Right on Cue

Michelle sighted down the cue, calculated the angle and cast a glance at the two banknotes on the side of the table. Her opponent stood resting his cue on the floor with a stance and a smirk she had seen a hundred times. She was snookered; the white, his red and the black in perfect alignment down the centre of the table. Even if she'd had a halfway decent view of the black it would have been a difficult shot.

She placed the rattling pub cue down. They'd tossed for the cues, and she'd lost. He had the only halfway decent cue in the pub. It was still crap, but she had the one that rattled whenever it hit the white; the thread of the screw that connected the two halves was partially stripped, the tip was just a flattened dome of worn plastic that didn't get any better however much you chalked it. Not that they had chalk, but hey, cigarette ash worked quite well, and she could've taken this shot blindfold.

She put down the cue, picked up her pint of lager from the side table, took a swig and returned to the game. She feigned a worried look at the black's position, stood back, squinted at the white and then with a resigned air of desperation ricocheted the white off the side cushion and watched as it hit the black with a satisfying 'chock'. The black started rolling slowly towards the corner pocket leaving the white dead in the middle of the table. It trundled up to the pocket reluctantly and after a moment's hesitation dropped in with a satisfying rumbling sound, followed by a final clunk, as it dropped into a tray deep in the table's innards. She turned, scooped up the notes and with an apologetic nod to her opponent, returned to her table and downed the rest of the lager. You always had to let them think they were winning, she thought to herself, especially against a girl!

It was a rough pub in a seaside town and the visitors that flocked down here in the summer from the big city were flash, arrogant and had money to burn. In a town where the minimum wage was the only wage these smug interlopers were considered fair game.

Occasionally it got a little nasty, the word hustler got bandied about fuelled by the cheap lager that the visitors loved, and the locals depended on. This was Michelle's local and at any given time half a dozen burly regulars could be relied on to deal with any problem, the landlord would be conveniently serving someone in the other bar and the pub's pitiful supply of cues would diminish, as they were used in a more aggressive manner than intended.

She was thirty-two and considered a bit of a loner by her few girlfriends, and just one of the lads by her male friends. Short with a mop of unruly fair hair that she cut herself, she was never seen out of a pair of faded baggy Levis, an old T-shirt, battered leather jacket and trainers. She was pretty, you would realise if you looked close enough, but she made so few concessions to femininity that few ever did. She'd had a couple of boyfriends in the past, but she just never seemed interested in anything but playing pool these days.

Michelle had been divorced now for seven years. It had been messy, acrimonious and she had afterwards retreated into a semi-feral lifestyle of benefits, hustling pool in pubs and going home to frozen ready meals in the tiny flat her lawyer had wrenched from her ex-husband. She spent next to nothing on clothes, makeup or eating out. Her only real luxury was a gym she attended three evenings a week. Her sister lived nearby but they didn't really mix with each other except for the times Michelle would meet with her after the gym, where her sister swam regularly in the adjacent swimming pool. Michelle would freely admit she probably drank a little too much but otherwise she was frugal. She had some savings tucked away, but no real plans on what to spend them on.

She surveyed the row of coins on the side of the table and took on the challengers, losing a few deliberately, massaging egos and complaining that it was bad luck and then winning the ones that counted. An hour later and she'd made enough. Time to go home.

She had grabbed her jacket and was about to leave when Steve walked in.

"Micha... Fancy a game?" he greeted her using the name he knew infuriated her, for some odd reason. This guaranteed the rest of the afternoon would be spent with each of them battling over the pool table for supremacy.

This was her home ground and Steve had been at a distinct disadvantage when he had first started playing here, but he was very good at reading the idiosyncrasies of different tables and was virtually on a par with her now. He was also very good at putting her off her game on crucial shots. When she bent over the table to attempt a difficult pot, he would sit behind her and in a stage whispered comment.

"Difficult angle, nice curves though!"

It would often cause her to miscalculate the shot as she suddenly became aware of her bottom pointing at him. She never really considered herself sexy, but Steve just kept on pressing those buttons. When she attempted to do the same in retaliation, he'd just give a cheeky wiggle and grin back at her.

Today after monopolising the table for most of the afternoon, they'd finished absolutely even, and as they sat down with, yet another pint Steve said in that infuriatingly patronising way that he knew goaded her.

"You know, you're pretty good... for a girl!"

She'd known this was coming and just looked straight into his eyes and said in a quiet, slightly embarrassed voice.

"You played very well today, but I'm not at my best when, you, know it's, er, that time of the month"

It wasn't, but she enjoyed the confused and mortified look on his face, with even the hint of a blush creeping across his cheeks

"Oh, sorry, must be difficult...." He mumbled

"Uncomfortable at times" She'd added, enjoying seeing him squirm

"I suppose..." He started, and before she could be bothered to hear what he supposed, she decided to go in for the kill

"Especially when arrogant twats make sexist comments about my arse!"

He'd spluttered into his pint, and she'd just grinned at him and said.

"It's ok, we have towels and stuff these days. Personally, I just use folded up pages from the Daily Telegraph!"

"Best place for it!" He had belatedly realised she was winding him up and burst out laughing

She liked Steve. Despite his annoying comment about her backside. It did make her feel just a little warm inside that he noticed and there was always just enough sincerity in his comments, however flippant he tried to make them sound. He was attractive, a few years younger than her, tall, and lean with a boyish shock of blonde almost ginger hair and a light golden tan.

A few months back she'd sat in the gallery of the local swimming pool watching her sister plough endlessly up and down and Steve had wandered awkwardly in from the showers in a rather tight pair of red speedos. He'd looked quite self-conscious and not at all the cocky git he portrayed when playing pool. He had a fit swimmer's body, and she'd been surprisingly impressed by the power he'd displayed as he dived in, carving through the water effortlessly. The germ of an idea was starting to hatch in her head, and she was suddenly quite overcome with unaccustomed excitement.

"So..." She said trying to sound casual

"You are a bit of a hustler, I'm a bit of a hustler, between us we could pretty much carve this town up." She declared, curious to see his reaction

He looked at her curiously.

"I suppose so, what are you thinking?"

"Well, it's pretty pointless us wasting an afternoon playing each other... We just knock ourselves out and scare off the punters. They won't come near us after they've seen how well we can really play"

She said this in what she hoped sounded like an analytical manner, and that he wouldn't think she was proposing they stuck to separate pubs.

"I suppose so... but I like playing you, it's not always about the money!" He said looking slightly awkward

Michelle was totally caught by surprise by that, she enjoyed playing Steve too, the banter afterwards, the rivalry and the odd bond they enjoyed.

"I mean..." She took a deep breath and took the plunge

"You think, deep down, that you're the best in town, yeah?"

Well, I suppose so, but you're the best I ever play." He conceded grudgingly.

"What if I'm the best, full stop?" She challenged him

"You think that?" He tried not to sound incredulous

"Duh!... of course, YES!"

"So... what should we do about it?" He was curious

"I reckon we should have a big deciding tournament, Me versus You! Decide it for once and for all. Official like" She waited for his response.

He thought about it.

"For... like a title, kudos, a cup or something?" He was interested now.

"Or big money stakes?" She suggested, although she was remembering those red speedos and summoning up the courage to say something much far more outrageous.

"Or even bigger stakes, something that really puts the pressure on!" He was starting to warm to the idea and was thinking along the same unspoken lines as her.

"What though?" she could only think of one thing riskier than money, but just couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Strip Pool, loser has to get NAKED!" He blurted it out and immediately wondered if he'd gone too far.

"Christ! Who would want to see ME Naked?" She realised with horror she should have said us, or even you, and she realised he'd had much the same idea as her. It shocked her to realise how turned on she was by the prospect of seeing him stripped, those red speedos evaporating before her eyes and his cock dangling in front of her.

"Er... me?" He said quietly and looked down at the table nervously

The pause was electric, neither of them knew what to say next.

"You ARE joking?" She said, desperately hoping this wasn't just a wind up, but half suspecting it was.

"Of course, if you're chicken!" He said, laying down the gauntlet

"No, if you really want to flash your little willy around the pub, who am I to stop you!" She said dismissively, ignoring the somersaults her stomach was attempting and trying to sound casual, cool and totally unconcerned.

"Never happen!" He laughed. They looked at each other, trying to assess just how serious they both were.

It was, as it turned out, deadly serious. They met in the pub the next day and stone cold sober for the time being, they nervously started laying out the rules of engagement, step by tentative step:

The Rules

After each game, the loser would have to take off an item of clothing in a set order. With a fixed number of items of clothing for each of them.

1 Jacket.

2 Shoes (both)

3 socks (both)

4 Top; T-Shirt sweatshirt, whatever.

5 Jeans, pants or skirt (she fell about laughing at that; she wasn't planning on wearing a skirt, was he?)

6 Underwear, all of it; Bra & Knickers or Underpants.

They'd spent a good couple of hours thrashing this last one out.

"So, you just take your t-shirt off, but I have to flash my tits? She'd complained

You've got a bra; you'll have an extra item of clothing" He protested, and she realised; shit! she didn't.

"So, what then, just a quick flash?" She wasn't sure what she was proposing, but she knew she really wanted to study him naked for as long as possible, without of course giving him the same opportunity.

"No. It's got to hurt!" Steve had much the same idea.

"A slow walk around the table and then stand over there,"

He indicated a six-foot square patch of carpet at one end of the pool table. It was quite a big room, and, in this corner, there were several tables and chairs and long plastic covered bench seat down each wall. It was the end of the pool table which players cued off from.

"Legs spread, back to the table and hands behind on the edge of it. For two minutes! No covering up!... The Stance of Shame!" He demonstrated what he meant, and she felt a hot flush of anticipation.

"Giving everyone a good long look!" He gave her a challenging stare and then smiled at her disconcertingly

"Everyone?" It took her a moment to realise what he had just said and she was suddenly horrified.

"Invited friends only, three of mine and three of yours. Sort of like seconds in a duel." He broke the uncomfortable silence that followed her question.

"You bringing a sword?" she glanced down at his pants, "or just a little pistol?"

"No... just my nice long, straight, wooden cue!" He grinned as he reached for his pint.

If they hired the room for the evening Brian the landlord could close the curtains and shut the dividing door between the two bars during the contest, ensuring privacy and allowing them to continue past closing time.

They unanimously agreed cell phones and cameras should be strictly banned!

Brian, it turned out, was surprisingly compliant. He was secretly quite excited by the prospect of a naked Michelle, whereas June the barmaid decided she had to be working in the bar of the pool room to savour the moment should Steve lose!

The new bigger pool table was arriving in a couple of weeks, complete with a new set of cues and a big box of chalks. Brian and June, both agreed it would be a fitting end for the old table to host a competition between its two best customers. Brian actually joking to June that it would be nice to see it go out with a bang!

Michelle and Steve made the arrangements for seven in the evening the day before the new table was due to arrive, clinked their pint glasses to seal the deal and retreated into nervous silence.

The two weeks passed excruciatingly slowly. They saw very little of each other and when they did bump into each other they acknowledged it with red cheeks and an embarrassed mumbled greeting. Steve spent a lot of time at the swimming pool and then even more time playing pool with the best players he could muster from his friends. Michelle spent a lot of time at the gym avoiding the swimming pool, which was only next door, and playing a lot of pool with a lot of the same players as Steve. The sparring partners were remarkably discrete about any conflict of interest and treated the whole thing with a frighteningly serious professionalism. Secretly they harboured hopes of being invited.

Michelle took the bus into the larger neighbouring town and after much thought bought the sexiest set of underwear she could find, A beautifully tight and shiny little light gold satin bra and knickers set which had made her blush when she'd tried them on at home later. She posed in the mirror positioning herself in pool playing positions. The way the fabric stretched and shimmered over her bottom had given her a surprisingly warm glow of satisfaction. She knew that would definitely put Steve off his concentration! She then realised she didn't want the others to see her reach that stage of undress though.

Michelle decided the time had come to pull out the stops and ditch the boyish dress and habits she had adopted for so long. She got her hair cut professionally and was horrified at the price. It ended up much shorter than she had intended; Reconstructing her hair after the best part of a decade of self-abuse did mean a lot of cutting back until some recognisable style could be dragged screaming out of the previous anarchy.

The evening of the match arrived, and she climbed out of the shower and looked at the wild bush between her legs and after realising how inadequately the new knickers covered it, tried to trim it back, shaving a bit here and a bit there until in a panic of poor balancing she ended up with just a thin landing strip that was completely pointless and not even very straight, and so in desperation she just shaved the whole lot off. It did feel good, and when she rubbed moisturizer over the newly smooth skin to soothe the inevitable little nicks, it then led to more and then a whole handful of baby oil. She thought of Steve and her fingers crept inexorably into the slit between her legs, resulting in a totally fulfilling orgasm that ultimately necessitated another shower. What the hell she thought, she was going to win, no one was going to see this anyway!

She slipped into the new underwear, pulled on a pair of skin-tight black leggings, which were almost as thin as tights. She'd bought them for her gym class but had never quite had the courage to wear them. She was slightly disconcerted now by the way they quickly crept into the now much more obvious cleft between her legs and accentuated the bulge of her pubic mound. She'd probably have to keep facing the table she thought wickedly and found herself quite excited by the idea of bending over the table as everyone, especially Steve, stared at her bottom.

As a top she chose another new purchase, a long white clingy polo necked sweater that reached down to just below the cheeks of her bottom and closely moulded to the curve of her breasts. She rolled up the sleeves to her elbows and ruffled her newly cut hair. The mirror revealed a sexy, mischievous elfin look which surprised, excited and aroused her and she knew, would totally work on Steve. The leather jacket and black DMs gave it all a punky look, her only concession to the expected image of 'Michelle the hustler'.

On the day a girlfriend was going to come round and do makeup This was for Michelle the scariest part of the whole makeover and she was dreading this more than a trip to the dentist.

Steve had also decided on a change of image and after a series of false starts opted for a smart James Bond look with an evening jacket, bow tie and shiny black Oxford shoes. He had also got his hair cut and bought new underwear; tight fitting button up shorts style briefs, that fitted snugly and afforded more coverage than his red speedos.

He pulled the new shorts on and stood in them in front of the mirror. He'd contemplated wearing the red speedos, but really, they were just too... Well, he cringed, narcissistic! He'd only worn them at the pool a couple of times. But had then put them away in a drawer. He wasn't half as self-assured as people assumed and the red speedos made him look just a little too cocky, and he wasn't sure he could pull them off.

He almost laughed out loud; 'cocky' 'pull them off'? God, Michelle would love the accidental innuendos. He imagined standing in front of her in them as she slowly peeled them off him and suddenly found his cock stirring and swelling. Before he could help himself, he found his hand slipping into the briefs, pulling out his cock, gripping it tightly and beginning its quickly accelerating journey up and down.

He was madly excited by the idea of Michelle having to strip naked for him but also surprised by how turned he was at the thought of having to do it for her.

He came in a hot gush, splashing the briefs and looking down he was glad they came in a three pack. This pair would need washing!

The Match

They turned up at the pub within minutes of each other just before seven and ordered a pint each before nervously sitting at the table nearest the end of the pool table where they'd be cueing off.

"Wow, you look fantastic! "Steve said, marvelling at the transformation in Michelle.

Christ she was sexy! he thought wishing they could both just forget the silly game and, strip off there and then and just fuck on the pool table.

She leaned back and appraised him carefully.

Oh, fuck it! why bother with the pool? She thought, wishing they could both just forget the silly game and, strip off there and then and just fuck on the pool table.

"Not so bad yourself. I hope you've got those red speedos on under there!" she said, enjoying the mad blush of surprise that exploded across his face.

They looked apprehensively at the two groups sitting next them expectantly.

Three of Steve's mates were eyeing Michelle with thinly disguised lust whilst Michelle's friends were both amazed and envious of her new look and practically drooling over Steve.