There she is. She has amazing hair, the perfect skin, a great set of abs peaking out from under her tank top. She moves with catlike grace through the crowded bar, smiling at people even as she pushes them out of her way.
"God, you just want to grab that ass and lick your way up her stomach," I mumble to Brook. Brook just smiles and takes the pool cue from my hands for her turn. Trying to still look calm and collected, I walk over to my drink on the windowsill. Taking long sips, I practically finish it. Next time Brook's up on the table, I'm just going to have to go get us more drinks from the chick with the amazing body.
"Your shot, sweetie."
"Ow! Stop tapping me with that thing, you don't know where it's been."
Brook smiles and hands me the cue, then picks up her own drink. "Ready for another one? My round this time."
I raise my eyebrows at her as I walk around the table, looking for the perfect shot. Like I would be able to make it, anyway. "Give me a second to miss this shot, then I'll go up. You know you'll just run the table on me when I leave. I'll give you time to do it this way."
"You just want to go up and drool over the bartender."
I line up the shot, hoping that the pretty purple ball will go into the pocket it's sitting three inches from. "And that's a problem?"
"That shot was. You didn't even hit the four!"
"What makes you think that I was aiming for the four?" I looked down to see what the solid purple ball was. It was of course the four ball in question. "Maybe I was trying to bank in the two."
"You mean the one on the other end of the table? Face it, honey, you suck at this game. Make yourself useful and go get us some drinks." She rummaged around her pockets until she found a ten, and waved it in front of my face. "I'll give you five more of these if you get her name and phone number."
I raised my eyebrows. Fifty bucks for getting a name and number? Sounded great, but I had never gone up to a girl in a bar and deliberately hit on her. Call me old fashioned, but I don't think that bars are the best place to meet someone. On the other hand, who said I had to hit on her to get her name and number? Maybe I was interested in a job opportunity.
"You're on. I'm coming back with two Seven Sevens and seven little digits."
"No one calls them that any more," she sighed and shook her head. "You keep that up and my fifty is safer than a virgin in a convent."
I traded the ten for the pool cue and sauntered over to the bar. There was a spot open between two groups of people (mostly guys, probably here to do what Brook bet me to do). I leaned in with the ten visibly resting on the bar in front of me. There were two bartenders working, the amazingly perfect girl, and a guy that I couldn't quite tell if he looked good because of the dim lighting, or was actually not bad looking naturally. Right now, the guy didn't matter much. I was waiting for long and leggy to walk towards me.
I had a few moments to check out her ass as she bent down to get a Blue out of the mini fridge across from the bar. Her frayed daisy dukes hugged her ass cheeks like a drowning man held onto a life preserver. My heart was starting to do a jig in my chest. Those legs! On and on, down to a pair of sandals with ribbons wound up her tight calves.
She stood up and pushed her long braid back across her shoulder, letting it fall down to the top of her shorts in a fiery red wave. She handed out three opened Blues to the group of guys next to me, nodded at me to let me know she would be with me shortly, and took their money to the cash register.
That's when it hit me that I was supposed to ask her what her name and number were. How the hell was I supposed to do this? Think of a good line, think of a good line. Staring at her abs as she gave the guys back their change was not helping.
"Two Seven Sevens, right?" she smiled as she pushed a stray curl behind her ear.
I smiled back, trying to think about the here and now, not what I wanted to do to her in my bed. That chest must look divine when it's not squeezed into that tank top. She asked about the drinks, right?
"You have a great memory. How did you remember that with all of these other people shouting drink orders at you left and right?"
She grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice. "It's not often we get two girls coming in here by themselves. Two guys hoping to see single women, but rarely two girls."
Looking around, I noticed that she was probably right. There were maybe ten women in the bar, and the other seven seemed to be with groups of people who were out together. "So we kind of stand out here, huh?"
She was pouring the drinks when I looked back, shaking the Seagram's bottle over the glasses to give us a little more than a shot in each glass. "I'm sure the guys like the added eye candy. You wouldn't believe how many hit on me each night."
"Bet you make good tips, though," I smiled at her as if we shared some wonderful little secret. "I bet you take home close to a hundred a night. And that outfit helps, I'm sure. You look great in it."
She laughed as she handed the drinks to me. "Thanks. That sounds so much more sincere coming from another woman than it does from one of these clowns. As for the tips," she shrugged as she took my ten. "Some nights it's thirty bucks, some it's closer to two hundred. It depends on the night of the week and what type of patrons come in here."
I took the change back with a sympathetic smile. "I know how that can be. I was a waitress at Roadhouse for two months before I couldn't stand the customers any more. My name's Kelly by the way."
Her handshake was firm and confident, something becoming more and more common in women these days. "Cynthia."
"Want to come out with us after you get out for something to eat? We're probably going to hit a Denny's or something like that."
Cynthia looked around to see if she was missing anyone's order, then back at me. I'm sure she was giving herself more time to think about my proposition. "Why not? I close up tonight; I should be out of here about quarter after four. Are you and your friend still going to be here?"
"I can't see why not. She's kicking my ass at pool, and you're making good drinks. What more can you ask for in a night out?" I pulled a five out of my pocket and left it on the counter for a tip with a wink, then picked up the drinks and walked back to the table.
Brook was leaning against the wall with the pool cue being passed from one hand to the other in front of her. I handed her one of the drinks, took a sip of the other, then took the pool cue from her. She was dying to ask what we were talking about at the bar.
"Well?"
"Well what?" I put the drink down and assessed the table. She had one ball left before going for the eight. I had five. I really should learn how to play this game.
"You two were getting pretty chummy up there."
"Her name is Cynthia, and she's coming with us to breakfast this morning."
"No phone number, though."
"I didn't ask. Would you give someone your number after talking to them for two minutes? I didn't think so. I'm lucky she's coming to breakfast."
"Breakfast." Brook smiled evilly as I lined up a shot that I had a chance of making. "Would that be breakfast when we leave the bar, or breakfast at your apartment tomorrow after she spends the night?"
She meant to fluster me, and it almost worked. I took the shot, finally knocking in the four, and smiled up at her just as evilly. "Right now, just the first. By the end of the night, hopefully both."
Brook laughed and tipped her drink towards me as I sunk the one as well. "Maybe you should hit on strange women more often, it looks like it might be improving your game, Kel."
The next two hours went by so slowly. Brook and I played doubles pool with three different pairs of guys. She was whipping everyone's ass. I was staring at Cynthia's. Normally, I'm not fixated with asses. I love a flat, taut stomach and well-defined arms. But her ass was just so tasty. I wanted to run my hands up the backs of her legs and cup that firm butt in my palms. I wanted to rub my face against her tight abs.
Needless to say I played worse than normal. I think that's why so many guys wanted to play against us, they thought we would be easy pickings. Good thing Brook's a shark. She learned how to shoot pool when she was three. Her dad would hold her up to the table and teach her how to line up shots. She uses words like "English" and "triangulate" and I just shrug and shoot like I always do. But she wiped the floor with every guy that tried taking our table away. I sort of felt bad.
Sort of.
Brook let me go up for the rest of the drinks. I got the guy the next time up, but Cynthia came around after that. Her smile was amazing. I couldn't stop smiling back. She poured the drinks without even asking what I was there for. I needed to say something to her, needed to hear her voice again.
"Care to join me in a shot? My girlfriend is nearing her limit, and I don't have anyone else to do one with."
Cynthia glanced down at her watch. It was three-twenty, almost last call. She was close to being off work. "Sure, what the hell. But I get to pick the shot."
"Deal." I motioned Brook over to take the drinks back, and she came over just as Cynthia was pouring some pink concoction into two glasses. "Brook, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, this is my friend Brook. What is that, anyway?"
"It's a Panty-dropper. Nice to meet you, Brook." Cynthia shook Brook's hand before picking up her shot glass. "Here's to new friends."
"To friends, new and old," I nodded as Brook tipped her Seven Seven towards our glasses and joined in. I let the shot slide down my throat, tasting the sweet-tart flavor momentarily. "Not bad. I've never heard of that before."
"Some guy came in and asked for it once. I wasn't sure if it was an actual drink or a really bad pick-up line. I looked it up in the Bartender's Handbook, and damned it if wasn't in there. It's a great shot to offer a group of guys, too. Pretty decent tip that way."
I laughed. "It always comes back to the tips. What do I owe you?"
