Gotham Pool Tables Novels & Stories

Ashton was the oldest, and most respected, and playboy Xander was the youngest. Keith defied Ashton, for the first by marrying this woman. Now, he wanted to have fun and perhaps a little payback by ruining her night. The pool table 7-foot table was 7 feet (2.1 m) long and 3.5 feet (1.1 m) wide. " That's the cue ball, the stick is 58 inches in length, but shorter and longer ones are available. Note the cue ball is solid white, a bit heavier, and should be the only ball directly hit during the game."

The gold chain on my wrist felt like lead when I dragged myself out of the pool. Water poured off me in cold sheets, slapping the deck. Behind the one-way glass, shadows didn’t budge—just watched, tablets glowing blue, phones up. One tapped a bid. The number flashed along the pool edge: $275,000 – LIVE. My stomach lurched. I was the item.

Xander alerted, rising. It was intended to break the awful harshness brought about by his fear of commitment. The other men glanced at the pool table at the center of the room. " Are you sure? Last time you lost your penthouse in Berlin to me", Keith smirked. " Not this time. You will lose. "

I drawled out in a thick fake accent, while Andre pulled a paper slip from his pocket and handed it over without saying a single word. "Everything looks completely valid, ma'am, so you can head straight up the stairs to the high-stakes table on the top deck," the guard said, stepping back and waving us through the metal detector. We walked up the stairs onto the main gaming floor where hundreds of rich gamblers were sitting around tables playing cards and rolling dice, and I looked toward the center of the room where Chloe was sitting next to a man in a gray suit, holding her champagne glass while the stolen velvet ring box sat right on the middle of the green table felt as a poker chip stak

He finally lets go of me, only because we’ve gotten to the pool table. What was that? “Loser drinks,” Kimberly informs us. Or rather, Jude. “Or strips,” she adds, and I notice that quite a few fellas around, both girls and boys, are shirtless. You know what? Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. As long as I don’t play, of course. “Walker! Want to take me on?” Caleb, the goalkeeper, asks. He’s holding a pool stick, and he has all his clothes on. He also doesn’t look tipsy. I’m guessing he’s the one to beat. “First to three wins.”

Thomas was staring at the black business card sitting on the table. "He raised me, remember?" Thomas said, looking up at Noah with his cold, blue eyes. "Whenever William needed to move off-book funds without leaving a paper trail, he used the Blackwood Club on Wall Street. It's a private underground room beneath an old bank vault. He bought a permanent table there ten years ago." Noah walked over to Thomas, extending his hand down toward his newfound brother. "Can you get us inside?" Thomas looked at Noah's open hand for two long seconds. Then, he reached up, took Noah's hand, and pulled himself up from the sofa.

Once inside the smell of sweat alcohol and bad mixes of perfume hit me hard. Smoke filled the large dimly lit room , in the center was a half moon shaped bar. Along the wall of the door we entered where tables against the wall. They stretched around that wall, and the left and right. However straight ahead behind the bar had two pool tables .

He replied, pulling his tie loose • Breasts bounced and butts jiggled to French Montana's 'Pop That' which blared from the inbuilt speakers in the wall. This was Baron's lordly mansion and a pool party was going on. There were three large swimming pools in total - money speaking. Males and females raced after each other in motorized pool tubes while others lay calmly, chit chatting in pool floats which were ring shaped, duck shaped and fish shaped. At some parts of the swimming pool were women who derived pleasure from firing squirt guns and squeeze bulbs at each other. Like mice, they squealed as they pulled the triggers of these toy guns, the water pouring out the nozzles in a mad rush.

Lloyd swirled the cube of chalk around the tip of his pool stick as he waited for Mitch to finish racking the balls. "Just keeping you humble." Mitch set the triangle of balls in the middle of the far end of the table, slipping the wooden triangle over and off. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for Lloyd to break. Lloyd gave him an overdramatic bow before stepping up to the pool table.

They call Mr Moretti by his first name, ushering us through the lobby as if we’re royalty. We walk into the restaurant… then past it… straight to the back. And what I see makes my breath leave my body. Right there, in the middle of the blue-lit swimming pool, there’s a table, just one, set with two elegant chairs. Flowers everywhere. Sculptures. Lights. Candles. The entire backyard transformed into something out of a dream. It isn’t cheesy. It isn’t overdone. It’s… beautiful. Classy. Romantic. Perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it.