BOMAW 1-3 (11 page)

“And hang up that jacket,” she ordered good-naturedly.

“Yes, ma’am. You mind getting the wine off the kitchen porch stairs where I left it?” he asked, doing as she requested.

“Sure, I can do that.” She turned away, blowing out a "phew" in relief.

He was hustling her. He should be ashamed of himself, but he wasn’t. She was leaning over the pool table lining up another shot, a triumphant grin lighting up her pretty face. He’d won the first game they played, pretending by luck, noticing her pool skills. Automatically, his mind injected the plan to hustle her in the game for a kiss. Just one more kiss. He couldn’t get that first one out of his mind. Nor the feelings it evoked. He hadn’t felt so shaken to the core since his very first kiss as a young boy. When for the first time, he had experienced his tongue in a young girl’s mouth. Back then, the kiss had been sweet because she had just removed a Charms cherry lollipop for the kiss, so yes…cherry sweet. The kiss earlier had been that kind of sweet as well, not flavored with the taste of a Charms lollipop, but flavored with something infinitely sweeter. Decorum be damned. He wanted another one. He wanted to feel that body up against his again. Her full, soft breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He wanted to test the weight and firmness of her rear in his hands again. He stood watching her, resigned to his semi-aroused state. If he dare let his mind go any further in the fantasy of her, he would find himself at a full erection and no way to hide it. She took her shot and made it. She had three balls left on the table to his six. She stood, did a cute little wink and double click with her tongue from the side of her mouth.
Um-hm, lady. You’re smug now. Let’s see how smug you are when I sit you on that table with “Otis” nudging at your door, my tongue in your mouth, and the cheeks of your firm ass in my hands.

“Argh! I hate it when I miss an easy shot like that!” Sylvia exclaimed, stepping back from the table to give him his shot.

“Yeah, sure. Obviously you invited me here to show off what a pool shark you are,” he spoke as if serious but okay with it. Sylvia grinned. “Who, me, a pool shark? Not hardly. I just find the game enjoyable and relaxing. You play pretty good,” she offered, trying to keep from crowing at the high of whipping him in pool. She loved to win, and in this, she was doing just that. Or so she thought.

“Thanks,” he responded, just so, making a shot that looked unplanned by an amateur of course—and missed. The appropriate deep sigh followed. Sylvia bit into her bottom lip not to laugh out.

“You’ll learn. Just be patient, and draw the geometric lines in your mind. The cause and effect of alignment and impact,” she advised, trying not to sound like she was bragging on her skill.

“Oh, now I’m getting a lesson in physics, hm?” he grumped sourly.

“I'm just saying, besides, physics help.” She profiled with her stick lined up for a shot then winked at him, took it, and hit dead on with the ball taking the side pocket with a resounding knock at the rail before she sunk it. “What can I say?” Now that was a blatant brag.

He hid the sinister grin behind narrowed eyes. Obviously she didn’t understand the magnitude of that kiss. Nor the way it made him feel. If nothing else, this lady had his lust meter flicking madly in the hot zone. As much as he hated admitting it, it was much more than that. Than lust.
I might have taken sympathy on you, lady, but there’s a lesson to be learned here, and "teach" is going to give you one you’ll not soon forget.

“Em-hmm. No big deal. It’s just pool...anybody can learn to play pool and win. If you ask me, it’s a game for wussies. If I wanted to, I could beat you. I just don’t want to,” he said, aimed and missed the next shot.

“Ach!” Sylvie sounded. “Say what? Wussies?” she simpered, then chuckled. “You just mad 'cause you can’t play,” she furthered. “I brought you down here, fed you that good and tender steak, and you know it was good—wudn’it?” she prodded for affirmation. He nodded, looking her in the eyes.

“Yeah, it was good, if I must say so myself.”
Take it nice and slow…she’s about to set up the knock down…just let her lead you, and you follow her right in,
he coached himself silently.

“Doggone right it was good! Nice, fresh-tossed salad. Perfectly baked potato, I might add and dessert is waiting,” she continued to boast.

You better believe it, baby, and it’s gonna be sweet,
he thought in anticipation. “Now, having said that, the least you could do…” She had that black pride feeling raising its ugly head. Her gestures, drag and motion, just too confident. “I said, the least you could do, is take this whippin’ like a man. I ain’t gone hurt ya bad, just a lil’ spankin’. You like spankings, don’tcha?” She grinned, then laughed out as she set up the last two shots and sunk them both, and without hesitation she polished off the 8-ball in the corner pocket. Her finale was a little victory dance, crowing in her joy and laughter. Oh, but he played his part well. “Oh, I see how you are now. Didn’t your mama ever teach you when you play a game with a man, you're suppose to let him win?”

“My mama never taught me no such thing,” she returned, with hands on hips and attitude high.

"Well she should have. I could win at this stupid game if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to.” He played the sore loser role to perfection.

“Excuse me? First of all, the game is not stupid. Second, it takes time to develop the skill level needed to be a successful pool player. And…obviously you haven’t put that much time into it. Which is why—I spanked you—three out of four games. That first one was my warm up, or you wouldn’t have won that one either,” she continued, digging a deeper hole for herself.

“Skill my lily-white, hairy
ass
!” he shot, making Sylvia gasp in shock, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

“You gettin’ mad, ain’tcha? It ain’t nothin’ but a thang…you ain’t the first I beat. It don’t minimize your manhood none. Everything you came in with—you get to leave with. Pride might be a little bruised, but that, too, will heal.”

“Oh, that’s it! Round up the balls, set ‘em up! Rack ‘em up! Whatever the hell you call it, let’s go. My turn now!” He pretended to be wounded and ready to fight for his manhood. Sylvia was grinning, shaking her head. “I think that we should just forego anymore pool tonight and have dessert. I mean…it’s only going to get worse.”

“Oh, oh, oh! Scared now, aren’t you? Scared I’m gonna beat you at your own game!” he fronted. She rolled her eyes. “Honey chile', please.
That
is the least of my worries. I’m trying to save you from yourself. You couldn’t handle the last three whippin's. What make you think you can handle one more? Ain’t you sore enough?”

“Rack ‘em up!”

“You not gonna win. Come on, let’s have some dessert. You need to calm down.”

“You’re just afraid I’ll beat you, that’s all. I bet you I’ll win. I’ve been watching how you play, I can do what you've been doing.”

“You’ll bet me?” Sylvia asked, incredulous, then laughed as if he were crazy. Then thought,
what the heck. I’mo have to teach this white man something right now.

“Okay, you rack ‘em up. I’ll even let you break,” she offered, relishing the thought of winning the bet.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are we betting for?”

“Darlin’, you can bet for whatever you want. You ain’t gone win. Skies the limit,” she bragged confidently. “It takes time to get where I am at pool,” she informed him again, then stated what she wanted, “I tell you what I want. I win…you have to keep my porch shoveled. Annnd, you have to keep my car cleaned off. If I’m going somewhere, you have to warm it up for me. I hate going out in the morning and getting into a cold car.” She shivered to emphasize the point.

“You keep your car in the garage!” he exclaimed, incredulous.

“I might forget and leave it out one day, and even in the garage, it’s still cold. No matter how early. If I call you…four in the mornin’ tellin’ you I got to be somewhere by five, you got to get out there and have that car warm for me. As a matter of fact, I want it warmed up, pulled out of the garage and parked right in line with the front door, so all I have to do is run out and jump in. I want you waiting out there for me until I come, so you can hold the door open for me like a valet,” she finished, grinning with tears in her eyes.

He shook his head thinking,
oh baby, it gets sweeter and sweeter.
“You sure that’s all? I mean, maybe I should run and fill it up with gas, too!” he added, sarcastically.

Her eyes grew large. “Oh, yeah! I hate standing with that cold wind blowing as I pump the gas. Okay, yeah, that too. If I need gas, I expect you to take it and fill it up. Thank you, that’s a good one.”

“Ohhhh,” he growled deep in his throat.

“Hey, a bet’s a bet. You said it. Now when I win, you just follow through, no backing down.”

“No backing down?"

“No—backing—down. The bet stands, right here, right now."

“You sure about that?" he checked.

"I'm sure…sure!"

"You got it, lady, and you remember the same,” he added with calculating eyes. “Now, my turn for what I want.” His eyes, his gesture, his stance shook Sylvia deep inside, and for a moment she had a weird feeling come over her. The feeling, as if she might have been taken, but she shook if off. She was good when it came to pool. She would win. She knew she would.

“Fire away…let’s hear it.”

“Immediately following my victory of this game, I’m going to take you by the waist, set you on the rail of this fine table here, part your legs and step in between. I’m then going to grab your hips and pull you snug and tight up against me—so you can feel for yourself what you do to me.” He gave her a moment to digest that, lifting one large hand before her. “Then this hand will be at your lower back holding you there so you don’t move away, while the other will be behind your head, pressing your mouth to mine as my tongue tastes tonight’s dinner and every hidden crevice there. You will not break the kiss! Only I can break the kiss, no matter how long I make it. So take a deep, long breath now, lady, because after this game, every breath you take, I will claim as mine. As a matter of fact, from this day forward, if I decide to grab you and kiss you, you have to let me. Again, I break it, not you. That’s what I want, and by the way, wherever it is that my hand wanders during the kiss, they have the freedom to wander, and again, you have to let them. Now let’s play
your
game.” A confident brow rose and he winked at her. Sylvia gulped. Next thing she knew, his whole manner changed. His focus was entirely on the pool table. He took the triangle ball rack, placing it on the table and lining it perfect with the correct side dots. Reaching down into the open slot, he retrieved the balls, placing them in the triangle according to the correct color, solid and stripe arrangement, numbers included. Next, he gave the rack a move forward, then back, stabilizing the balls and removed it with ease. Setting it aside, he grabbed his stick, the chalk cube and applied his desired amount of chalk to the tip.

“You’re sure you want me to break?”

Sylvia stared at him, speechless.

“No problem,” he replied as if her silence meant yes. His stance, his lean, his play with the stick and the way he was lining up the shot to break said loud and clear—pool player from the get go! With a sinking realization, Sylvie realized she was about to get the most dangerous hustle of her life. He pulled the stick back and shot it forward with such power, the clacking of the balls reverberated as they scattered far and wide across the table. Three stripes went in, and two solids. He chose the stripes, walking around the table and lining up the shots like a master. His eyes on the table, he spared her not one glance. There was no hiding his skill level now, making bank shots and other difficult shots and in no time flat, all the stripes were in. “8-ball in that side pocket, last hole.” She watched as the 8-ball rolled to its pocket as if the master had spoken. He then went about clearing the table of what would have been her balls to shoot. He didn’t miss a shot. Not one. Very quietly, Sylvia sighed deep. With the table clean, he stepped over to the rack, put his stick in its place there. Walked to her, took her stick, and did the same. Again Sylvia gulped.

Come here,” he commanded in no uncertain terms. That command snapped Sylvie to attention.

“You hustled me!” she charged. “You knew how to play all along!” she argued with a speeding heart.

"Never mind that, I said come here." He started towards her. “Remember, no backing down...you're not going to renege, are you?” he asked silkily with steady even steps. Sylvia whimpered, backing away against the side of the table.

“You took advantage of me! You knew you could beat me!”

His smile was that of a stalking wolf. “According to you, that wasn’t possible.”

Again she whimpered. “Surely you’re not going to hold me to that bet?” she squealed, a sudden ringing in her ears began.

"
Sorry, lady, I have every intention of holding you to that bet, just as you would have held me to your terms.”

“I was just…just razzing you. I would have never held you to all of that…really. I mean, we were just kidding around…right?” She gulped convulsively. He chuckled, very amused, coming to stand right in front of her. That he was aroused, she could see, without having to look right at his crotch.