4- ruddy. Ready./ Rusty.

Scarlet’s leg bounced the entire ride home, and her cab earned a generous tip for shaving an extra four minutes off the commute. She was by no means unpresentable, but she wanted to impress the woman in every sense. She talked such a big game, now it was time to deliver.

With the apartment door unlocked, she set her things down, then froze. She needed her meds, a shower, do her hair, find the right outfit, and to do a full face of makeup, with less than four hours. Considering how long her curls alone took to dry it would be cutting it close even if she wasn’t overwhelmed. Indecision paralyzed her for a moment in her entryway, before she sprinted to her room to take her medications and pick something to wear.

Scarlet swallowed them dry, playing out the “Hey, Emilia, one sec. Need to take my not so crazy pills,” in her mind. Very sexy. Between that and her knowing i’m trans…She froze, the dress she was considering in the mirror still held against her body. Her impulse was to embrace the intrusive numbing feeling, to let her muscles turn to liquid. It was true to how dates had gone in the past, after all. She could just drop the dress and lie on her bed and never get out. It would all be wasted. Pointless, she would think she wasn’t elegant or smart enough. Even if she did, she wouldn’t want her in the same way…someone who she could be honest with about how hard this past year was. A sick prank.

She flared her nostrils and tried to breathe. You’re fine…She wouldn’t have been so eager if she didn’t mean it, right? She felt her stomach rumble, and paused her dressing to find and shove a protein bar down her mouth so she wouldn’t make any rude noises. She eventually decided on a cute a-line dress, black like most of her wardrobe. It was a flattering cut on Scarlet that could hopefully split the difference between formal and understated. Given the amount of shredded tees, too-short dresses and skirts in her wardrobe, it probably wouldn’t cover enough for anywhere in Emilia’s income range. She matched it with patterned stockings that would accent her butt and her nicest boots.

Putting the cherry on top (or rather bottom), she dug deep in the back of her dresser for a cute pair of satin, babydoll pink underwear set. That was generous, it was definitely lingerie, and did as much to make her cleavage more appealing. She wasn’t insecure about her chest, thankfully having larger than average breasts for a trans woman. Instead one of her primary concerns was the way her stockings settled would accentuate her hips under the dress.

Her hips. That’s what she stared at when she felt the heavy self loathing wash over her like cold saltwater. Too small to be feminine. Same bullshit. Self fulfilling prophecy. If I focus on them that much I’ll just come across as insecure. And if this date is doomed…I’ll choose to have fun on the way.

Her face was scrubbed of makeup, her shower hot and soothing to stiff muscles from sitting at a desk all day. She luckily didn’t need too much to feel clean and smell good, so she just made sure her hair was cared for, to bring it back to life. Out of the shower, brushed, product in, microfiber towel wrapped around it.

Despite biting her lip as she dressed, or her leg bouncing as she let down and styled her hair, she was making remarkable time. As she did her eyeshadow, she managed to work efficiently enough, despite having to start over. A full, styled face; winged liner and detailed eyeshadow, contour and highlighter.

She felt more confident as she looked in her bedroom mirror. Perhaps even, for the first time in a very long time, sexy. She gave a small smile that warmed her chest, happy, as she finished the look with her favorite lipstick.

With thirty minutes to spare, she noted as she checked her phone. It was here that she noticed that her nail polish was chipping from the thorough cleaning and styling of her hair. Just a quick touch up would only take her half her remaining time.

She used the meditative practice of painting her nails to mentally prepare. Emilia is bringing a car? I’m not even used to dating people who own cars, let alone rent them on a whim. How much was Emilia making? Scarlet resolved not to let herself be intimidated by money, despite the status of her own bank account. Ten minutes later she was blowing on the quick dry polish, simply making sure the black matched and was even with her previous coat.

Her phone buzzed, and a gentle test of her nails proved they were dry enough. Her face went a little red in excitement as ‘Emilia Kane (boss)’ flashed on the screen. Still trying to be gentle on her nails, she opened the phone: “there in 15. No rush”

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself a bit. Even Miss Intimidating can be late. She double checked her reflection and continued to blow on her nails until getting a follow up text: “Pulling in. Hop on down, bunny.”

While the text did strengthen her blush, Scarlet decided to be a tiny bit clever. If she thinks I’m going to come running at her beck and call, she’s dumber than she looks. She watched her phone, telling herself she’d take three minutes then depart as she fidgeted on her couch. It only took about ninety seconds before a follow up message arrived: “I can see your read receipts, little one.”

Scarlet giggled to herself, her heart strangely bouncing in her chest at the pet name. She locked the door behind her, finally replying as she descended. “already on my way down. Someone’s so eager 😘'' That oughta rile her up. Coming down from the third floor of her building did take a while, after all.

Scarlet froze at the sight of the luxury limousine in front of her building. Emilia was leaning against the back door, where actors and singers emerged from on tv. It took Scarlet—still distracted at the prospect of being picked up by a limo—a moment to notice her suitor’s outfit. Emilia typically wore either fitted suits to the office or professional, but sharp looking skirts. Scarlet was not prepared for how effortless and luxurious her hair looked. How did one match platinum jewelry that well? And the beautiful corset, that made Emilia’s figure only that much more distinct. Scarlet forced herself not to gawk, and walk to the door as Emilia opened it.

“Is this how you treat all of your dates, or just your boss?” Emilia raised an eyebrow with the dry sarcasm in her tone. She was annoyed, but not too annoyed.

“Only the ones that act like they’ve got the whole world under their thumb.” Scarlet returned the playful barbs, and blew the taller woman a kiss from inside the limo. Emilia smiled, and closed the door behind her. Good. Pushing buttons is too fun. People who can’t take the heat are boring.

Emilia smiled again at Scarlet, making her a little excited in her chest. Her boss touched a call button, and the limo pulled out into the street proper.

“Didn’t tell me where we were going, did you?” Scarlet mused, realizing now she hadn’t been to the part of town she was riding towards.

Emilia sat back, crossing her legs and relaxing her shoulders. She was on the other side of the same seat as Scarlet, barely four feet from her. “It is a favorite restaurant I first found a few years ago.” She began, “Now, it is my go-to for special occasions. They save me a table right on the river, the best view you could imagine of the sun setting.” Scarlet could see Emilia’s eyes wander, remembering this legendary view as if it were the peak of Romance. “And they do have my favorite Chardonnay.”

Chardonnay? A view of the river? Might be a little blue for my blood. Scarlet thought, trying not to give away her knee jerk distaste for such a place. Emilia clearly noticed the change, her head tilting in confusion.

“Something wrong?” Emilia’s simple question betrayed a simple answer. Scarlet knew Emilia had the income for a place like that, and was already dressed for it. How do you tell someone you probably can’t even afford to split the bill? Was Emilia trying to impress me?

“I’m sorry. It sounds lovely, but it seems kind of stuffy? Like, you don’t have to do all that. I’d feel bad having someone else pay that much, especially with the car? I think I’d just be uncomfortable. I’m a lot more accustomed to dives than six-star dining.”

Emilia laughed to herself, but Scarlet was unsure at why. “You may be thinking of Michelin Stars. They only go up to three, dear.” Scarlet felt her ears turn red. “If it is a dress code or cost you worry about, I sincerely mean that it is no trouble.” Scarlet’s nerves flared, and her masked smile started to come back. “I want to treat you, and between being friends with the owners and the privacy of my table—”

“Emilia!” She said, a little louder and panicked than she’d meant to. She calmed down with a breath before continuing. “Sorry, I just…I don’t need you to impress me? I’m already impressed, okay? I’m—” She blushed again, trying to be sincere and not let the mask overtake being honest. “I didn’t just say yes out of nowhere? I am impressed each day at work.” Scarlet felt exposed, vulnerable in the way she detested. Every instinct told her that she was giving too much too fast, and yet her rational brain knew she had scared off more than one date with too much “flirting” like her previous barbs.

“I see.” Emilia mused under her breath and thought, before emphasizing each careful word choice, “I must admit you’re the first date to want to go somewhere less formal with me. What would you like to do?”

“Your favorite place.” Scarlet emphasized each word in return as a true smile crept across her face. “Not the rich lawyer. Not the expert dominant. Not the matchmaker Cupid’s. Emilia’s favorite place in the whole wide world.”

Her date’s mouth spread in a smile, bright red lipstick lips curling upward with intrigue. Scarlet also thought she detected a hint of admiration.

“I think I can do that.” She touched the call button once more. “Driver, could you turn around please? We had a change of plans. Take us to Sharkie’s.”

* * *

Silent motor, smooth ride, and the most comfortable seats Scarlet had ever experienced. Scarlet could not recognize the part of the city they drove through, away from both her apartment and the office. Emilia refused to give away anything about the new venue, save for a sly grin, a mischievous—hopefully benevolent—secret. Every attempt to ask was met with a verbal riposte.

“What kind of dive could ‘Sharkie’s’ possibly be?”

“Exactly my kind of place.”

“Should we look at a menu ahead of time?”

“I know it by heart. It is my favorite, after all.”

“Not even going to tell me what part of town it’s in?”

“Worrying your pretty little head about something like that?”

Scarlet had an impulse to pout, to get annoyed with her date as the woman sat there with an effortless sense of cool. Instead flipped her hair and leaned back to simply enjoy the ride, the texture of the seats and gentle vibration soothing. In mere moments, Emilia looked out the window with another small smile, and spoke, “Here we are.” The limo pulled to a stop, and Emilia got out first, holding the door open for Scarlet. She slid out into the cool evening air to a bustling downtown street full of people giving double takes at the car and the couple that emerged from it.

Sharkie’s was, in fact, not a dive as Scarlet had hoped. She was far more comfortable at such places than anywhere that had a coat check. It was still upscale from its exterior, abstract shapes and asymmetrical windows that some architects were overpaid to design. The neon signs were minimalist, to the point where Scarlet could not interpret what the glowing design was actually meant to represent.

“What kind of bizarre club did you take me to?” Scarlet managed to decipher that one shape was the protruding dorsal fin of a shark, attached to some kind of orb.

“It was a bad habit I picked up from my university study group.” Emilia began to explain, offering her arm to Scarlet. The shorter woman took her arm, blushing to herself as she listened. Scarlet adored feeling like a capital-L Lady with her dates in the past, and with such a gorgeous woman only heightened the feeling. Emilia continued as she opened the door for them.

“In the evenings in Boston, there isn’t much to do as a broke, exhausted student beyond going to local bars. So after studying, my friends and I would go to a special one that Michael introduced us to. They had a billiards table, but he corrected us. ‘Um, actually, it’s Snooker.’”

Scarlet gave the woman a look of confusion. They entered a formal waiting room, with expensive-looking modern and industrial furniture for customers to recline. Here the hostess, a short blonde woman in a vest and tie, immediately gave a look of recognition at the sight of Emilia.

“Miss Kane! Lovely to see you again. Should I prepare your usual spot?” The woman gave an earnest smile that Scarlet recognized. When Scarlet was a waitress, two lifetimes ago, she had one patron who was always polite, patient, and tipped well. The woman gave that exact smile to Emilia now.

“Perhaps a more private one tonight, Melody. My date and I will be at the bar when one is ready.” Melody nodded, and held the second door open for the two taller women. Still on her arm, Scarlet smiled the smile of the shared plight of the service industry.

“Have a great evening, ladies!” Melody waved, nodding to Scarlet’s look. She reached down to a headset to send Emilia’s request in, and Scarlet turned to look where they were walking. Scarlet’s eyes took a moment to adjust, the dim lighting of the interior closer to a nightclub, and the bar on their immediate left gave the same impression. Less than a quarter of the floorplan was occupied by it, however, as the rest of the club was occupied by evenly spaced pool tables.

“This is a poolhall? Or…?” Scarlet finally connected the dots on the sign outside. Oh, a ‘pool shark,’ like a pool ball with a shark. Cute. She focused on the tables, and noticed some differences. “They’re not pool balls i’ve ever seen.”

“Not quite. Snooker is practically billiards, but with a bit more strategy. We played every week and I have adored the game ever since.” Emilia led Scarlet over to the bar, and the younger woman scanned the overhead menu. She was slightly intimidated, knowing the garbage ‘Fruitscato’ she had favored this past week would not be on the wine list.

“Get whatever you like, dear. My treat.” Emilia sounded sure of herself. Scarlet took the challenge.

“Oh? That’s so kind of you to buy such expensive bottles for the whole club.” She made sure to say it loudly, getting the attention of other patrons at the bar.

“You’re a cute date, but not that cute.” Emilia smirked at her, an eyebrow rising. Scarlet saw the clear warning in the omen as the bartender approached. “An Old Fashioned for me, and you dear?”

Scarlet panicked for a moment, and defaulted to her preferences, “A Painkiller, please, salted if you can.” Sweet, tangy, a tad fruity…immature? The man nodded with a polite smile to the two women, and began mixing.

“A Painkiller?” Emilia gave her an inquisitive look.

“My dad introduced me actually. He got it once on family vacation because of the Judas Priest song. Ever since it’s my usual when I go out. If I’m at home it is just some cheap wine…or, like, whatever sweet ‘themed drinks’ are around. I just wanted to not be so picky for once.” She fidgeted with her nails, checking to make sure there weren’t any chips to cover her nerves.

“I had never heard of such a thing before tonight,” Emilia’s curiosity shined in her words.

“It’s like a Piña Colada without the Jimmy Buffet connotations. More distinct flavors.”

“I could see you in a Hawaiian Shirt wasting away in Margaritaville.”

“Nooooo thank you. I was hoping you’d ask about the other drinks.”

“Themed drinks?” The drinks were produced, “Open a tab, please.” She passed Scarlet her drink, and raised the neat Old Fashioned for a toast. “To fun and games.”

“To fun and games.” She returned. She blushed as her larger glass, salt on the rim and vibrant colors clinked against the whiskey, and sipped.

“Oh my god that’s so good. Um..yeah, themed. A couple Halloweens ago my friend made ‘Vampire Kisses’ or somesuch? It was just black cherry vodka and grenadine and coke and I loved it…but I don’t want to be a fuss at like regular bars? I feel the kind of places I usually go to don’t exactly carry black cherry vodka just in case some girl wants a spooky spiked cherry coke.” A sudden sense of self-consciousness broke her train of thought. Rambling. Insert foot in mouth before you bore her. Scarlet decided to sip again to silence herself.

Emilia gave a genuine giggle, raising a hand to daintily cover mouth. “I can honestly say I’ve never done a spit take of a whiskey before, but you almost had me.” Scarlet felt her smile grow and her chest grow full, moved that she hadn’t actually embarrassed herself.

They drank more, idle chit chat. Emilia went to Boston University to study law. Scarlet graduated from Cal State Long Beach studying literature and poetry. Scarlet was from Orange County originally, and Emilia from New York state. Scarlet was just explaining how amazing Long Beach was compared to her hometown when a young man in a vest and tie matching Melody’s approached.

“Miss Kane,” he started, a small but formal bow accompanying his words, “we have arranged your private table for the evening and retrieved your cue. Shall I take you to your suite?”

Scarlet didn’t wait for Emilia’s reply, hooking her arm around her date’s and holding her drink in the other hand, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The smile was aided by the pleasant warmth both in her chest at the fun she was having, and her head from the alcohol.

“Thank you, I believe we are ready.” Emilia gave a smirk down to Scarlet, and the pair followed their guide between tables through the open floor. He led them to a door in the far corner, which opened with a card swipe, and inside a private table awaited. It brought to mind those karaoke venues Scarlet had seen before with private lounges for individual parties, hosting plush couches against the walls. A long, open case was open on one such set of couches, a disassembled stick inside.

Emilia tipped the young man and he closed the door behind him. “By that look on your face, you’ve never played?”

“Snicker? No.”

“Snooker, dear. Far deeper than a simple game of pool.” Emilia began assembling the stick.

“Can’t be that hard.” Scarlet studied the table, each ball and cue stick polished to a mirror sheen. She found a coaster to place her drink on, before lifting a dark red ball up to her eye. “Are you going to teach me?”

“I imagine it will be more fun that way.” Emilia smiled, setting down her own drink and gathering up one of each colored ball.

God her eyes are so pretty. And she has a little beauty mark on her cheekbone.

Emilia’s eyes had this intensity when her brain was focused, when she was formulating her next few talking points. “So as opposed to solids and stripes, you merely have multiple reds and one each of other colors.” Scarlet tried to focus, to follow along as the rules were explained.

“You shoot with the cue ball like normal, but you must pocket them in alternating order. A red ball, then any other color ball, then another red. You keep going until you do not pocket a ball.” Emilia looked up to Scarlet, those same intense eyes locked with hers. She felt her cheeks go red.

“The red balls stay pocketed, and the colored balls come back each turn until there are only colored balls. They’re worth different amounts and that’s on the wall.” She thumbed her hand at a poster on the wall. Sure enough, they were worth cascading points. Red balls were worth four, and each color was worth one more than the last.

“I think I get it so far. You’re not skipping anything important are you? I get competitive, despite myself.” Scarlet smirked, unsure where this confidence came from. After all, it is called ‘liquid courage,’ she reasoned to herself.

“There’s complicated rules about fouling. But we can play without those.”

“Is fouling like Scratching? And what, you think I need the handicap?”

“Okay, then on the black ball, final shot, if you foul you lose.”

Scarlet couldn’t help but giggle. “I didn’t realize we were playing high stakes.” She spun a lone blue ball on the green foam to let out nervous energy. Emilia was placing the balls in what Scarlet assumed was their rack position, and rolled the blue ball to her gently.

“I doubt you want your first game to be high stakes. Last thing to remember is that once all the red balls are gone, the other balls must be sunk in point order. Any questions?”

“Only if you’re afraid of losing your money? I think I can handle it!” Scarlet tried leaning coolly against the table, grabbing a stick from a nearby rack and taking a sip of her drink again. “Are you gonna break or shall I?”

“Oh I will, but you can take the first shot after that.” Emilia’s eyes grew serious, focusing like a lens to a laser. She grabbed her own cue, and Scarlet watched from the other side of the table as Emilia leaned over in her corset to take careful aim. The young woman wished she had taken a seat behind her gorgeous date now that she was realizing what she was missing. She wasn’t even at a proper angle to view Emilia’s…intricate racking…without being obvious. With a *CA-CRACK*, the cue shot forward, splitting the formation. Scarlet watched them fly, dancing and bouncing around before settling. Emilia had set up an incredibly simple set of shots for her.

“Even if you are sharking me, I pick up new games pretty fast.” Scarlet saw a few straightforward shots, and tried to do the mental math on what would earn her the most points while setting up a follow up shot. She finally spied a red and the same blue ball she had fidgeted with in perfect position. Scarlet took a sip for courage, and tried to lean in seductively as she took her aim. *ca-crack,* a red ball sank. *Ca-crack,* the blue sank as well.

Scarlet looked up to see Emilia giving her a smile and a curious eyebrow. “How do you keep managing to surprise me, Scarlet?”

Scarlet almost lost her balance, and whiffed her next shot. “I played a lot of pool when I was in college too…but we were definitely underage. So it’s been a minute.” She gave a small smile to excuse her miss.

Emilia leaned over as well, replacing the blue ball, and then began lining up to a different red. She scored a red and a pink ball, and another red. “I promise I’ll give you a fair chance.” A green ball bounced sneakily off a far wall and sank into the opposite pocket, and Emilia gestured to Scarlet.

“You can just pass the turn?” Scarlet asked, still watching Emilia deliberately replace the colored balls once again. Then she realized that Emilia had deliberately left the white ball where it would be hard for her to make any shot! So that’s how you strategize in this game. “Isn’t that rule a little important for you to skip? I won’t need the handicap and you’re too confident to cheat.” She sipped again. “Unless you think I’ll win?”

“Awww, you are adorable when you bluff.” Emilia cooed to her. Scarlet blushed again, taking her shot and completely missing. Scarlet did admirably for her first game, but as the game continued and the score tracker on the side showed, she was falling behind.

“You seem to be getting the hang of it.” Emilia announced as Scarlet sank another red. Scarlet took another shot, whiffing at the brown ball. She looked to Emilia and pouted at the distraction. They both sipped from their drinks.

“Don’t think I’ll respect you going easy on me.”

“Fine. If you want, we can make things interesting.”

“How? You gonna give me $50 for when I beat you?”

“A bet, but for something much more…intimate.”

Scarlet felt a shiver run down her spine as Emilia spoke, her voice positively dripping with seduction. Or perhaps Scarlet was more buzzed than she originally thought.

“What did you have in mind?” She tried playing cool again, sipping. Her drink was almost empty.

“Well, I am not a mind reader, but I want to take you home with me tonight.” Scarlet had to stop herself from doing a spit take of her own. “I would like each ball we sink from here on out to be a kinky rule we play with tonight. There are still fifteen possible shots, so fifteen maximum. And if either of us are not satisfied with a rule, they can use the following shots to undo the previous. You said you were competitive, hopefully that makes you show me you are serious. Just a taste of that ‘fuck you’ punk attitude.” Emilia leaned in towards Scarlet, the seemingly minute height difference growing larger with each moment. Scarlet’s heart pounded, and she could not help but let her leg bounce, to barely contain herself as she felt burning electricity shoot through all her nerves.

Emilia stuck her hand out. “Care to play by my rules, little one?”