The Blue Dress

Barbara laughed gleefully and slid out of the booth refore Harry could even move. She led the way into the other room, looked around, nodded and smiled to the barman and walked over to the rack of cues behind the table. She checked three or four before deciding on the one she wanted to use. Harry also chose a stick and pulled a quarter from his pocket.

"Call it for break."

"Heads."

He tossed the coin. It flashed brightly as it spun in the harsh light over the table. Barbara's flashing too, Harry thought, as he could see her left nipple creep out from the dress as she moved to watch the path of the coin. The coin fell on the table and Barbara bent over slightly to see it clearly, and Harry could see her left breast fully exposed as the dress fell forward. Barbara turned her head to look at Harry, and seeing where his gaze was concentrated, held the pose deliberately, her nipple becoming harder, her breast rising and falling as her breath quickened. Harry forced his eyes from her breast to the quarter lying on the table. Tails. His break. In more ways than one, he thought.

Barbara racked the balls, bending over and giving Harry another generous look down her cleavage. He positioned the cue ball and made his shot. Two of the striped balls, the nine and the fourteen, fell into a pocket. Harry shot again but missed. He sat on one of the stools against the wall as Barbara looked carefully at the table and then bent over to take her shot. Her back was to Harry, and he stared as her dress was pulled high on the back of her legs as she shot. She wiggled her ass and Harry started to perspire. Must be the beer and the heat from the light, he thought. She shot and missed. She straightened up and Harry shook his head slightly.

"No luck tonight," Barbara said, smiling as though she was having all the luck in the world.

"Too bad," he responded. "My shot." Harry sighted down the cue and made a shot, successfully putting the twelve ball in a pocket.

Barbara didn't sit down, but circled the table opposite Harry, so that she remained directly in his view. She was doing something with her body that Harry couldn't quite figure out. Her breasts were moving inside her dress and first one nipple and then the other would peek out at him for an instant and then vanish again behind the cloth. He shot almost without looking and missed. He pulled a folded hankerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

"Getting hot?" she inquired sweetly.

He sat down as Barbara looked at him for a long moment and then began to shoot. She sank ball after ball after ball, moving quickly around the table and hardly seeming to aim at all. She sank all seven of the balls and then stopped to consider the eight ball. She had to tell Harry which pocket the eight ball would go in, and Harry looked bleakly at the table. The eight ball was sitting about six inches from a corner pocket, and Barbara had a clear shot at it. She indicated the corner pocket and Harry nodded glumly. He had known he might lose, but hadn't expected to lose so badly.

Barbara had to stretch over the table to make the shot. With her left foot on the floor, she leaned over the table and extended her right leg, resting its full length on the edge of the table and moving slightly from side to side to get the proper angle for the shot. The hem of her dress pulled high on her left leg and slid up her right leg almost to her ass.

Harry sat down behind her for a better look. He couldn't quite see up to her panties - if she was wearing panties. The thought that she might not be took complete hold of him. The edge of the dress was too tight against her legs for him to see, even when he bent over and looked.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Come around here and see if I have this shot lined up correctly. "

He did as she asked, looking at the table without really seeing it, preoccupied with wondering if she was wearing panties or not.

"Harry!"

"Oh, sorry. Let me see ..."

He looked at the position of the eight ball, then the cue ball, then followed an invisible but very straight line to the cue stick. Everything was starkly outlined by the bright light reflected onto the table from overhead. His eyes followed the line up the cue to Barbara's left hand cradling the stick, followed further up the cue to her right hand moving the stick forward and back in little motions, her elbow held high and away from her body - her dress was pulled aside and her entire right breast was exposed, falling out of her dress, gleaming as whitely as the cue ball, seeming to be just as firm as that ivory spheroid, but with the dark nipple protruding! She seemed not to notice, to be concentrating only on her shot.

She held the pose for a long time. Harry looked back towards the bar and saw that Nick, the barman, was also enjoying the view. While he was glancing back at Nick, Harry heard the sound of the cue striking the cue ball, immediately followed by the click of one pool ball against another, and then a couple of noises that didn't sound right. He turned back just in time to see the eight ball roll leisurely across the table while the cue ball hung poised on the lip of the corner pocket and then fell in.

Barbara had scratched! He had won the game! He wondered how it had happened. It seemed almost impossible that she could have missed such an easy shot. He could hardly believe it.

"Scratched, darn it!" Barbara didn't sound like she minded, and smiled as she said it. "Well, what do you want me to do? I'll be a good loser this time. But I want another chance." Harry snapped out of his daze.

"Do? What do I want you to do?"

Harry stood as if thinking hard for a moment. He looked at Barbara. Her face was flushed and she was breathing in short, quick gasps. A thin line of perspiration lined her upper lip, making her mouth incredibly enticing. Harry backed up a couple of steps and sat down in one of the chairs. He looked at Barbara as if he had never seen her before.

"I want you to take off your panties."

Barbara didn't seem surprised or shocked. "How do you know I'm wearing any?" she asked with a mysterious smile. . "Uh, well, uh. I just assumed ..."

"You should be certain of your facts before you name the payoff of a bet, don't you think?"

Harry was thoroughly confused. "Well, I guess. .."

Barbara moved toward where Harry was sitting and stopped with the hem of her dress touching his knees.

"Why don't you check, Harry? Then if you find panties, why, you can take them off, or I will if you would rather."

Barbara leaned forward and took hold of the hem of her skirt with both hands. Harry glanced quickly to the front of the bar, but Nick seemed to be preoccupied and paying no attention to what was occurring by the pool table. Barbara slowly straightened, raising her skirt steadily up her bare legs until the hem rested just at the top of her thighs. She held the dress in that position, the tops of her thighs only inches from Harry's mesmerized stare, and then suddenly dropped the hem to its full length.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "You probably wanted to do that yourself!" She shook the dress out a little against her thighs as if in invitation. "Go right ahead. "

Harry reached out his hands and placed them, one on each side of her knees. The fabric of the dress was electric against his wrists. He could feel Barbara quiver delicately as he began to bring his hands up the sides of her thighs. She breathed in with a soft, ragged sound as his hands moved slowly, steadily upward. He could feel the muscles of her thighs move against the palms of his hands and the tips of his fingers. Higher and higher went his hands, higher and higher the hem of the dress, until he had raised it enough to see Barbara's panties, white lace bikini panties, peeking out from under the raised hem of her dress. He had to clear his throat. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

"I find that you are indeed wearing panties. I would like you to raise the hem of your dress to the top of your panties and hold it there while I remove them." He cleared his throat again.

Barbara glanced uncertainly toward Nick at the bar, but he was at the very front of the room, apparently looking out the window. My god, the window! The thought unnerved her for a second, but trying to reassure herself, she thought that the distance was too far for anyone to see anything clearly, and there didn't seem to be anyone looking in.

Without saying a word, she took the hem of her dress in both hands and pulled it up to her waist, holding it there. She trembled all over, she couldn't help it. She was standing in a public bar with her dress pulled up to her waist and in a minute Harry was going to pull down her panties and she would be standing completely naked from the waist down except for her shoes, and they didn't cover much! How did she ever let herself get into such a situation? And yet, to be honest with herself, she was feeling exhilarated as well as frightened, daring as well as ashamed. What was happening to her? Instead of feeling victimized, she felt a sense of power. She felt strangely but undeniably that she, not Harry, was in control, and she liked the feeling very much. She even had to admit to herself that she was enjoying the dangerous excitement of exposing herself in this way.

Harry wasn't sure if this hadn't gone too far. He hesitated, raising his eyes to look closely at Barbara's face. She was staring at the wall, and her mouth showed the mixture of emotions she was expriencing.

"Is it too much?" he asked softly. At first he didn't think she heard him.

"Do it!" was all she said. It sounded halfway between an order and a plea.

"Fast or slow?" He was speaking very softly. Again, he wasn't sure she heard him.

"Slow. Very slow..."

Her voice was barely a whisper. He ran his fingertips, slowly, ever so slowly, over the top of her panties and around the lace edging of the elastic. She shivered involuntarily as his fingers passed over her abdomen, his touch lighter that the smallest feather, so that it almost seemed like a touch in a dream.

The juices inside her were surging. Hold on, she thought, just hold on. Slow, slower, make it last and last, willing Harry with her mind to do what was giving her more pleasure than she could have ever imagined in such a situation. And he must have heard her, or received her thought in his mind; because he was sliding the cloth and lace almost imperceptibly, a millimeter at a time. Sliding so very slowly over the bones of her hips, over the firm round cheeks of her ass, freeing the tiny garment from her wetness - she would have to wring out the panties if she wanted to put them in her purse! she thought - and she held her skirt at her waist without a tremble in her hands, even though inside she felt like a maelstrom, and she felt proud of keeping such tight control - until she couldn't stand it any longer and gave out a deep moan and stumbled back until she felt the edge of the pool table supporting her weight behind her.

"Quickly!" she breathed, and Harry swiftly in one motion brought her panties from mid-thigh to her ankles and helped her step her out of them.

And still she stood there, leaning back against the solidity of the massive table, breathing deeply and holding her dress up to her waist! Her small feet and slim calves, her smooth knees, her ripening thighs blending into generous hips, the lush red-gold hair of her pussy, her slightly rounded abdomen, her deep navel and the marvelously narrow waist above, every inch fully revealed in the stark light - stood there without moving, eyes closed, perspiration glistening on her forehead, her arms, and the satiny skin of her abdomen and thighs, while a scent of musk arose from the center of her body and seemed to fill the room... Until Harry said, "You can put it down now, if you want."

She looked down at him with heavily lidded eyes and said in a husky voice, "If you want me to."

And waited for him to tell her.

"Yes, for now."