My partner saw the encounter I’d had with MuscleTee, and she whispered conspiratorially in my ear, “Dude. Let’s crush them.”. An evil grin spread on my face and I nodded.
The first game, my partner broke and sank 4 solids before she missed. MuscleTee’s partner shot next and made 2 stripes, then missed. In my turn, I sank the remaining 3 solids, executing a perfect setup to sink the 8 for the win…which I did. *snicker* MuscleTee didn’t even shoot. *snickersnicker* The bar went crazy as friends and strangers rushed us to high-five and cheers our win. Then suddenly, MuscleTee is in my face again, and he says one word through his clenched teeth, “REMATCH.”. I looked to my partner, who rolled her eyes. I shrugged as if bored and said, “Sure, as long as the next people on the list don’t object.” There were protests, but MuscleTee got his way.
Game two – We won. They demanded another rematch. Ugh. Silly men and their egos.
Game three – We won again, just as the house lights came up in the bar to signify closing time. My partner and I hugged and cheered our victorious evening, and went outside to smoke.
Now please forgive me, but it gets a little fuzzy at this point. I remember smoking, I remember MuscleTee coming outside to smoke with me and that he had some less-than-gracious-loser comments. I remember him saying that he wanted me the minute he spotted me playing pool, all “tall, blond, legs for days and sexy heels.”.
What I DON’T remember is how I wound up pressed against the brick wall with his lips on mine. Or why he decided to sweep me up in his arms and carry me to his apartment a short block away. As he cradled me like I weighed nothing, my phone rang. It was my pool partner, upon whose couch I was supposed to be crashing. “Hello?”, I said. “If you’re still with him say yes.” “Yes.”, I murmured. “Do you think you’ll be coming home before the morning, yes or no?” I thought for a minute. Inner dialogue: “He’s tall, built, and gorgeous. He’s an outstanding kisser. You have condoms with you. Live a little, girl!!!” before replying, “Mmmmm…… I think no.”. “Okay. Have fun. Be careful. Call me in the morning.” (VERY GOOD FRIEND!) I hung up and snuggled into his neck, marveling at his strength and how fucking good he smelled.
Once inside his apartment I noticed two things: a very large rottweiler/pit-mix and very little in the way of furniture. “This is Caramel.”, he said. “I share her with my Ex.” Hmmmm. I decided to get back to that topic later. I had better things planned. So I dragged him to his very large bed in the next room to have my way with him. The next few hours were fun, funny, and more personal/emotional than I expected. We did quite a bit of talking about our lives, interests, and exes in between the physical. The latter of which, by the way, was not as ummmmm… eventful…as I may have hoped. Gotta love the effects of alcohol, right ladies? I didn’t mind too much….he was very much a giver. Plus he managed a comeback later in the wee hours. 🙂
In those hours it was revealed that he and his ex, Bianca (a doctor) broke up less than a month before. She had moved out of the apartment, but he disclosed that much of her belongings still remained. They were still talking, debating whether to give it another shot, but hadn’t reached a conclusion. Hey, I’m no one to judge. Been there. In fact, I had just finished making that teeter-totter mistake with my Ex! He had to figure it out for himself. And I told him so. But inside I thought that if I was the one in his bed that night … good luck with that one, buddy.
It must have been around 5:30 or 6am that his iPhone started being noisy. “dammit”, he muttered. I asked what happened and he said, “Bianca wants to come get Caramel before she heads down south to visit her family. I’ll tell her not to come over.” He punched a text out quickly. Thinking nothing beyond that, we went back to more fooling around.
Not 20 minutes later, I froze when I heard the distinct sound of a key rattling in the front door.
…to be continued.