. Lynda complained bitterly, but I was having none of it, and sniggered as her socks came off. My next question was yellow, for history and I got it wrong so it was Lynda’s turn and this time she threw a six so I removed my shoes. I then got a pink question right, and an orange one (Sports and Leisure, my least favourite) wrong, so Lynda threw for her first move. She too chose pink, and got an easy question on Hollywood musicals. So my socks ended up in the corner.

Lynda got her next couple of questions right then missed an easy one about the Grand Canyon so I was up, landing on a yellow (History) wedge-earning square. For knowing which of Henry’s wives came before Anne Boleyn, I earned not only a hunk of cheddar, but also the right to see a bit more of Lynda. She gave me a disgusted look, and removed her shirt. Then I got my next question wrong and Lynda was up, and took a short cut across the middle to get to the nearest pink square. Then a wrong answer put me back in play but got a question about some soccer team I’d never heard of so it was back to Lynda who got a blue (Geography) question right, thus landing in the middle, where you get a choice, and choosing a pink. The question about 70s rock bands was too easy! I was just debating about whether to lose my jeans or shirt next and decided on the latter as my cock had been at attention for at least the last ten minutes – then sat dumbfounded as Lynda retrieved her shirt from where she’d hung it … and put it back on.

“What are you doing?” For a moment I thought she’d just got tired of the game.

“I’m on the centre hub. I have a choice of asking you to take one item off, or putting one of mine back on.”

“No, that’s just at the end when you get back there!”

“Your rules didn’t say that, just said, in the middle–”

“All right, all right, keep your shirt on!” and we both collapsed into helpless giggles, and I got my revenge, after she got a difficult history question wrong, by landing on another wedge square and seeing her lose the shirt a second time. Then my next move landed me on a brown (Arts and Leisure) space. I took a guess and got it right, and my next move took me to a pink square and a potential pink cheese. For knowing about Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, I got the cheese. I grinned across at Lynda, sat there in just bra, panties and jeans.

“Righto, dear, it’s make your mind up time.”

The jeans joined her socks, boots and shirt in the corner. Things were about to get really interesting.


TO BE CONTINUED …