Smiler's Lounge

(Open to anyone- regardless of promotion)

The smoke in the old redneck bar hung thick and heavy in the air. In parts of the south, little bars like this were still popular with smokers. Jeff Jarrett waved at the thick swirls around him, getting them to dissipate in order to make his shot. He held the custom pool stick between his fingers, feeling the smooth sanded wood between them. It had a pack of running horses going across the handle, with the words 'Double J' written in cursive gold toward the tip. He'd played this game a thousand times, in this very bar.

Sometimes for fun, sometimes for money- sometimes just to hustle people. Tonight, he was up for anything. Most of the guys from TNA were in town, and so was the WWE. He chewed on his lip as he circled the table to size up his shot. It was no accident he picked this bar on this night. This little redneck bar was a hot spot for tourists, due to it's historic background. Most men looking for something to prove came here to see if they had the stuff. Jeff came here to scout. Whether it be some wayward WWE talent, local talent, or just to check on his own TNA boys- he was up for it.

There was no telling who was going to come walking through the saloon style doors on a night like tonight. He loved this type of atmosphere- there was something electric in the air tonight. He wore a pair of shredded up blue jeans tucked into the ends of his beat up black cowboy boots, and black ribbed wife beater that hung loosely over his body. The gold cross around his neck twinkled in the dim lights, as did the decorative stones in the brim of his cowboy hat. He bent over the table, taking his shot- sending the yellowed cue ball over the green felt toward one of stripped balls toward the back corner pocket.

He glanced up at the clock; it was that time of night. If someone was going to come walking through that door, it would be now.

Mike hadn't been doing much of anything when he passed this old redneck bar. He had been on his way to the hotel because he had to get up early and he was tired but he hadn't been out in a while so he didn't see why he couldn't drop in for a minute or two.

Mike walked through the door, instantly feeling the electricity in the air as he sat at the bar and ordered a miller light. He looked around and noticed the pool table. He hadn't played in forever and he used to love it. He watched the man shoot before going back to his beverage. He contemplated playing.

Sure enough, someone walked through the door. It was The Miz- the one he didn't see the value in a few years ago- but damn, was he ever wrong. Miz proved everyone wrong; he showed everyone how good he was in the ring and on the mic. Like a young Chris Jericho, almost.

He was just what TNA needed, and he sure as hell didn't mind eating his words. He took his next shot, watching as the younger man made himself comfortable at the bar. He caught Mike looking over at the pool table and smirked to himself.

He picked up the empty glass that previously held a beverage from another famous Tennessean, leaving his custom cue on the table to make his way to the bar. He squeezed his way in between Mike and a greasy looking man in a flannel shirt. "Oh- s'cuse me. Bar's popular tonight." He said to Mike and then looked to the bartender. "Pete! Another Jackie D on the rocks. Ya know how ah like it." While he waited for his drink to be filled, he turned his attention back to Mike. He tipped up his black cowboy hat and flashed him a charming smile. "Well shut mah mouth n' color me surprised. Ain't you Mike Mizanin?"

Mike snorted, the accent struck him funny but he knew who this was. This was Jeff Jarret. When he had been younger he had been one of his favorite wrestlers. He had thought the man look familiar.

"Yes sir I am." He grinned, his blue eyes dancing in the light as he gave Jeff one of his 'awesome' grins. He had never thought he would ever actually taken seriously, everyone had laughed at him but he wouldn't take that, ha had a dream and he was going to reach his goal and live it. That's why he got to be here and meet one of his favorite wrestler.

"You like pool?" He questioned as he took another swig of his beer.

"Well now if I wasn't sure before, ahm pretty damn sure now. No one else but The Miz smiles like that." He winked at him and paid for his drink. "So- Miz... what do ya prefer? Mike? Miz? Mr. Mizanin? Or jus' plain awesome? Ahm Jeff Jarrett, jus' Jeff is fine. Or Dub-J, whatever. I got so many nicknames the hell if ah can keep track of im'. ...Don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meetin' ya." He played with the little swizzle stick in his glass before taking a slow sip. His blue eyes were sparkling a bit, they usually did when he met someone new in the business that he hadn't met before. Not saying Mike was new, but well- he was new to Jarrett. Which was a rare thing these days. The blonde southerner knew 90% of the wrestling population by now.

He glanced back to the old table, nodding his head. "Yep. Sure do. Ever since ah could walk. Figured if the old wrestlin' thing didn't work I'd make some money playin' pool for a livin'- wanderin' around to old towns like this n' make a killin' bilkin' folks who wouldn't look twice at little ole me. Today though- ah got no one to play with so I've been practicin'. Feelin' a bit rusty. Did ya wanna saddle up with me and play a game? Or is old Rosco here provin' to be such captivatin' company." He motioned with his thumb to the greasy gentleman behind him.

Rosco uttered a grunt of acknowledgment, barely picking up his massive head to give Jeff the time of day.

"Mike is fine thanks." He paused. "And no, we have never met. But I already know you." He rolled his shoulders as he stared at the condensation on his beer. Mike was nervous, he didn't too much want to look stupid in front of one of his favorite wrestlers.

He followed Jeff's gaze to the pool table as he listened to him talk. He hadn't played in a while either but he used to love playing it. He took another gulp of his beer before taking on last look over his shoulder. He nodded to Jeff. "I think I might 'saddle' up with you." He turned to Rosco. "Not that Rosco here isn't entertaining and all." He smiled as he got up; with his beer in hand before going over to the pool table, waiting for Jeff.

"Well then Mike it is!" Jeff grinned and slapped him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture.

Rosco grunted something of a reply, and Jeff shook his head. "Yah know, get a couple more beers in him and this man's as eloquent as a New Yorker and he can give me a run for mah money in the chatterbox department. As ya probably guessed, ah don't shut up too often. Unless somethin's wrong."

Pete the bartender watched Jeff in his thread worn, ripped up beat to hell jeans leave the bar and head toward the pool table. He shook his old head, muttering "Cougar" under his breath while he cleaned out a glass.

"That's the thing about our lives, ain't it? We may have never met in person, but we still know each other. Funny, ain't it?" He grabbed up a napkin for his Jack Daniels, putting the drink on the side table by the pool table. He reached into the pockets of the table rolling the billiard balls out onto the faded green felt to get them ready to be racked up.

Mike watched with interest, it had been so long he didn't even remember how to play exactly. Even though he did have his own pool table at home, which he had won from MTV, he was never home. He was going to need another beer soon, being around some one he idolized made him nervous.

Mike took another glance at the burly man he had been sitting by. He couldn't believe that man could actually carry on a conversation. This was different for him, lately he had been to tired to go out any. He listened to Jeff talk while he surveyed the place. it was a nice little joint and he liked it. He liked the smells, it was strange but he found this to be a comfy place.

Once Jeff had racked up the ball he just stood there and watched him. Mike felt extremely stupid for forgetting how to play. He did like the game, he remembered that but it had been so long. He tried not to seem retarded.

Once the table was set, he polished up the end of his cue. "Wanna play stripes n' solids? Ah know people play it a bit different dependin' on the region but I always played it where if ya knock in the eight ball before sinkin' in all the others- whether you're stripes or solids- ya lose. An' ah... we play whatever we sink in first. So if ah sink in a striped ball, ahm stripes, you're solids. If ya get one in, ya play until ya miss. Sound good?"

Once he was finished explaining, he took another long drink of his whiskey. Unlike Mike, he wasn't nervous. He just... really loved whiskey. He loved the taste, the way it felt cruising down his throat and how it warmed his insides. And of course, he loved how it relaxed him. The more he drank, the more open he became, the friendlier he got, and his already thick accent grew thicker. He glanced to Mike's beer. "Ya wanna 'nother beer? My treat if ya let me go first." He winked at him, grinning broadly.

"Sure...." Mike was thinking over the game Jeff had just explained to him. He did a good job at explaining, now he remembered it so he was fine. He didn't care who went first, it was probably better that Jeff went first. Mike would probably mess up considering the way he was shaking, his nerves were killing him as he watched his idol.

Mike listened as Jeff's already thick as hell accent grew thicker and all he could think of to explain for that is he was drinking. It didn't take long to get Mike drunk and a drunk Mike was a happy Mike. What did that mean? That mean he was very touch feely and clingy, he talked forever and he was almost impossible to insult.

But it also meant that when you did insult him he was the first one to throw a punch so Mike figured he wouldn't drink too much. He looked over to the bar tender then at Jeff, wondering if he was seriously going to buy him the beer.

"Excellent! ...Or should ah say awwwwwwwwwwesome...?" He gave him another wink before turning his attention to the table. He bent over the edge, taking his shot. His break was perfect, scattering all the faded and chalked up balls all over the table. He watched them intently, but surprisingly none went in. He made a face and shook his head. Oh well. "Mike, it'll be your turn in jus' a second. I believe I promised ya a beer."

He threw an arm over Mike's shoulders. "Pete! Can ya get mah new friend Mikey here 'nother one of whatever beer he was jus' drinkin'? Put it on mah tab, ahm payin'."

Pete sighed and filled up another glass of beer for Mike. He left it on the smooth surface of the bar, shaking his head. Jarrett was drunk. Not too bad yet, but he was getting there.

"Its your turn. Ah'll go get your drink." He patted his shoulder, sashaying his way over to pick up Mike's drink from the bar.

Mike chuckled as Jeff mocked his gimmick, it was funny when he did it but having an older redneck do it was funny shit. Mike watched as the balls broke and bumped into the sides of the table before stopping, or falling into the small black holes at all four sides of the rectangular table. He looked up as Jeff spoke to him, the look on his face giving Mike the impression that he didn't miss many shots when he played.

Mike nodded as Jeff said it was his turn before a blush crept up his neck and lit up his cheeks as Jeff put an arm over his shoulder. Apparently Jeff was paying like he said he was and for that Mike was grateful, he hadn't planned on going out so he was short on cash tonight having left most his money at the hotel. Mike watched as Jeff walked over to get his drink. Jeff was starting to seem a little under the sober meter. He sighed and took up a normal cue before racking the balls back up for his shot. He leaned over the table, getting level and closing one eye as he aimed.

He made his shot and the balls went everywhere cracking against each other and the sides of the table as they flew. Mike bit his lip as one ball made its way into one of the black holes. He had made one. And for him; who hadn't played in God knows how long, that was a very exciting thing.

Jeff picked up Mike's drink, leaving money for it and the tip. Some of the older guys at the bar were stumbling on out for home. He glanced up to the clock- it hardly seemed that late already. Either the guys were getting too old for this kind of thing, or Jeff was an anomaly; still staying up well past the witching hour hanging out with the boys who helped build up his company. He shrugged his shoulder, carrying Mike's beer back to the pool table.

"Your beer's by mah drink." He sat the big glass down on the table, just in time to see Mike's shot. It was nice, smooth hit into the pocket. "Well hey! Nice shot! This is gonna be fun. Go 'head and take your next one, since ya got one in."

Jeff hopped up onto one of the bar stools by the pool table, crossing his leg over the other. His shredded up jeans strained a little at the new position, as bits of smooth tanned flesh became more visible through the thread worn material.

Mike didn't notice all the men leaving. Usually he would have been asleep by now, either that or driving to the new town. He watched as Jeff put his beer down, jumping as he complimented his shot. Mike was getting ready to go again after racking up the balls when he caught a glimpse of Jeff.

In this business alot of men swung both ways and Mike was one of them. He eyed the smooth tan skin that was peaking at him through the holes in Jeff's jeans. It was strange how something so small and insignificant could turn a man on. Mike shook his head and tried to focus on his next shot.

Mike licked his lips as he aimed before shooting once more. He stood up straight, the balls making 'clicking' noises as they bumped into each other before continuing on there way around the table. He blinked in astonishment as another went in, he wasn't very good at this game but hell he was getting them in. He looked to Jeff again, trying not to let his eyes roam.

Jeff was another one who swung both ways. He had his way with many a beautiful woman like Gail, and Debra- but he also was no stranger to pleasing a man. His early years in the WWF with his over the top flamboyant ring attire, and the amount of sparkles he must have rolled in to look that glittery were like a giant neon sign flashing that his sexual preferences weren't hetero-normative.

He caught Mike glancing over at his legs. He smirked a little at the thought. So Mike Mizanin was checking him out. It was flattering, to say the least given Mike was a younger, attractive man. He reached over to grab another drink of Jack, watching him take his next shot. "Dang Mike! Ya sure ya ain't tryin' to hustle me?" He grinned playfully and hopped off the bar stool, heading over to him. He stood a couple of inches away, his hand on the boarder of the pool table.

"Ya had me fooled. Ya looked kinda distraught a little earlier about playin'- like ya hadn't. I thought this was gonna be an easy win." He dragged his index finger slowly up Mike's arm, feeling the warm, tight muscles beneath the skin of his digit. "But ah think you're gonna give me a run for mah money."

Mike shivered under the older mans touch. Truth to be told when he was younger he had a big crush on Jeff. He had a poster of him up on the wall and it was his favorite thing to.....get off on. Mike swallowed thickly, the touch had not helped the way his pants were starting to feel tighter.

He snorted as Jeff went on about his shot. It wasn't that impressive but he probably did seem sort of lost earlier considering he was. Mike eyed Jeff as he spoke, his eyes taking him in slowly. Every tan piece of skin that was uncovered. He loved the way his blue eyes danced and for an older man he was still in pretty good shape.

"Yeah...Well to tell the truth I was a little lost." Jeff had Mike's thoughts so screwed up his couldn't think straight. "So ummmm....Is it your go now?" He asked, a blush creeping up on him as he left like an idiot.

Jeff cocked his head to the side, leaning up against the table as he rested his other hand on his hip. He raised an eyebrow and looked skeptical. "You bein' lost at this game after gettin' two in? Then ahm the queen of England. ...Well, ahm a queen anyway. Heh, don't mind me. I like to tease. Even if it is beginner's luck, you're doin' a damn fine job, Mike." He couldn't fight the smile on his face even if he wanted to. "Mmmmm nope. Ya keep goin' till ya don't get one in."

He saw the blush on spreading on Mike's face in the dimness of the dark bar. "You're all flushed..." He took Mike's face in his hands, one cupping his cheek, the other gently running over his hair. "Don't feel like you have a fever." Jeff already knew that, but he loved being coy. He highly doubted Mike would think he was checking for a fever either.

"It's hot n' here. I'll go and get your beer." He drawled out putting his hands on Mike's shoulders. He stared briefly into Mike's incredible blue eyes, smirking slightly before pulling away. He went and grabbed his beer, handing it off to him. "Here- drink up. Don't want ya to get overheated."

"Yeah well, I haven't played and I didn't know what I was doing..." Mike informed him as he racked the balls back up. He stopped, his heart stopping with him as Jeff held his face. His cheek's grew brighter and brighter, making his piercing blue eyes light up.

Mike thought he was going to choke when Jeff implied he was checking for a fever. They bother knew damn well he was not ill and that he was blushing and not sick. He was very hot thought, but it wasn't the temperature of the room. Mike watched Jeff's ass as he went to retrieve his beer.

Mike stared at his beer after it was handed to him. He was too damn nervous, maybe he needed another drink. Mike downed half of the bottle in two large gulps before wiping his mouth of with the back of his hand. Mike took his cue back and focused on the balls. He shot and didn't made it. It could have been because he hadn't aimed, it could have been but it wasn't. It was because he was trembling so damn bad the cue kept jumping around.

Once he gave Mike his beer, he stepped back to make his shot. He watched how jumpy the younger man's hands became. Once he missed his shot, he stepped close to him again. "Ya'll gotta calm down. No reason to be all jumpy. Ah promise... ah don't bite. Unless you're in to that kinda thing. ...Though ah think ahm part of the problem. Sooooo, I'll do somethin' to make it up to ya. Maybe relieve some of that tension." He gave him a playful wink, reaching down to take Mike's left wrist in his hand. He gave the hand and wrist a brief massage, doing the same to the other. He stretched his fingers, rubbing his wrist in both his hands, and slid his warm hands up Mike's forearms to finish.

"There. Now when ya'll make your next shot it'll hopefully be easier. But now it's my turn." Jeff went back over to his custom cue, picking up the nicely decorated stick. He bent over the table, not shy about cocking his hip out to show more of his ass. The beaten up jeans were just worn and frayed enough to show a bit of cheek- it quickly vanished though every time Jeff shifted almost like a type of dance.

The balls scattered across the felt. Jeff's shot was successful- he got one in, and took his next shot. Again, partially due to the alcohol, the other part due to the thrill of getting such a rise out of a younger man. The blush that stained Mike's cheeks when he ran his hands down his face was absolutely intoxicating. He still had it, apparently. He finally missed, but he had sunk in enough to get them tied.

"Your turn, Mike!"

The massage helped none whats so ever. It only it worse really. The man had magic fingers, the way they danced on Mike's wrist. It really was enjoyable or would have been if Mike hadn't been so bothered and hot.

Mike couldn't help but stare at his ass as he took his turn. The man might have been older but damn he had a nice ass. Mike felt like a fucking pervert, staring at Jeff the way he was. He was also positive Jeff was drunk now. He would have to watch that, he couldn't do anything stupid and have Jeff get sober and freak out on him. He tried too take deep breath's as Jeff's jeans teased him, taunted him by showing him something he couldn't have.

Mike watched as Jeff shot, he didn't watch the balls though, but you already know where his eyes were pointed. He didn't even notice it was his turn until Jeff said something. Mike took up his normal cue, his hands shaking worse than they had been before. Amazingly he got one in, even though he had to stop and pull his pants up multiple times. It wasn't helping how tight they had become on him though, nothing was.

Jeff felt Mike's eyes on a certain part of his anatomy, and he couldn't help but smirk. However... he was beginning to get a bit too aroused with his showing off. After Mike took his shot, he went back over to him. He looked Mike up and down, seeing how tight his pants were. "Damn, Mike. All that cause a me? Well... it wouldn't be nice a me to leave ya like that."

He stepped closer to Mike, so that their bodies were nearly touching- the heat radiating off them was easily felt between the thin fabric of their clothing. He brought up his hands to Mike's face, bringing him in for a kiss. He pressed their lips together, his firm thinner ones meeting Mike's lush lips.

He sucked briefly on Mike's bottom lip, before pulling away. "Unless you ain't interested." He breathed out, still very close to Mike, still resting his hands on his face.

Mike's breathing was shallow, his body rigid as he felt Jeff's eyes on him. He felt his heart skip a beat as Jeff openly stated that he knew he was making Mike hot and....he was going to do something about it. His pants getting tighter and tighter by the second.

Mike froze as Jeff stepped up to him. Mike had no idea what to do, usually he was the cool one, the one in control even though he usually bottomed. He wanted to hiss as pants strangled him but he couldn't, when Jeff put his hand on his face Mike stopped breathing and when there lips touched it was....the best thing he had felt in weeks.

Mike's hands found there way around Jeff's neck, his whole body trembled at the pure pleasure he got out of Jeff doing nothing hut sucking on his bottom lip. When Jeff pulled away Mike couldn't suppress the small whimper he uttered at the loss of contact. Mike didn't even have to think about it. "You have fucking been filling me up all night and I have let you. If I wasn't interest my jeans wouldn't be so tight but let me tell you....." He leaned up, his lips brushing Jeff's ear. "If you start something...you had better finish it."

The hands on his neck felt surreal. He still couldn't believe he got this young stud this aroused. He shut his eyes at what Mike told him. He growled out, "Jus' wanted to make sure we were on the same page..." Jeff nipped at his lip. He slid his hand down over the front of Mike's pants, gently caressing the hardness he felt straining against the denim. "Trus' me Mike, if it's one thing ah can do it's follow through..."

Pete scowled at them. "Not in the dang bar! Take the PDA outside, god damn it! This is a redneck bar, not one of those damn fist pumpin' whatever hell holes clubs that are downtown!"

"Alright, alright. We were jus' leavin' anyway." Jeff glared at Pete before turning back to Mike. "Come on, Mike. Mah place is jus' down the road. It'll only take five minutes or so to get there." He put his fingers through his belt loops, tugging on them gently. "Unless ya don't want me to follow through." He grinned big- pretty much knowing the answer to that question already.

Mike felt his cock twitch as Jeff growled before nipping at his lip. If he wasn't fooled his lips would be nice and swollen by the time he left. Mike let out a small throaty moan as Jeff caressed his growing erection, his pants choking him. Mike swallowed hard as Jeff assured him that he would not leave without having been well.....taken care of.

The bartender sort of ticked him off, he had been having a good time and in the mood to when the old fucker had to interrupt oh, so rudely and piss him off. But don't get him wrong he was still in the mood.

Mike let himself be pulled forward by his belt loops before walking himself. He figured he would let Jeff drive him to his house and he could come back and get his truck later. Mike rolled his eyes as Jeff teased him, there was no way and hell he was going home without 'getting some' or whatever.

Jeff lead Mike out to his old pick up, driving them both off to his home just outside of the city. They were there in under no time flat, but mostly because Jeff drove with the accelerator pressed all the way to the floor mat. The truck rolled up the stone drive way, spitting up the tiny rocks before he threw the transmission into park. "Home sweet home. Hope that wasn't too fast for ya, but... ahm thinkin' this was an appropriate time to speed like we were racin' the devil."

He smirked and leaned over to place a hot kiss on Mike's neck. "Follow me. We'll take the back door." He purred out, dragging his finger down his arm before exiting out the truck. He made his way quickly to the back door, unlocking it so Mike could follow him inside.

Jeff's home was large, but not sprawling. It was tastefully decorated, in that it was sparse. There wasn't much ornamentation, save for some family photographs, and a place for all of his belts in the entertainment room. He kicked off his cowboy boots, leaving by the door before making his way across the dark wooden floors and to his living room. He took off his shirt, dropping it in a soft dark heap on the floor. Jeff was nicely built, he slimmed down from when he was younger- going more for muscle tone than muscle bulk.

The result was the streamlined, curvy figure he had right now. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get rid of the hips and ass he had. Then again, people seemed to like it so he never really worked that hard at getting rid of it. His skin was smooth and tan, lightly scarred in places from the rougher periods in the business.

He tossed his cowboy hat back on while he waited for Mike to join him inside- he always wore it when he was up to no good. Right now was no different.