Lonely Words

Jaz returned to the table just in time for him to return with three tall glasses sporting miniature umbrellas on top. He returned the drinks to their respective owners before tending to the bar once more.

The crowd at the bar gradually filtered out. He wiped the countertop clean with a washcloth. Jasmine sauntered over with a wide smile and a handful of twenties.

"Give me a daiquiri, Jordan," she said coyly. "Looks like I can pay for this one."

"I bet. You were on fire back there," Jordan grinned in response. "Those guys never knew what hit them. Where are they?"

"You'll never believe it, but they're asleep at our table," she said, taking the drink from him.

"I believe it," he said solemnly, struggling to hold back his laughter. Jaz looked at him with an oblique stare.

"Did I miss something?"

"Remember when I took the three glasses to put umbrellas in? I poured out the contents of your glass into the other two and gave you a fresh serving."

"Why would that knock them out?"

"Because, Jaz," Jordan said with a grin and ruffle of her hair. "I saw them crush some powder into your drink while you were attending your call."

It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop in her mind. She gaped at him.

"Better them than you, wouldn't you say?"

"Good ol Jordan," Jaz said. "Thanks buddy."

"What's that you're writin' there?

When Jordan turned, Jaz took a twenty, a ten and a one from what she had just earned, folded it tightly so only the single showed from the outside, and slid it under the corner of her coaster. Grinning to herself, she was embarrassed she couldn't give him half, but there was the rent to pay. She wondered if he was a student or what. He didn't have that New York look about him, wondered if he were from 'Hicksville'. "Not a bad looking guy," she thought to herself, checking out the smooth curve his butt made in the worn jeans.

"Really," she asked again, noticing his embarrassment, "What is that you are writing?"

Riding home, she nodded off on the subway, dreaming to the swing and sway of the train, the rumble of the car like a soft vibrator under her butt. In her dream, she stood fully naked. Jordan, the bartender stood before her, undoing his belt and slowly unzipping his jeans. The car jerked around a tight curve and startled her awake, just as the pants were dropping. For a moment she was angry, then laughed at herself.

Even if she wanted to know what he looked like 'down there' her dreams couldn't tell her. That meant she would never know, because she had no intention of 'doing it' with any guy, not until she finished her doctorate and had a job. And even then, he better have a lot to offer. "Hey brain, what is it with you, c'mon. He doesn't meet any of the requirements. Sure he's cute enough, and yeah he's a nice guy, but he basically has nothing.. Not a good candidate, brain, keep looking." Jasmine laughed softly at herself when she realized her panties were damp.

The train drew to a stop at her station. Just as the doors opened, a large guy dashed from the other side of the car and snatched her pool case from her hand. Without thinking, Jaz threw a roundhouse right, hard as she could. His forward motion slammed him into her fist, he fell to his knees. She snatched her cue case from the floor, where he had dropped it when the blow landed.

As she dashed onto the platform, she could easily hear the man's screams echoing behind her. "Fuck! Shid! De goddam bnitch bwoke ma node. Fucking cund, broke ma node."

Jaz turned for one last look, saw the man's Tee covered with blood. She made sure he could see her pointing at him, laughing out loud, as the doors slid shut with a pneumatic tsssh. From the station, it was an easy two block walk to her flat. Flushed with adrenaline, she made the walk in ninety seconds flat.

Once home, she immediately dropped all her clothes, threw her ratty robe over her shoulders, slid onto the couch with her feet tucked up under her, and lit up a joint from a small box on the living room table. She closed her eyes and let the soothing smoke do its work. Two more tokes and she was sailin', feelin' no pain, seekin' no gain, ridin' on the A train. She rose and went to her elaborate sound system. She scratched her cheek for a few seconds, hen chose a vintage Coltrane album, wandered back to the sofa and vegged.

After a few minutes, she wandered into the bathroom, ran a bath , dropping the robe and looking at her svelte form in the mirror. Satisfied, Jasmine lay back in her claw foot bathtub filled with steamy water laced with the scent of lavender. Her frame was so slight that she could easily have slid completely under. Eddies of scented soap curled around the deep brown nipples of her tight perky breasts. She traced their outline with the tips of her index fingers, smiling and squirming her hips sensuously. The flaming red hair between her thigh showed pink through the suds as she slid her hand there. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Softly, oh so softly, she touched herself, spreading her lips with her index and ring finger, her middle finger rotating on her hardening clit, then curving to dip inside.

Her mind brought up the image of Jordan, the bartender at Park Billiards. "Odd," she thought, nearly disrupting her pleasure, "I never thought of him 'that' way." She relaxed back and closed her eyes once more. His image would not go away, so she flowed with it, tried to picture him naked, finally letting go of that, imagining his rough bearded cheeks chafing her inner thighs, his tongue swirling, dipping.

She crossed her feet and squeezed her thighs tightly together as the heat rose from deep within her. her fingers moved faster, sunk deeper, swirling, dipping. The magic took her then, soaring out of herself, spasms wracking her petite form, a tiny whisper of a gasp escaped her tightened lips. Then she giggled, her strong orgasm had forced a fart from her, bubbling to the surface. "Thank you Jordan," she whispered.

A week later Jaz was back in Park Billiards. She was looking for a game as she always was, but things were not so dire that she needed a game to eat, so she was more relaxed as she pulled herself up to the bar. "Hey Jordan," she called, "Gimme a shot of E and J and a beer chaser wouldya, please? She smiled softly when his back was turned. "If he only knew," she thought, suppressing a giggle.

She turned and scanned the room, her fingertips gently tapping her cue case. At a far table, she saw the same two, Buddy and Dick, laughing, apparently drunk,with two young women. "Oh please," she thought, "I got so lucky last time. Come and beg to play me again. please? She smirked. Be sure to bring your money." She went to an empty table racked the balls, broke, and began fooling around, playing herself. She kept her eye on this end of the bar, waiting until Jordan seemed free.

Seeing him pour himself a juice drink and lean against the bar, she moved in. "Hi Jordan. Got a minute?"

"Sure Jaz, for you."

"I been looking around, trying to find someone I could trust. . .er. "

When she blushed, Jordan noticed, her freckles changed color, some softening to a gentle tan, others flaring pink.

"I have a proposal for you, Jordan," Jaz said suddenly.

"No I won't marry you," Jordan said jokingly.

"Very funny. No seriously, can you shoot pool at all?" He shook his head in reply.

"Good, that's terrific."

"It's terrific that I can't play? What's up with that?"

"Well, here's how it works. On June 6, three months from now, every other Saturday at Gotham City Billiards over in Brooklyn has this partners tournament. A $2500 Value added tournament. Added means over and above the entrance fees so the actual prize money is bigger Depending upon who shows up, the prize can vary to as much as $3500."

"How it works is this - every player signed up comes in during the week and plays two games with someone else. When you get to eight games total, you are given a handicap based upon the number of balls you sink in the eight games. If you are terrible you get a big handicap, say as much as three balls per game. See, way over in Brooklyn they don't know me. If I go in there and don't take 'Sting', my stick, they won't know who I am or how good I am, so I can fake it well enough to maybe get a one ball handicap, when I probably should have a negative one or two."

Her lithe little body is moving around, dancing with excitement, eyes sparkling, freckles flashing.

"Now if you can get a three or four ball handicap we can win easily and take home the money. I will monitor the situation and in the two weeks before the tournament, I can work with you enough to show you how to leave me if you miss on our turn, probably improve your game even. We'll kick ass! Whadya say Jordan? Could ya use a grand or two? Wha'd'ya think Jordan, huh?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Jordan responded dryly. "I'm interested in what you have to say, but I should warn you -- I'm beyond useless with a pool cue in my hand."

"It's not that tough really," Jaz said. "Come here. I'll show you."

Jordan looked around the bar and saw that the crowd had thinned considerably. There were a few strays sleeping off their drinks at the far corner and a lone pool enthusiast fine tuning his skills by himself.

"Sure," he said, walking over. Her sharp eyes followed him all the way to the table. He actually got slightly flustered by the amount of attention her eager eyes gave the swell of his ass. She wrapped one arm around his waist and helped him steady his arm.

"Focus on the ball, make sure your cue is aimed at the part you want to hit."

She pushed the head of the stick until it caressed the green felt at the base of the ball. Every stroke made her arm brush against his. He was acutely aware of her soft skin intermittently in contact with his.

"Now draw back. Nice and slow."

Jaz pulled his elbow back before clattering his stick into the ball. It raced to its colored counterparts and caused a series of ricochets on the table amounting to exactly nothing. He looked back at her and grinned sheepishly.

"We need to work on that a bit," she said, entirely nonplussed.

So they repeated their motion, only she leaned further in this time, wrapping her slender form over him in an effort to position his arm correctly. He tried again and only succeeded in sending his ball off the board. Cursing, he bent down to pick it up and was rudely prevented from doing so by a pinch to his exposed derriere.

He stood up straight and turned wide-eyed towards Jaz. Her face was the unique blend of blushing and a naughty smile.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist," she said bashfully. "I've been checking it out since I got here."

"You have one too, you know?" Jordan replied indignantly before picking up the cue ball and placing it back on the table.

"I know, but yours is much cuter."

Jordan rolled his eyes and saw the last patron for the night slink out of the side door. The lights were dimmed, signaling his turn to count the earnings, log them, save them and close the bar for the night.

"Admire it all you want while I close up," he said. "You need a ride back?"

"Not really, given how I've been evicted," she sighed dramatically. "That kind of thing tends to happen when you've been consistently late with the rent."

"That's unfortunate."

"I don't suppose I could crash at your place while we work on your game," she said earnestly.

Jordan cursed his inability to say no to a damsel in distress shortly before unwillingly assenting.

At Jordan's apartment, Jasmine tried once more to get Jordan to talk with her about the mysterious notebook. Though she hadn't planned to, she found herself entwined in Jordan's life, emotionally, physically and now economically. In the eight years since she had entered puberty, she had managed to hold them all off. Now she found herself attracted to Jordan in a way she had never been attracted to a boy.

Her body seemed to respond to his without her consent. She had never been so aware of her vagina, never really though about it as a sex machine. But now it seemed she was thinking that way all the time. She was troubled though, that he refused to share his inner thoughts with her. She was not sure she could enter into a relationship with a guy who didn't trust her. She decided to broach the subject once more. She rose from the sofa on which Jordan had parked her for the night, clad only in bra and panties beneath the blanket she trailed behind her like a two year old. "Jordan," she called out too late, surprising him hunched over his laptop, clad only in his underwear. She sidled up to him, her breath warm on his shoulders as she bent to see what he was writing.

"Wow!" she said, "you're writing a book, aren't ya? A novel, huh. Can I see. Oh can I huh? That's gotta be so exciting!"

"Knock yourself out," Jordan groaned. "It's just a lot of jumbled ideas at the moment. I only wish I could get them to something remotely resembling a story."

"You'll get there eventually," she said, scanning through his scattered notes. There were snippets of scenes and character descriptions. She read a few of them before she found a rather curious scene which caught her attention. A few minutes into reading it, she felt flushed.

"Like what you're reading?" he asked lying back at the other end of the room.

"I sure do, especially the sex."

"What?!" he said, springing to attention. He launched himself across the room and stared aghast at the very lurid snippet proudly displayed on his screen and Jaz grinning broadly beside it.

"I'm so sorry. I totally forgot about that one," he spluttered, slamming his laptop shut.

"It wasn't half bad," she opined, biting playfully on her finger. "You have some real potential in that area if you would care to work on it."

Even as she said this, she saw a vision of his slim, lithe body without his clothes. Her imagination sculpted a smooth torso and the hint of abs. As her mind's eye dropped lower, she felt an twinge between her legs.

"I'll crash on the couch then," she said, stifling her arousal. "We have a big day tomorrow."

Jordan was tired from his exertions for the day and was off to dreamland within a few seconds of shutting his eyes. Jaz watched his sleeping form, curled up amidst the covers from the couch. He looked so peaceful, his chest rising and falling with every breath. Quietly, two fingers of her left hand made their way down to her dripping orifice.

Her vision blurred as she began making slow circles around her clit. Flashes of her fantasy returned in vivid Technicolor. She saw his naked body once more, felt the need to caress it in her mind. Her fingers sparked when they touched his toned chest. She put her arms around him and licked a straight line to his neck and back down.

Jaz's fingers rubbed her clit harder and faster with each passing moment. She occasionally dipped down for a hint of moisture. Her eyes clenched shut and a hot flash enveloped her body. Jordan was lying flat on the bed now and she licked all over his torso, moving downward towards his proud erection.

Her eyes were arrested by the shape and size of it, conjured in her mind. She spent a long moment observing it before planting kisses along the length of his shaft. Her tongue swirled and slurped around the head.

Her fingers moved at a frantic intensity, driven by her erotic vision. A searing heat spread through her body heralding a volcanic orgasm. She curled into a tight ball and bit down into her comforter to muffle her cry. A riptide of climax tore through her, leaving a sweaty, breathless, satisfied hustler in its wake.

She looked over to see Jordan sleeping unperturbed one last time before turning in for the night.

The next evening was their second night to qualify for handicaps at Gotham City Billiards for the huge June, 2nd tournament. "Now look," she said to Jordan on the way over. "Don't worry about trying to shoot well. And for god's sake don't try to shoot worse than you do. If that is even possible."

"Hey, I. . ."

"Chill," she said, "I was just teasin'," squeezing his knee. "God," she said to herself, "did I really just do that? He probably thinks I was coming on to him. Ho-ly shit, I think I was coming on to him. Maybe that is what I want! What the heck's up with me anyway? I'd better be careful."

Jordan turned several shades of crimson at her squeeze. He looked uncomfortably at her for a long while before she withdrew her hand.

"Let's not waste any more time, shall we?"

Qualifying went well; Jordan was judged a four handicap, well a five actually, but four was the most Gotham City Billiards awarded. Jasmine herself had managed to convince them she should carry a one handicap. That meant that all through the tournament they would have a four or five ball advantage over shooters of her real caliber. Balls would not be taken off the table and a win would still be a win. But If they could make it to the second round, points would be added to their final score. She felt confident they could win. She could stay in school one more semester. Jasmine was elated on their drive back to the Bronx, squirming in her seat like a kid and talking mile a minute.

Jordan pulled over to the side. "What's the matter Jordan"

"I have to talk to you Jasmine. There's something I have to say to you."

"I have to talk to you Jasmine. There's some things I have to say to you."

"Oh oh," she said, not sure whether to laugh.

"Jasmine, I'm not really sure I know what I am feeling or that I can talk any sense, but I'll try, OK?"

"It's OK. Jordan, take your time. Just talk, we'll sort it out."

"Well, here goes. I, I guess you'd say I'm confused. I have strong feelings for you, Jaz, but I am not sure I can name them. I've been in love several times, but this doesn't feel like that. What it feels like is, well, it's like it feels so right and natural being with you, like that's the way it should always have been, and when you're not with me it feels empty and unnatural. And, while I am definitely heavily attracted to you sexually, I don't want to do anything that would turn you off or turn you away. I think what's happening between us is, is, oh I don't know, too special to mess up. So, well, I don't know what I mean. I have never been so scared of a girl, I mean, afraid of doing the wrong thing or doing the right thing the wrong way. I feel as though you send me all kinds of mixed signals. One minute I think you are going to invite me into your bed, the next minute seems totally asexual. It's, well, it's confusing."

They sat in Jordan's car, parked with the motor running, on a city side street. Now that he had bared his heart and soul, he waited, thinking, wishing perhaps, that she would do the same. The silence dragged on and on.

Finally, she spoke, "Jordan, you can't even know how important your being so honest is to me. My trouble is, I might have a harder time being honest than you." She took a huge breath. All right. You gotta promise that you won't take advantage of me because of what I am going to tell you."

"All right. I promise."

She tucked her chin to her chest as she spoke, avoiding his eyes. I don't now what's wrong with me, what you do to me. I have never been so physically turned on by a guy. I even had a sexy dream about you. But I told myself I was going to do that, to 'be with' anyone until I finish my masters. Nothing has ever been more important to me than getting that ME. Girl like me, growing up hard, growing up in the city, no mom. So I don't need some guy hangin' on, holdin' on, holdin' me back." She was almost in tears now, stopped to breathe deep.

Hey, Jaz, Jordan said, laying his palm on the side of her face. "Hey, girl, quit. Look, look at me huh? Keep lookin' there's no way in hell that I would do anything to hurt you, accidentally or on purpose. His eyes shone with sincerity and a touch of . . .hope?