The Fame Game

"So who's Lois?" She asked, returning with a second round of drinks and some change for the pool table. "You rack 'em. This dress..."

She let the sentence hang in the air like a tantalizing whiff of perfume that instantly reminds you of a long forgotten encounter. And her hem was rather high. And where the pool balls came out was rather low. I racked them up and broke off. Nothing.

"You didn't answer me. If you're not Clark, who's Lois?" A ball slammed into a corner pocket. "You're yellows."

"I could have been Superman." Another red ball took a brief tour of the baize and vanished with a thud.

"No way are you the man of steel." She patted my belly as she squeezed past to get to her third shot. "Anyway Superman is Clarke." She bent and stretched for the cue ball. Her inappropriate pool playing outfit was an immediate distraction, thwarting my opportunity for a witty riposte. She aimed but didn't take the shot.

"You hold that pose much longer and I'll be the man of steel all right." Just as I spoke her elbow twitched forward, the cue ball careered down the cloth, cannoned into a couple of reds, set a further half dozen assorted balls in motion and left one rattling in the jaws of a pocket where it didn't drop. My turn.

"If you're the man of steel, I must have kryptonite fillings. But you know you didn't mean Lois Lane so I ask again – Who's Lois? You missed."

"Lois is my internet brunette."

"It's no wonder I didn't guess who I was meant to be then. Where's this one from? Not another Russian chick?"

"Australia. I know she's not a celeb but how many famous women do you actually know take it in the ass. Lois does and that's what I was thinking about."

"Does she know you're a pervert?" Another red vanished.

"I've made no secret about it. She's heard lots about our games. Its nice having someone to tell all my sordid little secrets to that I don't have to face at work or socially."

"Have you seen her naked yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. She has sent me a tantalizing picture of her flatmate though. She's shy but definitely well worth the effort of seducing."

"Who's shy? Lois or her flatmate?"

"Lois ain't shy. It's just a matter of time until she succumbs and becomes one of my private porn stars. She wasn't even slightly shocked when she heard all about our home movies."

"You gonna tell her that you fantasized about her while doing me? Eight ball, middle pocket." It went in.

"Sure."

"Gonna tell her where your dick was at the time?"

"Of course. Another game?"

"No. Let's go catch a movie. I feel like sitting in the dark awhile." Her eyes twinkled.

We walked through town toward the cinema, arm in arm, admiring the young people in their Saturday night outfits. "If you played the fame game with Lois, who would she be?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If her flatmate was playing too, they'd be Dannii and Kylie. One curvy brunette and one petite blonde, both Australian. It's the obvious choice."

"You and your fixation with the Minogues! Does this shy flatmate give head?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, whenever I'm Kylie all you want is head."

"That's because a mouthful of dick is the only surefire way to make sure Kylie doesn't sing."

"I can sing with a mouthful of dick. Don't tell me you've forgotten the hallelujah chorus?"

"I haven't forgotten. You were terrific as Hayley Westenra, a regular opera diva. D'you think maybe Kylie could sing and suck at the same time? 'I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky' Hmm that does produce some interesting tongue movements. Yes...It might just work."

"You should be so lucky. Freak."

"Guilty. What shall we go to see?"

"Thunderbirds. Then I can be Lady Penelope and you can be Parker."

"Yus Milady. Will that be the servant's entrance Milady?"

"Of course Parker, after you've parked the pink Rolls-Royce in the garage."

"Two tickets for Thunderbirds please. Front row if you have them."

"Ten pounds eighty please... Thank you...Enjoy the film."

"Would you like some sweeties, little girl?"

"Ooh! Yes please, Mister. Can I have some jelly babies?"

"Jelly babies?"

"You've got to have kids sweets if you're watching a kids film. It's the rules. Can I have my ticket? I need the little girl's room and you don't want to miss the trailers. I'll meet you inside."

"There you go then. Don't be long."

"Jelly babies. X" And I was kissed and she was gone.

"A bag of jelly babies please, and a large diet Pepsi."...

The auditorium was pretty full. Usually we have the front row all to ourselves, which can be all kinds of fun, but tonight we had to share. Damn!

She wasn't long arriving and as she sat down she stuffed something into my shirt pocket and whispered "Kylie's knickers. The ones you bought me at Xmas."

"You're going commando? In that dress?"

"Because you like it like that." A Kylie lyric.

"Then you'd better have these." I placed the open bag of jelly babies in the valley of her closed thighs, right against the high hem of her dress, to provide a fig leaf against any stray glances. "That's where babies come from." One surreptitious finger quickly confirmed her bareness but didn't linger. There'd be plenty more opportunities – as long as there were sweets in the bag.

"We're not alone." Her eyes moved meaningfully in the direction of the guy next to her. Not me: The other guy. I glanced across to see him blatantly staring at her legs – a not altogether uncommon reaction among the male population, but this bloke was transfixed.

"You can look but don't touch." I leant across and addressed him directly. It snapped him out of his stupor like a slap. He looked at me, embarrassed. The rest of the evening we were apparently invisible from his seat.

The film was definitely a no-brainer. Not recommended unless, like me, you take your own entertainment. We left the foyer and found out how cold it had got outside. "You can't be Lady Penelope tonight. She only wears pink."

"I could go home and change."

"You could...but... Short white dress, no underwear, a black leather swivel chair, a video camera..."

"Basic Instinct. The flashing scene?"

"You are dressed the part."

"And afterwards? The sash off my Chinese pyjamas is kind of like a scarf, isn't it?"

"Close enough. Yes."

"Are you going to take me home then?"

"TAXI!"