Push Me Ch. 01

** Author's note - This is an updated version of my first Lit story. I got a little trigger happy the first time. Enjoy! Part 2 will be re-edited and uploaded soon, with several more chapters to come after that. Thanks to all the readers for the amazing feedback and voting. This is part of a romance series, but first, we introduce the players...

*

6 months ago was the first time I had played pool in years. I played with some friends in high school every Saturday at Venture Lanes, the local bowling alley, and I bought a cue with graduation money. Just a cheap $20 thing with a crappy nylon case, but it served me well in college. Going to an engineering college in the middle of nowhere gave me quite a bit of time to practice. My current cue, several upgrades from that original, was still in good shape -- black carbon fiber-clad and smooth as silk, and, coupled with the brushed aluminum hard case, I looked a bit like a bad ass. Of course, the fact that I'm 5'10" and 220lbs of pretty solid muscle didn't hurt that image. I played football in high school. After graduation, desperate to find more self-confidence, and looking to dispel the freshman fifteen, or more like thirty in my case, I joined a Muay Thai gym my sophomore year. I had kept up most of my training regiment ever since. Early middle age had started to have an impact. I knew if I wanted to keep my physique the way it was, I'd have to work even harder as I got older, but I'd reached the point in my life where health was more important than vanity, and I felt perfectly healthy. Well, aside from the impact two Captain and Cokes were having on me.

The time between graduation from college and a point two summers gone was filled with a now-defunct marriage. I'd been much chubbier and shier in high school, not to mention my nerdy predilections - not a good combination for an active love life. I was a virgin until I was twenty one. So when I got to a point where I was comfortable in my skin, I was thrilled when a girl showed some interest in me. A few had before that, but I was so insecure, I just always assumed I was about to be the butt of some joke, and I scurried away from their attention. I was so thrilled, so overwhelmed with the sensation of not being alone anymore, that I refused to acknowledge any future which didn't involve us together - not a good philosophy. I think I was tired of being around her a year into the relationship. We got married a year after that. Then were on again off again miserable for the next five years.

After that ended, I spent some time remembering how to be me. I had warped myself into whatever shape fit my ex's likes and dislikes just to keep the relationship smooth (Ha). I still found myself with prejudices I didn't remember having. It took time to remember how to be honest with myself. I found a few of my old insecurities creeping in as I did, but with age came an increased ability to face and address my fears. Irrational fears are just that -- irrational. If you can dig a hole, logically, in something you fear, you take power from it. I learned to use my extremely linear, logic-driven though process to dissect fears and prove they were baseless. Most of them.

That wasn't my biggest problem. Dealing with all of that, I became a shut in. I hated to leave my condo for any reason. I tolerated going to work, because I had to. Anything else became a race to see how fast I could get back to where I felt safe. For almost two years I was two people -- the friendly, personable guy I wanted to be while I was at work, where I got along with people well enough to be liked, but didn't go out of my way to be drawn into friendships outside of work, and the scared, fat nerd, cowering under my security blanket.

I still don't know what made me make the leap. Maybe it was just the time that had passed. Maybe it was the sudden horror that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. One Saturday, doing my weekly cleaning, (I hate to clean, so I have a standing list of weekly things to do, just to be sure they get done) I went to put a heavy coat into the back of my closet until it would be needed again next winter. I saw my cue case, gleaming in the corner. Something in me snapped and said, 'Fuck this miserable existence! I want to LIVE!' I had been going to play pool at least once a week ever since.

Gillian's, the bar where I went to play pool, was usually SLAMMED on a Friday night, but it was early July, and the local university wasn't in session, so the crowd was manageable. I'd gotten there early to get a table. An upcoming charity dinner in Chicago, where I had a plus one, also left an ulterior motive rattling around the back of my mind. I was scanning the crowd for possibilities, but I suspected I was boned. I didn't have much hope finding a woman to accompany me a thousand miles for a weekend date, even for charity.

I'd been there for about an hour when I noticed two co-eds less-than-surreptitiously trying to attract my attention. I had absently noticed them a few times, but they were dancing, and I wasn't, so I hadn't tried to strike up a conversation. I hadn't seen them playing pool, and there appeared to be plenty of clear dancing space closer to the bar and everyone else who was dancing, but, for some reason, these two young ladies had made it their purpose to dance near me.

I suspected they were enjoying an innocent round of "flirt with the older guy". I don't consider myself old, even if I am more than a decade older than your average freshman. I had conversations with college students in this bar, and got along with almost all of them. I had even given a few of them advice or help with classwork. My education is ... eclectic ... to say the least. But I had never tried to pick up a college girl, or had one do anything more than innocently flirt with me.

I shave my head, but I keep a short, neat beard, which was salt and pepper, with the occasional blonde or copper streak, and had been that way since I was twenty-five. Thanks for the SUPER gray hair genetics, mom. I always smiled and flirted back, but never went any further, knowing that they had a good idea I was quite a bit older than them. So I took it in stride that these two were just looking to shed the status quo for a night and get some attention from someone in a different age category.

I'd just sunk the last ball from this rack, and went to chalk my cue. I deliberately stood on the opposite side of the pool table from them, smiling as I watch them dance with each other. Their distance from the other dancers and the bar, plus the relatively low customer volume and the fact that it seemed to be mostly singles or groups of two at all the pool tables meant no one but me was really paying any attention to them.

They stood with their hips almost pressed together. Their hands and arms moved all around each other, brushing each other lightly, delicately caressing each other as shimmied with the beat. One was short brunette, maybe 5'3", olive skinned with an exotic face, though I couldn't quite put my finger on her ethnicity. Large, brown, almond eyes, filled with the joy of motion froze me in the act of brushing the chalk on my cue tip. She was there to see if I would watch, but watch or no, she was going to enjoy her dancing. My smile cracked a little wider. She had a toned but very feminine body, with fantastic curves. She was wearing what I always think of as "genie pants" in a smoky gray than clung to her shapely ass but fell straight down her legs, stopping mid-calf. Strappy sandals with turquoise faux leather and silver ornamentation wrapped around a pair of well-pedicured feet with white opalescent toe nails. Her shoes matched her satiny halter top, and I was pretty sure she had on a push up bra to have so much cleavage on display. A necklace of silver medallions hung just perfectly to draw attention to that lush valley without obscuring any of it. It wouldn't have been more effective if she had worn a neon sign that said "BOOBS!" My smile went wider, and took my eyes with it. Her dark skin shimmered with sweat, even in the reduced lighting outside of the lamps over the tables. Thick, glossy, wavy black hair veritably exploded from a thick headband the same color as her top.

Her friend was two or three inches taller than her. Golden blonde hair was caught in a pink scrunchy at the back of her head. A pink baby doll shirt with the local university logo and name in white block letters clung to her lithe body. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. She was almost model thin, if not model tall, and would have just filled out an A-cup. The shirt stopped a few inches above of the waist of her white, ruffled tennis skirt. She had beautifully toned and tanned thighs and calves, and wore a pair of pink, high-top Chucks.

I wasn't going to disappoint them. If they wanted me to watch, I had zero qualms about watching. They had stayed profile to me up to now. The blonde, noticing that I had made them my focus of attention for the long haul, spun to face me, turning her friend so her back was to me. The blonde's hands went to the brunette's hips and pulled firmly but slowly. Once they were fully pressed together, the brunette wrapped her arms around blondie's neck, lacing her fingers together, palms out. The blonde slowly slid her face down the brunette's arms, locked eyes with me, and pressed her lips against the side of her friend's throat. The brunette threw her head back and thrust her hips forward. From this vantage, I could see blondie's tongue streak out to lick a shapely neck from shoulder to ear, and I had a direct line of sight right between that Latina (I was pretty sure) goddess's breasts.

The dip lasted only a second, but the tightness in my pants lasted quite a bit longer. The song ended, they both smiled at me, and walked away, holding hands. I assumed their mission was accomplished, and moved around to rack the balls. After a shitty break, and two shittier shots, I noticed that my concentration was totally shot. I wasn't at all drunk. The exhibition I'd just witnessed had definitely rattled me. Another drink would sooth my jangling nerves. I walked up to the first clear spot at the bar and ordered another Captain and Coke. As soon as I ordered, a group of three frat boys right beside me moved away from the bar, and I saw two familiar faces.

'What the hell,' I thought to myself. "Can I buy the two of you a drink?" I asked them. I had no intention of pressing any further. I just wanted to acknowledge them and let them know their efforts were appreciated.

"Only if we can drink them at your table." That from the blonde, and totally unexpected. The look she gave me was coy but daring. The Latina girl smiled shyly, suddenly more timid-seeming now that she wasn't dancing.

"That would be the high point of my evening. I'm Craig." I said, offering my hand.

The blonde took it and shook it quickly but firmly. "I'm Shelly. This is Moira." My heart skipped. I have a huge thing for exotic names.

"Hello, Moira. It's nice to meet you. Your name is very ... fitting." I beamed a smile at her, and she looked at me quizzically.

Shelly turned toward Moira partially and looked at her over her shoulder. Seeing the slight confusion, and apparently concerned that Moira might think I was making fun of her, she smiled and said, "He means it's hot." I nodded and locked eyes with Moira. She blushed, but her face lit up with a smile and her huge almond eyes glowed.

When the bartender returned with my drink, I told him to get both of them whatever they wanted, and to put it on the tab for table three. Before I could even wonder if they were both 21, they flashed wrist bands to the bartender, and both ordered a vodka and cranberry. Being a popular drink, it only took him about fifteen seconds to whip them up. I stuck a five into the tip jar, and gestured toward my table with one arm, inclining my head slightly. "Ladies...." They smiled and headed toward my table. Shelly took the lead. She walked with a deliberate hip-swinging sway, her skirt flipping up and to the side with every flick of her hips. Moira walked with a dancer's grace, her supple curves gliding from place to place.

I inquired about their pool knowledge once we got back to the table. They both knew how to play "regular pool", or 8-ball, but nothing else, and neither had played much. I could feel the competitive streak in Shelly though. I didn't want to exclude either of them from the game, so I taught them an easy 3 person game called cut-throat. They were delighted that they we could all play at once, and I racked the balls.

"I get to go first!" Shelly said, excitedly. Moira rolled her eyes, and I knew my assessment of Shelly's competitive streak was spot on. "I get to...what's it called?" She turned toward me with a lip-biting look of concentration on her face. I was struck silent for a second because it was so fucking adorable. After a beat I manged to clear my throat and shake some sense back into myself.

"Break, you get to break."

"That's it!"

Moira and I shared a looked. Then we both jumped at a loud crack. I should have known that competitive streak came from a born athlete. Shelly had pulled off quite an impressive break, downing a ball, so she got to pick her set, lows, mids or highs, for the game. Knowing I would be the real competition to her, she took mids, they were the most centrally located, and then told Moira, since she was next, to take the high balls, leaving the lows, of which she had sunk one, to me. I still won handily. I had owned my own pool cue before these girls could ride a bicycle. I had broken open the table with my first shot, and Shelly's balls fell perfectly for a quick out after two rounds. I took out Moira three rounds later, deliberately dragging it out because Moira was having a good time harassing Shelly that she would get to play again soon. Eventually I knew this game could go on all night the way Moira shot, so I finished it out.

"Loser racks, and since you were first out, Shelly..." Not winning was one thing. Referring to it as "losing" really ticked her off. She shot me a "You'll get yours look" - playful, but totally serious nonetheless, and went to rack the balls.

She'd seen me shuffling balls when I racked them last time, and asked me if there was a certain way to do it. I told her that one ball from each set had to go in a corner, but that was the only rule. She moved a few balls, rattled the rack, and pulled it off. One of the balls tried to wander away at the same time she did.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hang on there." I said. She turned back toward me and saw the ball askew. She glared at it. She repeated what she'd done last time, only to have several balls pull slightly away from the group. "Press the balls into the front of the rack, move the rack forward slightly, and lift straight up." She did, and a pristine rack sat on the table. I locked eyes with her and swallowed any course "rack" jokes I may have had. She was glowing with a self-satisfaction that was very sexy. "Beautiful," I said, smiling. She threw her head back and squared her shoulders toward me as if to say, "I know, but thank you."

"Moira, do you want to break this time?"

"Sure," she said, very uncertainly.

"I'm sure Craig will give you some tips," Shelly volunteered. It was an obviously ploy, and if she had volunteered herself as the recipient of a quick lesson, I wouldn't have hesitated, but I remembered that shy smile Moira had, and I was worried she leaned much more toward the "free-spirit" personality and less to the "aggressive flirt" side. I was right. She shot Shelly a slightly concerned look. I quickly thought about how to disarm the situation. I really didn't want her to decide she needed to leave.

"Sure I will," I said. I picked up the cue ball and placed it at the optimum place on the table, took a half-step away from it, and gestured toward it, smiling at Moira. She let go of a ragged breath and relaxed. She was right-handed, so I was in the perfect spot to help without moving. I held my hand up and showed her how to make a secure bridge. "Don't worry about power. Just be smooth and even with your stroke, and don't move your upper arm. I reached out with three fingers and placed them inside her elbow to show her what I meant. As soon as I touched her, I was going down a steep drop on a roller coaster. My stomach dropped and muscles throughout my body just froze. The silken texture of her skin was intoxicating, and the heat from her shot from my hand to my brain before setting the rest of me on fire.

I pulled back slowly but immediately. I didn't want her to think I was flinching from her. "Wait. I don't think I have it yet. Show me again?" She asked with shy but smoky smile.

I wasn't about to pass up that invitation. I took a small step towards her, and then gently wrapped my hand around her arm right above the elbow, holding half of her arm locked where it was. She smiled wider, and then returned to focus on the balls. I didn't even hear the clack this time. I just relished the feel of her muscle sliding under her skin and the look of concentration on her face. It was just as determined as Shelly, but less expectant - more "I'll figure this out", instead of the "I got this shit" look that Shelly had.

She shot upright, grinning suddenly, and Shelly's jaw dropped. I watched a ball fall into the left side pocket. Then I counted the balls left on the table. Ten! She made five balls with that break! One third of the rack was always impressive. I whistled appreciatively. She beamed at me again, the same look she'd had when Shelly told her I thought she had a hot name. She turned toward me excitedly, and almost killed me. I barely manged to drop back and twist sideways to avoid the pool cue she inadvertently swung toward my eye. She looked at me, surprised, then what was in her hand caught her eye, and she dropped it like it was a poisonous snake.

"Ay, Dios mio! Are you OK?!"

I chuckled. "I'm fine. You missed." That horrified look was so painful on her face. "Really, I'm OK." I put my cue down on the table and spread my arms, smiling at her. She stepped toward me and put her arms around my ribs, giving me a quick hug, and smiling up at me.

"You're a good teacher," she said.

"You're an excellent student," I replied.

We went back to the game after that. Shelly discovered that the two of them ganging up on me might be a winning strategy, and they did take a few games that way. We played for probably two hours, chatting mindlessly, and talking shit to each other the whole time. As the clock approached midnight, a new song cut in, and the girls immediately focused on each other. Dance and club music wasn't my favorite, and I didn't know it, but they did. Moira and Shelly went straight to the same spot where they'd danced for me earlier and started to put on another show. I just leaned against the table and soaked up the sight.

They were much freer with their hands this time. The gentle caresses and flirty strokes were replaced with some aggressive fondling. They took turns dancing around each other at one point, one girl swaying suggestively in place while the other explored her. The one staying in place always kept her attention on my face. Eventually Shelly spooned up behind Moira, and the grinding really started. It was at this point that I saw who else had noticed them. Three frat boys sauntered up and started dancing with them. Nothing was amiss at first. Then I noticed both girls pushing hands off themselves. I gripped my cue tightly. Shelly suddenly stopped dancing and yelled, "Fuck off, asshole!" One of the frat boys grabber her wrist, and I saw a flash of pain on her face. Playtime was over.

"I don't think those ladies want you touching them." I boomed. Shelly had yelled loudly at the frat boy that had grabbed her wrist, and though it had some volume, it didn't carry far in a noisy bar. I had done some stage acting, and I'm pretty barrel chested, so I could belt out the volume when I needed to, and my voice carried. All three of them froze, and then turned to face me. Shelly jerked her hand loose and pulled Moira away.