All characters are at least 18 years old.
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Hank
"Well, that was an interesting first date," I remarked as I drove. "I don't think I even finished my coffee."
Jean glanced at me before looking down at her lap, remaining quiet for a moment. "Sorry," she finally murmured.
"For what? Wasn't your fault. Besides, an awkward first date is part of the authentic dating experience," I chuckled.
That got a little laugh from her. "But... I don't want the date to end there. Do you think we could do something else?"
I smiled, glad she felt the same way I did. "Then... Hm, have you ever been bowling?"
"I only ever got to watch."
"Then this will be your first time." When she didn't say anything, I looked over to see her beet red and trying to use her hair to hide her face. Something stirred inside me, primal and hungry. We stopped at a red light, and I reached over and turned her head by the chin. "Did you hear me, girl?" I asked, voice low.
She was taken aback at first, then bit her lip. "Yes, sir," she mewled. Oh, that was the winning combination, friends. I grunted in approval before turning back to the road, somewhat regretting getting myself aroused without any plans to follow through.
The sexual tension hung between us all the way to the bowling alley. Once we walked through the door, though, it was broken by her poorly-contained excitement for the game. We rented our shoes and a lane, and I was already prepared to choose our balls when I saw Jean struggling.
"Goddamn shoes don't fit," she was growling to herself, or perhaps to the shoes.
"Well, they're the right size," I reasoned, crouching down in front of her. "Just gotta know how to finesse 'em."
"Prof, it's a fucking shoe. I can do it myse--"
"Don't fuss," I instructed. To my surprise, she didn't say anything as I took her by the ankle and slipped her shoe on for her. I tugged the collar over her heel, then tied the laces in a simple knot.
"I know how to tie laces," she mumbled, but I ignored her as I put on her other shoe as well. When I was done, I stood and smiled, checking out our red-and-white footwear. She got to her feet as well and admired them for a bit before I jerked my head over toward the balls. "So, how do we pick? Pick the prettiest pattern?" she quipped.
"You want a ball that's not too heavy or you'll have no control over it, but also not too light so that it transfers your power well." I picked up a striped green-and-brown ball marked 14 and nodded approvingly.
"Hm..." Jean looked over her options, testing a few out before finally settling on a mottled white-and-grey 11. "Guess I'll give this a try."
We headed back to our lane, and I gestured for her to step up as I placed my ball on the return rails. "Let's see what you got," I said with a grin. She blew out a breath before sticking her thumb, index, and middle fingers into the holes. "Wait, no. Use your middle and ring fingers."
"Why?" She looked at the ball quizzically. "Does it even matter?"
"I think it's to have the ball centered in your hand," I explained as she switched to the correct fingers. "And you can use the other two fingers to keep it balanced, give you a better idea on how you're aiming. Just a guess. Just remember it's these three fingers that go into the holes."
"So like masturbating. Got it," she noted before grinning widely.
I laughed, then replied in a low voice, "Yes, like masturbating."
"Okay, jeez. You don't gotta make it weird," she muttered, shying away from me.
"You made it weird," I retorted, taking her by the shoulders and walking her up to the lane. "Alright, see these dots here? This is where you start. You take your walk up and then you roll the ball, but don't cross this line here. These arrows are to help you align yourself properly so that--"
"Jesus Christ, I can't. Maybe you go first so I can see." She was a bit flustered, clearly out of her element, but more embarrassed than annoyed.
I chuckled. "Sure. Probably easier to demonstrate, huh? Meanwhile, you can enter our names into the system."
We traded places, and I lined up for my first shot. Probably best I held back, so as not to intimidate her. She watched me carefully from the side as I proceeded to hit six pins. My brothers would've laughed me out of the building at that pitiful performance, but we were in teaching mode right now.
"Okay, I think I've got it. Is it my turn?"
"You get two tries before your turn's over. If you get all the pins on the first try, it's a strike. If you only get a few but manage to get them all on the second try, it's a spare," I explained. My second shot cleared the pins. "Like so." I pointed up to the monitor at the six and slash in my first frame, and she nodded before grabbing her ball and taking a deep breath as she lined up.
"Gonna crush you, old man," she boasted, and I only smiled from my seat. She imitated my form pretty well, and fortunately she released the ball properly.
And it went straight in the gutter.
"Fuck," she muttered. "It's okay, I have another chance, right?" She grit her teeth, taking her walk up and sending her ball careening off to the side and into the gutter again. "Alright, this is bullshit. What the fuck."
I chuckled and stood up. "It's okay. It takes practice. Here, why don't you just use my turns to keep practicing? Once you get the hang of it, we'll start another game and play for real, alright?" I handed her ball back to her from the return, and she went again.
She went on to bowl another two frames of gutter balls and was getting frustrated. "God damn it. What am I doing wrong? I did what you did, right?"
"Hm." I stood behind her, lining her up properly for a straight shot. "I think it's your aim. Let me see your swing, but don't follow through and let go of the ball." It turned out she was tossing the ball sideways. I should have known. "You gotta keep it straight. Always have these two fingers behind your thumb in the direction you want it to go. Make sure they're aligned with your swing." She nodded with a frown. "Try again."
She blew out a breath again, face scrunched up in determination, then did her run up. Her ball sailed safely down the lane, curving to the left and knocking into the three leftmost pins.
"I did it!" she cheered, turning to me with joy all over her face.
"Great job," I said, giving her a high five. "Now go again, you gotta get the other seven."
Her second shot curved to the left again, only netting her another two pins. "Alright, well... That's half, at least, right?"
"Oh, definitely. Much better than the big fat goose eggs you were getting earlier," I said with a grin, nudging her with my elbow.
"Fuck off, prof," she replied, smirking. "C'mon, take some of your turns. I wanna see what you're doing again."
We continued for another three frames, with me bowling spares and her struggling to get more than five pins consistently. After sending another shot hooking to the left, she folded her arms.
"Damn, why is it doing that?"
"'Cause you're spinning it." I picked up my ball to demonstrate her hand movements. "You're keeping your shot straighter than before, but at some point during your release you're twisting ever so slightly."
