What Goes Around

"How long you been playing pool?" The hot redhead asked. He couldn't remember her name since he was more than a little enthralled with her deep cleavage.

"At lease eighteen years, Ma'am." Trace tipped his glass of whiskey to his lips while giving her fine ass a once over. He wasn't subtle about her perusal of her body.

"Do you like what you see?" She asked. Fuck, she was smug. She knew she was pure sex in a tight fitting extremely little black dress. However, Trace was just as smug, and even downright cocky.

"The bulge in my pants says I do." Trace reached down and adjusted himself crassly. The guys around them all cheered at his crude statement and gesture. The redhead smiled, but it was a calculated smile. She felt she had Trace where she wanted him, and maybe she did, but he didn't like feeling as if he was being played.

"Hmm perhaps we could make a little wager on a game?" She gestured toward the pool table. Her icy blue eyes met Trace's through the smoky haze over the table. She stroked her hand up and down the pool stick in the most distracting way.

Trace took another long draw of whiskey and let it slowly roll down his throat before he answered. "You want to play against me?"

"Why yes Sir, if you think you can handle a little lady such as myself." She blinked with mock innocence. Trace suspected this woman had not been remotely innocent for a very long time. She was all dirty sex, and he wanted to bury his hard cock deep in her soaking pussy.

"How daring are you, Red?" Trace was trying to keep his wits about him. He knew he would win a game of pool against the redheaded stranger, but he felt there was something he was missing here. Something important.

"Anything goes." Her eyes narrowed. No more batting eyelashes. She was all business now.

Trace raised his eyebrows. Staring at her. They both seemed to forget everyone else around them. The bar noises did not penetrate the space between them. "Anything?"

The redhead with long hair the colour of fire, placed her pool stick on the table. She leaned forward allowing her generous cleavage to show even more. Trace's throat went a little dry. "Anything." She said.

A whole lot of seriously filthy images came to Trace's mind. Disgusting things he wanted to do to this redhead. He smiled slowly. The sounds of the bar permeated again and he remembered they were being watched by many of his friends. "Why don't you join me in a booth, and we can discuss the terms of our wager?"

"Sure." The redhead smiled at the other men before she spun on an extremely high spiked heel. She walked off without looking back and made her way to a booth at the far end of the dark hazy bar. Trace followed, enjoying the view of her ass under the sinfully tight dress.

Trace sat opposite the redhead. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Mia." She didn't smile.

Trace enjoyed her creamy cleavage up close. "Mia it is then." She didn't ask him his name. She knew it. She had heard his friends say it several times.

"So, a wager." Mia was all business. Trace felt hot needy desire roll in his belly.

"I am not a nice man, Mia." Trace placed his drink on the table a little harder than necessary. He was intoxicated but still very much in control of himself.

"That's okay. I am not a nice woman, Trace." Her eyes glitter almost with a cruel glint. A lesser man would have been frightened of an aggressive woman such as Mia, but Trace found the challenge she posed to be enticing.

"Well then, what do you want from me should I lose?" He smiled. He felt like a jungle cat sizing up prey.

"I want your ass." Mia said simply.

"My ass?" Trace asked. What the hell did that mean exactly?

Mia nodded. She kept eye contact. "Yes Trace. I want your ass."

A waitress saddled up to the table and removed Trace's now empty glass, and Mia's empty beer bottle. She immediately replaced both with a full ones, before just as quickly leaving the table. Neither Mia nor Trace said thank you or even broke eye contact long enough to look at the waitress.

"What do you want to do with my ass?" Trace asked. There was no hint of discomfort. He wasn't going to lose.

"I want to put on a big strap-on and fuck you in your tight virgin ass." Her words were dirty. She was dirty. Trace felt his heart rate kick up a notch.

"You're a filthy bitch, aren't you?" He sat back, suddenly his well worn jean jacket felt too warm and constricting.

"Yes." She didn't disagree with his assessment.

Mia sat back too. Her nipples were rock hard and her tight dress did nothing to hide them. Trace felt his cock stir. Damn, but she intrigued him. She had a small tattoo on her shoulder, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Trace resisted the urge to shrug out of his jacket. He sipped his whiskey instead.

"How do you know my ass is virgin?"

Mia snorted. "Call it a hunch. Maybe more of an educated guess."

Trace nodded. She wasn't wrong. "What do I get?"

"Whatever you damn well please." Mia's eyes hardened. She was dead serious.

"Anything?" Trace asked. His mind was racing.

"Anything." Mia agreed.

Trace pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his jean jacket. He lit up using a match and took a long slow first drag. When he released the smoke he didn't care if it went in her face, and it did. Mia didn't care either. She kept her icy blue eyes trained on his face, watchful for any nuisance she might see there.

"Explain your terms first." Trace demanded.

"You will come back to my place. You will obey my commands, and ultimately you will be a good boy and let me use my strap-on to fuck that tight ass of yours. It is really very simple, Trace. Quit dicking me around and name what you want should you by chance win!"

Mia was tough. Trace swallowed hard. What she wanted both repulsed him and intrigued him. The nice part was he knew he could make this bet with no worry of actually losing. So, all he had to do was decide what he wanted, because it was a sure bet he was going to get it.

"Well, let's keep it even, shall we?"

"Anything, Trace. Just fucking name it already."

"When I win I want your ass. I am going to bend you over the hood of my Challenger and fuck your tight little asshole in the parking lot. I want your tits out and pressed to the paint on the hood of my car. I want you grunting like a dirty little bitch as I push deep into your tight asshole." Trace was crude.

"That's it?" Mia was cocky.

"No condom. I'm clean and I want to cum in your ass." Trace added as he smiled a dirty smile.

Mia didn't flinch. "Deal. I win, I fuck your ass. You win, you fuck my ass and cum inside me, in the parking lot." She lifted her hand and put it out between them over the table for a handshake.

"Are you clean?" He asked before extending his hand as well.

"Yes, I am."

Trace looked at the feminine hand offered. It was small and slender. Her nails were nice and not too long. Painted as black as night. She wore a jingly bracelet of black hearts. He took her hand and shook it. Her skin was soft, dry and warm. Her grip was firm.

***

It was clearly an unfair advantage. Every single time Mia bent over the table her curvaceous ass was impossible to ignore. Every fucking dick in the bar was hard for her. Worse than her perfect ass, was the equally perfect creamy expanse of tits that could be seen spilling over the barely legally low neckline of her dress. Trace had to deal with two sticks - the pool cue and his rock hard cock. He tried his damndest not to look, but every single time she saddled up to the table for her turn, all eyes were on her including his.

She smiled at him after every turn. Her smile could only be described as feral. This was the kind of woman that should come with a warning. The temperature in the bar became hellish for Trace as Mia sunk ball after ball into the pockets. She didn't make many mistakes in her game. Trace's game was tight too, but he was actually starting to worry. Now he shrugged out of his jean jacket, and ordered another whiskey on the rocks.

"Looking good, Trace." This came from Tina. Tina was what he and his friends had affectionately called a bar bunny. She was there every Friday and Saturday night of every weekend, and left with a different man just about each night. She was all red lipstick, perfume and long lacquered red nails. He had never taken a turn on Tina, and never would. It was no secret Trace could have just about any woman he wanted, but his women had to be a challenge or he didn't want them. Likely this was why Mia had so quickly gotten under his skin. Trace didn't look at Tina, but nodded in acknowledgement.

It was Trace's turn and Mia stepped back from the table. He was technically winning at the moment, but not by much. They were well match opponents. He couldn't help but notice her nipples were hard again and he could feel all the men enjoyed looking at her as well. The air in the bar was somehow more charged; thicker.

Mia's face was flushed and she seemed to be breathing faster. Trace watched as she parted her pretty cupid's bow shaped lips and brought her beer bottle to them. She kept her eyes locked on his as she took a long draw on the bottle. He watched her throat as she swallowed. That's when Trace realized that Mia wasn't just merely having fun, she was genuinely turned on. This was foreplay for the mysterious woman.

Trace stretched and rolled his shoulders. He was stalling. They were still neck and neck. The game could go either way. His muscles felt tight. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke up in front of his face. He watched her through it. Mia didn't flinch from his stare. She didn't scare away at all. Trace both liked this and hated it. He placed his cigarette back on the ashtray to leave is smoldering.

Slowly he stepped up to the table and examined it while chalking the tip of his cue. He still stared at Mia and she winked. Trace's heart tripped in his chest. This woman was some piece of work. Men didn't even step up to him like this woman had. Pulling his eyes from her, he examined the table. He picked his shot and moved to position himself. He bent and lined up his cue.

A woman whistled. It was likely Tina or another bar bunny. He didn't look. Trace's looks were well appreciated. His well worn jeans fit him perfectly. They sat low on his hips. He was tall, slim but well defined with a nice chest, stomach and arms. He wasn't a pretty boy exactly. His skin had an olive complexion from his Portuguese ancestors. He was tattooed across his chest and down his arms. He had a few scars from fights when he was younger, but he knew they actually made him more interesting to look at rather than detract. His black hair was too long, but he liked it that way.

"Are you going to take that shot, or are you waiting for a miracle?" This taunt came from Mia. They hadn't spoke at all since the game had started. Actually, that wasn't entirely true, Trace realized. The game had started as soon as Mia had approached him.

Trace didn't respond. He called his shot. "3-ball corner pocket." It wasn't a clear shot, so Trace knew he had to make a fancy move. He needed to bank the cue ball off the table's rail cushion to make it bounce around Mia's balls and hit the 3-ball and send it to the corner pocket. This would be tricky for a beginner, but wasn't tricky for Trace. He sunk his 3-ball just as he had called. His friends cheered. Mia remained silent, as Trace straightened and moved back from the table.

The game went on. The tension between he and Mia grew. The bar was hot and there was a distinct lack of oxygen. Trace felt his heart hammering. He couldn't lose, but as the game continued he realized it was a very real possibility. Mysterious Mia was good, actually she was better than good. They both were, but Trace grudgingly had to acknowledge that she was just as damn good as he. Trace felt his muscles were tight. Mia was starting to show some signs of tension too. Trace could tell there was more at play for them both. He didn't want to be fucked in the ass by this woman, but that wasn't actually the main reason he didn't want to lose to this woman.

Quite simply he wanted to win, just to win. Not even for the prize. Somehow he felt his pride was on the line. When that had happened he had no idea, but he suspected that had actually been Mia's goal from the start. "Let's take a ten minute break?" He suggested with a calculated friendly smile.

Mia eyed him. She was sizing him up not for the first time. "Fine." she said at length.

They both put their pool cues down. Everyone around them remained fairly still and watchful. Now, everyone could sense the undercurrents. They were completed transfixed with the game playing out before them. Trace slowly walked around the table. He looked from Mia to the table. Mia did the same moving away from him but circling the table just the same. They both worked out the rest of the game in their own heads. Neither dared to leave the table. They didn't trust each other or anyone else around them.

Mia changed directions and circled toward Trace. She came between him and the table. She wasn't shy nor subtle as she came to stand directly in front of him and pressed her ass firmly to the crotch of his jeans. A few male spectators grunted. Mia bent forward slightly. Trace became instantly rock hard. He knew she could feel it, and he knew when she moved away others would see his arousal through his jeans. He didn't give a shit.

"Will you be able to handle it?" Without so much of a hint of discretion Trace leaned over her body and ground his hips hard against her firm round ass. Reaching down he placed his hands on her outer thighs and slid them slowly up and stopped just under the hem of her short dress. He could have easily flipped the material up and exposed her ass to himself and everyone else. He felt her body quiver. He could smell her scent. She wore a seductive perfume but he could also smell her arousal. Trace almost got the impression she was daring him to expose her.

He stepped back. His cock was ridged and bulging.

"Now, there's a stick I would like to play with." Said a female spectator with a snort.

Mia stood and rounded to face Trace. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty shade of pink. Her eyes were dark and elusive. She breathed fast, and was clearly highly turned on. Trace was too. He felt the space around them go black. It was tunnel vision and all he could see was the sexy redheaded Mia and the pool table behind her. All he wanted to do was bend her over it and fuck her. They were both players in a very intimate dance.

Mia stepped right up to Trace. She was shorter, but came toe to toe with him. Before Trace even realized what she intended she reached up and wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him down to her. She immediately pushed her mouth to his and kissed him with a white hot passion he had never experienced before. He kissed back. Their kiss was raw and white hot. Her other hand went between them and caressed his cock roughly through his jeans. Trace took her face and held her so she could not step back from them. He took from her lips to match what she was taking from him.

When they finally stepped back there was an audible collective deep breath taken by them both and echoed by the crowd watching them. The room came back to Trace, and felt on verge of orgy. The sexual tension between himself and Mia seemed to have the entire bar on alert and highly aroused.

"I can handle it, Trace. Can you handle me?" Mia whispered. Trace could barely hear her over the roar in his own ears.

"I bet your cunt is soaked." He responded.

She smiled that feral smile. "Let's finish this."

"Let's." He nodded.

The game played on. The tension grew and the room vibrated and thrummed with it. The air was thick and hot. Trace felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. He took his cue stick and stepped to the table. This was it. It was a tricky shot. One he had made many times. However, if he missed he lost. Or, more accurately, Mia won. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as he decided his play and took his stance. Mia moved in closer to watch, but Trace didn't dare actually look at her. Not a sound as he drew the pool cue back. Thrusting it forward the chalked tip hit the cue ball but not exactly as he had intended.

Trace held his breath.

The bar erupted with noise and cheer all around Trace. The sound was almost deafening after the silence. Trace dropped his pool cue onto the table and locked eyes with Mia.

"I win." She mouthed. She didn't smile. She didn't cheer with the others. She didn't even sneer. Trace took his whiskey and downed it. So she did, he thought. So she did.

***

Trace didn't know how Mia had come to the bar, but she was leaving with him in his Dodge Challenger. He knew he shouldn't be driving. He didn't feel drunk but was definitely above the legal limit. Normally, he wouldn't have drove, but tonight his mind was clouded. This woman was fearless and she was making it impossible for him to think straight. Trace couldn't decide if that was hot as hell or reckless.

She had wasted no time rounding the table and taking his hand. He had had only enough time to grab his jacket before she had tugged him along behind her and out of the bar. He hated having lost the game to her. His pride smarted a bit at the loss, but otherwise he didn't much care what his friends thought about his exit. He was leaving with the hot redhead with the big creamy tits. Maybe things were not going to play out quiet the way he hoped his friends were assuming, but they'd never know.

Cold dread roiled in his stomach. He didn't want to obey this woman or anyone. He wasn't the type of man to obey anyone. He also didn't want to take her fake cock in his ass. The very idea made him flinch.

"Are you getting cold feet, Trace?"

He grunted. "No." He never backed out on a bet. If Trace had nothing else, his word was solid. If he made a bet, he honoured it. Normally he didn't lose though.

"Didn't expect a girl to beat you at your game?" Mia taunted.

Trace ignored her as he revved the engine. "Where am I going?"

Mia allowed him to ignore her taunt and gave him directions. His first instinct was to drive fast, but instead he drove slow and cautiously. The roads were empty. He made his way to her place in just over ten minutes. He parked in the driveway behind a red Mustang. The house was in darkness, but appeared to be a pretty average bungalow. There was nothing about it that made it stand out from the others on the street. He parked the car, got out and followed Mia.

They didn't speak as she unlocked her front door. Trace silently prayed there wasn't a husband or boyfriend waiting inside. Wouldn't be the first time that had happened to him. He smiled sardonically to himself in the darkness. They entered the house and closed the door behind them; Trace turned the deadbolt. Mia didn't turn on any lights. Trace reached for her and attempted to pull her body against his.

With surprising agility, she ducked his hands and spun on him. The room was so dark, but he could just imagine the evil glint that would be in her eyes. "You don't get to touch me unless I say so. Do you understand me?" Her voice was hard.

"Whatever, Babes." Trace tried to play this off. He was not submissive. He had never taken any orders from a woman.

"Not whatever!" She all but shouted.

She moved so fast that Trace didn't see it coming. Suddenly he was pinned to her door with her knee between his legs and uncomfortably pressed against his balls.

"Okay! Okay Mia! Damn....truce. I will be good."

He could overpower her, but not without likely hurting her. He didn't want to hurt her. He would never hurt a woman, well, not intentionally anyway. She was strong though, he had to give her that. This mysterious redhead was full of surprises. And in fitting with that she kissed him while she still had her knee painfully pressed into his balls. The kiss took his breath away and left him feeling somewhat weak. Fuck, but she turned him on. Even with the threat hanging over his head of her reaming his asshole with a rubber cock.