Cue Ball : Random Story Idea by JPunko

Twenty-first-Century Romance: The Fall of Emotion (or something sarcastic)

Lines of euphoria dress a marble counter top, while eager participants fidget anticipating their turn. One by one, the lines disappear, making their way up rolled 100 dollar bills. My eyes travel around the room, taking in my surroundings. My mind is racing; thoughts fade in and out like the sun on a partly cloudy day. I’m not sure as to how I ended up here, in this swank loft, with cocaine slowly consuming my senses. I scan the room again but this time I interrupted. My eyes are locked on a dame sitting on the edge of the pool table. She raises a brow and entices me with a dangerous look. I can’t help my intrigue, weaving through a sea of burnout liberals towards piercing green eyes, I felt as a cat does when it spies a loose string dangling from a ball of twine. I must make it mine.
Her lips curled into a sly smile as I grabbed a stick and presented a challenge.
“Feeling lucky?” she said, cocking her hip to one side.
“Only time will tell,” I countered.
“Shall we make a friendly wager?”
“What’s on the table?”
“Depends on you’re game,”
“How about if you win, I’ll buy you a drink, and if I win I’ll buy you a drink, but you have to let me join you,”
“I think I like my odds,” she replied.
I racked the balls and slid the cue ball to her end of the table. She bent slightly, leaning in on the table, eying up her shot. Her hair fell across her face to one side. The light danced across her skin, celebrating her beauty. With a loud crack the balls scattered across the table and the 1 and 4 fell into opposite pockets. I chalked my stick and swallowed my nerves. The balls began sinking and the heightened tension in my muscles loosened, she started kicking my ass rather quickly. As the eight ball fell into oblivion my mind began to curse. Fuck, now the hard part. How do I go about getting this chick to come to the bar with me without being a creeper.
“Johnny Walker Blue, on the rocks,” she didn’t ever blink as the words left her lips.
That is the sexiest thing a woman has ever said to me. I didn’t know they drank scotch. She pulled out a cigarette from a small silver tin and placed it between her lips, but off to the side like a 40’s gangster. I instantly had the desire to figure her out. She leant her stick against the side of the pool table and grabbed my hand.
“Come with me, there’s a fantastic dive bar not far from here. You owe me a drink,” she told me.
I followed her back through the sea of people and down a narrow staircase out into the crisp autumn air. Getting my bearings I noticed we were on 16th Street headed towards Sansom. I followed her with child-like wonder for about five blocks until we happened upon an out-of-place red door. She fumbled around in her pocket and presented a key, like an offering to the door.
“Here we are, the cheapest bar in the city,” she stated sarcastically, directing me into the living room. The room was lit dimly and painted a deep red. The was a black, what looked to have been hand made bar with stools, a long black worn in leather sofa, and a coffee table whose ornate top fought for existence under the mass array of coffee table books. “The World’s Deadliest Pirates,” “Led Zeppelin,” “Unique Architecture,” Inside the Rainforest," and “Marvel: Superheros” were strewn across the table begging for my attention. She stood behind the bar, shaking a small rectangular bottle at me.
“Do you drink scotch?” She asked.
“Yeah, on the rocks,” I replied.
“There’s no other way you’re allowed to drink it,” she smirked, walking towards me, handing me a glass of Johnny Walker. She grabbed a mirror from the bar and sat it on top of “Led Zeppelin,” pouring a pile of white powder out of a tiny plastic bad. She grabbed a Pets Plus bonus card from the table and began to section the dust into inconsistently sized lines. After bumping two lines, one on each side, as if to share with the left and right side of the brain equally, she handed me the mirror.
" Bump?" She offered.
I took the mirror and the 20 dollar bill I had been using early out of my pocket and perfected it’s tube shape. Snifff. The cocaine rushes up my nose and I feel euphoric. Now for line two, snifff. I place the mirror on the table and grab my scotch. She’s sitting in corner of the couch, relaxed, smoking a cigarette. Her dark brown hair spirals down below her shoulders, framing her face like a painting. Her eyes are glazed and focusing in and out on the flickering flame of a candle. I sit, relaxing into the couch lighting a fag. The smoke dances in spirals through the heat of the candle then drifts out the opened window. After be transfixed on the smoke for the duration of my cigarette I glance over at her and she is rising to her feet. Her body slinks over to the bar like a woman from the 20’s who had both sex appeal and class. She takes the mirror, placing it on the bar, and takes one more line to the head. She pulls her finger towards her, motioning for me to do the same. As I feel the tingling in my brain and the numbing at the back of my throat I hear music being turned on. No fucking way. The sweet sound of Mossy Rock floods my ears and I pull her toward me, placing my hand on the small of her back. The smell of her hair is grapefruit and cigarettes, it makes me think of sex. We make love with the music through our movements, eyes closed, just bodies moving as one. I follow her lead as she moves us toward the side of the room until, bam, she pins me up against the wall pressing her lips hard against mine. I quickly regain control of the situation putting her back against the wall and holding her hands in place above her with my palms on hers. Our mouths moved in unison and I tightened my grip as she fought for control. I grabbed her thighs and put her higher against the wall, forcing her to wrap her legs around my hips for support. I kissed down her neck and our clothes began to fall in layers to the floor. I carried her over the the warn in couch and ran my hands along the sides of her warm body. I felt her skin quiver allowing tiny little goosebumps to emerge across her skin as I fan a finger down her stomach. Making circles around her breasts, she moaned, reaching for my wrists and flipping me over. She planted small kisses all down my body starting with nibbles at my neck into gentle pecks on my hips. The teasing continued for another ten minutes until she kissed me hard and took me inside of her with force. She rode me like the last horse out of the desert before a sandstorm. We managed to go through an eight ball of coke, every surface in her apartment and two packs of cigarettes before we ran out of breath and broke our bodies more than a foot apart.