Poaching

It was her zebra print dress that made it really stand out. Such a common show of affection between lovers would’ve gone unnoticed on a canvas of blue jeans or black dress, but the affected pelt of this African wild horse was like a beacon illuminating the now almost heinous ass-grabbing you were putting on display. We continued our billiards game with difficulty. I tried to line up with the corner pocket while only a few feet away you drove your hand into the crack of her ass as if searching for change between couch cushions. Our doubles match began devolving into jokes and fits of laughter. The term ‘sensual safari’ was coined and I threatened to call the game warden. You kept squeezing as if checking for lumps or ripeness and I, distracted, was unable to sink any balls. I tried to appeal our team’s loss, blaming it on personal distress due to your disrespect of the wildlife, but the others weren’t having it.