It's Kostya's turn next; he makes a good shot, but the ball doesn't have quite enough momentum behind it to go in. Mary Anne sinks it on her turn, and the ball after that as well.

All her shots she takes crouched lower to the table than is strictly necessary--ass stuck out and up, back dipped in an inviting curve.

She scratches the third shot on purpose and flashes an apologetic smile at Anton; his knuckles go white around the cue stick and she thinks she hears the wood creak.