When she claimed the bishop, she ran her fingers lightly up and down the wooden chess piece.

“Do you know why bashing the bishop is a euphemism for masturbation?”

I shook my head.

She held it up, examining it closely.

“Apparently, they thought this looked like a cock with its bulging head and the little slit.”

She moved her hand and the bishop under the table. Her eyes closed, she squirmed in her seat. Whimpered moans escaped her open mouth.

Her hand came back up, still holding the bishop. Her juices glistened on it.

It was checkmate within three moves.