<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Emb.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Diane Windward (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=337584.msg16046360#msg16046360)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Kitchen->Pool (Post Copied from Main Area Thread)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong><del>Sneakers, Socks,</del>Red Cardigan,<del>White Blouse</del>, Jeans, bra, panties<br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>: When in Rome<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Donavon, Chloe, Emma, Everyone Now<br/><hr/><br/>Like in the previous rounds, Diane's cards were atrocious. At this point, however, it hardly mattered. The truth is that in Strip Poker, there are no losers. She hopefully managed to bring this point home as she whistled, "Take it off, take it all off, Chloe!" and whistling appreciatively as the guide who had drawn her here slipped out of her jeans. She gave Emma a round of applause as well as she too, decided to lose her jeans, though in service of the pool dare.<br/><br/>And then there was the question of what she was going to do. Diane noted silently that once again she was falling behind, and that would have to be attended to. But more important, there was the answer to the question Chloe had posed -<em>When was the last time anyone chose to do the confession?</em>Because, while the challenge and the stripping were indeed more fun in most cases, she hadn't missed the context of Donavan's requested confession. It was a coded message with barely more cover than the increasingly naked players of the game. And, although Diane would have sworn that she had made the answer to his question almost painfully clear last round, apparently he wanted another signal, and she was all too willing to give it.<br/><br/>So she walked, slowly but deliberately to Donavan and leaned close enough to nibble his ear. Then she sang "When I think about you I touch myself...." She sang softly, but it was still loud enough for everyone to register, because there were very definite reasons that she had started on the second line of the chorus and had deliberately omitted the first. That being done, she traced a finger along Donavon's back from one shoulder blade to the other and then sashayed back to her chair, her cheeks still red between the alcohol, the company, and the boldness that she had seemed to absorbed from both.