I was definitely out of my comfort zone. She was at least twenty years younger than me, maybe even a little more than that. She had a sexy Latin or at least part Latin look about her. She even had a slight accent. Dark curly hair, olive skin, blue eyes and a great body, she was still young and taut. And she had lots of tats. I had spoken with her once before, about two weeks ago, but it was easier then. She was with two of her girlfriends, one who I already knew from the afternoon pub scene. I didn't stay out late any more and it was definitely refreshing to see a younger hot woman against the backdrop of the older afternoon crowd, of which, at 54, I was one of the younger ones.
Her name was Tracy and there weren't many people in the pub this Sunday afternoon. I had come in to watch some football games that weren't on the regular local channels. The few others that were previously there had already left with the threat of the upcoming thunderstorm. There were only me, Tracy, and another older couple, probably in their late sixties at the far end of the bar. The older barmaid, Joanne, was keeping them company discussing insurance or something. It was currently pouring down rain outside, a thunderstorm that came up suddenly like they often do in the Florida panhandle, only a few miles inland from the warm Gulf of Mexico. It kept us in the bar and everybody else out of the bar for the time being.
We made eye contact a couple of times and she smiled, seemingly remembering having met me before. I moved the short distance of the three barstools between us and said Hi.
"Tracy, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, you remembered. I'm sorry' but what was your name again?" she asked apologetically.
"Brian," I replied. "I know your friend Autumn."
"Yes, I remember meeting you, I just forgot your name, sorry," she said, again sounding sincerely apologetic.
I looked at my phone and pulled up the weather radar as I sat next to her. She seemed to welcome my approach.
"Looks like the rain is going to be with us for another twenty or thirty minutes," I said, hoping I didn't sound like a science geek. Secretly I was glad, because it would give me more uninterrupted time to talk to her and not seem too aggressive. She was the center of attention, for good reason, in a sea of older male patrons when I met her previously.
"Want to play a game of pool?" I asked, knowing that she liked to play.
"Sure", she said. "I'm not great, but I enjoy playing."
The bar was generally dark all the time, even during the day with the only view of outside through the glass door. There was nothing fancy about the place with its antiquated décor and vinyl covered elbow padding on the bar, but it was close to home. The games on TV were muted and there was a playlist of country music blasting from the internet jukebox that was competing with the rain for decibel superiority. Besides the golf game that used curse words when a player made a bad shot it was probably the only upgrade to the establishment since the late eighties. I went to the bar to get another Bud Light Platinum for myself and a rum and Coke for Tracy. When I made it to the pool table she had already put the money in the table and racked the balls. I had noticed her extensive body art before, but it really stood out under the light of the pool table.
We ended up playing two games, each of us winning one apiece. Our skill level was about the same, somewhere between mediocre and pretty good. We each had our moments. She noticed that I kept looking at her and that I seemed more interested in her than I was in the game as we went back to the bar and reclaimed our seats. She sat to my right.
"Your tats really look good in the light," I said, hoping not to sound geeky. Without thinking I touched her left forearm and asked about an angel she had there. It was pretty big and I know most people who get tattoos have a story behind each one. I, myself, had none.
"Yeah, my Mom died when I was a teenager. She was always my angel and my rock growing up in Texas."
"You have so many," I said, genuinely interested in her stories. The rain continued to come down, however, lighter than it had been when we started playing pool. I had also been through two more beers and was feeling very comfortable talking with my hot younger friend. She seemed at ease with me, despite the obvious age difference. I guess it's true that some younger women really like older, more mature guys.
I then slid my index finger up her left arm and asked about a star she had tattooed on her tricep. All of her tats seemed to connect with a nice flow, unlike many disjointed and unrelated tattoos I see on so many people. She didn't seem to mind my touching at all, rather, she seemed to enjoy it.
She told me a few more stories, revealing a few I hadn't seen, covered under her shirt. She even exposed almost half of one of her boobs to show and tell about another. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was getting a little aroused by showing. I wondered if she was into exhibitionism? I have seen and chatted with women online who enjoyed exposing themselves, knowing that they were turning on their audience. The difference was that she was up close and personal.
"I have them all over my body," she explained. "My ex-husband was a tattoo artist and he used me as a canvas for the few years we were together."
"Well, he's definitely talented," I said. "I'd love to see them all and hear the stories behind them."
She didn't give an immediate response, but just smiled when I said this.
