Lonely Words

"I'm sorry Jordan, I just, that's okay forget it. We'll just do, we'll both just do, the best we can, okay?"

They drove back to his place in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After the tryouts, Jasmine had hustled twenty bucks from an unwary bystander. "Hey." she said all of a sudden. "I got twenty bucks. How about some burgers and fries and an oldie movie? Then we should go to Park Billiards. We gotta start practicing right away if we are gonna win. We got you a four handicap. Now we gotta teach you to win half the time and how to leave me if you miss. That means teaching you to shoot slooow. This is gonna be so much fun."

Sitting beside her, Jordan could not help but be swept up by her enthusiasm. He was amazed that she could be so afraid, so vulnerable one moment and so fired up and in charge the next. He had never met a girl with such, such joy to be alive. "Jaz? "he said, voice low. A slight tremor feathered his words.

"Yeah Jo. . .," she stuttered to a stop, sensing something grave in his voice. "What is it?"

"Tonight when we get, er, done, um. I want you to do something for me if, you, can."

"You know I will Jordan. What?"

"Well, ya know that, er, scribbling I been sorta, er, hidin' from ya?

"Yeah," she said, a touch eager now, sitting forward.

"Well, see I , well, I sorta look at myself a a writer even though, well, er, I haven't got much to show for it, but I'm you know, trying. Well what I am tryin' ta say is I am kinda stumped, kinda at a roadblock right now and I wondered if you would look at what I've written and maybe give me some suggestion er something. See if you could maybe help me break out of this slump."

Jasmine had a lump I her throat. This was exactly the sort of trust she had been searching for, hoping for from Jordan. She found it hard to form the right words, but instead of stumbling , she paused so long that Jordan issued a huge sigh.

"Jordan, I , I am stunned and deeply honored. I would be happy to look at whatever you have done and help you in any way I can. And I am sure you are a wonderful writer, your eye is so keen and your command of language is superb, I'll bet it great. You know, I am not much of a fiction writer, but I write technical essays all the time and am working on my Master's thesis, so I can write cogently and intelligently, and I am a great editor and proofreader, so yes I can help. You'll just have to hope I don't try to take over."

"You are not suggesting that Jasmine Hunter is a bit of a control freak are you?" Jordan laughed.

"Moi," Jaz said, imitating Ms. Piggy, bursting out laughing.

The rest of the night went well. They stopped at a Wendy's, her favorite, and gorged themselves on triple cheeseburgers and fries and shared a chocolate shake. On the way out, Jordan swore he could see a gentle round curve to Jasmine's belly. "Man, you sure can pack away the chow,": he said to her in feigned admiration.

At Park Billiards, they played five practice games. Since it was Thursday, Jaz got free pool, and Harry, one of the other bartenders, bought them a drink, so they were sailing high. By the end of the night, Jordan could leave the ball where he intended, about half the time. "Jaz," he said, sweeping her up by the waist and spinning her as they moved toward the exit. "You made that seem so easy. You are a great teacher."

As soon as Jordan had buckled himself in the car, Jaz leaned over and kissed his cheek, not passion, but not sisterly either. "Jordan Cosway, you are one sweet man," she said, turning back and buckling up. "Damn him," she said to herself. "It wasn't bad enough that my body is so turned on by his. Now he's gotta be a nice guy, too. What was she gonna do? Could she really break both their hearts?"

Back at his apartment, they had to push her sleeping stuff inside the hide-a-bed to watch the movie. She had chosen, "The High and the Mighty" for, while she wasn't crazy about John Wayne, the supporting cast was terrific and she loved the theme of the reexamination of life when haunted by the specter of imminent death. By the close of the movie she was bawling, and Jordan was holding her in his arms.

During the next few weeks of practice and working on his novel, Jasmine watched Jordan closely. His pool game was improving rapidly. While still no match for the true masters they would have to face; men who could run the balls off the table and leave you no chance to shoot. They would be the Goliaths. She was hoping Jordan could play David to one or two of them. There was an element to her plan she had not yet decided upon. She needed to know whether Jordan was capable of channeling outside energies and emotions into his game, or if he was better when he forgot everything else and focused.

Her own game had become so sharp that in all their practice, she had missed only one ball. For the last twenty minutes, Jordan sat out to watch as she earned them a bit of petty cash from a couple of marks who wandered in, all cocky and masculine, carrying their own sticks like extensions of their cocks, loudly proclaiming themselves the best.

He loved to watch her lissome body body move around the table as she shot, his attention focused often on the jeans stretched tight over the twin globes of her butt. She and her stick moved together in a sort of choreographed rhythm, a ballet of billiards. It was sexy and sensual merely to watch her body move. The loudest mouth won the break and made six balls on his first shot. Jaz floated around smoothly, running all eight off the table in about ten seconds apiece. "Thank you she said. Good game, scooping up the twenty from the table, proffering her hand. He almost didn't shake it, coming now to the realization he had hustled himself.

The second man came to the table and racked, not quite so loud and confident as he had been. Because she had won, Jaz got to break. She made four balls on the break, using her famous break shot during which both feet left the floor. This meant she could choose either the larger striped balls, or the smaller solid ones. She simply stood and looked at the table for a full minute. Her opponent looked hopeful for a moment, thinking she was stumped, but Jordan knew she was planning the strategy she would use to lay them in one at a time. He had been astonished when she had taught him how to see the whole game at once. He had never thought of the game in those terms.

Once Jasmine moved, it was all over. She plunked each ball in, arriving with her stick at the cue ball for the next shot before it stopped rolling. In about two minutes, that game, too was history. Same story. She stuffed the bill in her tight back pocket, zipped her case and stuck out her hand. "Good Game," she said. This Jordan now understood was protocol for the game. No matter how badly your opponent had shot, courtesy demanded a "good game" and a handshake. He had watched the team players on Tuesday nights. Each time it was five "good games" and five handshakes, often five more of each at the end of the night.

Jaz's latest opponent, however did not shake her hand, did not say, "good game". Jaz went to the bar an asked Harry to take her stick, passing the case across the bar, Harry passed back two sticks in cases that Jordan had never seen before.

As Jasmine and Jordan finished their drinks, he two disgruntled losers ambled out, mumbling to themselves.

"Here, take this," she told Jordan, handing him a battered leather pool case, obviously with a cue inside.

"What's this for?" Jordan asked, baffled.

"I've got a funny feeling about those two that just left," Jaz told him. These are for self defense if something should happen."

"Naw, really, over twenty bucks? Naw."

"Not over twenty bucks. Forty bucks, Jaz reminded him. But more important. About injured male egos. And alcohol."

"Oh," was all that Jordan, dumbfounded, could add. They made their way carefully to Jordan's car. All seemed clear until they were about half-way there. The two men stepped out from the bushes., blocking their path.

"Kindly move out of our path" Jasmine asked.

"Uh,uh bitch gives us our money?"

"Your money?" Jaz and Jordan spoke simultaneously.

"Yeah, our forty bucks. We know you hustled us. Now give us our forty bucks back."

"You hustled yourself, Jaz said. Your own macho attitude just wouldn't let you believe you could lose to a little girl. But you know what?"

"What. Give us our money, bitch."

"You are going to be a lot more embarrassed in the morning. Now kindly step aside and let us be on our way."

The big man stepped forward and reached for Jaz. Jordan moved to defend her, but was too late. The bigger one was already on his knees, clutching his belly. "Uh, Jordan," Jaz said, voice panicky, uh, take the other one.

The big blond was attempting to rise when Jaz struck him sharply across the bridge of the nose with the encased cue.

The smaller, dark-headed one came at Jordan. Jordan stepped toward the man, grabbed him by the elbow and shoulder and used his own forward motion to fling him to the ground, dropped one knee into the man's belly, then stood over him, waiting to see if he had more.

Behind him, Jordan heard Jaz's voice. "Say bitch again! Please say bitch again!"

The large man was on his knees, wavering and wailing. Both hands were holding his face, blood streaming from between the fingers. Jordan knew from experience ow much a broken nose hurt.

"Let's go," Jaz said, hooking Jordan's arm in hers and heading to the car.

Gravel went spinning away as Jordan floored it out of the parking lot, shaking his head and laughing. "Holy shit Jaz, I sure am glad I am on your side. Where on earth. . ."

Jasmine was panting hard, the anger still full on her face. "Fucking asshole pissed me off."

"Yeah, so I see. Are you all right? Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Well, the second time I ever hustled anyone at pool, three of them caught me afterward and broke my fingers. Fortunately, I was a student at Fordham already, so I had excellent care, I was in a cast for three months and just about had to learn to shoot all over again. So I signed up for a woman's self defense course. They taught me to strike first and strike hard, put your attacker down and keep him down."

"You are beyond a doubt the most amazing woman I have ever. . . "

"Yeah, I love you too," she said lightly, coming down from her adrenaline surge.

"Did she really say what I thought she said," he asked himself . Jordan barely checked his urge to grab her in his arms and profess his undying love, to cover her with kisses and. . .

"Jordan. JORDAN! Jesus, wake up man I thought you were gonna hit that van. You want me to drive?"

"Sorry Jaz, I was distracted."

"Well please pay attention. I'd like to live long enough to win the tournament."

"You, you, really think we have a chance. That'd be so awesome winning a tournament the first time I ever really shot."

"Here's what I think. There are only two unknowns in the whole dynamic, as far as I can see. The first and most important is: how will Jordan perform under pressure? I've never seen you shoot a game with any pressure involved, so that's a real unknown for me. All I can hope for is that you shoot the way I've been seeing you shoot, pressure or not."

"And what's the second unknown," Jordan asked.

"The second unknown is how our opponents will shoot. Jor, if I ask you a question will you answer as truthfully as you can?"

"Of course I will, Jaz. You know that."

"Well, this is a kind of touchy one. If I , well, uh, If I , you know, acted like I was coming on to the other players, would it affect your game?"

"What do you mean Jaz?"

"Well part of the way I win is to psyche out the other players by distracting them with my body. Sometimes I'll wear a real short skirt, stuff like that."

"Jaz, look at me. Listen real close. You don't have to wear anything special or act in any unusual way to be that kind of distraction to me. I am distracted being anywhere near you.

Laughing, "sorry, can't help that. Try not to let it affect your game. "You think you are ready for Saturday?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

He parked and they made their way up to his apartment. Sharing close living quarters was becoming a burden to both of them. They had had several close encounters, including one occasions in which he had caught her coming out of the shower wearing only a towel. Jordan never mentioned it to her, but, more than once, he had heard the soft mewling moans of her masturbation, sending him into his own frenzied manipulation. The sexual tension was thickest when they said goodnight, each padding off to their own bed.

June sixth finally arrived. Jasmine was remote and pensive, staring into her coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe. Jordan was nervous, pacing back and forth and babbling to himself, hands shaking.

Finally, Jaz looked up, saw Jordan's misery, rose and blocked his path. She took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the lips, letting her body melt against his. "I've decided," she said. "I've decided to trust you even more." Now that she had his attention, she kissed him again. "you know this tension that plagues us every day? The sexual possibility that hangs over both of us?"

"Believe me, I am aware of it."

"I want you to take that tension, channel it. Take that tension, create a vision in your mind of us as a team, celebrating, victorious. In such as excited state, there's no telling what I might do. Here's some help, she said, laying the flat of her and on his maleness, feeling it pulse with need. That's it. Keep that. Now when we get to Gotham City Billiards, direct all that energy to the table, put it in your game. That's what all great competitors do.

They drove to the tournament in silence. Jordan was able to forget her words,the feeling of her soft hand on him, for a few minutes, but then the feelings came rushing back. Parking was a bitch. They had to walk three blocks. Jasmine's short legs moved like diesel pistons. At the door she stopped. Took his face again, in that gesture he was growing to love, kissed him again. "Let's do this thing," she said.

The tournament was a double elimination. Each team played the best of three against another team, drawn at random. If they won, they moved to the winners bracket, to play another team who won. If they lost, they moved to the losers bracket and had to play every other team who had lost. Finally the winner of the losers, played the winner of the winners for the grand prizes. If you made it to the best of the worst, you were guaranteed second place, in this tournament, about $500. Grand prize was now estimated at $3100.

Jordan noticed the change in Jaz's behavior as soon as they entered the pool hall. Se seemed to grow several inches in height. Her eyes narrowed. Her intense eyes and gliding steps reminded Jordan of a mongoose, looking for a snake. The place was enormous. Everything had been pushed to one side. Thirty brand new, perfectly balanced tables, in a variety of felt colors from standard Irish green to a light tan, sat gleaming in anticipation. The waiting was interminable. Jordan watched the play, waiting for their set to be called. He saw two gamed end immediately, one player running out the balls and ending the game without their opponent getting a shot. He gulped, prominent Adam's apple bobbing. He remembered Jasmine's advice. Surreptitiously, he touched his cock, thinking of her. His hardness was nearly apparent, but he noticed his nervousness abate. She was one smart girl.

Finally their number was called. They stepped up to the table and introduced themselves. Jordan was surprised to discover that one of the few women present, Janet, was to be on the first team they opposed. Her partner, Bill, won the contest, broke the balls and ran the table. They had not yet shot and were one game down in the best of three. He noticed Janet was checking him out, looking him over from head to toe as a an might assess a woman. They were allowed five minutes between games. He excused himself ad went to the bathroom. Once there he took off his shoes, rolled up one of his socks and placed it along his thigh, tight up against his balls. Checking in the mirror, he was pleased with the effect. It made the worn spot on the front of his jeans stand out as if they concealed a prick at least eight inches long and thick as Jasmine's wrist.

He returned to the table. Jasmine sunk four o the break, chose stripes and sunk three more. While Jaz was shooting, Jordan let his gaze rove obviously over Janet's body picturing her in his mind, bent over and taking him from behind, face contorted in passion. He was pleased to see his plan working. She shifted her body uncomfortably and turned away from his sight. Janet moved to the table to shoot. He positioned himself out of her direct sight, but in such a way that the bulge in is trousers was visible in her peripheral vision. She drew back her cue and he shifted his hips very slightly. She looked up as she stroked and fluffed the shot, her face reddening in embarrassment.

It was his turn! His first shot ever in a tournament, he thought of Jasmine, of the promise in her pearl gray eyes, felt himself stiffening slightly, rolled the cue I his fingers, studied the table. Unlike Jaz,he could not see the way through the entire game, but e saw enough. He chalked, bent carefully, almost lying on the table as she had taught him to increase his accuracy, stroked softly. The fourteen plunked in the corner, leaving him a straight shot on the thirteen. Its orange stripe seemed to be smiling at him. He felt confident, knew exactly what he should do, stroked slightly down on the cue on the right hand side. The cue struck the thirteen with not much strength, touched the rail, rolled back. The thirteen ball hung on the edge of the pocket. More importantly, the cue ball was imprisoned between it and the rail. Several bystanders went "Ooh," and then "Ahh." Jordan left the table with a huge grin on his face. Jasmine nodded at him.

Jack approached the table. He looked at his situation from one side, then another, looked again. Scratched his chin. Stood upright. "Nice leave," he said to Jordan.

"Thanks," Jordan said. Janet was now staring intently at his crotch, trying to figure out whether his bulge was real. If it wasn't, she knew, she had been hustled even worse.

Jack was rapidly approaching the one-minute deadline. He made his decision; Holding the end of his cue stick high in the air, trying a masse shot, he drove sharply down, trying to put enough spin on the cue to circle the thirteen, strike the three ball into the side. The cue struck the thirteen ball hard, jumped in the air and fell in the pocket. The thirteen bobbled and stayed where it was, dead in the middle of the pocket. Jack left the table shaking his head.

By the rules, Jasmine could now place the cue ball anywhere she chose on the table. She retrieved it from the leather net, bouncing it lightly in her hand and walked around the table, studying. She smiled, placed the ball on the table and bent. The look of the predator came again to her face. With style and ease she sank the three remaining stripes, called the eight in the side and drifted it neatly home.

The next came commenced immediately. Janet broke and, though she had apparently overcome her embarrassment, nothing dropped. One solid was dead straight in each of the corner pockets, but the two ball in the side was a shot Jordan thought he could make. If he made it, he had the other two coming back. Another thing Jaz had taught him. Never take the duck! He sot softly and dropped the two. He was about to sink the one in the corner wen he noticed that the four was a fairly difficult shot in the other side, a bit of a cut. But if he made it, he had a shot at still another solid, the five,down the long rail into the other corner. Leaving the two ducks, which also now blocked those pockets for the opposing team, he stroked at the four, it rolled slowly down the table, but did not fall. "Shit," Jordan yelled, but the crowd applauded. The cue was against a ball and against the rail, and all four corners were blocked by solids.