Passion_s Her Game

A. Jacks

Chapter 1

God, I wanted a drink. In the worst way. My throat felt dry and my fingers felt tight and nervous. I had been one year on the wagon. I was scared to death of having a drink. It would start everything all over again, chasing pussy and swinging. I had ruined myself in pro football once. I mustn't do it again. But could I stand. or sit in a bar and order a Coke or Seven-Up, without giving in to the impulse to have a drink and pick up pussy? Well, maybe now was the time to find out, before I went to Brinks' office. Because if I didn't have the guts to go into a bar without getting hammered and winding up in the sack with some strange broad, I was finished here in Des Moines. And now was the time to find out. Now or never, old buddy. Either I was going to get back into pro football or I wasn't.

So I stopped and parked near the first bar I saw. It was dark and cool inside. I could hardly see the bar at first because the sun outside had been so bright. I bumped against the edge of a booth. At least it felt like a booth, and I put my hand on the back of it and sat down.

"Well, pardon me," a woman's voice said.

I couldn't see her at first. It was that dark in the room. Somewhere a jukebox played an old Harry James tune. The record people were really punching hell out of the 1930's these days.

And then I saw her. I got up to leave. She was small, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes and a smooth soft chin. She was wearing a yellow miniskirt and a bluish-colored sweater. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but that wasn't all they had adjusted to see clearly. The miniskirt had hiked up her thighs as high as it could go without revealing her nylon panties. I stared for a long instant at her soft creamy thighs which were crossed and I couldn't stop thinking and seeing in my mind that sweet little pussy and all that soft downy hair that was just above the edge of her skirt. Almost instantaneously I felt my cock get out of control, change into a stalk. Down boy, down boy. But it didn't want to go down. No way. It wanted to slice right between those beautiful soft, creamy thighs, and slide right into that fresh young pussy. It was as if all I had to do is close my eyes and I could feel my prick going into this juicy young piece of quiff. Right then I decided it was time to cop out.

I got up. She didn't look more than twenty. I could see her real well now. Maybe she was a couple of years older in the daylight but this wasn't daylight.

"Wait a minute," she said. "I want to talk to you."

She didn't sound like a hooker, nor did she look like one, but who can tell these days with so much hot pussy running around.

"I gotta go," I said. "Take it easy."

Her hand caught my wrist. "Please." There was a pleading tone in her voice. I told myself not to sit down, but damn it, the next thing, of course, I was sitting down. Maybe you just can't change old tomcats completely, especially when birds land right in front of them.