I cheer loudly as she wins her first game. “Go Juliette,” I yell, drawing a glare from Trevor. I refrain with difficulty from flipping him off, and instead do a fist-bump of solidarity with Juliette. She looks surprised, but grateful. “Thanks, Bailey,” she says. “One game down, three to go, right?”
“You’ve got this. Frankie’s spooked, and he gets worse when threatened, not better.”
Sure enough, Frankie’s level of play drops off in the second game, much to Trevor’s disgust, and Juliette wins again. Frankie manages to hold on in the third game, but then he drops the next two. Juliette’s won her match.
One-one.
I’m somewhat relieved and somewhat disappointed. Both Daniel and Sebastian rarely lose, and they will win their games. It won’t matter whether I win or lose after that. It’ll matter to Clark, obviously, because of the bet, but it won’t matter in the scheme of the tournament.
Sure enough, Daniel makes quick work of his opponent. And then something unexpected happens.
Sebastian loses his match by a hair.
It’s all up to me now. And the butterflies in my stomach are back in full flutter.
* * *
The theme song from ‘Chariots of Fire’ plays in my head as I walk to the center of the room, under the spotlight. Trevor walks forward, almost in slow motion. The coin toss to determine who breaks seems to take an eternity, then the quarter lands face up on the felt. Heads. I’m breaking.
“You’ve got this.” Sebastian’s voice is low and certain next to me.
“Did you throw your game?” I demand. “Did you set this up?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he says blandly, watching Daniel rack the balls for me. “Why does Trevor look so pleased about the coin toss?”
“He thinks I can’t break,” I chuckle. “He’s about to find out he’s wrong.”
The vibrator buzzes against my clitoris right then, and I almost drop the chalk I’m holding in my hand. I glare around, trying to decide which one of them is the culprit. One of them has the remote. When I find out which one…
The buzzing stops. “Go on,” Sebastian smiles wickedly. “It’s time to show Trevor what you can do.”
Can a girl who just started playing pool a few months back beat an expert? Not every day. Not even most days. Some days, however, the planets line up just so.
Trevor underestimates me. I can see him laughing with Frankie, rolling his eyes as I bend down to break. At the right angle, you can see my bra. From the way Trevor suddenly swallows, I know he’s caught a glimpse of red lace.
You called my breasts cow-like, asshole, I think, and the resulting surge of anger powers my break. I hit the cue ball with a resounding thwack, and it speeds toward the rack. Balls scatter everywhere, and two balls roll into two pockets. “I’m playing solid,” I call out calmly as I walk around the table, chalking my cue. Trevor gapes at me, and behind him, his team falls silent. They’ve seen me play before. They thought the tournament was theirs.
Not just yet. Not if I have anything to do with it.
My best chance is to win quickly. I have to be careful not to give Trevor an open shot, because then he’s capable of running the table. My shot selection needs to be strategic. If I’m not sure I’m going to sink a ball, I need to position the cue ball in such a way that Trevor can’t, either.
I’ve been practicing. Interspersed with hot sex and even hotter spankings, I’ve been working hard on improving my game. I’ve never been as good as I am in this moment. I’ve never felt as confident.
“Go on Bailey,” a familiar voice yells out. “You show them, girl.”
I turn around, and a huge grin covers my face. Not only do I have Daniel and Sebastian rooting for me to succeed, but I also have my own personal cheering squad. The Thursday Night Drinking Pack - or the four of them that live in New York - Katie, Gabby, Piper and Wendy - have all made the trek to Yonkers to watch me play. “Miki sends her apologies,” Wendy tells me. “She was going to try for a flight, but bad weather derailed her plans.”
“She was going to fly out to New York for this?”