Billiards and the Shindo

There's not much sex in this story, and the little that exists is not at all graphically depicted.

At one point in my career, I was expected to travel to industry trade shows two or three times a year. Back then, the old adage that 'sex sells' was very much alive.

It was at one of those trade shows I came across something very much like how this story opens and it was that little seed that turned into this.

I sometimes write a character with a superpower, which makes it kind of fun for me and I believe in them. My grandmother had a power and I'd write about hers but it would be too unbelievable for mere mortals to take, only I know it to be true.

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After meeting with a couple of suppliers in the morning, I had lunch with a colleague of mine, Matt, before we hit the show floor. We ate at the Orlando Convention Center cafeteria and against my best judgment, I ordered a footlong hot dog topped with chili, onions, and jalapeno peppers. I don't know why I do that, it never ends well, but it is like a tractor beam and I just can't say "no" to disruptive convention center junk food that will painfully remind me later of just what an idiot I am.

So it was on the show floor that I pushed Matt to speed things up, hoping to get through it all before that spicy chili dog started barking. It was not a particularly large show, being about backyard entertainment, so there were vendors of barbecues, pool toys, hot tubs, gazebos, patio furniture and anything one might find in their backyard. Fortunately, Matt had walked the show floor the day before, coming in a day early for meetings, and was able to steer me to the things he knew I would be interested in and that allowed us to walk right by the booths with things not relevant to our business.

At one point I turned a corner and stopped dead in my tracks. "Whoa!" I said as I reached out to grip Matt's shoulder in order to get him to stop. Standing not fifteen feet in front of me, leaning against a pool table and holding a pool cue against her hip was none other but Erin Lee. Her nickname was Air Shot, but I didn't know why. To the side of the pool table was a large gallon size glass jar filled to the top with cash, appearing to be guarded by a fat, bald headed guy in a cheap business suit. A little placard leaned against it reading, "$40 per 9-ball game with Erin Lee. Winner keeps the cash."

I noticed almost none of that at first, my gaze was locked on Erin. She was more beautiful in person than she was on TV. A tall Korean-American woman, she had jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing her signature black, tight leather pants and a sleeveless black blouse. Her skin had a flawless olive complexion. She was looking right at me. Smiling.

I was brought back to the reality of the situation by Matt who was laughing at me. I asked him why he didn't tell me she was here in the building and he said he didn't know I was a fan.

"Oh, hell yeah," I told him. "I've been watching her on ESPN the last few years, she's the most amazing pro player on the circuit."

He laughed again. "I watched her play a little bit yesterday, nobody's going to get what's in that jar. There was a long line to play her yesterday but it's the last day of the show and it doesn't look like she's got any more victims that want to blow forty bucks. Why don't you let her kick your ass?"

"What?!," I exclaimed, "No way."

Erin was still looking at me, I don't know whether she heard my exchange with Matt or not, but she called out to where I was frozen on the pathway and said, "Hey, I won't bite. Come play me."

Matt gave me a little push, and the next thing you know I was standing right in front of her. I got caught up in her eyes and was at a loss of what to say, she just grinned and reached out her hand. "I'm Erin Lee. And you are....?"

"Uhhhh, I'm Sean Miles." I know I was being such a fanboy dork, but I will admit some level of being star-struck, something that's never happened to me before. At least I reached out and shook her hand.

She smiled wide at me, bringing out the cutest dimples just to the sides of her button nose and underneath her high cheekbones. "I'll go rack them, and you put $40 in the jar over there. Cash only." I did what she told me to like a robot, like I was no longer under my own control.

She broke and sank two balls, then ran the rest of the table. I never got a shot in. I knew I was wearing a shit-eating grin the whole time, but I couldn't help it. I'd watched her on TV plenty of times, but this time I was up close, it was like having a front row seat watching her line up her shots. I could see her brow furrow and her eyes narrow as she made a decision and then executed each shot with perfection. Every now and again she'd look up at me and give me a quizzical look because as much as I tried to hide my grin, I just couldn't. This was better than being a kid at Disneyland in my book.

After she sank the 9 ball, ending the game, she gave me a mock sad face and said, "Sorry."

I mumbled, "I gotta see that again," and I put another $40 in the jar.

She chuckled at that and the next game was a repeat of the first, only I more intently watched the woman and not the game. After running the table once again, I didn't get an apology, I got a frown.

I sputtered out loud, "That was so much better than watching you on ESPN." Her eyebrows shot up.

"You watch me on ESPN?" She shook her head lightly in confusion. "Why would you do that? It's on such weird hours. You know they're taped, don't you?"

I chuckled back and said, "DVR," then without thinking I said out loud, "You are so much more beautiful in person."

Her smile evaporated and she tilted her head sideways. She said in a low voice for just me to hear, "So you're just a pervert, huh?" I looked around, embarrassed, and saw at least three guys staring at her ass but I still couldn't argue with her assessment. After all, I had fantasy lusted after Erin for at least three years.

"Um. Sorry." It was all I could think to say.

She smiled at me again. I swear she could see right through me. "Don't worry about it. You're just a guy."

I was torn. I didn't want this to end, I wanted to remain near her but I was out of cash. "I'll be right back," I told her. She asked where I was going and I told her I had to find an ATM.

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I played her ten more times. Not in a row, her sponsor didn't like me dominating her time so I had to let a few guys cut in here and there, but when nobody was waiting in line, we resumed playing. She let me break a few times but I never had a streak of more than three balls in a row. I do play marginally better than that, but my adversary was too intimidating, and I knew it.

I did get more comfortable being in her proximity and was hopefully not as much of a dork as when we started. She had a funny personality and even though I was getting my ass handed to me, I enjoyed every minute of it. I was in awe of watching such pure beauty, and her graceful movement in the way she stroked the cue to land her shot was like poetry.

I watched her so closely that I think she tried to throw me off by being a little playful. She would brush up against me and my shot would go wild, I'd look back and see her smirking. Once, while bending over the table for a far-reaching shot, she leaned over and in a low voice complimented my ass. After that, all I could hear was white noise like a buzzing in my ears and I had no chance of sinking a ball, completely unable to concentrate.

Meanwhile she was exaggerating at being cocky. Like Babe Ruth signaling a home run before the pitch, she'd tell me where she was going to leave the ball and after the shot she would straighten up and look at me, ignoring the table and progression of the ball. She would say something like, "Well?" Of course, she'd put it within what I'm guessing an eighth of an inch or less of where she had planned it and I'd confirm she nailed it, always bringing out a fully dimpled smile from her.

All good things come to an end, I ran out of money and the show was about to close. I got another handshake from Erin, and I said, "Thank you so much for today."

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head again, "I took nearly five hundred from you today, and you are thanking me?"

"Absolutely. I had the time of my life, Miss Lee."

"You are a strange man, Mr. Miles." Then she brought her hand to her mouth, with wide eyes and seemed to be looking for something in my eyes. I shuddered for some unknown reason. Her gaze had me completely rattled.

I turned to leave, shaking it off in the process, and then remembered something. I turned back and said in all seriousness, "You are going to win the championship back this year, I just know it. Don't let that little blondie, Alice Jenkins, get in your head. I believe in you."

That brought out another serious look, and for a change, she was at a loss of words, only managing to mumble, "Yeah. Thanks."

I then felt bad for getting in her business, so I simply said, "Just give her hell, OK?"

"Yeah, yeah. I will." She gave me a weak smile after her reply, so I smiled back, making eye contact probably longer than I should have, and then left the building to go back to my hotel.

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I was halfway through my first beer in the hotel lobby bar, pounding away at the keys of my laptop while deep in thought when someone slipped into a seat next to me and said, "What cha doing?"

It was Erin Lee, holding a beer that she was also halfway through and sporting a devilish smile at seeing the shock on my face. She looked beautiful, she had let her hair down, cascading halfway down her back and surrounding her shoulders. She was wearing jeans that looked every bit as tight as the leather pants she wore at the show, and a black blouse. Accents of simple gold jewelry in her ears and around her neck and wrists.

I composed myself after an awkwardly long moment of looking into each other's eyes, "Just getting an early start on a report for my management to cover the show and my supplier meetings. What are you doing here?"

She chuckled at my expense, "I'm staying at this hotel. I like this place because they give you 2 free drink coupons every day for happy hour, so I came down for a beer. I sat down at the bar and then saw you sitting over here by yourself, so I thought I'd say 'hi'. You are staying here too?"

"Um, yeah."

"You all alone? Don't you have any colleagues with you?"

"No they flew back this afternoon, I drew the short straw and have to fly out tomorrow, after the show is closed. What about you?" I asked her.

She chuckled but didn't reply. Instead, she moved her chair until it was right next to mine, our shoulders nearly touching. She looked at the screen of my laptop and asked me to show her what I was working on. I told her it was boring but she insisted so I went through my observations that I put into visuals in a PowerPoint while we finished our beers. Being so close, she smelled of jasmine and I swear that after only one beer I was getting a little drunk.

I saved my work and closed the laptop, she turned to look at me, her face probably only 12 inches from mine, and I resisted a strong urge to lean in and kiss her while she appeared to be studying me for some reason. She smiled, like she knew what I was thinking, and then handed me her final free drink coupon. She said, "Go get us our last beers and then, since we're both alone, let's go get dinner together."

I replied by scurrying off to the bar to get the beer. When I returned, she had moved her chair back so we would be face to face again, though it was still closer than it originally had been. I said the first thing that came to my mind, "You look nice, um, with your hair down I mean." I visibly winced at reverting to dorkness and saying something so stupid.

She chuckled and thanked me as I resumed sitting, beer in hand. She shook her head, sighed, and then said, "OK, let's get through this right now and then we can start a regular conversation that we will continue over dinner." She took a gulp of beer and continued, "I'm just a girl. A regular woman who is pretty good at billiards and that you've seen on TV between late night infomercials. You realize that you make more money than me, don't you? There's not a lot of money in billiards, it's not like women's golf or acting or modeling, or something. I'm glad you think I'm attractive, and it's cute that you've been crushing on me from being a fan, but you have to turn off this teenage like level... whatever it is that young boys go through and talk to me like a friend you are getting to know. OK? I know it's in you, I saw moments of that while I was stealing your money over a pool table, and I saw it when you went over your presentation with me. Do you think you can do that?"

It was like she had caned me with bamboo over the head. She was right, and I was so embarrassed about dorkly crushing on her that I sucked it up and said, "Yeah, sorry. I can do that."

She smiled and replied, "Good. I know you can. And just so you understand me, I think you are quite a handsome man. You've broken all my stereotypes of what an engineer should look like. Look around, half the women in this bar are wishing they were me right now."

"Tch, yeah, right." I made a point of not looking around.

"Alright. Whatever." She studied me a moment longer and then said, "So tell me about yourself."

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By the time we had finished our beers, I was feeling more comfortable and we were chatting away. Because it was sweltering outside in the heat of a Florida Summer evening, we decided to eat in, at the restaurant in the Hyatt instead of going out. We looked over the menu and each ordered a couple of small steaks, and I was surprised when she said she preferred to have another beer than order wine. I did the same.

I told her about my family, my parents having retired to Arizona after selling me one of their income properties in Escondido that I now live in, and my sister living about ten miles west of me with her husband and two little girls. Erin knew exactly where Escondido was, which is in the north-eastern part of San Diego County, having played tournaments at some casinos in the area.

I told her about my job that I lucked into after getting my mechanical engineering degree and that I still worked at, really liking what I did and the group of people I worked with. I downplayed my promotions and some of my accolades while at the company but told her how pleased I was that I could make a difference in team environments and felt that I earned the respect of my peers and suppliers.

Then she got really personal and asked me why I was single and never married, at my ripe old age of 40. I replied honestly and told her about when I was in my 20's, I was serious about work and my career, just wanting to de-stress in my off time while my girlfriends just wanted to party. Then in my early 30's I had a serious girlfriend, a powerful career woman in her own right and I always thought she would be the one I would grow old with. She lived with me for years but always wanted to concentrate on her career just a little longer before we settled down and started a family. Then one day out of the blue she announced that she took a new job on the east coast. She gave me a 2-weeks' notice just like the one she gave her employer, then picked up and left like it was nothing.

That got me a pitiful look from Erin, so I asked her the same question, but she was skilled at always turning the conversation back to me. I got a little nugget here and there about her, but I started getting the feeling that I spent more time on the hot seat, like I was being interviewed and the only one sharing anything. I finally called her on it.

She looked sheepishly at me and admitted, "Yeah, OK. You're right. I am a very private person but I'm working on it. Full disclosure: I have trust issues. Just be patient with me. Please?" She bit her lip, cocked her head, gave me pleading eyes, all the kinds of things that after she read through me, she knew damn well would affect me and would make me give in. To anything.

"Fine," I told her. "I guess it won't really make a difference in the long run."

"What do you mean by that?!" She looked at me sternly.

I didn't answer her, but my thought process was that I'd never see her again, so I hid my disappointment in the fact that I wouldn't get to know her better. I would probably spend the rest of my life wondering what this enigma of a woman was really like.

"OK, tell me this," I said trying to lighten the mood that had instantly gotten tense, "Why do you use a pseudonym? What's wrong with Oon-jeye and how does Erin come from that?"

That surprised her, then she chuckled and corrected me, "It's Eun-Ji. Just how the fuck did you know that?"

"There's something called 'Google', ever heard of it?" She shook her head and looked at me like the dork I am. "Well the real thing sounds beautiful, Eun-Ji, why do you go by Erin?"

She sighed, then said, "Even though I was born in Los Angeles, my parents gave me a Korean name. I always wished they hadn't so when I went to college, I went by Erin. Only after going through hundreds of choices in books of names at the library. There wasn't anything English that was closer to Eun-Ji so I just went with it."

"Well," I replied, matter of factly, "Just like everything else about you, your real name is beautiful." That got her to blush for a change. "Is it OK if I call you Eun-Ji?"

She blushed again and looked down at the empty part of the table where the waiter had just cleared her dinner plate. "OK. I mean if you want to." She suddenly looked so different, showing a vulnerable side, and I realized that I seemed to have taken her off guard for the first time all day.

She looked back up at me again and softly stated, "It has several meanings, but my mother told me that the 'Eun' stood for kindness and mercy, and the 'Ji' stood for wisdom. I'm none of those things, you know."

I shook my head at that. "Underneath the image you project of yourself, I think you are all those things. You are a beautiful woman, Eun-Ji. It was remarkable that I got to spend an afternoon and an evening with you."

That seemed to perk her up and I saw the fire return to her eyes. What sounded more like an order than a request, she said, "Unlock your phone and hand it to me, please." I did so and placed it in her outstretched hand which she promptly started to manipulate so quickly with the thumbs of both hands that they were a blur.

Her own phone, which had been resting on the table untouched all evening suddenly buzzed. Eun-Ji returned my phone and said, "There. You have my information now. Stored under my real name and the icon being a picture you took of me playing pool when you didn't think I was looking. I also shared the selfie you took of us after I stole all your money. Funny that YOU were grinning in the picture like you just won a tournament yourself."

I was trying to process all that when she softly added, "Call or text me anytime, handsome."

I promised I would and then paid for the check, despite her protests. She wanted to pay for dinner using some of the money I had deposited in her 'winnings' jar, but I convinced her that I could expense the check and then we'd both win. I walked her to an elevator for her wing of the hotel and I got a kiss on the cheek. Just before the elevator doors closed, she made the symbol of a phone with her thumb and pinkie to the side of her face and mouthed, "call me."

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I basically traveled all day on Friday so did not get back into the office until Monday. I hadn't called Euni-Ji yet and wasn't sure that I even would. As the weekend came to a close, I basically convinced myself that I'd never see her again.