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Jack’s Place – by The Technician
Jack’s Place is my favorite bar. It could be because of the friends I have there or the girls I meet there or my favorite brand of dark beer always being available in the cooler, but it is none of that. It is Jack – actually Jaqui, pronounced Jackie. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I could go there every night just to watch her behind the bar. And it isn’t that she dresses sexy. Her outfit is almost always a pair of loose fitting blue jeans and an equally loose black tee shirt with the Jack’s Place logo on the front in white,
I started going to Jack’s Place because of the Friday night after hours pool tournament. Just before the 2:00 am closing time, Jaqui would announce that everyone who wanted to play in the tournament needed to go to the tournament room. She would call last round on drinks and then open a doorway into a back room that held a full-sized, regulation, pool table. The entry fee was ten dollars. Side bets were optional. Jaqui would collect the money, usher everyone into the room, deliver the drinks, place one-half of the money in a large winner’s trophy on one of the tables, and then close the doorway between the bar and the tournament room. After drawing the blinds on the windows, she would go to a small stairway that led up to her apartment and announce, “Make sure your turn out the lights and make sure that the alley door closes behind you when you leave.” Then pointing to the cameras mounted around the room she would add, “And remember, Jaqui is watching you.”
Recently another reason to love Jack’s Place arrived. Her name was - well, she never gave her name. She always said, “Just call me Honey, cause I’m the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet, but I’ve got a stinger if you get to close.” She only came into the bar on Friday’s and she always arrived about 1:45, just in time for the pool tournament.
The tournament was actually an 8-ball game where the winner kept playing as long as there was a challenger. It was purely a last man standing tournament, so whoever won the last game won the money in the trophy, and yes, there were side bets. The wager was standard, you had to throw a ten into the cup to challenge, and it was one dollar for the game and one dollar for every ball you left on the table when your opponent sank the 8 ball. If you scratched the 8, it was ten for the scratch plus two dollars for every ball on the table.
Honey usually went home with the cup money. She was good, damned good, but she had an unfair advantage. She wore fairly short skirts and every time she leaned over the table to shoot, you could see her tight, tan, little ass peeking at you from behind a pair of white lace panties. It sure broke your concentration.
After several weeks, it was obvious that she was the best player there. We knew it, and she knew it. Then the little leather paddle appeared on the table one Friday. On the leather was embossed, “Honey’s Stinger.” After that, whenever the balls were being racked, she would wave her little paddle and taunt us with, “OK, whose next to get their ass whipped?”
Then came “that Friday night.” Anyone who knew the story just referred to it as “that Friday night.” Everything started as usual and went as usual. Honey played like a pro, flashed her panties like a tease, and was ready to leave with all the money. She looked around the room at each of us and asked, “Isn’t anyone else going to get their ass whipped tonight?”
“Just you, Honey,” came a sultry answer from behind me.
I turned around and almost bit the neck off the beer bottle I had been emptying. There in the doorway to her apartment stood Jaqui. I knew it was Jaqui, but not even in my wildest dreams had I seen her like that. She was wearing skin-tight black pants that ended just below her knees. On top was a white satin blouse that showed off what she had been hiding under those black tee shirts for so long. Her hair framed her face and her makeup was perfect. She literally steamed with sexuality and the lust in her eyes was very evident. No wonder none of the men at Jack’s Place had never gotten anywhere with Jaqui. She didn’t like men, but whoa did she like Honey.
“How about a special game to end the evening, Honey? I ante in with one hundred and you get a hundred for the game and a hundred for every ball if you win. If I win, I get to whip your naked ass right there on that table. Once for the game and once for each ball on the table. What do you think, Honey, you ready to get your ass whipped?”
Honey stood and looked at Jaqui for a while and then said, “Two hundred and you’re on.”
Jaqui laughed. “OK, we double the bet - two hundred against two swats. Rack ‘em.”
I doubt that any game of billiards in any tournament for any amount of money held the attention of the audience like that game. Honey broke and sank three solids. Jaqui sank two stripes, but left Honey a really bad shot. She managed to get one, but couldn’t set for another. Jaqui then sank four in a row, but blew the fifth for no apparent reason. Honey easily sank her fifth and sixth balls and tried to line up on her last ball when it became apparent that Jaqui’s mistake had actually saved her the game. Honey couldn’t get a decent shot because she was blocked by Jacqui’s ball. She made a great attempt with a three bank, come from behind shot, but the ball just didn’t fall. Jaqui popped both remaining stripes and lined up on the 8 ball.
“You ready to get your ass whipped, Honey?” she asked as she dropped the 8 in a side pocket.
Honey was totally wide-eyed and gasping for breath. Evidently it hadn’t occurred to her that she might lose. She never had before.
“You’re not going to go south on your bet are you, Honey?”
“Another game,” stammered Honey. “House rules are that all bets ride to the next game as long as you keep playing.”
“Hmm, what do you think guys? Those are the house rules. This was a special game, but I agree. If Honey antes up in the cup, I will accept her challenge. But we double the bet again - four hundred per ball against four swats. And, Honey, in case you didn’t notice, the ante is one hundred.”
“I don’t have that kind of money on me,” moaned Honey.
Jaqui smiled, or what it a leer, and replied, “That’s OK. I’ll give you one hundred dollars credit for those lace panties. Just drop them in the cup and we’re ready to rack.”
Honey hesitated and looked around like a trapped bunny rabbit in a den of wolves. “It’s either that,” continued Jaqui, “or drop you drawers and lean over the table for two swats with that fancy leather paddle of yours.”
Almost crying, Honey reached down and removed her panties and put them in the trophy.
To say that we were even more glued to this game would be the greatest understatement of all time. Even showing her ass to the whole room every time she shot, Honey was still a much better player than Jaqui. Honey never seemed to make a mistake while Jaqui made error after error. But somehow Jaqui’s blown shots always seemed to end up just in the wrong place for Honey to make the most of her shots. It looked like Honey had it with two of Jaqui’s balls still on the table, but both balls were in just the wrong spot and Honey didn’t sink the 8. Both shots by Jaqui were really weak, but the balls just managed to go down. She left herself a terrible final shot, however, the cue was slightly in the side pocket and it would take at least one bank to sink the 8. Somehow she did it, though, and the 8 wobbled into the corner pocket.”
Honey just stood at the end of the table with her mouth open. “That’s four swats you’ve got coming, Honey, unless you want to ante up for another game.”
“What would I have to ante with?” asked Honey.
“Your clothing - all of it. Play naked or pay the bet. Your choice.”
“A thousand,” whispered Honey.
“Ten swats,” replied Jaqui.
Honey didn’t say anything, but slipped her blouse over her head and dropped it in the trophy. Her skirt followed shortly. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
How Honey could stand naked in a room full of men and play pool like she did was amazing. Jaqui, on the other hand, played even worse. She didn’t sink a single ball. Her luck held, however, and Honey was kept to sinking only one or two balls with each turn. Honey sank her last ball and Jaqui’s luck held even then. Every one of Jaqui’s balls was in just the wrong place and Honey had to settle for a safety on the 8. It looked like Jaqui was going to miss her chance to whip Honey’s ass and have to pay several thousand besides.
Jaqui lined up her shot, and then paused. “Before I shoot, do you want to add to the bet? I will make it five thousand a ball if you win, but if I win, in addition to the swats, you will be my slave for the rest of the weekend. Maybe you’ll like it, you never know.”
Honey looked at the table. There was no way that Jaqui could run the table with the way that she had been playing. Even if she sank 4 balls before Honey got the 8 ball down, that would be $20,000. “You’re on.”
Jaqui lined up on the six ball and blasted it way too hard. It went down, but the cue came all the way back to the other end of the table, almost sinking the 8 ball before scratching in the close corner pocket.
“I guess that comes back up,” said Jaqui with a shrug.
Honey smugly walked to the end of the table to retrieve the cue ball, but as she turned to set the cue on the table, her eyes widened and her faced turned totally pale. On Jaqui’s last wild shot, the 8 ball had rolled into the middle of a tight circle of Jaqui’s balls. With the six ball returned to the table on the spot, the gate to the corral was effective closed. If Honey couldn’t at least tap the 8 and move it two inches, she would scratch. There were 8 balls on the table. The bet was 10 swats. A scratch would be ten times that plus twice that for every ball on the table. That would be 260 swats plus the four from the previous games. And beyond that she had agreed to be Jaqui’s slave for the weekend if she lost.
Honey gasped as she realized what was occurring. She had been hustled. Every shot from the beginning of the first game had been a set up to bring her to this point. There was one possible escape, however. If she applied the right English, she might be able to get through at the rail and complete a safety on the 8. She called it and carefully lined it up, but the gap wasn’t quite wide enough and one of Jaqui’s balls rolled toward the middle of the table. It was a scratch on the 8 ball. Game over. 264 swats, plus a weekend of slavery.
Honey accepted defeat. She walked down to the end of the table and bent over it with her hands stretched out above her. “Would you boys please hold her over the table, I’ve got some whipping to do,” announced Jaqui. No one moved. We really weren’t sure what to do.
“She wants it. She may not know that she wants it, but deep down she does. She could have won every game, but her secret desires wouldn’t let her win.”
With that Jaqui laid her cue down on the table. The end of the cue was in the corner pocket. The shaft pushed aside the 8 ball and the tip pointed through a gap in the corral to the other end of the table. “It was a straight in shot - forty thousand dollars in easy money. But I was willing to bet that little Honey here, deep down, is a pain slut who would love to be my slave forever.
Honey just lay her face on the table and began to moan softly.
We held Honey’s hands and Jaqui whipped her ass – not real hard, but every one of the 264 times. When she was done, Jaqui lifted Honey’s face up toward hers and said, “I want to find you kneeling naked at the end of my bed when I come up there. Don’t touch yourself. Don’t pleasure yourself. Just wait at the end of my bed like a good slave.”
Then she turned to us and said, “Make sure the alley door closes behind you when you leave.” Then she went up the stairs. As I left, for the first time, I stopped to actually read what it said on that battered old trophy that held the night’s winnings as well as Honey’s clothing. It read, “First Place – World Billiards Trick Shot Tournament – Jaqui Jackson”
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