Billiards

Many thanks to floss83 for first editing and improving this story and to editor extraordinaire and fledgling author LovelyAnon for later fixes and suggestions that challenged me to do better.

Dinner and billiards Wednesday at 8

Cocktail attire

RSVP

Scarlett, Charlotte, Emily and Susanna called each other before they responded to the unusual invitation from the club.

They knew it was from the club, even though there was no phone number or return address, because of the magnolia logo on the card. But who was inviting them? And why billiards? None of them played billiards.

They called some of their other friends at the club, but no one knew what they were talking about. As far as they could tell, they were the only ones who had received an invitation.

Finally, they called the club, but the person on the desk couldn't answer their questions. All she told them was that the new owner of the club would call them back.

The four friends often told others that they had been members of the club even before they were born, because their mothers were members when they were pregnant.

They liked to think of themselves as being younger versions of their mothers. They had grown up spoiled and indulged. They went through a wild period starting with their junior year in high school and continuing through their junior year in college. But then they got sensible, found some wealthy boys from local families to marry and became spoiled country club wives.

Scarlett was the first to get a call. The voice was soft and pleasant, with a local accent.

"Hi Scarlett," she said. "My name is Betty Jean Beaumont, and I'm the new owner of the club. You probably don't remember me, but I went to school with you."

Scarlett thought for a moment.

"I knew a Betty Jean Jerome, who was the daughter of one of our servants," she said. "But you don't sound like her. I remember I used to tease her a lot when we were kids, and she was always crying."

"You did a lot more than that, Scarlett, especially when you got together with your friends Charlotte, Emily and Susanna. Yes, I'm the same Betty Jean, and I remember all of you well. I went away to school, got a business degree, got married, got divorced and came back to town to be closer to my widowed mother.

"When I bought the club, I noticed you and the others were on our roster. The staff told me the four of you are as cruel as ever and that you all enjoyed tormenting our employees. Is that true?"

Scarlett ignored the question. "Why, Betty Jean," she said. "What a pleasure to make your acquaintance again. It sounds like you did really well for yourself. Imagine being able to buy our exclusive club at your age. We've been members since before we were born. It's like our second home. We love it because it's one of the few clubs left that won't let riff-raff in. We have a few tokens, so we don't get in trouble. But most of the members are still like us and our parents."

"I know," said Betty Jean. "I'm going to be changing some of the requirements for applicants and also for continuing members. Times are changing. That's why the families that ran the club had to sell it to someone with business sense before it went broke.

"The new configuration may not include the four of you and your families. That's why I invited you to dinner to talk about it. Would you like to RSVP now?"

Scarlett was too stunned to say anything for a second. Did she hear right? How could she be thrown out of her own club? They had always paid their dues, and except for a few teenage incidents involving booze, pot and sex that her parents had hushed up, there had never been any trouble.

She and her friends loved the club because they were surrounded by the right kind of people, people like themselves. Was Betty Jean going to lower its standards? That wasn't good news, but she could understand it if the club desperately needed money. But why was she throwing out paying members? It sounded like Betty Jean had a chip on her shoulder.

"I don't understand," Scarlett finally said. "And what does this have to do with dinner and billiards?"

"That's something I added for us," said Betty Jean. "You probably don't remember, but while she was working for your mother, my mom would sometimes work on weekends at the club, especially for the Saturday night dinners when nearly all the members would show up.

"She often brought me along when she had no one to babysit. I must have been really small the first time I saw the men and the women split up after dinner. The men went into the billiards room, and the women went into the card room. I went with the women the first few times, but then I got curious about what the men were doing, so I snuck over there and watched them from behind a utility door.

"That was the first time I ever saw billiards. For some reason, I was fascinated. I watched them many times and then forgot all about it until I went to college and saw a pool table in my dorm's social hall. I was drawn to it and ended up spending many hours practicing and playing. For me, it was the best way to relax when I needed a break from studying.

"Even though I was sort of a campus champ, I never did much with it after school. But when I took over here and saw the billiard room again, all the memories came back. I got to thinking about billiards, my mother and the four of you, and that's why I invited you for billiards."

"But we don't play billiards," said Scarlett.

"I'd like to play a game with you after dinner, but it will be up to you," said Betty Jean. "Listen, my assistant needs my attention. I've got to go. Should I put you down for Wednesday?"

"Just a minute," said Scarlett. "Why 8 p.m. on Wednesday? No one is at the club on Wednesday night."

"That's the idea," said Betty Jean. "It's a private dinner. Just the four of us and some of the staff that know you well, I mean that you know well.

"Listen, I know how busy you must be. It sounds like you don't have time to come in and talk about it. I can just let you know if you qualify when I decide on the new rules. Your dues are paid up until the end of the year, so nothing would go into effect anyway until January. You'll have lots of time to make other arrangements if it's necessary."

Scarlett thought Betty Jean sounded as though she had already made her decision. She reacted quickly.

"This is all so disconcerting, Betty Jean. It's only Friday night. Would you mind if I let you know by Monday."

"Not at all," said Betty Jean. "That would be fine. I've got to go now. Bye."

*********

When Scarlett, Charlotte, Emily and Susanna compared notes after each had talked to Betty Jean, they found that the conversations were almost identical. At first. they were angry that this woman, whom they remembered as a cry-baby and bad sport, had the power to exclude them from the club that was at the center of their lives. None of them could remember her at all beyond middle school, although she must have been a classmate. She was never on their radar.

They talked about the invitation, and they were certain that it involved some kind of childish payback for past sins that they had long forgotten. In the end, they agreed that they should humor Betty Jean and try to use charm and flattery to deflect her from her petty revenge.

When they walked into the club Wednesday night, it seemed darker than usual, and when Betty Jean came out of her office to greet them, they remarked on it.

"That's because we're saving energy," she said. "At times when there are few members using the club, we minimize the lighting. It's one of the many things I'm changing to put this place on a sustainable fiscal basis."

She led them into the dining room, which seemed eerie, because only one table was set in the center of the room. The table was immaculately laid out for a formal dinner, and when they sat down, the servers brought the first course. All four of the friends commented on how delicious it was, and they didn't even have to fake their sincerity.

Each course that followed was just as good, and they found the dinner table conversation fascinating, too. After a little chit-chat, Betty Jean told them she'd like to reminisce a little and began telling stories about her childhood.

Each story involved at least one of the four doing something nasty, hurtful, spiteful, painful, humiliating or sadistic to young Betty Jean. Often two or three of them ganged up on her, and sometimes it was all four.

The four focused on their food and said nothing. They wondered if they should apologize for being brats when they were children. It seemed so petty.

After a while Betty Jean paused and took a deep breath before she spoke again.

"Now I'm going to tell you about the most humiliating thing that ever happened to me. The other stuff seems distant to me now, and I didn't think about it for years -- until I saw your names again.

"But this one haunts me. It must have devastated me as a kid, because sometimes I still dream about it and wake up feeling mortified. This one I'm sure you'll remember.

"I think it hurt me so much because I was twelve years old and already in that stage where things were happening with my body that I didn't understand. I was particularly modest and shy.

"The four of you had gotten into trouble again. I forgot what you did, but it really got your mothers angry. I think it had happened the day before a mother-daughter luncheon at the club on a Saturday.

"My mother was one of the servers at the luncheon. She had dressed me up in a pretty dress so that I wouldn't look out of place and told me to sit in a far corner of the dining room and read my book.

"The mothers at your table were talking about what you had done and how you really deserved to be punished and how other mothers would give you a good spanking. Of course, you all knew your mothers wouldn't do anything like that, so you were probably acting smug.

"Susanna's mother saw my mother bringing something to the table, and she stopped her and asked her to tell the girls what she would do if I ever did anything like you girls had done.

"My mother told her that she would punish me of course, but she was sure that I would never do anything that bad.

"'I want to teach these girls a lesson,' Susanna's mother said, 'so let's pretend Betty Jean really did something that bad. How would you punish her?'

"My mother said she would give me a good tongue lashing and ground me and maybe even give me some swats. She was telling the truth. When I grew up and I was naughty, I used to get a dose of swats. My mother knew the humiliation of it was the best teacher.

"I loved my mother with all my heart, even though I hated the swats. Afterward, I realized they were given in love and were always less than I deserved.

"'How many swats would she get?' Susanna's mother asked.

"'It depends,' my mother said.

"'How would she get them?'"

My mother said she'd lay me across her knees and use her hand.

"Susanna's mother must have thought this was making an impression on the four of you, because she told my mother she saw me sitting in the corner and she'd like my mother to show the girls exactly what happened to me when I did bad things.

"My mother told me later that she looked at Scarlett's mother, who was nodding her head up and down at her. She said that she couldn't think of anything else at the moment except the fact that the family really needed the money Scarlett's mom paid her, and she couldn't afford to upset her boss.

"She might not only lose her job but also not get another one that paid as well, because Scarlett's mother wouldn't recommend her to other members of the club. She might even lose her weekend work at the club.

"She said she was scared and had no idea where this was leading, but she agreed and walked over to me, with the entire table getting up and following her. They surrounded me in the corner, and I remember looking up and wondering what was going on.

"My mother sat down next to me, and I saw there were tears in her eyes. She whispered to me, 'Betty Jean, I'm sorry, but please just go along with this for a moment. Please!'

"I got scared. 'Of course, Momma,' I said.

"'Show the girls what you do when Betty Jean acts up,' Susanna's mother said.

"'I lay her over my lap like this,' she said, pulling me to her and pushing me down over her lap. I remember being mortified, because I was scared my panties would show, but I didn't resist.

"'And what would you do then?' Susanna's mom said.

"'I would give her some swats,' said my mom.

"'But first you'd pull her panties down to her ankles, wouldn't you?' said Susanna's mom.

"'No, I never --,' said my mom and stopped. She looked at Scarlett's mom and saw she was nodding hard up and down.

"My mother grabbed my panties and ripped them down my legs. I screamed.

"'Now show the girls how you swat her,' Susanna's mom said.

"My mom lightly slapped my bottom, and I screamed again.

"One of you said, 'She hardly touched her,' and Susanna's mom said, 'Show her. Give her some real swats, just a couple.'

"I heard my mother gasp, and then she gave me two hard swats and shoved me off her lap. I fell to the floor screaming and pulled up my panties and ran out of the room. I heard your laughter as I ran through the club to the road down the hill. My mom caught up with me in her car a few minutes later as I was walking down the side of the road sobbing my eyes out.

"When I got into the car, I heard her sobbing harder than me. She drove the car down the narrow road until she could pull into a strip mall. Then she stopped and pulled me into her arms and we sat there crying together. I don't remember what happened after that, but I do remember the next day she told me she hoped I was going to be a good girl from now on because she would never lay a finger on me again.

"That Friday, she was angry when she came home. She told me her weekly pay check was double the normal amount. She said she felt like throwing it in the face of Scarlett's mom, but that she was going to put the extra money in my college fund."

"Yes, I remember that day," said Scarlett. "But we were all young girls then. Do you want us to apologize now for what we were then?"

"No, of course not," said Betty Jean. "But my staff has told me a lot about the four of you. I learned about a few other members that occasionally cause trouble, but they told me you were the only ones who constantly degraded and belittled them, and you all seem to enjoy making things more difficult for them. They all genuinely despise you.

"After hearing from them, I realized that you hadn't changed since we were children and that dealing with you might bring back my nightmares. I finally decided I had three choices.

"One, I could sell the club. But I scratched that. The reason I got it was because it was in big trouble, and I haven't had a chance to turn it around yet and make it worth somebody else buying it.

"Two, I could find a way to get you out of here so I would never have to see or deal with you again.

"Three, I could get closure for what you and your mothers did to me and my mother."

The women were eating dessert by that time. Up to now, the dinner had been delicious and the stories amusing, but suddenly the mood had changed.

"We never want to leave our club," said Emily. "What do you mean by closure?"

"I would need to hurt and humiliate each one of you to square things with what was done to my mother and me."

All four women gasped. What kind of monster were they talking to? They looked at each other, but no one got up to storm out of the room.

"Please explain what you mean," Scarlett said.

"Well, the staff and I worked out something for tonight," said Betty Jean. "As you see, the club is deserted. The night watchman has had several run-ins with you, and he's cooperating. It was quite a job putting this together, and we're not going to do it again. So it's tonight or never.

"It requires you to let me do whatever I want to you for the next two hours. You can change your minds whenever you want and leave, and the only thing that will happen is your club membership will expire in December. Or you can stay and take your punishment and remain members.

"I will promise you that I won't do anything violent. You may experience pain and discomfort, but it will be mostly humiliation. And I also promise you that no one else except the people who are here and maybe a couple of other employees will ever know."

The four of them sat straight up as they heard this. They were in shock, and for a few minutes no one said anything.

Then Charlotte asked, "Can we talk this over?"

"Yes," said Betty Jean. "I'll leave the room and give you ten minutes. It's getting late, and some of the people helping me will need to leave in a couple of hours."

When she came back to the room, she saw that all four of them had been crying. They were silent while she looked at them.

"Well, what's it going to be?" she asked.

"We shouldn't do this, but we're going along with it," said Scarlett. "If you harm a hair on our heads, you'll be rotting in jail."

"Don't worry. I won't touch your heads. Follow me. We're going to the billiards room."

She led the procession, five women in cocktail dresses, followed by six employees in uniform.

"It's simple," said Betty Jean. "I'm going to play a game of pocket billiards on the table here."

One of the tables was brightly illuminated, not just from the light hanging down from the ceiling, but also from several large standing lights placed around it.

"The only unusual thing about this game is that you ladies will be the corner pockets."

They looked at each other. None of them knew anything about billiards.

"First, I want all of you to remove your panties and take off your shoes," Betty Jean said. There was some angry whispering among the four friends, but they complied.

"Put them over here on the other pool table. Now I want each of you to climb up on the pool table and sit down in one corner, facing the middle. The staff will put some cushions under you to make you more comfortable.

"Good. Now each of you lift your legs up until your knees are bent and your feet are on the felt. Next spread your legs wide apart. Wider! I like that you are old fashioned girls like me and don't shave, but I need to see where I'm aiming.

"Between your legs are a couple of pockets, and my goal is to fill one of them with these billiard balls."

Betty Jean took a long, heavy round stick and went to one end of the table and pushed a white ball hard against fifteen colored balls that were packed tightly in triangle at the other end of the table. When the white ball hit them, the other balls exploded into all directions, bouncing against the bumpers at the sides of the table and hitting each other.

"That's called breaking," she said. "I see that some of the balls hit you, but not hard enough to hurt."

"Now I'm going to take this cue ball, the white one, and with my cue, this long stick, I'm going to aim the cue ball at one of the other balls. The object is to bump one ball in front of each pocket. This is the hardest part. Let's see how many shots it takes."

The women looked on in morbid fascination as Betty Jean used her stick to push the white ball at the other balls. It took her eight shots to line up a ball that was touching the pubic hair of each woman. She stopped.

"And I guess now you're going to push the ball into our vaginas?" said Charlotte. "That's pretty disgusting."

"No," said Betty Jean, "that would be too easy. All of you have had babies. The bigger challenge will be to get the ball into your other pocket."