Pool Table-guy, Old School…


Tomorrow I’m going to dinner with a guy a dated almost half my life ago. AND… I’m a little nervous about it.

Back then he prayed on younger college girls, being 9 years my senior. I had such a crush until either he slept with the “super-slut” or within a week of breaking up he was nailing the super-slut, formerly my friend of convenience, I think I blocked it out.

We’ve seen each other a few times in the last few years as we’re in a similar vocation and for a while lived in the same part of town. About 7 years ago we ran into each other at a Trader Joes and he barely said “hello”. A couple of years later.. at the same TJ’s he was a bit smitten walking me through the isles. a could years further still we ran into each other at a mutual appointment when he asked me for my phone number after whispering in my ear, “when I see you I can only think of pool tables”. OK.. now this stuck me funny because we obviously had a completely different idea of what happen that night so many years before.

I was 19 and he was 28. He was working at a Billiards Hall in Hollywood. My dad would go away every other weekend or so and I was still living with him. My dad said, “now I know that you’re going to have “pool-table guy” spend the night but we need to have some ground rules! You can’t have sex in my bed nor my bathtub.” Fair enough.. So when “pool-table guy” was about to leave his shift I called his work and asked him to bring some beer. I was 19 and didn’t really drink beer so when he asked me what kind I replied “Pacifico” since that was what I drank the year before on my Senior trip to Mexico and it was all I knew the name of.

While he drove over to Tarzana from Hollywood, I prepared… I put on my Halloween costume from the year before which was a homemade cigarette girl equipped with a hand-dyed lace bustier and tiny mesh skirt, fish nets, red garder belt, a black choker, candy apple lipstick and 5 inch stilettos. I placed rose petals from the garden as a path to follow the note that said, “Find me” from the front door through the entry passing by the kitchen to  pick up the beer glasses, then continuing to the sliding frosted glass double doors where he would find a very sexy, nervous, dry-mouthed, body shaking, almost nauseous young lady that wanted her pool-table fantasy fulfilled. I wanted nothing more than to have him throw open those double doors see me, lift me up and push me over the wood rails while kissing my passionately. closing my eyes as his lips grazed my neck, my body screaming for his hands to find their way to the heat.. uncontrolled and inhibited he would thrust himself on top of me as the balls scattered seeking shelter, and a few points, in the nearby pockets as my hands held tight to the leather as my fantasy became reality. A night to remember…

What really happened? He walked in with the glasses and beer, saw me in my outfit, asked me “what’s all this?” I answered as sexy as my heart pounding would allow… “I thought we could play some pool”… AND… we did! We played pool! I played pool in my 5 inch stilettos which were too tall for me to bend over and get a good shot. Fantasy… STILL NOT fulfilled!! We did end up taking a bath in my dad’s tub and having sex in his bed where “pool table-guy” said to me, “I want to hear you cum!” After that night… I practiced making noises while I masturbated alone.

SO.. I’m not sure what HIS recollection of that night was… but for me? It was not my best moment!

And here we are all these years later and somehow Facebook connected us even after the last “try” a few years ago when he took my number and after a few texts and me asking to talk on the phone instead of communicating via disconnected, distant texts trying to make half-assed plans.. he replied “I’m not asking you out on a date, you know?” so his number was erased.

Now.. thanks, FB, I donated a few bucks on Kickstarter to a project he’s working on and my being “funny” maybe a bit flirty.. We’re going out tomorrow night. I had asked if my donation would give me a tax deduction, he responded that I would get “karma points”. I said I’d take it along with a big ‘ol thank you wrapped up in baby blues and dimples for days.” He asked for dinner sometime and set in Sharpie.. we are here!

I know I can’t really bring up the past in this encounter… maybe some day… but I DO wish I knew what his side of that night was.. and if it was really that great… why’d he sleep with the “super-slut”?

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