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Everything about her screamed competence, yet the guys were still lining up to challenge her, hoping that they'd be able to take back the table for the boys. She let them break each time, but somehow took stripes in every game. She obviously wanted it that way, but I don't know why.It wasn't simple happenstance that I was there. I'd just read a feature on her. A feature written by my editor. I almost didn’t recognize her at first, because it didn't describe her the way I would. Not at all, in fact. In the photo she was half turned away, hidden behind sunglasses, with her hair in front of her face. To me, that photo was more or less as recognizable as a hot Banksy.For a while longer I just watched. The way she flowed through the cue to guide the cold, white sphere across the table was magic. As it struck the other balls, they were guided straight to her destination – changing direction as needed and narrowly slipping past their fellows unimpeded, or in collision deputizing them to. His name was Jeb. He lived in that town and was currently unattached. He was a carpenter and a few years older than them but polite and decent looking.They’d had plenty to drink so Buffy got down to business. She unbuttoned her blouse and turned around to let him unfasten the bra she wore only for support. When she faced Jeb her husband saw his breath being sucked in and his eyebrows rise at the sight. “My God! They’re beautiful!”She gave him a little kiss and murmured, “Do you remember what I told you on the dance floor? I want to see what you brought to the party.” He stripped and saw that her husband was getting naked also. Buffy wiggled out of her jeans and told Jeb to sit on the bed up against the headboard. He was hard and pointing toward the ceiling already.Buffy knee-walked up his legs and said, with her tits only inches from his mouth, “Remember, no touching below my waist but you can do anything you want above it.” When he nodded, she thrust a hard nipple between his lips..
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