It's true. We'd been somewhat, well, dissatisfied at the level of play that Moscow's whores displayed in our first two games. Sure, it's fun to crush what little self-esteem a call girl might have, to show her that she got where she is not because of hard knocks, an abusive father or crushing poverty, but because she is a dense provincial bitch with no possible function beyond that of commodity. And, of course, we liked the winning. But it was time to take it to the next level. Showing a whore that she's stupid is one thing; showing her that while a group of poorly aging eX-holes laughs mercilessly at her naked ass in a language she doesn't understand is another.
Could we have dreamt that we would debase her so thoroughly that she would repeatedly attempt to revive a dead-drunk Mark Ames in order that he would restore to her a slight grain of humanity by stuffing her face in a pillow and fucking her? We could not.
No, our agenda going into the third "eXile Plays the Whores" game was much simpler: No longer would we be satisfied with some ho that felt that it was her decision whether to play clothed or not. Who is she to have some sort of sense of entitlement? The eXile was paying; we'd call the shots. Don't feel comfortable sitting naked surrounded by four dressed members of eXile chess committee who may or may not be indulging in controlled substances? Bitch doesn't like that we're capturing the whole thing on video? Tcha, right, we really care! Cry us a river, baby. We're the ones who plunked down a hundred bucks. You wanna find a place that'll let you say "no"? Too bad; this ain't America, baby. If we're paying your salary, you better believe you're gonna work for your money.
Oh, we realized it wouldn't be easy to find the right girl, one who would let us walk all over her the way we required. Those call girls with their okhroniki proved to be nothing but trouble. For them, two guys in a room means danger! What we needed was a whore who didn't know where we were taking her, one that's been trampled so completely that she couldn't resist our orders, one that no one would hear scream... We needed a girl from a flesh market!
Two members of our executive committee ordered a taxi to begin the search, while the remaining two engaged in a last minute training session intended to level the playing field by ingesting a substance that the world chess governing board FIDE has not ruled illegal to use during competitions. Two hours and three flesh markets latter, the search team returned with Natasha, a 19-year-old Moldavian whose train had just arrived at Kievsky Voksal the day before. That's right, folks not only were we her first chess trick, the eXile team was about to break her Moscow cherry!
We helped refresh her memory as to how the pieces moved (careful not to bog her down with confusing moves such as the en passant) with her clothes on. Our compassion ended there. After sending her to the bathroom with a towel, we reviewed some last minute keys with Sex Machine Jake Rudnitsky, who had drawn the lot to play Natasha, and waited for her return.
Natasha drew white.
Natasha -- White, eXile -- Black
Natasha finds one of the few opening moves with virtually no historical precedent, although one occasionally finds disparaging references to the Deprez, Anti-Borg or Kadas opening (1. h4. ..). It almost guarantees that she will be down a pawn in no time. Any wonder why she gets into cars full of strangers for a living?
1. ..e5 2. Nc3 Bb4 3. h5 Bxc3? 4. bxc3