"I'd almost suspect you did that on purpose." he replies with a slight grin, not even hesitating in pressing against her to talk, one hand on his pool cue, one hand on her hip. "But I think you're too competitive for that."
He sways against her lightly, more or less in time to the music in the background. "Which is fine, it'll make it that much sweeter when you're on your knees... slave."
He turns. Even drunk and with her as a living distraction, he can't miss this shot, too much time with a misspent youth in places like this. "Eight ball, corner pocket."
He doesn't miss.
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