Marty smiled. “And I love you, hun. Now go make some new friends. I’ll finish your food.”
Beth tingled from head to toe. “Just so I’m clear…I’m…asking them home with us?”
“Yeah. I mean, you know I’m not into dudes, so I’ll just watch.”
“Ffffuck,” whispered Beth, feeling a shot of the tingles again. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
Beth stood, suddenly remembering what she was wearing — the daisy dukes, with all the hip flesh showing down the laced-up sides, and the cheeky panty-style backside of them that will look mega slutty when she’s bent over to take her pool shots. Not to mention the way her big, weighty breasts will hang in the skimpy bikini top when she’s bent over. Yikes, she thought. Maybe this is crazy!
Yes, crazy, and a first for her, being this brazenly slutty in bar room. Her flip flops flipped and flopped as she walked toward the two men, her mind going to slow motion as she remembered a sexier pair of shoes she should have worn.
Beth smiled when the men saw her nearing. “I wanna play the winner, or maybe both of you. I asked my nice husband. I haven’t played in a while, but, he thinks I might end up on top,” she said, her eyes sparkling with pure sexiness. She wondered where this effortless flirting was coming from.
Both men looked her over, one quickly, one slower and more lascivious. “You from up north?” the quick one asked.
“Yup. Upstate New York. We’re here on a little vacation, staying in that little house right next door, if you can believe it. Do you guys hang out here? My husband and I were just saying we like the feel of this place. It seems friendly.”
“Yeah, we can be friendly,” the slow looker said, smirking. The not-so-subtle lustfulness in his eyes made Beth tingle again, head to toe.
“So are we gonna play together or what?” she asked, her eyes on the slow looker as he took a lecherously slow look at her body again. “You guys might have to help me learn. I’m new at this.”
“Eight ball. Ever play it? What’s your name?”
“Beth,” she said, immediately wishing she’d made up a name. “What’s yours?”
“I’m King. That’s Press. Beth, huh? Yeah, that fits.”
Beth smiled. “Jeeze, am I really that boring. Why don’t you give me a nickname.”
“I’ll call you B,” said King. “B-Titty. Does that offend you?”
“No, I kind of love it,” said Beth, smiling. “Yeah, that’s a keeper.”
King smiled, gestured toward Marty who was just finishing up the two dinners. “Will it offend your husband?”
“He’ll love it, too. He’s a big fan of my tits.”
“As he should be,” King said, his once again wicked gaze drinking in Beth like a glass of fine whiskey. “You got a body on you, Beth.”
“Oh, we’re back to Beth now? Just when I thought I was becoming cool.”
Press had been setting up the table as King and Beth talked, readying a game of eight ball. “You break,” said King, handing Beth a cue. “Show us that fine ass.”
Beth sized things up as she stepped to the table, planning her seduction as best she could. Widening her stance more than would be normal, she bent at the waist and arched her back downward, giving these two men, and Marty, and anyone else who was looking, a remarkable view of what these stretchy tight, wildly cut daisy dukes do for a pretty darn nice forty-six-year-old ass.
“Damn, girl! Maybe we got the wrong nickname for you,” said King.
“But I like B-Titty,” she said, nearly whining like a teenager.
“B-Sexy. B-Do It. B-Doggy…I don’t know, whatchu like best?”
A loud crack rang out when Beth broke, opening the game with one lucky ball going in a corner pocket.
“You got stripes,” King said. “We got solid, as soon as you bent over, girl.”
Beth smiled. “Jeeze, sounds like I’m dealing with some experienced players, here. You guys do this often? Play with out-of-town women?”
“No, you’re special. Right, Press?”
“Yup,” Press said. “Y’all gonna be in town awhile, B?”
“A week, but…this is a one and done good time tonight, okay? It’s kinda like the Olympics. You dream about it for your whole life and then, wham, you go for a gold medal, then it’s back to realty.”
Press smiled. “You’re a philosopher.”
“No, just a housewife who’s about to get double lucky, I hope.” Saying it out loud made Beth tingle all over again. Her eyes showed her own quiet lustfulness as she gazed upon these two new male friends.
“Let me ask you this,” said King, posturing, his eyes intense again. “Why us?”
“Oh, wow,” said Beth. “Why you two guys? I’m not gonna lie and say your beautiful skin doesn’t turn me on, because it does. But I mean, you’re friends, you’re alone, you’re confident. You got the nicest asses. Does anything else matter? Can’t a girl just be turned on so much nothing else matters?”
“Damn, woman. You got somethin’. You got me hooked. How ’bout you, Press?”
“Right next door?” asked Press.
“Yup,” said Beth. “Easy. No driving around. If your girlfriend tracks your phone’s GPS she’ll think you’re still at the bar,” she added, smirking in a sexy, kittenish way.
Press smiled, maybe blushing, Beth thought, so she smiled, too. He didn’t say ‘No, I’m not doing this’, so that meant that he probably was. Yes, the look in his eyes said he was. Beth’s tingles seemed to affect her breathing, feeling as if she was suddenly out of oxygen, becoming lightheaded, all the sensations of hyperventilating even though she wasn’t. She heard the crack of ball against ball. King had hit a shot, his confident posture now upright again, eyes scanning the table for the next ball to pocket.