The Stall

It rained constantly for three straight days. I felt like a shut-in and I needed to get the hell out. I decided to go to the Timberline, a gay and lesbian country western bar. It was the first place I had gone to with some friends, and I liked its friendly atmosphere. I ran out to my truck, got in and started it up. Fortunately, it didn't take long for the cab to get warm.

I pulled into the full parking lot and found an empty space. I ran across the gravel and up the wooden steps. I proceeded to shake the rain from my jacket dry. I tried to avoid saturating the woman taking the two-dollar cover at the door.

The night was still young and the dance floor sparse. It was possible that the rain would keep all but the die-hard two-steppers from coming out. I scanned for familiar faces as I made my way to the bar.

While I waited for my Calistoga with lime, I noticed the pool table had no takers.

"Kind of quiet tonight?" I asked.

The bartender, smiled. The blue and green striped western shirt she wore complimented her dark brown eyes. "It's still early. Give it a couple hours, and you'll have to stand in line to order your next drink."

I laughed as I rebutted, "Then I better hurry, you might run out of water."

"You're new, I haven't seen you before," she inquired.

"Bet you say that to all the girls," I replied.

"Not to all of them," she said, as I paid for my drink.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that," I ended as I left her a tip.

I walked over to the pool table and set down my drink. I reached into my pocket for two quarters. I placed the coins and pulled the lever; the balls dropped loudly. I chalked up a 20-ounce cue and broke. The sound echoed as the balls scattered. I began to shoot solids and clear the table. As I leaned over to shoot the six-ball, I caught a glimpse of a woman standing near the opposite corner of the table.

There she was, in her blazing glory. Her blue eyes sparkled like crystal, her light brown hair layered, cut just above her shoulders. Her dark blue jeans were snug, and outlined the curves in all of the right places. She wore a tight fitting white oxford shirt, the collar tips silver, accompanied by a black suede vest. The bolo tie held a slice of turquoise stone in place. I felt underdressed in my jeans and polo shirt.

"Taking challengers?" she asked.

"Are you any good?" I teased.

"It all depends, are we talking about playing pool?"

That caught me off-guard. I had not been single for a while and I forgot what it could be like out there in the world.

"Yeah, we're talking about pool. I'll be done in a minute," I answered.

I finished the last few shots and she racked for the next game. As I placed the cue ball to break, she asked me how old I was. I was amused.

"You want to know how old I am? You don't even know my name," I said.

I broke open the rack and knocked in two, one of each. Choosing to go with solids again, I pocketed a couple before I headed back to our conversation.

"Ok, fair enough, then," she said. "What is your name?"

"I'm 36." I replied. "Are you gonna shoot pool, or what?"

That quickly ended the conversation and she went to look for a cue stick.

As I took another shot, I miscued and scratched. I could not keep my eyes from her as she searched the rack for a cue. Her cute little butt rounded out the seat of her jeans.

She came back to the table, empty-handed and announced, "All of those cues are shit, how about sharing yours?"

Not a usual custom with me, I agreed to share. "Oh, and by the way, I don't usually let perfect strangers use my cue, so how 'bout you tell me your name?"

She reached for my pool stick, brushing ever so slightly against my hand, and whispered. "Becky."

Crossing in front of me, she leaned over and aimed for the ball. I stood behind her and enjoyed the view. Shooting too hard, she miscued the cue ball and sent it directly to the side pocket.

"I thought you said you were good."

She shot back, "I said it all depends on what we're playing."

Becky handed me back the cue. We stared at each other for a few moments.

"Your turn," She reminded me. Handing back the cue, our hands glanced each other again.

I found myself wanting her. It had been a while since I had felt this way about another woman. Focusing on the game was going to be tough. I pocketed the eight ball with three solids still left on the table.

We each won a game or two before we had any other challengers. While she went to the bar to buy another round, I watched her interact with the cute bartender, the same one who had flirted with me earlier. Becky's eyes twinkled as she smiled. I was in lust.

Our last game took forever now that there were challengers; it was finally over and I had won. She picked up her drink and walked towards the dance floor. Becky wanted to see if her friends had shown up yet.

My opponent racked and I proceeded to break. I mad a couple shots, but my heart was not into it. The challenger easily won. We shook hands, complimented each other with the usual accolades and I went to find my pool-playing friend.

As I walked away from the table, I found her leaning against the rail. We talked while we watched the dancer's two-step, although some couples were dancing to their own rhythm. At the same time, I could not remember her name.

I asked her for her name again and we both laughed. I was glad she understood, especially since she was the one who wanted to know my age before my name.

As the next song started, Becky asked me to dance. Feeling my face flush and I hoped she did not notice, I answered yes, but that I did not two-step very well.

When we got onto the dance floor, she asked me who would lead.

Astonished, I reminded her of my being new to country dancing. With that, she took the lead and we promenaded along with the other dancers.

We went around the floor a few more times before the song ended then returned to our table. I was new to the city, as a single female, and this felt good to be around other lesbians. I found myself attracted to Becky and hoped it would be mutual.

My thirteen-year relationship had finally crumbled a few months ago. The comfort of not being alone had kept us together. This was the first time, since the breakup, that I had ventured out alone.

My heart pounded. It had been a long time since I remembered feeling this good. She must have felt the same way, because when I leaned over to ask if she wanted another drink, she kissed me.

I kissed her back.

We kissed again.

Becky wrapped her arms around me and pulled us closer together. Strong thrusts of her tongue sent shivers up and down my spine.

She asked if I had any plans for the evening and would I leave with her. I did not, really, so I said I was open for suggestions. I let her know that I needed a pit stop and she walked with me to the bathroom.

Inside the large room were two stalls, both empty. I went into the larger one while she waited.

I opened the stall door to exit and Becky rushed in, pushing me back inside.

She locked the door, turned around and just smiled.

In a second, she was upon me. Becky kissed with such passion I had not felt for a very long time. She pushed me back against the wall as her tongue deeply searched for mine. She was not disappointed.

Our hands roamed new territory.

Reaching down, I palmed her crotch and felt the wetness seeping through her jeans.

She gasped slightly and pushed harder against my hand.

Oh my. My brain screamed.

Becky pulled up my t-shirt and flitted her tongue against my nipples, one and then the other.

She reached down, and felt the wetness of my jeans.

I traced my tongue along her jugular, and felt the pounding pulse of a woman in heat.

I wanted her even more.

I spun her around. With her back up against the wall, I devoured as much of her as I could.

Her soft breasts, tight and firm, tasted sweet. I suckled one nipple like a puppy getting milk for the first time.

Dropping to one knee, I tasted her juices, slightly flavored by Levi Strauss.

She wrapped her hands around the back of my head and pulled my face tighter.

I draped my hands around her back as I tried to stand. Becky placed her hand between my legs, against my soaked crotch, and pulled me upward. I uttered a low moan.

My thigh applied pressure to her cunt as I leaned against her. We pumped together in unison, a race against time. The passion was hot and we were past the point of no return. There was no stopping now.

I leaned my shoulder against the wall for support. My hands reached around the small of her back, holding her, as she moved harder and faster as orgasm approached.

We kissed again. I tasted her sweat. Again, she moaned as I licked her neck; nibbled at her earlobes.

She held me tight against her and rode hard against my thigh.

Becky leaned her head back as she started to come.

I held on for dear life.

A quiet thunder escaped from her lips.

Moments passed. Her body trembled as though there were a chill in the air. Her body felt placid, supported by my soaked thigh still between her legs.

Her kisses became more passionate as she regained the strength to stand on her own.

The loud pounding of the door brought us back to reality.

We kissed again before she opened the door.

It was the cute bartender.

"Hey," Becky said.

"Hey," said the bartender.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

Becky smiled as she left.