Swimming bells smack and jingle on the front door. I am dressed like a miniskirt hooker sporting a cheap blonde wig. I answered a “30 something fem bottom stripper” ad on a gay site this Saturday morning. The empty pool hall’s crimson carpet is hued out by overlapping vacuum streaks. In the arcade corner, a row of abandoned video games cry in blips and beeps for quarters to be injected in their slots.

“Sage the Stripper I take it?” Said a raspy voice from a dark doorway.

“Jacob?” I said.

A man who could be Santa Clause if he had a beard emerges in a shiny tight collared “peppered in Red Parrots” button down. “Jacob I am. My friend Nick said you are sexy, and he is correct!”

“Bowling Alley Nick?”

“Old flamboyant gay in your face Bowling Alley Nick! He said you have a great ass, better than most women.”

I am dressed in a short black skirt with a red thong underneath. I am all male, long legged, with feminine features. All shaved and smooth like a peeled potato galloping in black Stilettos.

“Where is the party?” I said.

“You and I is it.”

A dozen 1970 circular wall speakers rattle the wood panels by a U2 song. I unbutton my hip sack and lay it on the laminated bar. Under the glass is a flyer for Nirvana. Fossilized under yuck: Some liquor smeared tobacco, solidified candy flavored saliva, and weed shake.

“What is your poison, Sage?”

“Well. In this predicament. Straight fucking vodka.”

“You are uncomfortable with a lack of a party?”

“Sort of. I usually just strip for some old birthday dude. He smacks my ass and then from there I do whatever.”

The front door jingles again. There is cheap red and green Christmas shit all over the place. A dark-haired muscular man in his 40’s wearing a light polo shirt approaches the back bar. “You are really doing this shit again dad?”

“Rick, this is none of your business. I am divorced from your mother now,” Jacob said.

“Dad, it’s been 3 days!”

“Rick, your mother and I haven’t had sex in ten years. I am over it!”

“I am so sorry father.”

Rick opens the flap door and walks over to Jacob bursa otele gelen escort filling high ball glasses with Grey Goose. Rick’s right arm blurs into the parade of illumination of mirrored liquor bottles. If not for the sound of smacking wet skin; his punching his dad in the face may have slipped my recollection on this odd, mid-November, Virginia, Saturday night.

“That is for mom you son of a bitch,” Rick said.

Rick’s march is a scary blur hanging on the edge of my peripheral vision until I hear the jingle again. Jacob’s two hands grip the bar as he pulls himself up from the depths of dark rubber and sticky bleach cleaner. His right eyebrow is spilling blood diluted by tears down his cheek drizzling on his emotionless fabricated Parrots.

“I deserve that,” Jacob said.

“That was brutal,” I said.

“My Rick is one coked up momma’s boy.”

An hour later, Jacon and I are shooting nine ball. Jacob’s brow is covered in a collage of Spiderman Band-Aids. Vodka bottles surround us like palace guards. Eddie Vedder’s cover of redemption song plays. An endless bowl of pretzels keeps us from dropping pool sticks and slurring poppycock.

“Two nights ago, I got my first blow job in over ten years Sage,” Jacob said. “Last night was my second. I came all over his smeared lipstick and dainty nose and nearly fainted.”

“Are you bisexual?”

“I think gay, Sage,” Jacob said. “I am 78, raised four brats, married a control freak, and ran this pool hall since Reagan.”

Jacob opened his laptop on the table. There is a tripod web camera and a stack of Marlboro Reds. “What if we pretend Sage?”

Up to this point, when I bend to take a shot, I keep my skirt from riding up my thighs. Because of the dread of seeing Rick blast in for round two.

“Don’t worry about Rick. I have my security system on.”

Is Jacob reading my thoughts? “What do we pretend, Jacob?”

“There is this gay site you can perform “live,” Jacob said. “What if we went “live” and I taught you how to play pool and you couldn’t afford me but wanted bursa eve gelen escort to be Fast Eddie?

Jacobs’s face is mixing with melting ice cubes, paper towel particles, and dangling Spiderman art. “Ah to hell with it! You can go if you find me repulsive and pathetic!” Jacob said. He hobbles to the main bar and lays upon it. Things fall and glass shatters. He moans as tears and blood pool from his thumping anxiety ridden head.

“Okay. Okay. You teach me pool. Let’s do it. But first I need the most expensive vodka and a joint.”

After fifteen minutes, Jacob has us “live” on a gay site. The cam points between the center and bottom pocket. He passes me his crooked, sweet blunt. My throat burns with each hit. My hallucinations project Rick peaking in through the poster paint of zillions of snowmen on the distant windows framed in cheap beer banners.

“We are live honey,” Jacob said.

Jacob comes around the table and whispers a tiny script in my ear. I memorize it and sip vodka until an empty glass. The script turns me into a whore. My black stilettos feel as if they are plugged into a receptacle outlet with an internal wire diagram running up my jiggling ass, burning erection, and cockeyed grin.

“Thank you all for joining. Please like and subscribe. Wow. We have 78 viewers!”

“Is this a fucking ploy to grow your damn page?” I said.

Off camera, Jacob lands on his knees. “I will triple your stripper fee if you do this scene with me baby.”

“Deal.” I said.

The verbal script is activated. Jacob comes on camera and waves to his audience. He signals for me to get on “stage”. I strut between the center and bottom pocket.

“That is all I have for the beginner course. But if you want to be like Fast Eddie you need to apply for more advance courses which are not free.”

“How much is the advance courses?”

“Expensive.”

“I guess I will be fine as an amateur,” I said.

“Turn around. I will give you a free advance lesson so you can understand.”

I follow the script and turn around. The table bursa escort bayan is set up for nine ball. I place the cue ball on the billiard cloth and bend over for his fans. This time my goosebumps from my wiggling stiletto-covered toes raise my skirt to the brim of my ass cheeks.

“That’s it. Swing those hips and your land your palm in front of the cue ball.”

My skirt climbs up with each hip thrust. Half of my ass explodes from its black cotton restriction. Each cheek is its own planet warmed by the above pendant light.

“Concentrate on that cue ball. You can’t get too low baby. Get lower.”

I hover over the cue ball sliding the stick over my purlicue. My red thong fails to block the chilling draft that molests my bare ass from the vent. Everyone can witness my cold cheeks jiggling and the back of my blonde wig close to slipping off my crew cut head. First site is Jacobs’s wobbling ass than his swaying curvature emulating a ripe banana. His cock is as loose as cigarette smoke and as hard as marble. “That’s it. You give your instructor a little bit of that pussy for a full lesson!”

I peak over my shoulders to see an unleashed seven-inch cock swinging anew for a post-marriage plunge. Jacob holds a pool stick with a Marlboro Red hanging from his lip. His left-hand palms my belly until my cock throbs stiff into the hardwood rails.

“Focus on that cue ball,” Jacob said. The head of his cock tapping my ass cheeks in all directions. He instructs me to get lower. The cue ball reflects his widen eyes behind my ear. He is gone. A cold wet line goes from my calf to the top of my ass. My thong sits on both ankles.

“Focus on the cue ball,” Jacob said. “Oh no, yo-yo, oh let’s be…”

The cue ball is smacked off the table. Jacob’s togue taste like fresh vodka as it wiggles past my teeth. I belly flop into the billiard cloth and glance back as my plump booty springs for Jacob’s pelvic motion. His rhythm moans a skin slapping ritual as onlookers rise to the thousands.

“Am I a Fast Eddie, daddy?” I said.

He pulls my hips to the right so the watchers can see his big cock slide in and out. “You take this cock all the time now,” Jacob said.

I flatten my torso against the billiard cloth. It is shimmying and rattling to horny old Jacob’s invasion. His 78-year-old cock so fast in and out of my pussy. A blur of domination.

My abandoned ass, shiny with sweat, wobbles as Jacob slides out and floods my wet booty with his cum. “I think I am gay, Sage.”

“Me too.”