It rained constantly for three straight days. I felt like a shut-in and I needed to get the hell out. I decided to go to the Timberline, a gay and lesbian country western bar. It was the first place I had gone to with some friends, and I liked its friendly atmosphere. I ran out to my truck, got in and started it up. Fortunately, it didn't take long for the cab to get warm.
I pulled into the full parking lot and found an empty space. I ran across the gravel and up the wooden steps. I proceeded to shake the rain from my jacket dry. I tried to avoid saturating the woman taking the two-dollar cover at the door.
The night was still young and the dance floor sparse. It was possible that the rain would keep all but the die-hard two-steppers from coming out. I scanned for familiar faces as I made my way to the bar.
While I waited for my Calistoga with lime, I noticed the pool table had no takers.
"Kind of quiet tonight?" I asked.
The bartender, smiled. The blue and green striped western shirt she wore complimented her dark brown eyes. "It's still early. Give it a couple hours, and you'll have to stand in line to order your next drink."
I laughed as I rebutted, "Then I better hurry, you might run out of water."
"You're new, I haven't seen you before," she inquired.
"Bet you say that to all the girls," I replied.
"Not to all of them," she said, as I paid for my drink.
"Thanks, I'll try to remember that," I ended as I left her a tip.
I walked over to the pool table and set down my drink. I reached into my pocket for two quarters. I placed the coins and pulled the lever; the balls dropped loudly. I chalked up a 20-ounce cue and broke. The sound echoed as the balls scattered. I began to shoot solids and clear the table. As I leaned over to shoot the six-ball, I caught a glimpse of a woman standing near the opposite corner of the table.
There she was, in her blazing glory. Her blue eyes sparkled like crystal, her light brown hair layered, cut just above her shoulders. Her dark blue jeans were snug, and outlined the curves in all of the right places. She wore a tight fitting white oxford shirt, the collar tips silver, accompanied by a black suede vest. The bolo tie held a slice of turquoise stone in place. I felt underdressed in my jeans and polo shirt.
"Taking challengers?" she asked.
"Are you any good?" I teased.
"It all depends, are we talking about playing pool?"
That caught me off-guard. I had not been single for a while and I forgot what it could be like out there in the world.
"Yeah, we're talking about pool. I'll be done in a minute," I answered.
I finished the last few shots and she racked for the next game. As I placed the cue ball to break, she asked me how old I was. I was amused.
"You want to know how old I am? You don't even know my name," I said.
I broke open the rack and knocked in two, one of each. Choosing to go with solids again, I pocketed a couple before I headed back to our conversation.
"Ok, fair enough, then," she said. "What is your name?"
"I'm 36." I replied. "Are you gonna shoot pool, or what?"
That quickly ended the conversation and she went to look for a cue stick.
As I took another shot, I miscued and scratched. I could not keep my eyes from her as she searched the rack for a cue. Her cute little butt rounded out the seat of her jeans.
She came back to the table, empty-handed and announced, "All of those cues are shit, how about sharing yours?"
Not a usual custom with me, I agreed to share. "Oh, and by the way, I don't usually let perfect strangers use my cue, so how 'bout you tell me your name?"
She reached for my pool stick, brushing ever so slightly against my hand, and whispered. "Becky."
Crossing in front of me, she leaned over and aimed for the ball. I stood behind her and enjoyed the view. Shooting too hard, she miscued the cue ball and sent it directly to the side pocket.
"I thought you said you were good."
She shot back, "I said it all depends on what we're playing."
Becky handed me back the cue. We stared at each other for a few moments.
"Your turn," She reminded me. Handing back the cue, our hands glanced each other again.
I found myself wanting her. It had been a while since I had felt this way about another woman. Focusing on the game was going to be tough. I pocketed the eight ball with three solids still left on the table.
We each won a game or two before we had any other challengers. While she went to the bar to buy another round, I watched her interact with the cute bartender, the same one who had flirted with me earlier. Becky's eyes twinkled as she smiled. I was in lust.
Our last game took forever now that there were challengers; it was finally over and I had won. She picked up her drink and walked towards the dance floor. Becky wanted to see if her friends had shown up yet.
My opponent racked and I proceeded to break. I mad a couple shots, but my heart was not into it. The challenger easily won. We shook hands, complimented each other with the usual accolades and I went to find my pool-playing friend.
As I walked away from the table, I found her leaning against the rail. We talked while we watched the dancer's two-step, although some couples were dancing to their own rhythm. At the same time, I could not remember her name.
I asked her for her name again and we both laughed. I was glad she understood, especially since she was the one who wanted to know my age before my name.
As the next song started, Becky asked me to dance. Feeling my face flush and I hoped she did not notice, I answered yes, but that I did not two-step very well.
When we got onto the dance floor, she asked me who would lead.
