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The only-panty-clad pilot, losing all semblance of a poker face after looking at her cards, began to smile.

"This isn't why they call you Buck, is it?" Bulays asked. "Because you are so terrible at strip poker and often Naked?"

"No," said the svelte starfighter, laying down her cards. "It is because I hate my first name. Would you want to be called Wilma?"

Bulays laughed. "Probably not. There's an option, though. Do what I do if someone insists on using it. Call me Willie, rather than Wilhelmina."

Buck's eyes widened. "Wilhelmina? Hah, yes, good idea. Still, I am kind of used to it now, Willie."

Bulays looked at Wilma Buck's cards. She had drawn a straight. Tossing her cards in, she asked, "so which sock would you like?"

"Doesn't matter," Buck said. "Just deal."

The next hand, Buck's strategy of random draw desperation failed utterly, as her king-high came nowhere close to the pair of sixes Bulays held.

"Lose the lingerie, skinny," Bulays said with a smirk, finishing off her cigar.

Honouring the terms of the game, Buck stood, and shimmied out of her underwear. She turned, slowly, hands above her head, pausing longer at the rear to display her fine curvaceous posterior. She finished the pirouette, and stopped, hands behind her back, chest out, and attractive hairless vagina on display.

"Very nice. You're a good sport, so if you walk over to the fridge, and bring us back a couple of beers, you can get dressed and get what you came for."

Buck did so, adding a saucy slink of the hips that twitched her fine behind nicely as she went to grab a couple of cold ones. She handed one to Bulays and put hers on the table as she reached over to grab the flight suit she habitually wore, and skin into it.

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