to push through.
"'Scuse please. Oh sorry. Did I spill your drink? Sorry."
"S'alright, darling. Squeeze past. There you go."
Oh, the bar's all sticky. I put my arm in it. That woman was nice – the one in the leather trousers. Very big, but friendly. Called me "darling". Well then, I probably look all right.
Probably ought to get two glasses while I'm here. Save coming back. Hope no one's taken my seat. Left my jacket on it, just in case.
They haven't, but there's two glasses on the table. Other than mine, I mean. Lager, I think. Hate the stuff. Don't like the smell – or the taste. Bet it's cheaper than vodka though. Some other women are dancing now, quite a lot of them. Can't even see the deejay. Or those two pretty women. Wonder where they went? The place is filling up now. Seems a lot smaller. I better not drink too fast, feel a bit hot. Better take my jumper off. Glad I put some deodorant on before I came out!
Wonder where that woman is? My woman! Only joking, I know she's not mine. Only want to see her really. Maybe have a chat. We're neighbours anyway. Well, almost. Neighbours ought to get to know each other, swap recipes and borrow cups of sugar. Bit far to go, just for that. Here, I mean. But, where is she? Surely she comes here? It is the nearest place. Probably would come with her girlfriend anyway. The one the cake and the champagne were for.
Seems so long ago, now. Only two weeks though. Wonder if she liked the cake? I wouldn't have. Bit too sweet for my taste. They put too much sugar in those things, but there you are. It's what people want, even these days. And the customer is always right, as they say. Oh dear, someone's coming over. It's old leather jeans! But she's with someone, so that's all right.
"Okay if we sit here?"
"Yes of course."
No "darling" this time, I notice. Oh, well. Well, they're good match too, I should think. Neither one's got any hair to speak of and they're both loaded with silver rings and chains. And, oh look, the little one's got a ring in her eyebrow. How horrid! That must really hurt! I wouldn't do that if you paid me – too much of a coward for that kind of thing. Oh now they're canoodling right in front of me! How embarrassing! And where is she putting her hands? Better find something else to look at, quick. They're both wearing leather of course, black, but the little one's in a sort of bra thing instead of a vest. Looks quite cute really, quite pretty. A little mouth with little red pouting lips. Just a baby. People here are so young. Maybe that's why my woman's not here. Maybe I shouldn't be either! Is there somewhere special older women go? Don't feel bad here though. Should feel geriatric, but I don't. Dutch courage I suppose. Long as I've got my vodka I'm okay.
Some more women coming in now. Lucky I'm by the door else I'd miss her. Such a crowd now. Hard to make out who's who or what's what. Booze and rhythm and swaying bodies; that's all it is now. And fag smoke. Enough to make your eyes water. My clothes will smell awful after this.
What can the time be? Can't even see my watch. Mustn't be late or Carol'll worry. Maybe worry is too strong a word, but she might wonder what her old mum's been up to, which could be a bit hard to explain. Maybe I should ask these girls the time? No, perhaps not. Best not interrupt them. Probably wouldn't know anyway. Heaven's, her tongue must be down her throat! Time to go. Or shall I have a dance, all by myself?
Saved by the bell? It's her! I know it is! Or is it? Suddenly they all look the same to me. It could be her; it might not. It looks like the clothes she'd wear if she was out for the evening ... but then ...Is she with someone? So many women, I can't tell.
"'Scuse please. Oh sorry. Did I spill your drink? Sorry."
"S'alright, darling. Squeeze past. There you go."
Oh, the bar's all sticky. I put my arm in it. That woman was nice – the one in the leather trousers. Very big, but friendly. Called me "darling". Well then, I probably look all right.
Probably ought to get two glasses while I'm here. Save coming back. Hope no one's taken my seat. Left my jacket on it, just in case.
They haven't, but there's two glasses on the table. Other than mine, I mean. Lager, I think. Hate the stuff. Don't like the smell – or the taste. Bet it's cheaper than vodka though. Some other women are dancing now, quite a lot of them. Can't even see the deejay. Or those two pretty women. Wonder where they went? The place is filling up now. Seems a lot smaller. I better not drink too fast, feel a bit hot. Better take my jumper off. Glad I put some deodorant on before I came out!
Wonder where that woman is? My woman! Only joking, I know she's not mine. Only want to see her really. Maybe have a chat. We're neighbours anyway. Well, almost. Neighbours ought to get to know each other, swap recipes and borrow cups of sugar. Bit far to go, just for that. Here, I mean. But, where is she? Surely she comes here? It is the nearest place. Probably would come with her girlfriend anyway. The one the cake and the champagne were for.
Seems so long ago, now. Only two weeks though. Wonder if she liked the cake? I wouldn't have. Bit too sweet for my taste. They put too much sugar in those things, but there you are. It's what people want, even these days. And the customer is always right, as they say. Oh dear, someone's coming over. It's old leather jeans! But she's with someone, so that's all right.
"Okay if we sit here?"
"Yes of course."
No "darling" this time, I notice. Oh, well. Well, they're good match too, I should think. Neither one's got any hair to speak of and they're both loaded with silver rings and chains. And, oh look, the little one's got a ring in her eyebrow. How horrid! That must really hurt! I wouldn't do that if you paid me – too much of a coward for that kind of thing. Oh now they're canoodling right in front of me! How embarrassing! And where is she putting her hands? Better find something else to look at, quick. They're both wearing leather of course, black, but the little one's in a sort of bra thing instead of a vest. Looks quite cute really, quite pretty. A little mouth with little red pouting lips. Just a baby. People here are so young. Maybe that's why my woman's not here. Maybe I shouldn't be either! Is there somewhere special older women go? Don't feel bad here though. Should feel geriatric, but I don't. Dutch courage I suppose. Long as I've got my vodka I'm okay.
Some more women coming in now. Lucky I'm by the door else I'd miss her. Such a crowd now. Hard to make out who's who or what's what. Booze and rhythm and swaying bodies; that's all it is now. And fag smoke. Enough to make your eyes water. My clothes will smell awful after this.
What can the time be? Can't even see my watch. Mustn't be late or Carol'll worry. Maybe worry is too strong a word, but she might wonder what her old mum's been up to, which could be a bit hard to explain. Maybe I should ask these girls the time? No, perhaps not. Best not interrupt them. Probably wouldn't know anyway. Heaven's, her tongue must be down her throat! Time to go. Or shall I have a dance, all by myself?
Saved by the bell? It's her! I know it is! Or is it? Suddenly they all look the same to me. It could be her; it might not. It looks like the clothes she'd wear if she was out for the evening ... but then ...Is she with someone? So many women, I can't tell.
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