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She smiles.
“You make me sound like a lot of fun.”
“Oh, you are.” I pocket my phone. “But this,” I point at the questionnaire on the screen of her phone, “is not. I may be out of practice, but I know a relationship isn’t a test you can study for. We need to experience it. Go on a date. Like this.” I motion to our table setup.
“Is this our first date?” Emma asks.
“It’s not Vermont, but it’s a good start.”
“What should we do then?” she asks.
“I’m not sure yet, but let’s get out of here.”
Emma stands, and with my hand on her lower back, I guide her out of the restaurant.
There’s a crispness to the air that wasn’t there before. On the sidewalk, I reach for Emma’s hand before we start walking down the street. She looks down at our joined hands.
“Practice,” I say.
She gives me a small smile and nods.
I don’t know the city at all, but as we walk, the neighborhood we’re in feels somewhat easy to navigate. Lots of quaint shops and restaurants. It’s a side of New York I didn’t know existed. Less chaotic. I get an idea. A Google search helps me find what I’m looking for, and we arrive at our destination after a ten-minute walk.
“Amsterdam Billiards Club.” Emma reads the sign. “I’ve never been here before.”
“See, we’re making memories together.” I hold the door open for her and she cautiously steps in.
While Emma’s eyes move around the space, I pay for a table. We grab drinks at the bar, a beer for me, and a vodka soda for Emma, then find our assigned table. There are a few other tables in use, but it’s not crowded.
At the table, I hand her a cue stick. She pinches it between two fingers.
“You know how to play, right?” I ask, Emma’s demeanor makes me feel like she’s a second away from asking what she’s supposed to do with the stick I gave her.
“Yes, I’ve played before.”
I move to start racking the balls.
“Do you want to break?” I ask.
“No, I’ll let you do that.”
I take off the triangle and set up the break.
“The solid seven and three fell in, so I’m solids, and you’re stripes,” I tell her. I line up my next shot, sinking the four ball, then my next shot is a miss.
I instruct Emma to move around the table to look for her best shot and when she finds it, I help her line it up. With my body arched over the back of hers, I show her how to tent her fingers on the felt and position the stick underneath.
“Like this?” She turns her head back toward mine. Her scent washes over me.
“Just like that. Now, slide it between your fingers, nice and smooth. Do it a few times to get a feel for it, then one long stroke.”
Emma’s head drops and her shoulders start to shake. She’s laughing.
“Oh my God. I had no idea there would be this much dirty talk in pool.”
At her reaction, I play my words back. Maybe we should have gone bowling. Though I have no doubt Emma would manage to make bowling shoes look sexy.
When I’d searched out this activity, I hadn’t thought about how sexy Emma would look holding a cue stick, or the fact that when she leans over the table, her short dress would ride up the back of her thighs. Now I not only have the image of Emma pleasuring herself with her dildo in my head, but the visual of bending her over this table and sliding my hands under her dress is at the top of the list of images I won’t be able to get out of my head.
