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The beautiful chess set spread out before her, Sonja pondered her next move. A sacrifice? An advance? The wood pieces with lead ingots driven in slid easily, felt on marble. Her opponent sweated, across from her, not appreciating the beauty of her moves. Grigor sure did, the hamfisted former dockworker who slipped up behind her in an Armani three piece and slipped a proprietary hand on her tanned shoulder. Garblimey she thought out loud, you are the sexiest thing I've ever had the privilege to beat over the head with a sausage. Hopefully that would come later tonight. Right now she had to focus on the seemingly inevitable encroachment of Black's pawns. She liked pawns, especially with butter. He was going to work for a checkmate, she winked her intentions back to him. He took out a smoke lit it and as soon as he puffed the first breath. She would let him win, as her contract with "Armani" stated - but not until move 60. She didn't want to appear soft under time pressure, and she had her reputation to think of. She flexed her beautiful legs as more hotshots came to mill, tap their ash, and observe the game. They ended up observing her closely, too closely. The walls were careening in towards her, must stay calm. She reached for the Cheez Whiz , but missed and grabbed the sausage instead. Across the table, Tommy jumped up screaming "That's my sausage! You can't touch my sausage! I quit!" He ran down to the basement and looked for the cat.
