As a first port of call after twelve weeks at sea, the King’s Head wasn’t bad. The beer was good and reasonably priced, there wasn’t too much noise and the bar didn’t slope. The smell of stale smoke was in keeping with the faded upholstery. It was just after opening time and the bar was almost empty. The barman was watching a replay on the telly, only coming near us when we called for beer. By the third pint we were supping rather than gulping, leaning our elbows on the bar and putting our feet on the bar rail. From a back room we could hear the sound of pool balls being played.
“ Come on” said Stu, “I fancy a game”. Taking our drinks with us we went into the games room. There were dartboards on either side and in the middle a single pool table. Round the walls were rough seats, planks on drinks boxes. There were only two players, both in their thirties; a wiry black haired tattooed man and a slightly plump woman. They were just starting a new game, she was breaking and as I looked at her hands I noticed lots of gold rings on pinkish, slightly swollen hands. Her face had been good looking but drink had made it worn.
We nodded to the players and sat beneath one of the dartboards to watch the game. They were intent on their game; the woman potting three in a row before handing the cue to the man. He sank four, then missed. With a curse he handed back the cue and picked up his drink, sucking the suds through his teeth. She walked round the table looking for an angle. When she bent, it was directly in line with us and the thong she was wearing left very little to the imagination. The fabric had worked its way up between her pussy lips and there were wisps of hair on both sides.