Check, mate
I sacrificed my knight for a good hunk of bicep-bulging man. It was 8pm, and a date palm swayed overhead. Malta was good in chocolate shakes, or in balls attended by the right sort of non-alcoholic beverages. Scratch that, rum-zombie, please. And none of those pawns you serve as appetisers - puh-leez!
I was waiting by the curb for my prince, nay, king to arrive , nay, to return home. And oh! A Bishop pulled up to the side and offered me a ride, winking with the line "I'm a S.W.A.T. H.E. member, you can trust me!"
I knew that was code for: Sexy Whopping Athletic Texan Having Escapades. I liked his look. I liked his hair. He liked chess too, so we started a game.
