Tonight a friend took Me out to play a little pool, at a local dive bar. My friend Chris is one of those serious players. Mistress plays pool about as often as I go fishing (which I think may have happened at some point, in the past decade). My lady friend chose the locale, as she's a player owning her own custom pool cue, leather case and all...
I felt a bit like a tourist. Bars, drinking, gambling, and mating rituals can be fun to watch, yet regretful in the light of day. And as we both know, there are other ways to feed deep appetites.
I watched her slide on a purple spandex glove, with a few fingers missing (designed to help a player steady the cue, and keeps it smooth). She chalks up the cue, lines her prey. The place has that smell, a bit like a dorm hall. Stale beer had seeped into the carpet regularly. We were left undisturbed for quite some time, and I got to feel a bit inept at the sport, with moments of brilliance mixed in.
After a few games we were approached by two very dark black men, and asked if we'd like to play doubles. Chris and I chat a bit, then say yes. She's used to the rhythms of this, and I'm still watching and learning. I embrace a bit of innocence and discovery, even though these paths are known.
After a game or two, the older man with his skin so deep, like dark chocolate, starts leaning in a bit too close. He smells of many cigarettes and hard liquor. I felt Myself cringe with the scent, yet found his openness, and desire to see how far I'd let him in, curious. I'm open and playful, yet savvy, and before he knows it I've thrown him a couple quick bones of wit that left him slack jawed. Yes, satisfying. Yet I hunger for a playmate that responds in kind. It's sometimes too easy to leave a man breathless.
And just as he realizes there's much more going on under this surface, Chris and I say good evening, and thank you. We beat them at both games, and I feel satisfied.
What would you like to be beat at, dear reader? I'll bet you're just as pretty when breathless...
