The Pool Game


It was just after midnight when I walked through the door. The bar was closed and had been for some time. I was just about to leave, thinking my opponent had stood me up for the big match, when I spotted a light coming from the room in the back. I heard the unmistakable sound of pool balls echoing in the silence of the night. Someone is here and the door was unlocked. Maybe I was expected after all. Walking slowly in the darkness so as not to trip over a bar stool, I advanced toward the light until its brightness almost blinded me, my eyes having become accustomed to the dark. Standing in the doorway I got my first glimpse of her. She didn't seem to notice me as she walked around the table taking shot after shot, each ball dropping into its intended pocket. I stood there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Not a ball missed its mark.

Without looking up she says to me, " I've been waiting for you, Rambo. You're late. Thought you might have chickened out on me." Standing up straight and looking at me with her cold steel eyes she continued, " And that would have disappointed me greatly."

"Good evening, Miss Demi," I said with as much affection as I dared to muster under the circumstances. " I was watching you from the doorway. You're very good." 

"When I'm good ... I'm very good. But when I'm bad ... I'm better ", she replied with an air of confidence and a slight smile on her lips. She was being coy with me and I knew it, but I was determined not to let it show. 

She noticed I was carrying a package. "What you got there, Rambo?" she asks.

I take out a quart bottle of cuervo and a box containing a dozen chocolate éclairs, filled with delicious banana cream. "The agreed upon reward for your victory, Miss Demi", I replied.

She puts hands on hips, as only she knows how, and says, "Let's skip the formalities, just call me Demi."

"My pleasure, Demi. While we're at it, please call me J.R. It's much more to my liking", I suggest.

"No problem, J.R. In about 15 minutes, I'll be calling you "LOSER". What do you have in your back pocket?" she asks.

I pull out my double cheek size paddle and hold it up in the air for her to see. 

"This is also for you, Demi. No matter the outcome of the game, you receive the prize in either case", I respond with a twinkle in my eye.

She laughs, slapping both hands on her thighs. "That'll be the day", she says as she rolls her eyes towards the heavens.

"I didn't know you liked Buddy Holly", I said. My attempt at making her laugh some more and perhaps throw her off her game. There was no response.

We agreed to a game of 9 ball. A single game, not two out of three, just one ... WINNER TAKES ALL!! The rules are simple. The balls must be pocketed sequentially and you must call your shot. Any ball falling that was not called is replaced on the dot.

Demi took a few more practice shots and I was duly impressed ... not only by her skill but also by the manner of her dress. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, so as not to obstruct her vision. A light blue blouse, short sleeved, was tucked into the tightest pair of Calvin Klein jeans I have ever seen. I wondered how the stitching stayed in place as I watched her bend over the table, lining up each shot. I'm sure she knew exactly what she was doing ... giving me a full-blown look at the greatest looking backside I have ever seen. No doubt trying to distract me from the task ahead. There was no panty line to be seen at all. Nothing came between her and her Calvin's. She was right about that! My heart was pounding as I looked at her ... lustful, but also in awe of one of God's finest creations.

She asked if I wanted to take a few practice shots. I almost didn't hear what she was saying. My mind was too enthralled by the sight of her. I answered in the affirmative and proceeded to run the table. She watched with great enjoyment as I scratched on one shot.

"Save that for the game", she laughed, showing me a sense of humor when I least expected it.

Practice was over. She was to take the break as agreed, so I "racked 'em" as she had commanded. She took a deep breath as she prepared for the first shot, chalking the tip of her cue stick in the manner of Minnesota Fats, himself. But no ... this was Demi ... the one and only. 

I watched intently as the cue ball was sent flying into the neatly constructed triangle of nine solid and striped smooth round balls. The match was on. Who would win this battle of the sexes? I would need to gather all my strength, both physical and emotional, to get the better of this sharp little cookie. But then again, I wasn't called the "new meat hustler" for nothing.

The triangle of multi colored balls exploded in all directions as Demi had put every ounce of her strength into the break. Nary a ball had found its way into a pocket, leaving me looking over the table trying to find an easy shot at the # 1.

"An interesting strategy", I said to her, not knowing if this had been her true intention or was merely an error in judgment on her part. A girl like this usually doesn't make this kind of mistake on purpose. "Did you do that for a reason?", I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my tone.

"The break, J.R., is that what you mean?", she retorted. She knew exactly what I meant as I was on to her from the start. "Live fast ... die young, that's my motto!", she replied with a big smile on her face. God, she was beautiful. As I said before, one of His finest creations. And I had her all to myself, at least for the moment. She was cocky and brash in her own little way. Sassy and cheeky, too. But I was loving every moment of this encounter. I didn't want to take my eyes off her ... I couldn't, is what I really mean. I was transfixed by her elegance and charm. Or at least as much of it as she was allowing me to see.

She sees me staring at her. "It's your shot, J.R. Are you going to just stand there or are you going to play? Make up your mind", she barks like an army drill sergeant.

I look the table over carefully, but have no clear shot at the # 1. The cue ball has stopped in a precarious position next to the rail. I can do nothing with it. Deciding caution is the better part of valor, I play a safety, in the hope of leaving her nothing either. I must have been distracted, thinking about her again, as I did not leave the cue ball where I had intended to. Damn, she had a shot at the # 1. How could I have been so careless to give her an opening like that?

"Thank you very much", she says with a big grin on her face. I knew that error could be fatal, but it was now up to her to make the most of this opportunity that I had gift wrapped for her.

She lined up her shot and sank it cleanly, putting just enough backspin to position herself perfectly for the next ball. Standing behind her as she bent over the table eyeing the situation, I thought I had the perfect position also. The perfect position to get an eyeful of the most gorgeous female anatomy on the face of the earth! I reminded myself that there was still a game to play ... a game of pool, that is. I walked to the other side of the table to study the layout and plan my next shot. 

Demi was cool and calculating in her approach to the game now. One by one, the balls fell into the pocket she had called. "Two ... three ... four ... five", she called each one in order. And they obeyed her every command. I was beginning to wonder if I would even have another turn. How embarrassing this would be if she ran the table on me! How could I ever face the world again if she beat me so easily?

"Six ... seven ... eight", she demanded. It wasn't even close. This had become no contest. Each pocketing of a ball was followed by an exclamation of "YES" with a clenched fist thrown defiantly into the air. I could only marvel at the precision she displayed as she dissected the table with the skill of a Harvard med school surgeon. Sitting a short distance from the table, I was beginning to resign myself to my fate. If I was going to be beaten, this is how it should be done ... quickly and decisively. 

There was but one ball left to fall, the # 9. It sat temptingly close to the vast openness of the top left pocket, no more than 12 inches away from sudden victory for Demi and sudden death for me. The cue ball was 5 inches away from its intended target, but at an angle of about 45 degrees ... not that hard of a shot for a gal that hadn't missed all night.

She chalked the cue stick for perhaps the last time and carefully lined up the winning shot. Ever so slowly she drew back the stick and smoothly thrust it forward again, driving the cue ball to its intended target. It struck # 9 at an agonizing pace ... as if in slow motion. I rose out of my seat to get a better look. Demi crouched low, watching the path of the ball ever so intently. The ball rolled and rolled and rolled ... to the lip of the pocket ... AND STOPPED ... just a fraction of an inch from dropping in. We both waited with baited breath ... not a word was spoken ... BUT THE BALL DID NOT DROP!

A look of complete disbelief came over her face, disbelief and shock such as she had never experienced before. She screamed the worst possible profanity that could come from a lady's lips.

"Tough break, my dear", I said to her as she stood there trying with all her might to WILL the ball to fall. But it wouldn't budge. She walked past me without saying a word and stood in the corner, not wanting to watch the outcome of the game which was almost hers.

My body began to tremble and shake, my heart was pounding again. Only this time in anticipation of the winning shot that was now sitting before me. I lined up the cue and stroked the ball calmly and accurately. The sound of the ball hitting the bottom of the pocket resounded loudly in the deafening silence that we both found ourselves in. The cue ball came to rest in the center of the table.

"Game!", I said quietly, not trying to be overly exuberant to my worthy opponent. She turned and looked at me with that sweet little smile of hers.

"Yes ... Game. Congratulations, J.R. ... you won", she said, extending her hand to me in a gesture of sportsmanship. I would not have expected anything less from this lady that I have come to admire so much.

We stood looking at each other in silence. A lady of grace and polish that she obviously was ... she has kept her composure remarkably well. I saw no trace of tears or other emotion that I might have expected under the circumstances. So close and yet ... so far. She had lost by the slimmest of margins. I felt no joy in having won this game. Far from it! She was, in fact, the better hustler. That was never in doubt. She should have ... and would have ... won if not for the last remaining bit of friction lying between ball and felt. 

No words were spoken between us as we stood there pondering the next move. To the victor goes the spoils ... is that how the line was written? In this case the spoils are sweet indeed.

We stood looking at each other without saying a word for the longest time. I had come to respect this girl and hoped that she had done the same towards me. She still had the look of confidence on her face only surpassed by the elegance of her nature. This was a woman I would like to get to know a lot better. Another time, perhaps, when the spirit of competition would not be so great. Knowing full well, however, that if that day ever did arrive a different kind of sporting event would then ensue.

"You played well, Demi. You had me beat. You know that. Just another half revolution of the ball is all it would have taken", I said, finally breaking the sounds of silence.

"Thank you, J.R., but you won ... fair and square. And a bet is a bet. I am prepared to carry out my end of the bargain. Where should we go?", she asks with no sassiness forthcoming.

"Across the pool table would be rather symbolic, don't you think?", I suggest, liking the idea even before the words had dripped from my lips.

"Yes ... that would be symbolic, wouldn't it", she replies as she bends over the edge of the table, feet barely touching the floor and stretching out as far as she can reach.

I pick up my oversized paddle and stand to the left of her magnificent posterior. Still admiring this heavenly creature, I raise my arm high and swiftly begin its downward journey.

I spank her once ... I spank her twice ...
There is no cry ... I spank her thrice ...
Then four and five and six ... they follow ... 
There are some tears ... her pain's not hollow.

She wears her jeans ... pulled way up tight ... 
Not much is hidden ... from my sight ... 
Then three more smacks ... that crack so loud ... 
It seems this girl ... is very proud.

Ten, eleven, twelve ... it's done ... 
Her face is red ... more tears have come ... 
She shakes her head ... and cries some more ... 
I know her pride ... is really sore.

I help her up from the table and hold her in my arms. She, too, embraces me as she sobs and shakes. Her breathing is heavy, but she assures me that she is OK.

"You spank hard, J.R. I shall remember this game for a long time", she says, a smile returning to her face. She is not bitter. I asked her how it felt to be spanked in such a manner. She replies that it could have been a lot worse if she hadn't planned it this way.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?", I asked in astonishment.

"You don't think I missed that last shot by accident, do you?", she states matter of factly.

"You did that on purpose? Is that what you're telling me? WHY?", I wondered.

"Well, after seeing that paddle of yours, I sure didn't want it to go to waste. After all, you did go through all the trouble of bringing it here", she says and starts to laugh uncontrollably.

"YOU CHEATED ... YOU LIED TO ME ... YOU DIDN'T PLAY FAIR!", I screamed at her. But she broke into hysterical laughter even before I was finished.

"So what are you going to do about it?", she pondered.

Without hesitation, I unbuttoned and pulled those Calvin's down around her knees so fast that she didn't have time to react. Dragging her across the room, I found a suitable chair, yanked her across my knee and told her in no uncertain terms what I was going to do about it. And there was nothing to protect her already red bottom from receiving another helping of my oversized paddle.

One, two ... she cries boo hoo ... 
Three, four ... can't take no more ... 
Five, six ... her ass I'll fix ... 
Seven, eight ... her lies I hate ... 
Nine, ten ... begin again.

There would be no mercy this time for the sassy Demi. I can't believe she did that to me, but she paid for it dearly as 50 resounding smacks of my paddle landed on the most beautiful orbs in the world. Well, they weren't looking so nice right now, but that was her doing, not mine.

I lifted her up once again and she danced around the floor, jumping up and down and rubbing her precious little fanny with all her might. There was nothing she could do to make the stinging subside and that was just fine with me.

After a couple of minutes she pulled her Calvin's back up but did not button them. Loose fitting was the order of the day right now.

"You know, Demi, I brought this cuervo and these éclairs for you, just in case I had lost fair and square. It would be a terrible thing to waste such a wonderful meal. I'll give them to you anyway, just to show you that my feelings aren't hurt", I says to her, looking for a positive reaction to all this.

"It's not your feelings that are hurt, J.R., it's my ass!!", she says as she manages a genuine smile. She's not upset over the second spanking, knowing full well that she deserved it to the 'enth degree. " Would you like to share this with me?", she offers.

I nod in agreement. We sat ( don't ask me how she did ) and talked till dawn, stuffing ourselves with banana cream éclairs and washing them down with sips of cuervo. We told each other of our hopes and our dreams. We shared some of the sorrow that had come into each of our lives, and most importantly, we promised each other that we would always be friends. That seemed to be the most important thing that came out of this evening ... THAT WE WOULD ALWAYS BE FRIENDS. We also promised that we would henceforth respect each other in private and in public. If either of us ever needed anything we knew whom to call first. Tears were shed and jokes were told. The hours passed so quickly, it seemed. Where did the time go? The early morning light was upon us. We cleaned up the mess we created, washed the glasses and threw all the wrappers and boxes in the trash.

I asked for one last favor before we parted. She agreed to anything. I just wanted to hold her in my arms one last time, not knowing when I would see her again. We embraced and I kissed her on the cheek and told her how much I shall miss her. She reminded me that she would always be there for me and that she was only a phone call away. I begged her to remember that the same goes for me.

We walked hand in hand out the door, closing it behind us. I watched her get in her car and slowly drive away. Tears started to form in my eyes as I came to grips with the fact that I might never see her again, despite what we had promised each other. Life is like that sometimes. You never know what you're going to get. 

Farewell, sweet Demi, I shall remember you always, no matter where life's journey takes me. I can only hope that you do the same.


THE END ...