|
Black. Her bra was black, a lacy shelf for the full, creamy breasts that swelled enticingly above it. Rob swallowed hard. The pool game had been his idea; after all, he was a master of the game, a pool shark extraordinaire, and no woman had ever beaten him.
But every time Roseanne leaned over the table, bending low over her cue, her blouse gaped open, and her generous breasts spilled over the bra. He'd never seen anything so wonderful.
He'd never been so distracted.
Rob, master of strategy, prince of pool table seduction, had lost two games, and barely scraped home the winner of two more.
Roseanne racked the balls for the break. "We could up the stakes a little," she suggested. "I don't want any more to drink. We could play for... something else."
Was he imagining it, or was there an element of suggestion in her words? Oh, how he hoped there was. Her jeans fit snugly over womanly hips and gently curved belly. And her breasts, her magnificent breasts, barely encased in the black half bra had him straining against his jeans. Seldom had he seen such a goddess.
"Sure," he said, and took a swig of his beer to ease his suddenly tight throat. "Any suggestions?"
Roseanne advanced toward him, and ran a careful finger down his chin, then jumped it down to toy with the top button of his shirt. "Winner gets to choose where we go from here. Another bar, a pool room, or somewhere else entirely."
It wasn't a question. Rob could barely croak out his agreement to the bet.
Roseanne picked up the cue and leaned forward over the table to break. From his position, at the far end, he was transfixed by the valleys of light and shadow, dark and cream, framed by her bra.
The break was clean and sure, and two stripes tumbled into the pockets. Roseanne straightened, arched her back slightly, throwing her figure into a womanly curve. His jeans were suddenly too tight.
Bending forward again, she sighted along the cue, lining up carefully for a bank shot. The cue brushed along the curve of her right breast, drawing his gaze, and he nearly missed seeing the ball roll cleanly into the pocket.
The purple. The yellow. Rob hadn't moved, hadn't touched his beer. His whole attention was focused on her neat, economical movements, the skill of her play, and the valley between her breasts. Especially that. In the dim light over the pool table, he thought he could see a glimpse of dusky nipple, peeking above the lace. His whole world had come to this: a woman, a pool table, a circle of light in which she played.
"It's your shot."
He wasn't even aware she had missed the green. Rob took the cue, and tried to will his body to relax. Tension wasn't good for pool, and he wanted to win this game. Needed to win her. With careful precision, he pocketed all seven of his balls. Only her two stripes, and the black remained.
"Concentrate," he admonished himself. His pleasure hung on the roll of the black ball. He called his shot, leaned, aimed. And missed. The black rolled to a stop over a corner pocket.
"Bad luck." Roseanne's sassy grin seemed to say it all.
Numbly, he watched her pot her two remaining stripes. She had only the black. She couldn't miss. She didn't miss. Rob's dreams of seduction, of sex, of her gasps and cries, disappeared along with the black ball. A woman like this wouldn't choose him--winning the bet had been his only hope.
"Good game." Roseanne advanced on him, hand outstretched.
His eyes roamed hungrily over her curves, committing them to memory, even as he bid his fantasy goodbye.
"So, I get to choose where we go from here." She hitched a hip on the side of the pool table and appeared to consider. "I guess there's a pool room on Broadway, in the basement of the Night Cat. Or maybe we could go have coffee?"
"Sure," he agreed. "Whatever you want. That was the bet."
Propping the cue carefully up against the table, she advanced toward him once more. This time her fingers danced down his chest to the snap of his jeans and brushed over the faded denim. She couldn't fail to feel how much he wanted her.
"Or," she whispered in his ear, "we could cut the preliminaries and go straight to my place. We can have the coffee for breakfast."
(((FIN)))
© Cheyenne Blue
**********************************************************************
When playing the game of seduction, take your cue from a pool shark. A basic black push-up bra is always a winner, but more practiced players can put a spin on traditional lingerie and go for something more daring.
- A tiger print bra and matching G-string under that little black dress make a sexy secret to save for later
- An unexpected ruffled red bandeaux beneath a denim jacket are sure to distract your date
- A glimpse of your new summer pink bra peeking between the buttons of a black satin blouse will drive him wild
- A peek of your school-girl innocent white bra will have him concentrating on you, not the pool game.
- Plan your moves carefully and you may just land your lover in your corner pocket – or on top of a pool table.
**********************************************************************
Seduction Tip: Now you can treat yourself to a set of three pair crotchless panties in assorted colors. These scanty panties are a fun surprise under just about anything - from a skirt in the park to a bustier in the bedroom. Have some hot fun in the summer time - or any season for that matter.
**********************************************************************
Would you like to have your name used in one of our fictional stories? stories@hipsandcurves.com
**********************************************************************
We hope you enjoyed this issue and would love to hear your comments. Please forward this to your best friends, associates, or that special someone in your life if you think they would enjoy it but please don't spam them.
**********************************************************************
View our Privacy Policy HipsandCurves.com ©2005. It's not okay to reprint the copyrighted contents herein without the express written consent of CMI Enterprises, dba Hips and Curves.com.
July 23, 2004
|
email a friend
bookmark us!
