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Message-ID: <62464asstr$1357333815@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sam Grume" <grumbles@linuxmail.org>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Circle Game {Uncle Grumbles} (gg hs reluc exhib rom)
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Date: Fri, 04 Jan 2013 16:10:15 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

author: Uncle Grumbles 
title: The Circle Game 
summary: Madame Class President confronts a shy new student
keywords: gg loli yuri hs school shy reluct exhib rom foreplay erotic
universe: sintered lily 

************************************************ 

As always, I invite feedback, especially the negative kind. If this 
isn't worth reading, I need to know why. 

But praise is what I write for, so if you want to see more of this, let 
me know that too.

************************************************ 

"That is not correct." 

Sherry collapsed back in her chair. So close! 

The usual hushed assessments rustled around the circle. Six of the 
girls, including Sherry, were only a point away from winning. Five of 
the others were only two away. Tran, the new girl, who had forfeited her 
last question, unable to speak, was short by three. 

It was the most evenly matched game anyone could remember. That was 
partly luck, but also skilled play; one of the goals was to get as many 
players as possible as close to winning as could be. 

"The next question is...." The girls held their breath while Mr. 
Marshall drew the slip from the owl cookie jar and read it off. Several 
of the girls could barely restrain themselves from blurting the answer 
before he finished. It was so obvious! 

Restrain themselves they did, though, and it paid off. Their teacher 
drew a ball from the kitten jar, and held it up for all to see: "Number 
6! Glenda?" 

All eyes turned to Madam Class President. Eleven bottoms quivered on 
their seats. Glenda was a one-pointer. She always knew the answer, and 
she was very beautiful, with her pale skin and ash blonde hair 
punctuated by storm-gray eyes. At twelve, she was second oldest in the 
class by two months. Neither the tallest nor most developed, she was 
nevertheless statuesque through sheer carriage. She was serene rather 
than aloof, unfailingly kind, an arbiter of conflict and an anchor to 
the storm tossed. Not for name alone was she known as the Good Witch. 

She nodded at the girl sitting next to her. "I cede to Tran." 

Well! If whispering can be said to explode, the class exploded. Mr. 
Marshall had to shush them. It wasn't that Glenda had never passed on a 
winning play. Rather than taking every game, as she easily could have, 
she often made some amusing error to avoid the honor if the lots turned 
too far in her favor. Nevertheless, generous as she was, Glenda never, 
ever ceded anything to anybody. 

Tran, shy Tran, introduced to the class midterm less than a month ago, 
and playing her first game, was again frozen. As always, her waist 
length straight black hair hid her face. 

"Permission to coach, sir?" 

Mr. Marshall was strict, and requests to coach were neither often made 
nor often granted, but his students knew he wanted them all to succeed. 
New girls often had difficulty with their first game, and Glenda had, 
after all, put her on the spot very much against her wishes. He nodded. 

"Proceed." 

Glenda turned to lay her hand on Tran's knee. 

"Tran? Take a deep breath, honey. Good. Another. In your own time." 

Oh, Glenda was so caring! So calming! Ten hearts melted. Well, let's be 
honest, they'd been a little mushy to begin with; all the girls nursed 
crushes on her to some degree. Unrequited, every one, though none were 
neglected; Glenda spread her sparse favors with complete neutrality and 
no commitment. 

Tran was blushing, unable to look away from the hand on her knee. 

"You'll be fine, sweetheart. You can do it. Look, everyone wants you to 
win!" 

And indeed, everyone was nodding, although some of the one-pointers 
seemed a bit surprised to be doing so. Such is the power of leaders. 

The rules on cedes were strict. The time limit was suspended, within 
reason, but you had to answer eventually, you couldn't forfeit. The 
penalties else were severe, far beyond the regular playful rebuke Tran 
had already payed. 

Tran whispered something. 

"Tran? I think you're right, but you need to say it out loud." Glenda 
actually got out of her seat, and knelt before Tran, sitting on her 
heels. She took the stricken girl's hands in her own. "Look at me, Tran. 
Only at me. Tell me the answer." 

The world came to a halt. Even the imperturbable Mr. Marshall held his 
breath. 

Would Tran take an error? There was no real penalty, but points weren't 
everything, and Glenda was one of the few who could do so without losing 
face. 

Tran took a deep breath, and did not lose face. 

"Correct. You may take your point." 

Several of the girls had had their hands clenched before their mouths; 
now they leaned forward avidly. Tran was almost a complete mystery; 
she'd kept entirely to herself. 

The poor thing huddled, hiding from the girls' stares. 

Glenda came to her rescue again, quietly coaxing the poor mite to stand. 
She hugged her classmate, whispering into her ear. Though she turned 
Tran away from the circle, there was no mistaking what she was doing. 
After another long, whispering pause, Tran nodded, and Glenda slipped 
her blouse from her shoulders as she returned the slight Oriental to 
face the class. Bracing Tran from behind, Glenda helped her to stand 
straight and not shrink away. She stroked the hair back from the 
seldom-seen face, now revealed as delicate, exotic, its almond eyes wide 
with apprehension. 

"Oh, Tran, you are so strong. So brave. See? They all love you." 

All the girls were dying. So beautiful! So romantic! 

"Well done, you two. You may return to your seats." 

Well! That evened things up nicely! Six girls in bras and panties, six 
in panties only. Oh, and stockings, of course. Stockings didn't count. 
Under the uniforms, lingerie varied wildly, and stockings were a 
favorite self expression, given harmonious colors and patterns, and 
given the uniform's below-the-knee hemline hid the tops. 

The next question was harder, but Tin-Tin blurted it out at the last 
second. With an excited flourish, she stood and removed her bra. Her 
boobies were just now full enough to show a pleasing wobble. Indulgent 
chuckles met her slightly overenthusiastic shimmy. This was, after all, 
a good part of why they played. 

The next question went to Kendy, and the class squirmed. Fiery haired, 
fiery tempered, and harshly competitive, she was not much liked. She 
wasn't all that pretty, either; the girl simply did not know how to 
smile, or even stand with any poise. 

She was no slouch in class, though, and the question touched on a topic 
she knew better than even Glenda. And she was a one-pointer. This was 
the game, for sure. No one but Glenda would even meet her eyes, and no 
one was looking forward to her usual mocking victory. 

"I cede to Tran." 

Wow! A girl could only cede once, but there was no limit on how many 
times a girl could be ceded to. It just...wasn't often done. It could be 
taken as a slight or a hazing, depending on the skill of the target. 
Besides, this late in the game, Kendy was giving away her last chance. 
The stunned silence was washed away in a puzzled surf as they tried to 
parse Kendy's intent. Was she currying favor with Glenda? Trying to 
flush out the reluctant mouse? Just picking on the new girl? 

But for once, her face was absolutely neutral, and while her gaze did 
not waver from Tran, it gave no clue to her intent. 

Tran's answer, emerging from behind the curtain of hair, was resigned. 

"Correct. You may take your point." 

A tiny whimper escaped Tran as she stood, but only Glenda heard. 
Everyone, though, could see the tremble in her hands as she opened the 
front clasp on her unadorned trainer. There was a long pause as she 
focused on Glenda to regain her composure. 

Finally, with an unsuspected grace, she parted her cups, and as she drew 
the bra from her arms, her black veil shimmered aside, giving the circle 
a glimpse of dark nipples atop conical bumpies beginning to soften and 
spread across honeyed skin like baking cookies. A charming development, 
if less showy than Tin-Tin's. 

But what prompted the speculative susurrus was her pivot. She was 
revealing not to Glenda, not to the circle, but to Kendy. When her hair 
settled, her stance was determined, challenging even. Kendy's lips 
parted, Oh! as if she were stung. 

Not by her accustomed anger, though. The adoration shining from her face 
made her, for the moment, the most beautiful girl in the room. No wonder 
Kendy had been assigned to the circle! How had they all missed it! 

Well played! Well played indeed! Had anyone thought to look, they would 
have seen a tear shimmering in the eye of tiny but buxom Flik, who knew 
social art very well, thank you, when she saw it. She glanced at Madam 
President, and caught that worthy nodding to herself in satisfaction. 
How much had Glenda known? Had she planned this? Was she truly a witch, 
however good? No matter: Glenda's cede had triggered an act of healing, 
that was clear. 

The next question went to Brick. Although nobody actually groaned, it 
was a near thing. Her real name was Brigit. She was pretty enough, and 
friendly enough, bubbly, even, but.... Well. She was a two pointer only 
by having been very lucky in questions, if that says anything to you. 
Her luck had just run out. Some were looking forward to a forfeit. 

"Umm...ah..." 

Eyes were rolling at the bumbled answer, and consequently missed her 
eyes betraying her dilemma. 

"Uh...I cede?" 

The room snapped to attention. Even Brick had caught on to the flow of 
the game. Everyone was tallying up the possibilities. 

One or two were rooting for Tran. Most, though, thought that she would 
likely not be able to manage the winner's circle properly; she was at 
the least far too timid. 

There was a lot to be said for Kendy as well, at least among the most 
reflexively romantic. She had shown an uncommon willingness to play for 
the game, not for herself, but.... No, it was not her turn in the circle 
today, either. That left.... 

"...Uh...to...Guh-Glenda?" 

Of course. So obvious, even Brick had managed to work it out, though 
normally no one would ever dare slight a player who so plainly did not 
need the help. 

Glenda was already rising from her chair as she tossed the answer away. 
No one even heard Mr. Marshall's congratulations. 

Madam President, however, was not drawing Tran from her seat, not taking 
her prize as her due. Instead, she took a knee to bow most humbly. 

"Tran, my heart, my Lady, I would be honored to celebrate your brave 
victory with you." 

SHE HAD CEDED THE MATCH! 

Girls were openly weeping at the nobility of it all. Two were already 
composing poetry in Glenda's honor. Who better than she, after all, to 
guide Tran in her first display, and so bind her into the circle? 
Further, Glenda had neatly given Tran her dignity, by declining to make 
her a trophy, however cherished. Making Tran her equal, her Lady, was a 
risky move, a huge loss of face for both if Tran couldn't carry the 
role, but if she succeeded -- and no one seriously thought for a moment 
that Glenda would let anything else happen -- the huge step in regard 
would establish the newcomer in an unshakable position. As she so often 
did, Glenda had seen something the others had not, and was secure enough 
in her own standing to bring that quality out at her own cost. 

Of course Tran could decline, and some feared she would. However, she 
had taken bravery from Glenda, from Kendy, and even from Brick, and 
that, too, was part of the game. 

Tran lifted Glenda's chin in the traditional gesture, bidding her to 
rise. But her rote acceptance was flat. 

"The honor and pleasure are mine." 

Arms around each others' waists, they took the circle mat. 

After trading formal bows and a kiss, each gave her nudity to the other. 
Tran divested herself of her panties with the first form, as was proper 
for a neophyte, but she did it with a fetching impromptu grace note, 
which got appreciative nods all around. Her bend was demur, but there 
was no hiding the two stripes on the backs of her thighs, just above her 
plain white stockings, that she had taken for her forfeit. Some were now 
recalling her stoicism. 

Plainly, the new girl did indeed have hidden talent, even some training. 
That boded very well, but many wondered where she had it from, and why 
then was she so hesitant? 

Glenda respectfully matched the form in simplest kind, though with 
exquisite precision. 

Mr. Marshall touched Brick's shoulder, and she scooted out to clear the 
discarded wisps. 

Glenda knelt again to christen the new player's blossoming nippies, then 
her root, with delicate, loving kisses. She rose to Tran's pleading hand 
on her cheek. 

All this was more or less compulsory. Now the display could begin in 
earnest. 

They stood, face to face, holding hands across the stylized six petaled 
flower at the center, studying each other, seeking a tasteful opening. 

A proper display was no more than that, a chance to show off and to 
admire, at most a pulse-quickening dalliance with one's partner. It was 
actually poor form to go over the edge, or to send your partner there. 

A partner wasn't even required; from time to time plenty of girls -- 
Kendy the outstanding example -- made solo displays. Still, in duets, 
one partner had to lead, and that duty normally fell to the winner. This 
time, it seemed, Glenda's concession had been a mere formality. She took 
the initiative, bestowing the first real intimacy. 

Tran shivered as Glenda's kisses covered her neck, her brow, her face, 
centering at last on her mouth. She coyly resisted the probing tongue 
for a moment, then opened. Their hands slipped around each others' 
backs, feeling out the contours. It was a good, sound kiss, evincing a 
flurry of longing sighs from the circle. 

Eventually, Glenda's hand covered Tran's nipple. Tran gasped and pulled 
back, wild eyes darting around the room, but Glenda held her close, 
stroking her hair until she calmed. 

Nudging with palm and lips, Glenda turned her Lady outward. The black 
veil hid and revealed as she started to bring it back over Tran's 
shoulders, but Tran brought her hands up to hide herself. 

Tran's deep shyness was beyond coy. She was willing to be caressed, 
willing to caress in turn, but doing so while others watched? That was 
hard. She'd made a good start, but couldn't follow through. 

A couple of girls were beginning to understand that her peculiar mix of 
skill and defensive reserve could only have arisen from someone misusing 
a talented innocent. Fists clenched in sympathetic anger. Cultivating 
insight and empathy was also part of the game. 

Overcoming the damage was the challenge Glenda had set herself. 

Again, she soothed and reassured. Her embrace did not coerce, but 
protected. Again she gathered the black fall, pulling it back, finally 
taming it with her head band, freeing her own ashen tresses. 

She gently smoothed Tran's hands down from her cookies, and at last 
tilted the diffident face to her audience. Look, was the import of the 
tickling voice at Tran's ear. SEE. 

Whatever Tran feared was not there, only rapt admiration, especially 
from Kendy. It daunted her for a moment, but Glenda had her by her 
natural leash, however loosely, and would not let her elude its warmth. 

Tran closed her eyes, steadying her spirit with Glenda's breath and 
heart. The trim, spooning bosoms rose and fell in concert. 

When her eyes opened, she had shed her fears in an admirable act of pure 
will. Her stance eased and straightened. She pushed her breast forward 
as she caught Glenda's hand, not to cover herself but to rouse her 
nipples with her lover's nimble fingers. With one hand back to Glenda's 
hip, and one hand up to Glenda's head, she made a wide, languid turn, 
actually dancing backwards. It was a difficult form which the pair 
stepped through with affectionate skill. 

Somehow, then, in a way nobody quite caught, Tran was behind Glenda, 
cupping the twin handfuls, mischievously pinching a nipple here, 
tickling a rib there. The circle giggled at Glenda's consternation, a 
playful but fair revenge for putting Tran on the spot in the first 
place. 

At Tran's lead, the couple made another turn about the circle, forward 
this time. They came to a moment's stillness breast to breast, then 
swung about to spread the twin cascades like a bicolored skirt. When it 
fell, no one missed the significance of Tran gathering Glenda's plumage 
to her hand. 

Oh, Tran was good! Where had she learned such forms if not the school? 
She was showing a lovely artlessness. Had she been taught at all? Was it 
merely -- merely! -- inspired improvisation? It looked very like. 

Another deep kiss, then Tran used Glenda's flowing tether to turn her 
again to the circle's gaze. Tran slid her hands down Glenda's hips, and 
in to groom her softly spreading plush, a fine development since her 
last display. Again the adagio pas de deux; something about it made 
everyone know how proud Tran was of her partner. And this time, no doubt 
in anyone's mind, it was possessive. Glenda was Tran's and Tran's alone. 

But then, disaster! A misstep put Tran's foot between Glenda's, and 
together they tumbled to the mat! Someone stifled a disappointed cry. 

Wait! Tumbled? Not at all! It was an elegantly executed dojo throw that 
left them on their knees, thigh to thigh, face to face, leaning in to a 
long and hungry kiss. 

Oh, sweet hunger! The kiss grew and spread, each stealing the other's 
flesh wherever she could, until it seemed that Glenda might capsize 
Tran, and consume her on the spot! 

Tran was not so easily subdued. She growled and slipped away to stalk 
her own prey on all fours, Glenda swiftly following suit. 

This was wanton display indeed! Everyone appreciated the contrast 
between Glenda's sweetly rounding bottom, and Tran's slim flanks. Their 
cunnies and buttons flashed all around the circle as they took each 
others' measure, sniffing, nuzzling, even licking. 

Not only was Glenda plush, but her hood was becoming a slim finger 
dividing her burgeoning majora and pointing the way from her mons to her 
chalice. Tran made sure everyone saw the blooming pink of her ruffled 
petals. 

Tran's own blossom was nude, no hint of plush. Her majora were barely 
visible, though they glowed with passion under the golden skin. Her hood 
was the merest stem, barely visible for no more than a quarter of the 
tempting fold, anchored by taut pink webs edged in the same dark brown 
as her nipples, a rare and greatly esteemed coloration. 

As the two girl-beasts circled, they came together flank to shoulder. 
Glenda cautiously draped herself over Tran's haunches, bracing herself 
and constraining her mate, as she probed the waiting vase. The few whose 
positions gave them the privileged view, including Kendy as it happened, 
watched Glenda slip first one finger, then two, deep into the slippery 
quim, parting it to confirm that whether by act or accident, Tran was 
unsealed. 

Oh, but Glenda had trespassed, taken ungranted license! Tran snarled and 
leapt away. Her back arched on stiff legs. Glenda matched her 
magnificent challenge. 

Their lips curled to bare their fangs. Hissing, they circled and sidled 
towards each other. Oh, for flattened ears and whiskers! Oh for bottle 
brush tails! 

With a yowl, Tran pounced on her foe. Fur would have flown had there 
been any. The bout was too fast to follow as they rolled about in a most 
unladylike but thrilling fury, dealing slaps, pinches, grabs, scratches, 
and even bites. 

Just as Mr. Marshall was collecting himself to intervene, Glenda was on 
her back, arms spread, legs spread, total surrender. Tran had the root 
between her teeth, growling, worrying it a bit. Then she sat back on her 
haunches, and raised her head to howl her victory in grand disregard of 
species role. 

The tableau froze. It was over. 

Ah, but Tran laughed and knelt to plant a MWAH kiss where late the great 
cat bit, then made a blubbering motorboat right down the valley. Glenda 
shouted and curled defensively. Tran sprawled across Glenda's heaving 
belly, and they tickled and laughed each other breathless. 

Let's rewind and replay, shall we? 

The Good Witch was laughing. 

Madame President was breathless. 

Glenda had, in the moment, traded her serenity for a wide and simple 
joy. 

No few girls had tight throats. 

The two grinning nymphs finally helped each other up, joined hands, and 
bowed all around the circle. 

Mr. Marshall led the pandemonius applause. 

It was an unparalleled triumph. Everyone knew they had been privileged 
to see something that went far, far beyond a mere display. 

Mr. Marshall did not suppress the eager jabber. No use attempting to 
hold back the flood. 

There was a certain urgency to it, though. The girls were forbidden to 
touch themselves during a display, and had somehow, for the most part, 
managed to hold to their training. Their seats were nevertheless slick 
with girl juice, the air thick with their quim's perfume, and they were 
all eager to leave and make their own trysts. Some pairs would not even 
reach their rooms before succumbing in this dim closet or that forgotten 
hallway. 

They covertly watched Tran and Glenda dress each other, with tender 
caress and light embrace. Whatever jealously there might have been for 
Glenda's attention blew away in the winds of what everyone knew would be 
a legendary courtship. For the most part, anyway. These were young girls 
of uncommon passion, after all, and jealousy could flare at a glance. 
That was part of why Glenda had held herself out for so long, but she 
too was a young girl of uncommon passion, and she could not deny it 
forever. 

The two went around the room, reaping the usual congratulatory kisses 
and hugs, making sure to congratulate in turn others on their play early 
in the game, play that would have otherwise gone unheralded. Well, 
Glenda pretty much filled that role, but Tran was not without insight. 

Brick -- no, Brigit, the new couple called her -- dissolved in flustered 
happiness with Tran's ardent gratitude and Glenda's not at all chaste 
approval. 

Finally they got to Kendy, who had earned a specially heartfelt 
gratitude for her role in the victory; her uncharacteristically selfless 
restraint was greatly esteemed. The class quieted to eavesdrop. 

That, as it turned out, was not necessary. Tran spoke with new 
assurance, pronouncing an ancient but little heard formula for the 
waiting commons. 

"Glenda, belov-ed consort, may it please you, shall we take Kendy as our 
concubine?" 

Kendy went wobbly with shock, and Glenda's "My liege, as it pleases you, 
it pleases me. Kendy dearest, would you share your love with us?" would 
have driven her to her knees were it not for their enfolding arms. 

The rest of the class was not much less shaken. Concubine? Consort? 
Liege? Not one winning pair in a hundred so formalized their affair! And 
to make it a trio! With one member the Class President, one of unsteady 
temper, and another almost unknown! It was more than bold, more than 
daring; it had that streak of careless abandon that made for all the 
greatest romances. 

Not to mention the seismic social shift. President and Lady were 
separate roles, and not even Glenda could do them both justice. 

La! said not a few behind their hands, May the Witch and her Lady keep 
Kendy's fires banked. Thanks be, said most, our Glenda is no longer 
isolate. See how she beams! 

The cheers, unrestrained, echoed down the halls as Tran turned to them 
all, her consort on her right hand, their concubine on her left, and led 
her courtiers in a sweeping curtsy. 

It was the best game ever. Circle historians found nothing like it in 
chronicles going back before most of them had been born. The entire 
class hugged itself in celebration. 

Except for Brick, who stood off a little, happy for her friends, but 
alone again, wondering who would pair with the odd one out, wishing.... 

A hand fell on her shoulder, and the deep voice rumbled in her ear. 

"Brigit?" 

She turned, startled and a bit frightened. She had erred? Again? How? 
What had she...? But Mr. Marshall was smiling. 

"Well done, my dear. Very well done indeed. Would you see me in my 
office, please? I may have a position for you, if you're willing." 

Oh. 

Oh! She was to be teacher's pet! She almost hugged him, caught herself 
against the steadying palm on her shoulder, nodded herself dizzy, 
stopped in fear her head might fall off, sketched a curtsy. He patted 
her arm and moved away to stand behind his desk and bring the class to 
order. 

It was a mixed benefice, she knew; it meant Mr. Marshall thought she 
needed the extra tutoring and guidance, but he also thought she was 
worth it, that she had earned it. Contrary to the old canard, he would 
hold her to the strictest discipline. Nor could she be in his class 
anymore. She'd lose a good deal of autonomy, for a while, and being his 
maid would be hard duty. Still, bricks were strong as well as thick, she 
told herself. She would remake her name. 

And! And! To have Mr. Marshall as her first! Some girls had been too 
young to remember theirs, a few wished they couldn't, but hers, she 
knew, would be a wonderful memory she'd cherish forever. 

There was no hiding it; still, it wasn't something you bragged about, 
and, busy with chatter over the amazing, historic game they'd just 
witnessed, no one seemed to have noticed. She would have time to prepare 
for the inevitable, and not always kind, gossip. 

With the mat folded away, chairs wiped down and stacked, desks restored 
to rows, and uniforms settled, Mr. Marshall called Lady Tran and her 
courtiers to the front of the class for one last bow. 

Holding hands, the trio led the flock in the benedictory closing verse 
of the school hymn, and class was dismissed for the holiday. 

************************************************ 

This is mostly influenced by shoujo anime, with which I can admit only a 
passing familiarity. I am trying to be as breathlessly dramatic as any 
swooning middle school girl of unusual passion (see Nichijou). Beyond 
that, I've included elements of the Absurdly Powerful Class Presidents 
and Councils tropes (especially from, among too many to list, Maria-sama 
ga Miteru, Koi to Senkyo to Chocolate, and Hagure Yusha no Esutetika). 

At least, that's how the girls perceive their milieu. They have no idea 
how heavily they're being manipulated, but there's not a one of them 
that wouldn't end up in brutal slavery or dead were she not here. 

The school here is one of many fronts for the Sintered Lily, a shadowy 
organization with somewhat twisted libertarian leanings, rooted in a 
Gilded Age network of brothels. Most of their orphanages, creches, and 
schools are perfectly benign refuges for children who go on to perfectly 
ordinary lives. But some of its charges have special needs and talents 
which the Lily is uniquely qualified to manage for their mutual benefit. 
I've written several stories about their recruitment and training, which 
I'm trying to pull together under the label Lily-verse. This is the 
first to appear on assm/asstr. 

Almost all of my stories are either in the lilyverse, or in other 
settings where nuturing and training the sexual natures of young 
adolescents is at least ignored if done discretely and to the child's 
benefit. 

That said, human psychology in my stories is more than a little SFnal. 
Try any of this in real life, especially without the Lily's resources 
and training, and you will cruelly destroy your victims' lives and end 
up in a shallow grave yourself, probably not as quickly as you would 
have liked. 

And yeah, the circle game is pretty silly. But if Rowling can get away 
with Quidditch.... 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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