In the summer months, a group of us from work had taken to playing pool every few weeks. Middle of the week we'd meet in a small downtown that had, among other things, a handful of great restaurants and an up market pool hall.
After a bite to eat, we'd all take the short stroll from the restaurant to the pool hall where we'd settle in for the remainder of the evening.
Sharing round after round, game after game, we'd while away the hours gossiping and airing our dirty work laundry.
Of the small group, Hannah and I were the players to beat. Unless the two of us played on opposing teams the result was almost a certainty.
More often than not, Hannah and I would be the last to call it a night, but not before we'd played some serious pool.
Our games were always close contests and without the others around, the conversation would quickly turn to taunting innuendo.
Even if the obvious ambiguities weren't present in the vernacular of the game, the two of us would have turned the mundane into something ripe with sexual undertones.
To the casual observer, the contests of skill would seem lighthearted but in truth, each game was a matter of pride. The phrase "Rack'em bitch" had emerged as the end-zone dance of our contests.
On this particular night, the others had left the two of us to our grudge matching earlier than usual. It seemed a lot of other people had the same thought.
The pool hall, normally a hive of clatter and chatter, was silent except for our own game and some ambient jazz playing softly.
Being Hannah's bitch for the third time in a row, I started emptying each pocket. While racking the last few balls for what would be our last game, I decided to see if Hannah was in the mood to have a little fun.
'Oh, Hannah,' I said.
'Yes, my little biatch,' she replied sweetly.
'Care to make things interesting?' I asked.
'What did you have in mind?' Hannah countered.
'Oh, how about loser buys lunch?' I suggested casually.
'A full slab of ribs at BJ's,' I concluded, knowing that neither of us would refuse such an offer.
'Oh, I think it's on,' Hannah replied enthusiastically, setting the cue ball down as I lifted the rack away.
Leaning in, she grinned and sent the balls scattering across the table.
The game was close. So close that I decided a little physical heckling was justified.
As Hannah began lining up her next shot, I casually strolled behind her and gave her a gentle nudge as she drew back her cue.
'Oh, is that how it is?' she asked, looking back over her shoulder.
In response, I shrugged and feigned innocence.
From that point on, every shot suffered under ever escalating sabotage attempts. Nudges grew to bumps. A poke in the ribs became a tickle. Any progress made was purely coincidental.
However, as we both began to adapt to the new rules, the game progressed.
Then something happened.
While trying to take a shot, Hannah snuck up behind me and grabbed my butt.
My reaction was a very unattractive twist and miscue that sent Hannah into fits of laughter.
'So, is that how it is?' I said to her, finally regaining my composure.
Hannah just gave a shrug and the cheekiest smile.
Her following shot, Hannah was ready for my retaliation and did try to thwart my reprisal, but not so hard that I did not manage to give her butt a good squeeze.
Examining the table, it was looking like, yet again, Hannah was going to make me her bitch. The only shot left that could get me back in the game was a "Hail Mary". Just as I leaned in and lined up, I felt a hand in the back of my shorts.
As the hand seemed to be searching for something, I calmly asked without looking, 'What are you doing?'
'Trying to give you a wedgie,' Hannah answered, sounding a little frustrated.
'I'd need to be wearing undies for that to work,' I finished.
'Oh. You're no fun,' Hannah whined and withdrew her hand.
'Oh, you want fun huh? How about, if I make this shot, you have to go commando at work tomorrow,' I propositioned.
'Okay,' she replied confidently.
'And... you have to wear that short blue dress of yours,' I added, wearing the biggest shit eating grin.
For Hannah to wear the dress in question, and no underwear, would be tantamount to walking around work, legally naked. And Hannah knew it.
Hannah thought about it, as she digested the table.
'Sure,' she agreed nonchalantly.
'You'll never make that shot anyway,' she finished, giving me a soft pat in the seat of my shorts that sent a tingle through me.
Chalking the cue, I lined up, took a breath, and let fly.
'Oh, no way! No fucking way!' Hannah said in utter disbelief.
It was a thing of beauty. As if guided by magic, the cue ball sailed around the table and nailed the impossibly hidden target.
While she continued to protest, I just smirked and scouted my next shot.
In the end, Hannah won, albeit by default, so cocky with my stroke of luck, I attempted another near impossible shot and unintentionally potting the black.
'Well, at least I won,' she lamented.
'So when are you going to buy me lunch?' Hannah asked, turning attention back to me.
'When are you going to wear the dress?' I shot back.
Wearing a coy smile, Hannah replied, 'Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not.'
'I guess we'll see tomorrow,' I countered, with an air skepticism.
'Won't we?' I goaded, giving Hannah a poke in the ribs.
'I guess we will,' she jabbed back, grinning ear to ear.
With that, we finished up and went our separate ways.
Arriving at my desk the next morning, I found a note from Hannah. It simply said, "Check your top draw. Return to me by end of day."
Opening my desk draw revealed a neatly laid out, black thong. Grinning, I shut the draw and got down to the business of the day.
Around noon, my phone rang. It was Hannah.
'You owe me lunch,' she said in a demanding yet playful tone.
'Maybe, if they are yours,' I countered.
'Oh, they're mine,' she stated adamantly.
'Why? You don't believe me?' Hannah challenged.
Met with silence, she pressed, 'Well, the others want to go to BJ's too.'
'Just meet us at my office and don't forget your wallet. Okay?' she said impatiently, hanging up before I could answer.
When I arrived at Hannah's office, the gang was already filing out a nearby exit.
Walking out in to the parking lot, I spotted Hannah waiting by the rear door of a car. She was, as promised, wearing the short, blue dress.
'We're taking one car. You're in back with us,' she said, as I jogged up.
Climbing in to the back seat, Hannah and I had a discrete tussle while fastening our seat belts.
It was a short drive to BJ's.
Popping the door and stepping out, Hannah called after me, 'Could you hold the door please?'
Turning to hold the door, I watched as she slid closer.
As Hannah's foot set down, her dress hiked up. I'm not sure if it was Hannah's intent, but I was now witnessing a full Britney.
I had always imagined Hannah was a little Brazilian and she didn't disappoint.
Not wanting to be caught peeking, I casually lifted my gaze before Hannah noticed.
'Thanks,' Hannah chirped, as I closed the door.
As we caught up to the others, Hannah quietly asked, 'Happy now, ya little perv?'
I felt my face turn red as her words hit home. I hadn't been as subtle as I thought.
'What?' I replied, in a hushed, embarrassed tone.
'What?' Hannah mimicked sarcastically, her expression openly mocking mine.
Now smiling, we nudged each other as if we were back at the pool hall.
'So, you owe me lunch. Right?' she asked just loudly enough for the others to here.
'Right,' I agreed, sharing Hannah's grin.
Soon we were all seated at a long, booth table, browsing menus that we all knew by heart. Somehow, Hannah, and I had wound up sitting opposite one another.
Being furthest from the action, Hannah was last to order and she went to town.
The others, now aware of our lunch bet, laughed when Hannah not only ordered a full serve of ribs, but one to go.
While we waited for our meals, I felt a foot lightly kick my leg. Engrossed in the table conversation, I moved my leg slightly and ignored it.
Less than a minute later, I felt the foot again only this time higher up.
Registering the contact, I glanced across the table.
As I had been, Hannah was following the current conversation, but when there was a pause for a chuckle, she casually locked eyes then turned back.
Curious, I followed her lead shifting my attention back to the topic at hand.
Hannah's foot moved between my knees, gently pushing each aside, before making its way up my thigh.
Fearing that someone might catch a glimpse, I sat forward, trying to conceal the foot now burying itself in my crotch.
My face felt like it was on fire. Hannah's talented footwork had brought me to the verge.
All but ignoring my subtle pleas for mercy, she continued to massage my shaft with the ball of her foot, and lightly tease my head with her toes. Coupled with the ever present fear of being caught it was a wonder I didn't melt.
Only when our meals arrived did Hannah give one final squeeze and withdraw.
For the rest of the meal, and the trip back to work, whenever Hannah gave me a grin, our friends assumed she was gloating. However, in reality, she was secretly enjoying my efforts to hide the evidence of her covert activity.
Returning to work, Hannah's parting gesture was a loud "thanks for lunch", a pretend kiss on the cheek, and a very real smack of my bum before dashing off toward her office.
