Post by Jackie Clovis on Feb 19, 2019 19:31:51 GMT
"I don't understand this game." Jackie confessed, a slender smile pursing her red blue painted lips.
"What's to understand?" The guy, whose name she had not bothered to remember, said with an oily grin. A grin Jackie wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch or kiss. She gave the pool cue in her hand a quizzical glance, and imagined how it might look, breaking on his face.
"I use this to hit that," She said. Instead of exploring the sound of breaking wood and splitting cartilage, she used the cue to point at the white ball in the table's center, "And try to sink one of the other balls."
A cute little pout pursed the guy's lips as he considered her description of the game. She imagined combing her fingers through his wavy blonde hair, of taking a nice firm hold of it, and finding out how that mouth might feel on her own; How it might feel to smash it against the edge of the table.
"But not the striped ones." He said finally, smiling a smile that shouted about just how charming he thought he was, the golden cap of one tooth glinting in the smoky dimness.
"Right, not the striped ones," Jackie agreed, "'Cause you already sunk one of those."
"You got it." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, "Sounds like you understand it just fine."
Jackie stuck her tongue out at him, and saw the brief hitch in his breath as she did it, and affected her best girly giggle. She did a slow lap around the table, coming to his side of at, all the while pretending to be lining up her shot. She pretended not to notice when she got into the little man's bubble, not to notice when he didn't immediately give her the space her body language asked for, nor the way his eyes wandered when he thought she wasn't paying attention. He was cute. Pretty even. His hair was a golden blonde feathered through with tones of copper and light brown, with eyes of haunting deep blue. Eyes that slowly made the rounds of her tight fitted tank and low cut jeans as she bent down to line up her shot.
"Mmm..." She stuck out her tongue again, and narrowed one eye in a parody of concentration, "This would be so much easier with a little something to drink." Stretching out, Jackie let her strong leg muscles draw the denim tight. She could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her, hear the shallowness of his breathing, and the eager flutter of his heart, made weak by all the things he was imagining for the night to come.
"What d'ya drink?" He asked her, in that adorable Valenese accent of his, a bit of the anima countryside slipping in as he became ever more distracted.
"Mmmm..." Swaying from side to side, Jackie pretended to consider. Then, with soothing sweetness, "You know what?" She perked up her head, caught the brief flicker of his eyes as they found her upraised face, and that even brief look of guilt as he wondered if he'd been caught.
"There's this Atlesian whiskey I really love..." She drawled the last couple of words, giving her hair a light flick as she did so and, incidentally, squeezing her arms in against the curve of her chest. It was like someone tied weights to the guy's eyeballs, and it was only by sheer masculine might that he kept them from tracking down in helpless admiration of the pose.
"Oh yeah, what's it called?" Giving her that cute smile of his, showing that faint gleam of gold in his grin, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on her own. His eyes did that little crinkle thing again, and Jackie's own pulse quickened the tiniest bit, "I'll go grab you some."
"Lancaster," Jackie answered, quipped really, "Single malt."
His smile seemed to freeze, and Jackie's heart fluttered into a deep and rhythmic crescendo. She gave the cue ball the lightest tap, not even looking at it, but instead kept her eyes on the cute guy's face. His eyes followed the small movement, his smile still etched in place like it had been cast in iron, and watched her sink four solids in quick succession, each going into a different hole.
"Oooh, would you look at that." Jackie giggled sweetly, bouncing upright and hugging the pool cue deep into the crease of her blouse. "I didn't sink any of the striped ones!"
His eyes flicked back to hers, his eyes no longer cutely crinkled, which was a shame. "Nice shot." He told her, a hoarsely enough that he had to clear his throat after. Jackie watched him turn on his heels and walk back to the bar, admiring the cut of his jeans the whole way there.
It wasn't quite the same as drinking in Atlas, where a few extra lien in the right palms could get her any drink she wanted, but she had to admit that this Valenese sty had its own appeal. The cute guy got lost among the crowd that surrounded the bar, and so she let her eyes wander a bit while she waited for him to get back. She wasn't even sure if a place this seedy would carry Lancaster, and wondered what he might get her if they didn't. Something good she hoped, for both their sakes. Whatever he ended up bringing back would be better than nothing in the end, but it would be nice to have an excuse to reward his efforts. Her eyes moved away from the surprisingly convincing beowulf skull they had been admiring, one among many similar such articles scattered across the bar's walls, and down to the pool table before her. How sturdy was it, she wondered. She gave one of the legs a light prod with the butt of her cue, and decided it could probably survive a body or two landing atop it.
Not here, not where everyone can see...
Jackie's eyebrow twitched, and her smile curdled.
"Hush, little mouse," She muttered, "You're not the one driving."
Seeking to distract herself from the intrusive thought, Jackie raised her eyes to the ceiling and drew a deep and steadying breath. She still had plenty of time, and there was still plenty of fun to be had. No need to get bent out of shape for a few whispers. She just had to keep the night exciting was all. If that meant taking the party out of Otto's (she thought that was the bar's name), then so be it. She just needed to make sure she was done drinking when the time came to stretch her legs.
"Lancaster for the lovely lady."
The cute guy was back, and he was holding out a murky tumbler filled with something golden brown that smelled a lot like the inside of a burning building. Jackie took it from him, fingers brushing his, and examined his offering with a critical eye. It was whiskey at least. Was it two hundred and fifty lien worth of whiskey though?
"You know what they say about whiskey?" She asked the cute guy, who was carrying a drink of his own, a cloudy amber liquid with a frothy head in a glass thrice as large as hers. They clinked glasses and Jackie moved a little closer.
"What's that?"
Sticking out her tongue again, Jackie purred, "The tongue knows."
She tipped her head back, and the glass with it, knowing well how it must look as she did it. Neck straight, chin up, shoulders back. His eyes were like a hand on her.
It wasn't Lancaster, not even close, but neither was it cheap turpentine. Probably he'd asked for the most expensive thing they had.
"Oh, good boy." Jackie oozed, licking the taste off from her top lip. Then, with a light swat across his thigh with her pool cue, one just the tiniest bit too hard, she dipped her head towards the table. "Your shot."
"What's to understand?" The guy, whose name she had not bothered to remember, said with an oily grin. A grin Jackie wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch or kiss. She gave the pool cue in her hand a quizzical glance, and imagined how it might look, breaking on his face.
"I use this to hit that," She said. Instead of exploring the sound of breaking wood and splitting cartilage, she used the cue to point at the white ball in the table's center, "And try to sink one of the other balls."
A cute little pout pursed the guy's lips as he considered her description of the game. She imagined combing her fingers through his wavy blonde hair, of taking a nice firm hold of it, and finding out how that mouth might feel on her own; How it might feel to smash it against the edge of the table.
"But not the striped ones." He said finally, smiling a smile that shouted about just how charming he thought he was, the golden cap of one tooth glinting in the smoky dimness.
"Right, not the striped ones," Jackie agreed, "'Cause you already sunk one of those."
"You got it." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, "Sounds like you understand it just fine."
Jackie stuck her tongue out at him, and saw the brief hitch in his breath as she did it, and affected her best girly giggle. She did a slow lap around the table, coming to his side of at, all the while pretending to be lining up her shot. She pretended not to notice when she got into the little man's bubble, not to notice when he didn't immediately give her the space her body language asked for, nor the way his eyes wandered when he thought she wasn't paying attention. He was cute. Pretty even. His hair was a golden blonde feathered through with tones of copper and light brown, with eyes of haunting deep blue. Eyes that slowly made the rounds of her tight fitted tank and low cut jeans as she bent down to line up her shot.
"Mmm..." She stuck out her tongue again, and narrowed one eye in a parody of concentration, "This would be so much easier with a little something to drink." Stretching out, Jackie let her strong leg muscles draw the denim tight. She could practically feel the weight of his gaze on her, hear the shallowness of his breathing, and the eager flutter of his heart, made weak by all the things he was imagining for the night to come.
"What d'ya drink?" He asked her, in that adorable Valenese accent of his, a bit of the anima countryside slipping in as he became ever more distracted.
"Mmmm..." Swaying from side to side, Jackie pretended to consider. Then, with soothing sweetness, "You know what?" She perked up her head, caught the brief flicker of his eyes as they found her upraised face, and that even brief look of guilt as he wondered if he'd been caught.
"There's this Atlesian whiskey I really love..." She drawled the last couple of words, giving her hair a light flick as she did so and, incidentally, squeezing her arms in against the curve of her chest. It was like someone tied weights to the guy's eyeballs, and it was only by sheer masculine might that he kept them from tracking down in helpless admiration of the pose.
"Oh yeah, what's it called?" Giving her that cute smile of his, showing that faint gleam of gold in his grin, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on her own. His eyes did that little crinkle thing again, and Jackie's own pulse quickened the tiniest bit, "I'll go grab you some."
"Lancaster," Jackie answered, quipped really, "Single malt."
His smile seemed to freeze, and Jackie's heart fluttered into a deep and rhythmic crescendo. She gave the cue ball the lightest tap, not even looking at it, but instead kept her eyes on the cute guy's face. His eyes followed the small movement, his smile still etched in place like it had been cast in iron, and watched her sink four solids in quick succession, each going into a different hole.
"Oooh, would you look at that." Jackie giggled sweetly, bouncing upright and hugging the pool cue deep into the crease of her blouse. "I didn't sink any of the striped ones!"
His eyes flicked back to hers, his eyes no longer cutely crinkled, which was a shame. "Nice shot." He told her, a hoarsely enough that he had to clear his throat after. Jackie watched him turn on his heels and walk back to the bar, admiring the cut of his jeans the whole way there.
It wasn't quite the same as drinking in Atlas, where a few extra lien in the right palms could get her any drink she wanted, but she had to admit that this Valenese sty had its own appeal. The cute guy got lost among the crowd that surrounded the bar, and so she let her eyes wander a bit while she waited for him to get back. She wasn't even sure if a place this seedy would carry Lancaster, and wondered what he might get her if they didn't. Something good she hoped, for both their sakes. Whatever he ended up bringing back would be better than nothing in the end, but it would be nice to have an excuse to reward his efforts. Her eyes moved away from the surprisingly convincing beowulf skull they had been admiring, one among many similar such articles scattered across the bar's walls, and down to the pool table before her. How sturdy was it, she wondered. She gave one of the legs a light prod with the butt of her cue, and decided it could probably survive a body or two landing atop it.
Not here, not where everyone can see...
Jackie's eyebrow twitched, and her smile curdled.
"Hush, little mouse," She muttered, "You're not the one driving."
Seeking to distract herself from the intrusive thought, Jackie raised her eyes to the ceiling and drew a deep and steadying breath. She still had plenty of time, and there was still plenty of fun to be had. No need to get bent out of shape for a few whispers. She just had to keep the night exciting was all. If that meant taking the party out of Otto's (she thought that was the bar's name), then so be it. She just needed to make sure she was done drinking when the time came to stretch her legs.
"Lancaster for the lovely lady."
The cute guy was back, and he was holding out a murky tumbler filled with something golden brown that smelled a lot like the inside of a burning building. Jackie took it from him, fingers brushing his, and examined his offering with a critical eye. It was whiskey at least. Was it two hundred and fifty lien worth of whiskey though?
"You know what they say about whiskey?" She asked the cute guy, who was carrying a drink of his own, a cloudy amber liquid with a frothy head in a glass thrice as large as hers. They clinked glasses and Jackie moved a little closer.
"What's that?"
Sticking out her tongue again, Jackie purred, "The tongue knows."
She tipped her head back, and the glass with it, knowing well how it must look as she did it. Neck straight, chin up, shoulders back. His eyes were like a hand on her.
It wasn't Lancaster, not even close, but neither was it cheap turpentine. Probably he'd asked for the most expensive thing they had.
"Oh, good boy." Jackie oozed, licking the taste off from her top lip. Then, with a light swat across his thigh with her pool cue, one just the tiniest bit too hard, she dipped her head towards the table. "Your shot."