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Message-ID: <32302asstr$999299404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} Betting on Nine Ball 1/2 (mast exhib)  
Date: Fri, 31 Aug 2001 19:10:04 -0400
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This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts.
Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable,
or violates laws in your part of the world.

This story is Copyright 2001 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

BETTING ON NINE BALL


ONE 

Heather Stanton took a sip of her gin and tonic. As she set the
highball glass down, she clinked the glass next to her. "You're
nursing that beer, Maytag," she teased her partner. 

"I need a glass of water," Maytag said. 

"Are you still winded from that rundown?" Stanton asked. 

"I got him, didn't I? Besides, that guy was fast. I didn't see
anyone else join in." 

"Much more fun to watch you." 

Maytag ignored the comment. "Stanton, it has nothing to do with
that run, and everything to do with the ungodly temperature in
this bar." 

"Don't even think of asking him to put the air conditioner back
on," Stanton warned him. "It was like a skating rink when we came
in here. Besides if you're hot, you should lose some of those
clothes." 

Stanton wore a powder blue cotton top with spaghetti straps,
cutoff jeans, and sandals. Her outfit weathered the heat better
than Maytag's suit. 

"Unlike you, I didn't pack my entire closet for this trip." 

"No, don't give me that," Stanton said. "You thought there was no
lead to follow here, and that I was on the wrong track. You never
expected to find them here." 

Maytag sighed. "You were right, I was wrong. How many times do
you want me to say it?" 

"Until you mean it." 

Maytag pulled around on his open collar and loosened his tie some
more. "It's still hot in here." 

"Take off the jacket," Stanton said. 

"I'd rather not." 

"Are you still upset about that stain?" 

"It looks terrible," Maytag said. 

"It's just chocolate," Stanton said. "Who doesn't like
chocolate?" 

"It looks like shit." 

"Simulated shit," Stanton corrected. 

"Of all the perversions we deal with, I think I can honestly say
that infantilism freaks me out the most." 

"Whatever," Stanton said. "If you have a hang-up, don't complain
to me about being uncomfortable." 

"You might have a hang-up too if you chased a half naked guy in a
bonnet tossing shitty diapers back at you." 

"Simulated shit," Stanton corrected him again. 

"Whatever," Maytag said. "It's my hang-up." 

"Well then, sit there and suffer." 

Maytag took a generous drink of his beer. He licked his lips. "I
wouldn't be suffering if you hadn't cheated on that eight ball
bet. Now I have to turn every public space we enter into a
sauna." 

"Cheated? Again with the cheating claim! Is that what this is
about?" 

"I think I deserve another shot." 

"Forget it, Maytag. I'm not letting you get out of this one. The
benefits are too good." 

"Then at least give me a shot at getting out of it for tonight.
Just tonight." 

Stanton thought it over while stirring her drink with a swizzle
stick. "What do you have in mind?" 

"They have a pool table," Maytag said. 

"Ha!" Stanton laughed. "Maytag, I've seen you play pool. Your
game is pure slop." 

"You're not much better," Maytag said. 

"I do more than just slam the cue and hope something goes in!" 

"My bet, and I say pool." 

"Your bet, your game," Stanton said. "Fine with me." 

The two made their way over to the table, Maytag in his dark
suit, Stanton with mostly skin exposed. To their delight, they
discovered no one on the table. 

"OK, Maytag," Stanton said as she selected a cue stick. "So how
do you want to work this?" 

"We play for clothes," Maytag said flatly. 

"Strip pool?" Stanton asked. "A little juvenile, don't you
think?" 

"No, no," Maytag replied. "Not like that. This is about comfort.
If you win, then I have to lose an article. But if I win, you put
something warm on so you can suffer in this uncomfortable bar
along with me." 

"Maytag, I'm gonna have a pile of your clothes on this stool in
no time. Rack 'em!" 

"You ready for another round?" asked the perky cocktail waitress. 

Maytag smiled at the cocktail waitress. "Just a water, thanks."
He started to rack the balls. 

"Absolutely," Stanton said. "Another gin and tonic. Maybe, just
maybe, it'll even the odds out." She grinned at Maytag. 

Maytag returned her grin with a smirk. "Do you want to break, or
is that left for the underdog, too?" 

"I'll break," she said. Stanton moved over to the table and took
the white cue ball in hand. When she looked at the table,
however, she was surprised to see a slender diamond pattern of
balls where the normal broad triangle might be. 

"Nine ball?" she asked. 

"Yes, nine ball," Maytag said. "My bet, my game, right?" 

Stanton shrugged. "Like I said, fine with me." But she was not as
confident as she was before. Nine ball moved faster than eight
ball, and garbage was all legal. A slop player with a quick run
of luck might win a game. 

Off the break, Stanton sunk nothing. Maytag had a long shot
across the table to the one, but the cue barely kissed the yellow
ball, and Stanton took over with an easy shot. She sunk the one,
moved to the two, and sank that as well. She breathed easy again.
The three was a tough shot, and she missed it, knocking it hard
off the rail, but at a wrong angle. 

"That's a shame," Maytag said. 

"Tough shot," Stanton said. Then she realized he wasn't offering
sympathy. The three ended up in good line for a 3-9 combo shot.
Maytag knocked it down. 

"How about that?" Maytag asked. 

Stanton placed her tongue squarely in cheek. "I don't have extra
clothes here." 

"Go fetch some," Maytag said. "I'll rack again." 

While Stanton was gone the cocktail waitress arrived with their
drinks. "Are you two gambling in this establishment?" she teased. 

"Not exactly," Maytag answered. 

"I should hope she's not taking something off, like in strip
poker," the waitress said. 

Maytag did a double take. "What makes you say that?" 

"Oh, we get a guy in here that likes to do that sort of thing a
lot." 

"Quite the opposite," Maytag said. "She's actually going to put
on more clothes." 

"Really?" the waitress sounded surprised. "Oh, well. Whatever
floats your boat." 

Stanton returned with a bundle of clothes. She made a great show
of slipping on a sweatshirt over her top. Maytag greeted the
performance with mock applause. "Your drink arrived in case you
need to cool off," he said. Maytag broke. Once again, Stanton
worked a few balls. Once again, Maytag looked solely for the
quick win. He earned it again, sending the green six hurling off
rails until it smacked the nine and deposited it in a corner
pocket. 

"Looks like I win again." 

"I'm putting on socks," Stanton said. It killed her fashion
sense, but she was starting to get a little warm. 

"OK," Maytag said. "You're allowed one questionable article. But
after this, I don't want to see any head bands or anything." 

They played again, and this time Stanton took the approach of
going for the quick win herself. But by then Maytag had time
warming up trying combination shots. He won another round. 

Just as Stanton was pulling the sweatpants over her legs, a man
appeared at the table. He watched her slip the pants over top of
her cutoffs and shook his head. "Now I know it can't be that cold
in this bar, because I'm sweating like a Mississippi mail man in
August. So why is it you're putting on heavy clothes?" 

"Ask the pool shark," Stanton instructed him. 

"It's just a simple bet," Maytag said. 

"What kind of bet?" the man asked. 

Maytag explained, and the man only shook his head more. "Well,
that's just terrible. I can say quite certainly after staring at
Jeff the bartender most nights that you are much easier to look
at than the staff at this bar. And here your friend wants you to
cover up those nice legs." 

"I hear you, Kenny," said the waitress, who arrived to check on
their drinks. "First you apologize to her for your shameless
talking about her legs. Then you better send some of that
shameless talk my way, or you'll be fetching your own beer from
now on." 

"Sorry, I guess I was a little forward there. I don't even know
your name." 

"Heather," she told him. 

"A pleasure," Kenny looked at her and smiled. 

"Ahem," the waitress cleared her throat. 

"I'm sorry, Donna," Kenny said. "May you see fit to smother me
with those legs should I ever fail to compliment them in the
future." 

"That's better, you little wise ass. Another round?" 

"Yes," Maytag said. "Another game?" he asked Stanton. 

"Another one?" Kenny said. "She's already bundled like an Eskimo!
Tell you what, why don't I stand in for her?" 

"So we can both end up like Eskimos?" Stanton asked. 

"I wasn't planning on losing, Heather," he said. "Besides, I'm
not going to be putting on clothes." 

"You're taking them off?" Stanton asked. "I like this more and
more." 

"I'm doing that either," Kenny said. "This is your bet, I'm just
standing in for you. But we can make it more interesting." 

"How's that?" Maytag asked. 

"Double the bet. If I win for Heather, she gets to ditch part of
her winter get-up, while you lose an article." 

"And vice versa?" Maytag asked. 

"That's right. You rack, I'll break." 

Break Ken did. The thunderous collision made Maytag wince, and
the soft thump of a ball landing in a pocket only made the
ominous sound worse. 

Donna the waitress returned with their drinks. "Look out for this
one," she whispered to Stanton. "He's a cross breed of pool shark
and hound dog." 

"I can see both," Stanton replied. "Don't worry, though. He's on
my side." 

"I see," Donna said. She wasn't gone but a minute before Ken had
won the game. Stanton lost the sweatshirt, and Maytag ditched his
tie. Stanton told him that was his questionable article for the
night. 

Thunder Ken ran through the table again. Stanton removed her
pants, baring her legs again. Maytag lost shoes and socks. 

"That's almost questionable again, but considering you're down
two articles, I'll let it go." 

"Generous of you," Maytag said. As an aside, Maytag told his
partner, "I think I've been had." 

True to Maytag's assessment, Ken was not nearly as generous as
Stanton was. He did not run the table, but Maytag managed only
two poor attempts at stealing one from his opponent. At the end,
Ken made a smooth shot along the rail to put the striped nine
ball away. 

"What's next?" he asked Maytag and Stanton. 

Stanton removed her socks. Maytag opted for the jacket. Their
clothes were piling up like the remains of a make out session. 

"Hey! what's that on your shirt?" Ken asked Maytag. "Looks
like--" 

"Chocolate!" Maytag cut him off. 

"It's only simulated shit," Stanton said. 

"I don't understand," Ken said, as he racked the balls. 

"You don't want to know," Stanton said. "And you don't need to
play any more. I've been avenged. See, I'm back to the starting
point." 

"You mean you're not going to give Gerry here a chance to win one
from me?" 

"Yeah, Stanton," Maytag said. "Let me have a go at it." 

"OK," she said. "Though I don't like your chances." 

Nor did his play give her reason for optimism. Before she could
order another drink, Ken had won again. Maytag stripped out of
the soiled shirt so fast that Stanton suspected he may have even
thrown the game. 

Stanton took off her shoes. 

"That doesn't count," Ken said. 

"What?" Stanton said. 

"Well, you said Gerry's shoes were questionable, and we've
established that you've had your questionable article. So shoes
aren't good enough." 

That left the brunette to choose between her cutoff jeans, her
top, or a retreat from the contest. 

"Stanton, don't worry about it," Maytag said. "Shoes are fine." 

Retreat wasn't her style, though. "That's OK, Maytag, I'll play
by the rules." 

That left her with a choice between confirming the world's
knowledge that wearing spaghetti straps is equivalent to wearing
no bra and revealing to the world that she was wearing polka dot
panties. She chose for the polka dot revelation, and was grateful
once again for having a her bikini line waxed regularly. 

"Oh, my," said Ken. 

"Oh, my," said Donna the cocktail waitress. 

Aside to Stanton, Donna said, "I guess he wasn't on my side,
really." 

"Well, he's honest," Stanton said. "From the start, he was
playing to get my clothes off." 

"Honest? You've definitely been had." 

"So are we playing again or what?" Ken asked. 

"I've literally lost my shirt," Maytag said. "I'm done." 

"Heather?" Ken asked. "Do you want us to keep going?" 

"I think you've proved your point," Maytag said. He put his cue
stick down and moved to Stanton's side. "We have a lot to do
tomorrow, right Stanton?" 

"She's a big girl, Gerry," Ken asserted. "I'm sure she can speak
for herself." 

"Yes, I can," Stanton said. "I say we go one more round." 

"I'm not going to be a party to this," Maytag whispered. 

Stanton moved her lips close to his ear. "Yes you are," she said.
"Just pick up the stick and play." She winked at him. It was
tough for Maytag to say 'no' to women in spaghetti straps and
polka dot panties. He picked up the stick. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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