"Sure. I'll play the winner, but I'm not very good."

"We can teach you," the Italian says. "We come here every Friday after work." He lines up his shot, and takes it, sinking a solid, but the cue ball isn't lined up well for the other solid, and he hits the ball without actually succeeding at sinking it.

The gray haired man lines up the difficult shot, but sinks the striped ball, then follows up sinking the eight ball. The Italian lets out a playful curse, and then he starts racking up the balls again. The gray haired man chalks his cue, a smug look on his face.

Once racked, the Italian hands you his cue. "Go ahead and break," he says.

You lean over the table, placing the white ball. "Like this?" you ask.

The Italian man stands behind you, and leans over you, lining up the shot for you, and also pressing his body along yours. His mouth is close to your ear.

"You want to line it up right," he says, his accent a bit thicker than before. You like the feel of him like that, and press your ass back a little into him before you take the shot, scattering the balls across the table without sinking any.

You rise, shrugging, and the Italian steps back, a sly grin on his face.

The gray haired man comes around the table and quickly fires two of the solid balls into the pockets before missing his third shot. You look at him.

"What should I try next?" You give him a wide smile.

He comes up behind you, like the Italian did, and you let him line you up for a pretty straightforward shot. You give him the same treatment, pressing back against him just enough for him to hopefully notice, and take the shot, sinking the ball.

"You guys are good teachers," you say, moving to take another shot, which you miss. The two men are looking at you now, and you can tell their minds aren't necessarily on the game as much as they were.

The gray haired man makes a series of shots, leaving you in the dust and sinking a three more balls. It's obvious he's going to win.