The game was underway. Rebecca had her hands full, managing Mike’s money and deed cards in one pile and her own in another. Nate, who was banker, sat across the table from her. As planned, Mike was his own playing piece, moving around the board every time Rebecca rolled the dice for him.

“Good thing we’re not playing Risk,” said Nate, already into his second glass of wine. “Your girlfriend and I might form an alliance and push you right off the board!”

Mike made a show of laughing, but he didn’t find the idea at all funny. He was already feeling quite ignored, which was often the case when he and Rebecca were with other people. It was just easier for her to relate to someone at her actual physical level than to be bending down to talk to him. Conversation would often just flow over him, and he had to yell to make himself heard.

Rebecca, meanwhile, was rather enjoying herself. Nate was responsive, leaping up to refill her wine glass, and she was enjoying the feeling of a full-sized man paying attention to her. Sometimes with Mike it could be hard to tell what he was up to, or even where he was. Earlier in the day she’d had him on her lap while they chatted, but whenever she looked down at him he was out of sight beneath the swell of her breasts.

Breasts! What a blessing, what a curse. She’d heard (and made) the argument that began: “At the end of the day they’re just...” But at the actual end of any real day, most men were just in awe of them. Hers weren’t even that spectacular, she thought, although she did like their precise degree of firmness. She’d seen others at the gym, tighter and saggier, smaller and much bigger, and she had to admit she wouldn’t really change hers even if she could. They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for her.

Besides, Mike had always liked them, before he shrank and, especially, after. And there was something so warm and wonderful about laying his itty-bitty body between them and giving them a little squeeze. It wasn’t quite a sexual feeling, but it could turn into one awfully fast. She remembered once taking him to work in her bra, but deciding by the end of the day that she could never repeat the experiment. Between worrying that he might bounce out and get stepped on, and getting excited at the secret thrill of having him on her body with no one else even aware he was there, she didn’t get any work done that day.

Thinking about it now, she stretched out a little, and her foot bumped something under the table. Nate’s leg, she guessed. “Sorry,” she murmured, and drew her foot back. But a moment later she felt a light pressure on the top of it. Nate was resting his foot atop hers. Did he know it was her, or did he think it was part of the table?

She tried to stay still, and looked up to see if his face revealed anything. It was unreadable, although she HAD noticed that whenever she leaned forward to move her playing piece or pick up the dice, there was a flicker of motion as his eyes sought out the neck of her blouse. It wasn’t open much at all, but it was clear he was keeping an eye on the possibility of a look down her top. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“Becs, can you roll? It’s my turn.” Mike was waiting patiently on Connecticut Avenue. He owned all the blue properties and had one house on each, which he towered over. “I feel like a giant!” he’d said when Nate had placed them down for him. Nate had snickered: “Yeah, me too!”

“Becs? My turn?”

Rebecca started, and the motion was enough to dislodge Nate, whose foot slid off hers. She moved her own feet a little apart to prevent an accidental repeat of the contact, and tossed the dice across the board. One of them bounced off the table.

“I’ve got it!” said Nate, sliding off his chair and getting down to grab the errant die. Though he was only on the floor a moment he had time to glance under the table, where Rebecca’s legs were parted. Her short skirt offered a view of her thighs, clad in white tights, disappearing into the shadow of her crotch.

Nate fumbled for as long as he could with the die before popping back up. And then, as Rebecca tossed the dice again and Mike started his journey along the board, he stretched one leg up and quietly dropped his heel on her chair, between her outstretched legs.

Rebecca felt the motion, and kept her face carefully composed and unresponsive. OK, she thought. My foot touching his? Totally accidental. His response? 50/50 it was a mistake. But this?

On the tabletop, Mike was of course completely unaware that anything was going on down there. And then Rebecca did something that surprised even herself. She drew her legs together, and held Nate’s foot tightly between her thighs. She didn’t dare look at him. She picked up her wine glass and took a deep swallow, feeling the blood rush to her face. And she asked herself: Rebecca, what the hell are you doing?