That tore it.  It had taken a Herculean amount of willpower to resist Beth's charms in the boathouse and no man could simply be expected to do it twice.  "I can't be held responsible for circumstances," he muttered under his breath as he watched the blond woman lean way down over the edge of the pool table like some 1950s pin-up model.  Her sandals flapped down from her heels in a most adorable, schoolgirl-like manner as she leaned up on her toes, and her legs seemed to go on and on and on, without end.  He found himself unconsciously bending down as her dress rode up, to try to get a peek at what color her panties were.  Assuming, of course, that she was wearing panties.<br/><br/>He waited until she took the shot--the cue ball glanced off the striped twelve, knocking it against the felt-lined edge of the table, but it didn't quite sink into the pocket.  "Not bad," said Sean.  "Not bad at all.  I think I could give you a few pointers, though."<br/><br/>He walked up behind her, and pinned her against the table with his hips, pressing his crotch into her delightfully rounded bum so that it was impossible<em>not</em>to feel it.  He bent himself over her, mirroring her position, and one hand crept along her shoulder to her arm as the other one folded around her waist to splay against her belly, his fingertips teasingly stroking her through the gauzy material of her dress.<br/><br/>"It seems to me that there are far too many balls on the table," he whispered huskily in her ear, as he ran his tongue around the edge of her earlobe.