A game… only a game? Absently, Eddy chalked her cue as she walked over to the table. She could just put the cue down, shake Fats’s hand and walk out into the fresh night. Maybe a cup of coffee, a cheeseburger in some diner, then back to their cheap room. A kiss, Eddy’s hand cupping Daisy’s small, firm breast; Daisy reaching down, pulling her cotton dress up and off, standing in the cool night air of the room in bra and panties. White cotton below and yellowed nylon above, holding Daisy’s perky little breasts like deep secrets. With a sly smile, she’d reach behind her back, unsnap and reveal herself – two neat puddings, pale and silky, yet firm and upswept. Nipples burning pink, like they’d been lipstick-painted.
Then, reaching down, she’d step out of her simple cotton, revealing the uncommon beauty of her golden-coloured curls. Then she’d stand, naked in the dim light, a lithe nymph, a Kansas goddess, a strong little wheat and plains sprite.
They’d kiss, they’d suck nipples, they’d lick clits, they’d come. Eddy was the easiest, the quickest to scream, shout, with Daisy sometime thereafter. It would be wonderful; and then they’d do it the next morning, the next afternoon, the next night.
The table was green felt, a deep verdant green – like the Amazon must look from high above. An impenetrable green. Just a game?
“Come on, Eddy,” Daisy said with firm exhaustion, determined tones in her voice. “Come on.”
But this wasn’t about winning and losing. It was Eddy’s way, her real passion; the green of the felt was the colour of her special lust. Her lust to be the best, to be better than anyone. “Go back to the room, Daisy. I have a game to play.” Then, not waiting to see if her lover had left, she turned to Fats and added in level tones: “Let’s play some pool.”
Eddy lost the next game, and the one after that, but the pain of losing wasn’t there. Instead she was building up speed, accelerating to where Fats was steadily cruising. She wasn’t there, not yet; but she could feel the groove, and knew that catching it was just a matter of time.
She won the next game but, like the loss, the win wasn’t hot. Eddy wasn’t there yet, not yet.
After she won the next game and the last ball sank home in its pocket, she knew she had the edge. She could taste it, she could hear the prolonged low note in her ears, there was a new clarity to everything. She almost put her cue away, almost shook Fats’s hand and walked out. She knew she had it, and she knew she’d win every game. The edge was there.
But she didn’t leave. Just knowing she had it wasn’t enough. She won the next three games; with each sinking ball her game grew clearer and more perfect until the cue was more than just an extension of her body, it was an extension of her will – a part of her mind. It was 15 to 12.
The sun had set a long time ago, and would rise soon. Time had become nothing but a way to measure the game. That she’d played through the whole night, that she hadn’t slept or eaten in over twelve hours, meant nothing. Only the game mattered.
It was good. It was very, very good.
Suddenly Fats’s voice broke loudly through the edge to reach Eddy: “That’s it, Eddy; You’ve won, you’ve beaten me.”
Eddy blinked away the glamour, saw Fats for what seemed like the first time. The gleam was gone from her gold tooth; her hands were bilious green from the velvet and the chalk, her skin was gleaming with sweat, and her shirt was sticking to her stomach and tits.
Eddy smiled, wide and true, and shook her damp hand. “Thanks for the game,” she said.
“Thank you, Eddy,” Fats said. “You play a damned good game of pool.”
Which Eddy knew meant she was the best. The best there was.
Daisy didn’t know the girl’s name and didn’t care. All she did care about was that the girl was there in the bed.
She was fresh, maybe too young, but eager and willing. They’d started flirting earlier in the night, just an hour after Daisy left the pool hall. She was behind the counter in a place called, simply, EATS. Young, plump – soft skin billowy and yielding under Daisy’s fingers – but best of all willing. It just wouldn’t do, to have such a perfect opportunity and have no one who wanted to play with her.
The girl had actually blushed when Daisy had taken her coat, hanging it behind the hotel room door: “You’re so gorgeous. I wanted to kiss you the instant I set eyes on you.”
Then Daisy did, and the girl’s blush deepened even more. “Th-thank you -” she’d stammered gently when the kiss ended. Was it for the compliment or the touch of her lips? Daisy didn’t know what the girl was thanking her for.
It didn’t take long. Her dress buttoned up the back, easy pickings. As they sat on the too soft hotel bed, kissing meekly and then with growing passion, Daisy’s knowledgeable fingers neatly popped one, two, three, then all of the girl’s buttons.
Weakly protesting, she’d tried to hold the dress together, only giving Daisy an excuse to tickle and nibble her mercilessly. When the tears had stopped and the laughter had died down the girl was in her bra and panties. Daisy looked at her for a long moment, savoring her plumpness: the way her breasts pushed up and around the confining bra, the twin little mounds of her nipples, the scratchy hairs peering around the elastic of her everyday panties, her gentle little swell of belly. “Tasty,” she’d mumbled as she took the nameless girl in her arms, and kissed her long and deep as her fingers explored the seams of those panties.
Wet – a marvellously pure wetness greeted her hunting fingers. A wetness of legend, a hungry virgin’s kind of wetness. Looking the girl in the eyes, she withdrew her hand to taste and murmur delighted sounds at the girl’s savoury cunt. Then she pushed her back onto the bed, knelt between her legs, gently pulled aside her so-wet panties and kissed, then licked her into a quick, shuddering orgasm – one of many.
The girl was young, juicy, and naive. When it was time for her to return the favour her tongue slipped and missed, her fingers gripped Daisy’s thighs too tight, and her thumb and forefinger were too meek with Daisy’s nipples. When Daisy did come, it was more from her own quick fingers showing the way than from the girl’s timid explorations of Daisy’s body. Still, it was a good come. But simply coming wasn’t what made Daisy smile like a kitten that feasted on cream.
“I should be going,” she said as Daisy let her hands roam over her luscious body. When Daisy found a plump nipple and gently teased it into rubber hardness she whistled softly in excitement. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Yes,” Daisy said, dropping her mouth to the nipple, sucking and nibbling it into even further firmness. “I do.”
“What if she comes back?” the girl said with sudden fear.
“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t – not for a while yet anyway. Not if I played it well, that is.”
“I should still go,” the girl said, but Daisy pushed her back on the bed, resting a firm hand on her still wet cunt.
“Stay. I want to come again, and I want to make you come again, too.” Daisy bent down to part her fat labia and lick – once, very fast – making the girl whistle with a quick intake of breath. “I think I played it perfectly well; just the right amount of tantrum, the right amount of ego stroke. No, she won’t be back till dawn, at least. She won’t be back till she sweeps the table. We’ve got hours.”
“I don’t… understand,” the girl tried to say as Daisy licked her harder, longer, circling the throbbing bead of her clit.
“My Eddy has her game, and I have mine. And mine is to keep her busy while I fuck you at least five more times. Eddy’s good -” Daisy said with a wicked smile as she absently rubbed the girl’s hard clit “- but I’m the best there is.”