LizWired

Friday night. I pulled my car into the parking lot around 10pm, gravel crunching under the tires. The music from a good song was pouring like velvet out my stereo speakers so I sat for a couple minutes in the dark interior, letting the sound infuse my mind, winding me up. When the song ended, I cut the ignition, the sudden silence flowing through the car.

I threaded the car key off the ring and took only my ID and some cash with me, sliding everything into my back pocket. No purse to keep track of and no unsightly bulges in my pockets. I got out of the car, stepping into the cold air of the lot.

As I approached the front door, I could hear the muted bass of the music playing inside. The noise increased in volume and clarity as I pulled the heavy door open, allowing me entry to the dim interior. I took a half minute getting the layout of the place and looking for my target.

The main bar was off to the left, bottles of liquor glowing in front of the mirror backed wall. There were four pool tables lined up down the middle of the room with small tables and chairs scattered beside them on the right. Joey and his friends were at the last pool table at the back of the room.

They didn’t notice me as I made my way over to the bar for a drink. A scruffy older man reached out a hand as I passed, making a lewd comment. I pulled my hand away, telling him to back off. Thankfully he went back to his own drink.

There were a few regulars holding down the far end of the bar, mostly staring into their drinks, trying to stay upright on their barstools. Otherwise, the main stretch of bar was empty, everyone else scattered around the pool tables and sitting at the little tables nearby.

The bartender stopped wiping the bar to come over for my drink request. Shot of Patrón with a squeeze of lime and a Lagunitas I.P.A. back. When I had my drinks in front of me I took the shot glass in my hand before turning around toward the main room, looking toward the last pool table, toward Joey.

Joey was bent over the pool table lining up a shot when I made eye contact with one of his two buddies. Without looking away, Joey’s friend nudged him with an elbow, fucking up Joey’s shot. The cue ball went wide and I saw him saying something to his friend. Although I couldn’t hear their words I knew his friend was telling him to look over at me.

Joey stood up, stick gripped in his right hand, the other holding the edge of the pool table. As he looked at me I raised my shot glass toward him briefly before knocking the tequila back. He looked pissed off, shaking his head slightly, saying something to his friend.

I turned away, setting the empty shot glass back on the bar and pulling a stool out. I sat on the bar stool, facing out toward them, watching the boys finish playing their game while I worked on my beer.

Despite the missed shot when his friend nudged him, Joey won the first game. I watched, eyes glued to Joey as he worked his way around the table during the second game. He pretended to ignore me but I could tell that he didn’t play the second game as well as the first and lost.

When the game was over, Joey stepped back away from the table. He didn’t take a seat, instead leaning against the small wooden shelf on the wall of the bar where his beer glass sat. I watched him light up a smoke, exhaling his first drag before finally looking over at me. I smiled at him before going back to watching his two friends play their game.

All three of them were good players. As the third game approached the end, I turned back to the bar, catching the bartender’s attention. When he came over I ordered a second glass of I.P.A. and got five bucks change in quarters from him. After taking a sip of my beer I picked up a dollar in quarters and hopped off my barstool.

They all watched me approach their table, game momentarily forgotten. When I reached their table I set my quarters down on the rail.

“I’ve got the next game.” They just looked at each other before one of them, the name embroidered over his shirt pocket said Sam, started laughing.

“Okay. Sure.” Sam said. I let my fingers trail along the rail as I went back to my place at the bar, waiting for the game to end.

I watched Sam sink the eight ball, making a tricky shot to win the game, before scooping up the remaining four bucks in quarters and taking my beer glass with me over to their pool table.

“Nice shot.” I smiled at him and this time he didn’t laugh.

“Thanks. You rack.” He held out the triangular wooden frame to me. I took it, set my beer glass down on the little table, and placed my quarters into coin push chute. I pushed it hard, hearing the billiard balls being released from the interior of the table, rumbling down to the end. I racked quickly, nice and tight.

“Let’s play.” Sam nodded his head and leaned over the table preparing to break while I went to the rack of sticks to pick one out. I heard the loud crack as Sam took his first shot. On the break Sam sank the four ball for solids. He proceeded to sink the two ball and the seven ball before missing the three ball (a long bank shot).

My eleven ball was lined up for a nice easy shot into the corner pocket. I’ve played my share of pool and can make some more difficult shots but I didn’t want to go there yet with these guys. My fifteen ball was lined up for a mildly difficult bank shot so I decided to take it.

I moved around the table to line up the shot, going slightly off of where I really needed to be to sink it. Sam took the bait.

“You’ll never make that shot from that angle.”

“No? Where should I take it from?” Sam came over and stood next to me, pointing out where I needed to hit the cue ball and from what angle.

“But won’t that make the ball go this way?” I used my cue stick to trace the line. He explained it to me again while I looked at him.

“I still don’t get it. Why don’t you help me line up my shot?” I indicated that he should get behind me, physically help me line up the shot. I saw him glance quickly at Joey, who had made a low sarcastic cough at my words, before taking me up on my offer.

He got behind me, lightly putting his hands on my hips to guide me over a bit to a different spot at the table, twisting slightly for the right angle.

With him still behind me I heard his voice, “Okay, go ahead and line up your shot, just like I showed you.” I bent down over the table, right hand braced on the felt to support the stick in my left.

“Lefty?” He asked, surprised.

I turned my head back toward him, still bent over the table for my shot, “Only when I shoot pool.”

“Interesting. You’re still not lined up right though. Shooting lefty changes the angle just slightly.” He bent down over me, reaching around to help me line up the shot, the whole length of his body against mine. When he had everything where he wanted it he indicated that I should take the shot. Perfect. I watched as the cue ball bounced off the rail, coming back around and knocking the fifteen ball into the side pocket.

“Nice. What’s your next shot?” This from Kevin, their other friend.

“Twelve ball, corner pocket” Sam nodded in agreement and again helped me line up my next shot. With him wrapped around me to help guide my shot I could have easily leaned lightly back against him, ass to crotch. I could see Joey watching us intently and I was on my best behavior, making sure to maintain some distance between me and Sam. I missed the twelve ball, giving him time to step away from me.

Sam quickly sank his six ball and his five ball. On my turn I got my ten ball and the twelve in. I had my thirteen and fourteen left on the table, both tricky shots. I asked Sam for his advice on which one I should take and he picked the fourteen, long bank, corner pocket.

I gave him a look like he was crazy. “No way, the thirteen is way easier.”

“Yeah, go for the thirteen.” Kevin again.

“Nah, check it out.” Sam got behind me again, hands on my hips, a little more confident this time, walking me around to the far end of the table. He used his body to lean me down over the table, much the same as Joey had over the hood of my car, only much less urgent. He was talking a little too fast, pushing into me a little too far as he explained how to take the shot.

I bumped him back sharply off me with my ass, turning my head back to look at him.

“Easy there, big guy. I might think you’re trying to distract me from my game so you won’t lose to a woman.” Joey let out a little laugh but didn’t say anything.

Sam tried to hide his embarrassment behind humor.

“Ah, you’re on to me. Not much gets by you does it?” He backed off, letting me finish lining up my shot by myself. I missed and he quickly ended the game by sinking his remaining two balls followed by the eight ball.

I held out my hand for him to shake.

“Nice game. Thanks for the help.” He took my hand, holding it a couple seconds too long.

“Anytime.” He smiled at me, then looked over at Joey. “You’re up Joe.”

I sat down at the table where my beer waited, watching Joey rack the balls for the next game. It was a good, close game with me, Sam and Kevin trading smart remarks back and forth over the table. Joey still had yet to say much. I could see the tension in him, wondering where this was all going. Sam won the game, but not by much.

As they were shifting places, getting ready for another game, I finished my beer and got up, announcing that I was heading to the ladies room. Kevin asked me what I was drinking, offering to buy me another beer. I gave him my order and walked around the corner to the short hallway in back where the bathrooms were.

I took my time, giving the guys a chance to talk to each other, knowing the other two had to be giving Joey some shit, maybe egging him on. They had to know some of what had already gone down between me and Joey.

When I felt like enough time had passed, I washed and dried my hands, tossing the damp towels into the overflowing waste basket beside the sink. Before I unlocked the door I turned the light out, giving my eyes a half minute to adjust to the darkness before turning the knob and opening the door.

I was looking down at the knob in my hand, thinking about how I wanted to move things along tonight and didn’t see Joey standing just outside the door until I almost bumped into him. He stood there, a scowl on his face, blocking my way back to the bar. Excitement leapt in my belly.

“Hey Joey. The ladies room is all yours.” Be careful, not too bitchy. He gripped my left arm roughly, pushing me back into the dark bathroom. He shut the door behind us, locking it without letting go of me, his back pressed against the door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” From his tone of voice I could tell he was supremely pissed off. That and the vice grip he had on my arm.

“You’re hurting me, Joey. Let go.” Another short sarcastic laugh from him but he didn’t ease his grip on me.

“Funny, Liz, because I got the idea you like it to hurt.”

“Look, Joey. I’m sorry for last Saturday. Okay?” Playing myself down, letting him feel in control, the excitement burning higher with each second.

“Sorry? Oh, that’s a good one. Nice fucking try.” The fingers of his right hand squeezed my arm even tighter, digging in to my muscle. I could feel his anger gaining strength. “We’re way beyond that don’t you think?”

“Hey, I said I was sorry.” I paused a few seconds. “I’ll make it up to you.” I reached out my free right hand to run my palm against the front of his jeans. Instantly he slapped his left hand over my right, squeezing my fingers painfully together while he pulled my hand up and away, holding it near my shoulder.

“Jesus, you never let up do you?”

“I’m sorry. I thought…” He yanked me hard, more like sharp shaking.

“Don’t think, it’s not your strong point.” He mimicked in a high sing-song voice, throwing my own line back at me.

“Joey, you’re hurting me. And scaring me.” I was breathing fast now, excitement peaked. Feeling volatile, something about to explode, the electricity between us enough to power a small city. He stopped the shaking and I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly with his anger and his own excitement but he didn’t release his hold on me.

“What do you want from me?” His voice a low angry hiss in the darkness.

“I want you to let go of me and let me out of here.” Giving him control of the situation.

“Stop. Fucking. With. Me.” Him up in my face now, his voice dangerous as the words pushed out from behind his clenched teeth, me holding my ground.

“Please,” I begged him in a soft pleading whisper staring straight into his eyes, struggling lightly against his tight grip, playing him for everything I’ve got, “let me go. Please...”

I took a big step back, pulling hard against him, this time trying to break his grip, get away, make something happen. Redline. He finally lost all control, pushing me back, pinning me against the cold porcelain edge of the sink, his hands and mouth all over me, grinding himself into me.

One hand tangled itself in my hair at the back of my neck, pulling, drawing my head back to expose my throat to him. He kissed my throat, my breath coming in small gasps when he used his teeth on my tender skin. One of my hands twined around his neck, the other around his hip, gripping his ass, pulling him against me, feeling him through our clothing.

He reached down, sliding his hands under the back of my thighs and lifted me up onto the edge of the sink. He used his body to wedge my thighs apart and, still kissing me, tasting of beer and cigarettes, he urgently worked to undo my pants.

I gripped the sides of the sink, leaning back and raising my hips off the edge so he could pull my jeans and panties down. I heard the sound of my quarters bouncing off the dirty tile floor as they fell from my pocket. The cold porcelain of the sink grew warm quickly from my bare skin as Joey undid his own jeans, sliding them down over his ass, just enough. God, still no underwear.

He gripped my thighs again sliding me forward where he wanted me. I let him take what he needed, felt him as he pushed his cock up against me. He wasn’t looking at me, only concentrating on getting what he wanted. No hesitation this time, no control as he pushed all the way into me at long last. Sweet God. I couldn’t stop myself from moaning, head thrown back, eyes closed as he sank himself deep, pulling right back out for another rough thrust, and another.

I let my own control of myself slip away getting lost in the feeling of him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He fucked me as though he were trying to gain possession of me, make me his belonging. Desperate words exploding from his mouth in between urgent kisses. His hands gripping my bare ass, fingers digging into my pale flesh, pulling me even deeper onto him, holding almost my entire weight.

So lost, swept up in the release of our pent-up desire that we didn’t take care or notice of anything around us. A sharp knock on the bathroom door followed by a woman’s voice asking whether someone was in the bathroom brought reality crashing in. We both froze, breathing hard, struggling for quiet, him still rocking slowly into me, lips against my neck just below my ear.

Another knock, harder this time.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

I found my voice. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.” Strange, how calm, normal, my answer sounded. We listened as the woman’s footsteps walked away.

He backed away suddenly, his cock slipping out of me leaving me empty, and hitched his pants back up over his hips. He never took his eyes off me, eyes on fire with confusion and desire, as he quickly buttoned his jeans. I thought he was about to bolt out the door so I grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, pulling him back against me, my mouth on his forcing my tongue inside. He groaned deep in his throat, hands stroking my ass again as he kissed me back.

“Come home with me,” was all he said.