Rack’em and Crack’em

“Your play, hero.” Val had been calling him that all night. Aanya had complained to her about the rescue.

They decided to meet up for a few rounds of pool to catch up. Martin quickly learned that he was entirely outmatched.

“I grew up on army bases,” she explained. “I could also school you in darts or ping-pong, if you want.”

It was weird getting to know Valerie. He remembered her with braces and braids. She’d just started to become a woman, or at least he’d just started to notice, when she moved across the country.

She’d been his first crush, and his first heartbreak, all when was too young to really understand either of those things.

“What brought you back to Chicago?” he asked, hoping conversation would help mitigate the embarrassing defeat he was enduring.

“Nostalgia, I think,” said Val. “Those were the best years of my life.”

Martin tried to reconcile that with his own memories of her. “You ran away three times in grade seven, alone.”

“Yeah, but I had a place to run away to,” she said, and sunk two of her balls with one shot. “Your mom would always let me in, and wouldn’t call my folks until I’d cooled off. You let me hide in your closet and brought me dinner. On base, I had nowhere to run to, and more to run from.” She got real dark and gloomy and missed a shot. “How is your mom anyway?”

“Still trying to save the world one stray cat at a time,” said Martin with a mix of pride and exhaustion. “You should go see her when you get back into town. She’d love to see you.”

They chatted and drank a few rounds. As Val got bored of winning, her attention started to drift. “So, hero, you’re here alone,” she said, “Fishing for clams?”

She’d timed the comment intentionally for Martin to miss his shot in surprise. “No. I was supposed to come with a friend. I expected him to be the one beating me at pool. How about you? Are you an Aanya partners? Are you, as you say, clam fishing?”

“Tragically not,” complained Val. “I’ve been cursed with straightness. Myself and not a small number of lesbians are devastated by that fact. I’d have dodged a lot of shit in my life had I a taste for tacos instead of hot dogs. And before you ask: no, I’m not sausage shopping, either. Men are shit.”

He wasn’t going to try to argue. He’d worked with and for enough absolute bastards to sympathise. “I’m honoured you accepted my invitation, then,” Martin said.

“I assume you’re also shit, in your own way, hero,” she replied. “But it’s nice to pretend for a bit you’re still the sweet kid I knew.”

“Understood. I’ll keep up the illusion as long as I can. Do you want to go play with my transformers instead of this boring adult stuff? Would that help?” he joked.

She did, she really did. The idea of retreating back to that simpler time before everything had gone to hell for her was so tempting.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, hero.” Val found she was genuinely sad that he couldn’t fulfil that offer. She distracted herself with the talent in the pool hall. She imagined setting up the awkward nerd she once knew with some hot piece of ass and found the idea exciting. “Who’s the hottest girl here, do you think?”

“What?” Martin was confused, but couldn’t help but scan the room.

“Imagine, if you will, that you were going to go for a roll in the sand with someone here, and I was going to help make it happen, who would we pursue?”

As he spent some time reflecting, he came to find the collection of guests at the pool hall a bit samey. All of them were attractive enough, sure. He’d be a fool to refuse a night with any of them, but none really stood out. Of the dozen women there, the most notable one was Val.

Her blonde pixie cut and youthful tomboy features made her striking. Her body was lean and she seemed comfortable in it, despite obscuring it beneath a band t-shirt and jean shorts.

“Don’t go looking at me like that, hero,” she said. “I’m not on the menu. I’d suggest Aanya—a good hate-fuck would do her some good—but I want to know you can behave yourself before you two knock boots.”

Martin was absolutely flabbergasted by this woman. “Weren’t you just saying that men are shit, why are you trying to inflict me on your friend, and everyone else here?”

Val had to concede his point. Normally she’d be building brick walls around the men to protect her girls. The resort environment sparked something in her, though. The idea of people having holiday hookups just revved her engine. Maybe it was rose-tinted glasses from back when they were kids, or maybe it was because he smelled like sex and cinnamon, but he seemed a decent enough guy. If she could hook him up with a tryst or two, she could get her rocks off thinking about it.

Besides, he'd literally saved her best friend's life. He deserved something nice for that.

“Boys have their uses,” Val admitted. “Just like booze, one drink can be satisfying, but too much, or the wrong kind, will fuck you up. Think of me as a sommelier, helping folk get the right pairing, and encouraging them to spit out the wine after they’ve sampled it.”

“And you would like me to, as you say, hate-fuck your friend?”

Fuck, yes, she did. The thought of Aanya working out all her fury on this unsuspecting boy made Val weak in the knees. Neither were ready for that, though, and Val had to be sure Martin could be trusted to both show her a sufficiently good time, and not do any further damage.

She scanned the room, herself, for a suitable match.

Walking in like a goddamn supermodel was a positively radiant woman. Black curly hair with a playful streak of white in her bangs; sharp angular features and intelligent eyes; long lean limbs with clear, gently tanned skin; a sheer beachy romper over a bold yet respectable bikini; this woman looked like the complete package. A balance between sexy and mature, confident and fun.

“Hey, hero, how about her?” Val suggested.