Pinball Queen

Calliope Bloom
13 mins read
Published almost 2 years ago

I met her at the dive bar on a Saturday night in late September. 

Every weekend I came to the bar to play arcade games in the back room, usually alone, since I’d moved to this town for a job and hardly knew anyone here. The bar was more interesting than staying at home watching Miami Vice or The Love Boat. For the past six months, I’d defended the high score on the Fathom pinball machine, which was lit up with an ocean scene of sexy mermaids, a lurking shark, and men in diving suits being dragged down to the bottom. The bar always smelled like beer and popcorn, and white Christmas lights gave it a dim glow. There was a jukebox in the corner with a good selection of songs. Even though I kept to myself, I felt more or less at home there.

Most nights I was one of the few women at the bar, and the men there were obnoxious, smoking their endless cigarettes and preening their big hair and commenting on my ass in my acid-washed jeans. After I threw my gin and tonic in the face of their ringleader, the lime wedge splashing him right in the eye, they left me alone. The night she walked in, I saw her out of the corner of my eye and couldn’t help but look up from my game. “Raspberry Beret” was playing over the jukebox, and the chorus hit just as I saw her. 

She had deep brown eyes and high cheekbones, her handsome face framed by a jet-black pixie cut. Streaks of silver hair at her temples caught the light. She was wearing a black leather jacket, tight jeans, and rosy gloss that accentuated her full lips. She sidled up to the Ms. Pac-Man machine next to me, slid a quarter into the slot, and gripped the joystick as the game started up. Out of the corner of her eye, she gave me a quick look up and down, and my heartbeat quickened.

She nodded at the fingerless gloves I was wearing. “You ride a motorcycle?” she asked.

I laughed. “I wish. I have trouble with my joints, and the gloves help.” Some days my arthritis hurt too much to play the arcade. She was wearing fingerless gloves, too, but hers were infinitely cooler: black leather with studs on the back. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle,” I said.

“Never?” she said.

I shook my head.

“I’m Viv,” she said. She kept her eyes on her game, moving quickly through the first level.

“I’m Jenny,” I said. Standing so close to her was throwing off my game, making me lose my first pinball, but I didn’t care. 

“So, what do people do for fun in this town?” she asked. She raised her eyebrows as if aware of what a cliché opener this was.

I tried to play it cool, but my mind went blank. “Go to the bar. Play pinball, I guess. What do they do where you’re from?”

“Oh,” she said, “I can always get up to something.” She smiled suggestively at me. “I’m from the city and just got into town last week. But what do you like, besides pinball?”

I wasn’t used to cute women flirting with me. God knows it was impossible to meet women in this town. Don’t screw this up, I told myself. 

I cleared my throat and said, “I like art. Music. I work at the museum in town. I haven’t lived here long, so I don’t know a lot of people.”

One of the ghosts killed Viv’s last Ms. Pac-Man, and the game-over sound effect played. “Shit!” she exclaimed.

“Blinky is the worst,” I said.

“Do you know the names of all the ghosts in Pac-Man?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe?” Of course I did.

“I think it’s cute,” Viv said with a grin. She leaned back with her elbows against the arcade machine and let her eyes linger on mine.

“I’ve always liked Ms. Pac-Man more than regular old Pac-Man,” I said. 

“So what you’re saying is... you prefer misses over misters?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“So do I.” She shot me a knowing glance, and my legs felt like jelly. I looked away from my game for too long and lost my second pinball. 

“Hold that thought,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

I’d had a few girlfriends in the decade since I graduated college, but Viv was bolder in a way that excited me. Well, I’d had one boyfriend, too, but I found his kisses about as pleasant as being slobbered on by an overeager English sheepdog.

Viv walked over to play a song on the jukebox and I started up my last round of pinball. The sound of jangling guitars and echoing drums streamed from the speakers, and I recognized the song “Just Like Honey.” I had never found it so sexy as I did right now, knowing she was walking back to me in her motorcycle boots. I wanted her to rough me up with those leather gloves, to put her pink lips against mine. 

When she came back, she whispered in my ear, “Can I put my hand here?” I nodded and kept playing as she rested her hand on my hip.

“Here?” Her fingers traced the front of my waistband and then dipped below it to graze the skin just above my underwear. Slow, teasing caresses with just her fingertips. I shivered with pleasure. 

I looked over my shoulder nervously, scared of people seeing us, but she said, “My brothers taught me to box. None of these people will fuck with us.”

I kept playing, wildly distracted now, and she kissed my neck softly. “Don’t let me keep you from your mermaids,” she said. “But after you’re done, do you want to go for a ride?”

“Yes,” I said. I lost the game as quickly as possible after that. We finished our Cokes and I followed her outside.

Viv showed me her bike, a sleek black motorcycle with white and blue highlights. I admitted to her I didn’t know the first thing about motorcycles.

“That’s all right,” she said. “This is Elsie. I’ll show you how to ride.” She stripped off her leather jacket, then her long-sleeved shirt to reveal a white T-shirt below with cut-off sleeves. Her shoulders and arms were lean muscle. “Take this,” she said, and I buttoned her long-sleeved shirt over my tank top. The soft cotton smelled like her. Then I strapped on her extra helmet and watched as she put her jacket back on, climbed on the bike, and started the engine.

She fastened her helmet and looked up at me. “Ready?” she said. “Climb on. Put your feet right here.” She offered me her hand.

I climbed on behind her and rested my feet on the pegs. I placed my hands hesitantly above her hips, just barely touching her.

“No need to be shy,” she said. “Hold on tight if you want.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, so that my breasts pressed against her back. I tightened my legs around hers. The warmth of her body and the smell of her hair were so close, it made my heart race.

“Where to?” she asked.

“I could show you Lookout Point,” I said. “You can see the whole town from up there.”

She nodded. “Just tell me where.”

I gave her directions and she revved the bike into motion, turning up the road to the overlook. The wind was cool against my face and made my long hair stream out behind me. I could feel the rumble of the engine rising up through the seat. Adrenaline surged through my veins as we picked up speed. I held onto her tighter, feeling scared but also looking for an excuse to press my body against hers.

Soon, we reached the point and she turned off the engine. There were a million stars overhead, the hazy banner of the Milky Way, and the small lights of the town below. It was so quiet up here, only the sound of crickets and the faint rush of cars on the interstate.

Viv took off her helmet and I followed suit. She hung them over the handlebars. 

“Let’s get off this motorcycle so I can kiss you properly,” she said. We stood on the grassy hilltop, my legs a little shaky, and she put her hands on my hips to steady me. Her lips pressed against mine and her tongue pressed softly into my mouth. Her lip gloss tasted sweet.

Finally we broke apart to catch our breath. “I wasn’t just flirting when I asked you what you like,” she said. “I want you to tell me.”

Something about Viv made me unable to tell her anything but the truth. I pushed through my shyness. “I want to fuck you,” I said. “I want you to rough me up.”

“How?” she asked, and then, “What else?” 

Slowly I told her all the things I wanted her to do to me. She told me what she wanted me to do to her, too. I had never talked so dirty before, never met a woman who would enjoy being so rough with me, and my clit throbbed at the thought of it.

“What’s your safe word?” she asked me.

I thought for a moment. “Tilt.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she said, “and I love it.” She kissed me again and said, “My safe word is ‘Reagan,’ because I hate that motherfucker and would never sully my mouth with his name for any other reason.” 

I laughed. “Really?”

She said, “You got me. It’s just ‘red.’”

“Got it,” I said. I kissed along her neck, down to her collarbone. She hooked her fingers through the belt loops of my jeans and pulled me closer to her.

Viv unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down around my ankles, taking my underwear with them. She traced her fingers over the elastic braces I wore on my knees, another one of my fashionable accessories to help my joints. One by one, she undid each button of the long-sleeved shirt and pulled it off me. 

“Now give me your hands,” she said. She took off her belt and cinched it around both of my wrists. “Too tight?”

“No,” I said.

“Then bend over.” She bent me over the seat of her bike, my elbows and forearms resting on the soft leather, my bare ass exposed. I couldn’t move my wrists, and my shucked jeans and underwear held my ankles together. A chill of anticipation ran down my spine.

She kept her leather gloves on and landed the first smack on my ass. I could tell she was breaking me in, that her strong arms and hands could hit a lot harder. She spanked me slowly, lightly at first, and I let out a low sigh.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

 “Good,” I said. She took off her jacket and flexed her hands. 

Viv worked up to beating me harder, faster, with both hands, and I realized she had pulled off one of her gloves. She surprised me by intermittently spanking me with her bare hand. It stung more sharply than the rough leather, and it made me jump. She chuckled low in her throat at how easy I was to fake out, how she could make me flinch and cringe by only pretending she was about to land another swing. My ass was getting warm and more sensitive to her touch, and her blows landed hard enough to send vibrations deep into my flesh. I could feel my cunt getting wet. I yelped involuntarily from her hardest hits, high wordless sounds escaping from my mouth.

Viv leaned forward and pulled my tank top over my head, then undid my bra with one hand. She raked her short fingernails across my back, lightly at first, then hard, and I arched my spine to meet her touch.

“You’re so fun to beat up,” she whispered into my ear. Her gloveless hand moved down, caressing the pink skin of my ass, then dipped between my legs. My breath caught in my throat as she brushed her fingers against the opening of my cunt. Her fingers slippery now, she circled them languidly over my clit, and I closed my eyes and sank against the leather seat, desperate for more of her touch. 

“Please, I want your fingers inside me,” I begged.

She obliged, sliding two fingers deep into me, then moving them in and out as I bucked against her hand. I sighed blissfully as she reached her left hand around and rubbed my clit. She finger-fucked me till I was panting and writhing, but suddenly she stopped and pulled me to a standing position.

“You don’t get to come yet,” she said sternly. “What was that you said earlier?”

“I want you to use me as your toy,” I said. “Beat me, fuck me, use me however you want for your pleasure.”

“Well, I want to go for a ride,” she said. “Lie down.”

I obeyed and she helped me lie down on my back in the grass, since my wrists were still bound. The grass was soft and cool against my skin, the dew tickling the backs of my legs. Viv pulled my jeans, underwear, and shoes the rest of the way off, and tossed aside my shirt and bra. The night was still warm for late September.

Viv pulled down her jeans and cotton briefs, leaving her boots and shirt on. She knelt beside me in the grass. On her hip was a small tattoo of a double-headed axe. She sank her fingers into the crown of my hair and pulled, locking eyes with me. “Good girl,” she said. Turning her body to face my feet, she put one knee on either side of my face and lowered her cunt to my mouth.

She was wet, too, and the taste of her filled my mouth. I flicked the tip of my tongue against her hard clit. I could barely move or see with her sitting on my face and my hands tied, and this added to the excitement. She put her gloved hand around my throat and thrust her hips against me, showing me the rhythm she liked. I worked my tongue faster, sucked with my lips around her clit. Her juices and my saliva ran down my cheeks, and I took sharp breaths through my nose. 

Viv rested her other hand on the grass to support her weight, but surprised me now and then by stroking and pinching my nipples. Her hand around my throat was a steadying pressure, letting me breathe but making sure I knew who was on top. I craned my neck to lap my tongue into the opening of her cunt. She was breathing hard, her leg muscles tensing on either side of my face. I returned to her clit and flicked my tongue faster, faster, wanting to make her come.

She buried both of her hands in the grass and her muscles shook. I kept eating her out, my own cunt throbbing with desire, until she groaned and thrust harder against my face. Finally she let out a deep sigh and rolled over to one side. She unfastened my wrists and interlaced her fingers with mine, lying beside me in the grass. We both looked at the stars and panted until our breathing slowed. We didn’t speak, basking in the contented silence.

After a few minutes, Viv rolled on top of me and we kissed with more urgency again. “I want to taste you,” she said. 

“I want you to go down on me,” I said, and she kissed a trail down to my nipples, then between my legs. She spread my legs wide and kneeled on the grass. She pinned down one of my wrists at my side. I felt her hot breath against my skin, then her tongue licking my clit. My eyes closed and my fists clenched. It felt so damn good. 

I didn’t usually come as fast as Viv had, but she was patient and diligent, looking up at me from between my legs like she had all the time in the world and would happily eat me out for hours. When she slid two fingers inside me, then three, I moaned so loudly that she let go of my wrist and pressed her gloved hand over my mouth.

“You’re so loud,” she scolded, but I could hear she was amused. “You’re going to wake up the whole town.” The musky smell of leather drifted to my nose. She curled the fingers of her other hand in a come-hither motion and rubbed my G-spot. Her tongue was steady and rhythmic, keeping pace as my thighs wrapped around her shoulders. The feeling of her mouth on my clit sent electric currents through my body, made me feel as if I was filling up with warm gold, and I lost all track of time and place. All I could think about was her mouth and how fantastic it felt.

Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly stand any more, she slid a fourth finger inside me. The combination of her fingers filling me up and her tongue on my clit made my legs shake and my hips shudder. I didn’t even care anymore if I came—I just wanted to stay like that forever, one of her hands gagging me and the other deep inside me. I was her toy, and it was everything I had fantasized it could be. Sweat beaded on my forehead and made my body slick.

Viv stopped licking for a minute and I whimpered. I was so close. She pressed her glove tighter over my mouth and growled, “Don’t come yet, you little minx. I’m not done yet using you as my fucktoy. Don’t you dare come.”

And because I was really a brat at heart, when she buried her mouth between my legs and started fucking me again with her fingers, my pleasure crested and spread into a shaking orgasm. I cried out so loudly even her glove couldn’t muffle me. I thrashed against her and shouted, “Oh god, yes, don’t stop!” until the long waves of my climax subsided. She looked up at me, her face wet and flushed, and she smiled.

“I thought that might work,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “Seems you’re not so obedient when it comes to, well, coming.”

“I’m... not sorry,” I panted.

“I know.” She laughed.

We lay in the grass side by side, and she draped her jacket over me. The crickets sang from the woods and the highway rushed softly in the valley below. Gradually my breathing and my pounding heart slowed, and I took Viv’s hand in mine.

“I like you,” she said. “Would you be my Player 2 again sometime?”

“No,” I said. Viv looked over at me in confusion. I smiled. “Can I be Player 1 next time? Sometimes it’s more fun to switch it up.”

“OK. It’s a deal,” she said, and she kissed me on the lips to seal the promise.


/Shutterstock