It isn't crucial for this story that you have any knowledge of Snooker but it may help if you do. For those who know little or nothing of Snooker, you can either go on Wikipedia or better still, listen to 'Snooker Loopy' by Chas 'n Dave and the Matchroom Mob. It's a very well known and popular song in Great Britain.
I prefer the early week visit to the snooker club, Mondays and Tuesdays are always quiet and I need that now. My confidence is pretty low at the moment and not just because of the snooker. My girlfriend ditched me last night. Four years, all but a month we'd been together. Thinking about it today, she thought I was going to hit the big time. She, Emma, looked at the riches that Mrs. O'Sullivan and Mrs Selby must have access to and wanted in at ground level.
Two weeks until Q-club and if I want to be there then I need to up my game. Last month I was out in the first round of the Midlands Grand Prix without really getting my hand on the table.
I'd had a good couple of years prior to that. Only one match away from the UK Masters qualifiers. Beaten finalist in the Midlands after a semi-final place the year before.
Nearly but not quite.
I've had success locally and you can make a little money, plus plenty of freebies and sponsorship.
Anyway, I must step it up and tonight I need to improve my game and build some confidence.
I arrive at the club a little before seven. They've only been open for half an hour and only one table is lit up in the main hall. The match room is off limits at the moment as the baize is due to be re-layed.
I approach the bar to book a table but there's no-one there, so I peer through the large window into the snooker hall.
The one table lit up is occupied by 2 men, probably in their sixties. One is chuntering away as the other prepares a shot. It's the last thing I'd want while I was lining up a shot. But I feel a little envious of these old mates. I haven't played for fun in ages, just practice, competition, practice, competition. Eat, sleep, repeat.
"Hi, Ellis. Which table tonight?" Bailey's soft sexy voice breaks my thoughts and lifts my spirits.
"Erm, one, I think. Opposite corner from those two please." I hope that I sound cool and calm but I never feel it when I'm around Bailey. "Is the matchroom ready yet?" I ask.
I take the opportunity to look at Bailey's bum as she bends to pick me a tray of balls from behind the bar. She's wearing a tight black skirt which reaches mid-thigh. She has black tights on (maybe stockings!) and high heels. Her upper frame is barely contained by a plain white shirt.
"It should, hopefully, be being re-layed in a couple of days. Not all the electrics are done. But the light over the table works, so, the room is useable."
"I'll wait till it's all done, thanks."
She places the tray of balls on the bar and slides them over to me. She leans forward and rests her heaving bosom on the bar.
"So, drink? " Bailey asks with a grin. My eyes quickly flicker back up to meet hers.
"Er, yes, er, just a diet Coke, please." I know she caught me checking out her rack and I'm sure she's used to it, but I know I should be better than that.
Bailey stifles a laugh and says "It's Pepsi is that okay?"
"Oh, yeah fine."
"I'll bring it out to you."
I thank her and head through to my table. Time to focus.
The two old guys are nearing the end of a frame. I can't make out if it's a close one but the one at the table looks anguished as he has just missed an easy blue. I nod a greeting to the other guy as I pass.
I place the rack of balls on the table and try, as always, to roll the baulk colours onto there respective spots. I've never managed it but have been close before.
I hear one of the old guys say something and I hear Bailey's dirty laugh. I try to rack up the reds and secretly watch her as she struts sexily towards me. A red ball slips from my grasp, hits the wooden framed triangle and rolls off to the baulk end.
"Butterfingers!" Bailey teases as she puts my drink on the table.
I smile sheepishly as she rolls the red under her palm as she walks back up to where I'm positioning the black.
"Thanks." I murmur as she places it in my hand. She keeps hold of it for a little longer than necessary as she fixes me with her big hazel eyes and smiles.
"No problem." She turns on her high heels and walks away.
She knows I'm watching her, as she wiggles that luscious, round butt. She knows the old guys did the same on the way up here, too. She knows the effect she has on sad little losers like me.
I wrench my eyes back to the table and drop the red into the frame.
I placed the rest of the colours on their spots, prepared my cue, placed the cueball and readied myself for the perfect break...
Four reds split from the pack and spread out into space on either side of the pack.
The cueball doesn't even reach the baulkline.
If I were my opponent, I'd already be at the table with a grin on my face.
As I consider a re-rack, I notice one of the old guys approach the table.
"You, er, the local professional aren't ya?"
"No, not yet... maybe not ever with a break like this." I try to appear friendly but I'd rather he butted out of it.
"Well, you'll do well to concentrate with that barmaid strutting her stuff." His old face lit up as a pervy, toothless grin stretched across it.
