Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Group Activities (Patreon)

Fighter stared at the board. She tried desperately not to look in Antipaladin’s direction as he crossed and recrossed his legs. She tried desperately not to think of their last encounter. He hadn’t bothered to change.

“Seven,” said the semi-nude genasi.

His thimble clicked from Income Tax to St. Cuthbert Place. It landed close beside Fighter's own hotrod.

“Looks like you two are getting a hotel together,” purred Magus. Fighter choked on her ale. The catfolk’s nimble hands stacked her newly-won cash, and her golden eyes darted from face to face, measuring. Weighing.

The game dragged on. “It would seem that I’ve won second place in a beauty contest,” said Inquisitor. “Again.”

Ranger put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder, a gesture which plainly meant, We were robbed.

Magus swirled her wine. “I don’t know. The panel of fabulous celebrity judges seemed totally impartial to me.” She affected not to notice the other ladies glowering at her. “But in the interest of fairness, which of us should have won, Antipaladin?”

There was a great deal of stuttering at that point. A bit of mumbling came after, and some of it sounded very like, “Not again.” But in that moment, the golden cat-eyes flickered and flared, and Inquisitor felt sure that the new recruit was gazing too long at her girlfriend. Ranger felt the dull stirring of orc ferocity as the male’s choice seemed to settle upon her girlfriend.

Cat smile. Licked whiskers. Tense silence.

“Cheater!” shouted Magus. There were any number of guilty starts around the gaming table. “You almost skipped my turn!” And a sheepish Fighter handed the dice across.

Clatter clatter.

“Snake eyes,” pouted the catfolk. “Looks like I’m trapped in this cramped little gaol for a while. It’s still fun though isn’t it?”

Antipaladin crossed and recrossed his legs. Inquisitor resolved to wipe down the couch cushions afterwards.