It all started with a redhead. Or, more specifically, the finest looking redhead I’d ever laid my eyes on. She walked into the Greenbush Tavern, and, somehow, I knew I’d never be the same again.

She was with some guy, but I could tell they weren’t together. Not really. He was just someone to fill the void on a hot Saturday night at a local bar in a northern Michigan hick town. Besides, she looked way too classy for him. Hell, she was way too classy for me too, but I digress.

Red, as I eventually came to call her, noticed me as they walked by, and she flashed a smile. Some Guy, as I will refer to him, sat down on a barstool and ordered two beers. She took the beer he handed her and sat next to him but facing the pool tables instead of the bar. She was watching me while I played eight ball with my buddy, Jimmy. ZZ Top’s Legs was playin’ on the jukebox, and the place was hopping.

I made my next three shots easily, but when I saw her blue eyes staring at my ass, the fourth shot didn’t fall. I made eye contact and saw her raise an eyebrow. I nodded and grinned. I didn’t care why she was looking at me; I was just glad that she was.

Since I had money on the game, I needed to focus more on the table and less on her for a bit. A few minutes later, when I sunk the eight ball in the corner pocket, I looked up to see if she noticed my victory. Sadly, she wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Instead, I spotted a hot little blonde slide onto the barstool that Red had vacated and stick her tongue into Some Guy’s ear. His hand was planted firmly on her ass when Red came back from the ladies’ room. I watched as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. She nudged the slutty blonde aside to grab her beer and said “fuck you” to Some Guy.

She turned and looked in my direction, and I held a pool cue out in her direction. Jimmy, having just lost twenty bucks to me, had also lost interest in playing anymore.

She shrugged in a why not sort of way and walked up to me to take the cue. I held on firmly and said, “I play for money.”

She let go and said, “Sorry, I’m low on cash this week, and it looks like I’m buying my own drinks for the rest of the night.” She directed a thumb at Some Guy, whose hand had now slipped into the back of Blondie’s cut-off shorts.

“Doesn’t need to be cash,” I said quickly, not wanting to let Red slip away that easily. “I imagine you’ve got other assets I’d be interested in.”

The sound of her laughter was rich and sensual. I went hard almost instantly. It was all I could do not to visualize myself throwing her down on the pool table and fucking her right there and then. But I’m not a complete asshole.

“Was I good?” she asked.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked back, completely baffled.

“When you fucked me on the table just now in your mind. Was I good?”

“You a witch or a psychic or something?” I asked.

She laughed again, “Nope, I’m just a pretty good judge of character.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. For instance, I can tell just by looking at you that there’s a war going on inside your head. If it weren’t against the law, and I wouldn’t smash my fist into your nose, I’d be naked on the table already while you tried to decide which to do first, fuck me or see how much of that pool cue you could make disappear inside me,” she said, her mouth about an inch from my ear. Her lip gloss smelled like strawberries, and now I was picturing my cock sliding between her lips. I was pretty sure she knew that too.

“Can’t blame a man for thinking dirty thoughts, Red,” I said, trying to sound cool.

“Tell you what, Dirty Boy, rack ‘em and let’s see who wins,” she said. “If I win, you pay me that twenty bucks you just won. But if you win, you get to take me out to your truck and have some fun.”

“How do you know I drive a truck?”

“More than half of the vehicles in the parking lot are trucks. I just guessed and got lucky.”

I grinned as Foreigner’s Dirty White Boy started blaring from the speakers above the pool table.

“Okay, you’re on, Red. But I don’t want to hear any complaints when I win.”

“And I don’t want you crying foul when I win, Dirty White Boy,” she said as she downed the rest of her beer.

I offered to buy her another one before we started to play.

“No, thanks,” she murmured before she took the cue ball in her hand. “Mind if I break?”

“Go right ahead, sweetheart,” I said.

Red was singing along with Lou Gramm and sinking shot after shot. When all she had left was the eight ball, she batted her eyelashes at me and said, “Pick a pocket, Dirty White Boy.”

I picked what I thought was the most unlikely shot, and she sunk the damn thing anyway. I handed her the twenty and shook my head. She grinned and said, “I’m heading out. Are you coming?”

I said, “I just got hustled, Red. Why would I follow you?”

“Don’t let your pride get in the way. I was always gonna fuck you. I just needed that twenty to help pay my phone bill,” Red said, wiggling her eyebrows.

I decided to push my luck, “My bed’s a lot more comfortable than my truck, Red.”

She grinned, “Well, then, take me home and fuck me, Dirty White Boy.”

Who was I to argue?