I walked into the Mars Bar just after midnight. It was a Friday night. It had been a hard week on the road, dealing with traffic that wasn't getting any lighter despite what the statistics told me.
The place was crowded, as you'd expect the only lesbian bar to be in a small city like Adelaide, in South Australia. Dressed as I was, there was no mistaking me for some bi-chic out to sneak a kiss from a woman, just to tell her friends, "I kissed a girl and I liked it".
A bright electric blue T-shirt, with the rainbow over the left breast, jeans, Levi's 501's, a pair of Chelsea boots, black, cleaned so you could comb your hair in the shine, and a leather jacket. I had bound my chest, not that I was overly endowed, and I was packing. I was looking for some action.
Action for me tonight was to be short, sharp, and with no names or telephone numbers. I stood at the bar waiting to be served, I caught Elle's eye from the other end of the bar, she served a very pretty 'bride to be' another shot, then came up, leaned over the bar, kissed me, and then placed a double neat Fireball in front of me. "On the house," she told me above the noise, "From the boss, she says thanks for getting rid of the drunk last week."
I smiled, took a sip, and somehow a freebie always tastes better than the one you pay for; don't ask me why. I nodded my thanks and tasted the lipstick on my lips from Elle. HHHMMM I thought. She has changed her lipstick, which means she has a hot date after she has knocked off. Someone was getting lucky. I was pretty sure it wasn't her wife. Working behind a bar means you get tempted, and some are just never strong enough to resist the temptation.
I turned and rested my elbows on the bar, keeping my freebie Fireball close to my lips. I surveyed the bar and thought the usual types up in the front bar. The curious couples, some hen's party slowly getting plastered, some easy pickings there for someone. That someone wasn't me tonight, on another occasion, it might be.
I waved the drink again in Elle's direction, my way of saying thanks again, and took a walk into the room they called the 'Music Hall' not what I call music, too loud, with no lyrics, and a thump, thump, that left your head pounding for a week after you'd been there for five minutes or more. All the teenagers and the millennials were in there, grinding the mounds into anyone who let them. Once again, another time I might let them, but not tonight. Tonight, I wanted something special, something hot.
I kept walking and went up the stairs onto the mezzanine. The noise was no better, but the view was. I let my eyes wander around, looking down and seeing more sexual activity than a porno from Russia. I smiled inwardly. I like to watch. I could feel an itch starting to send me messages, like get a move on, bitch. I went down the back of the Mezzanine and out onto the top deck, quieter, darker. Most of the dozen or so booths were already full of four or more people, kissing, groping, drinking, and laughing. I started to think it wasn't my night. I went up to the bar and sat on the empty seat, finished my first Fireball, and put the glass down.
Kenny, the barkeep, came straight up, smiled, and asked, "Same again, Bobbi?" I nodded and another neat Fireball, two fingers deep, was placed in front of me. I swung around on the bar stool and mentioned to Kenny that it was a busy night but nothing worth waiting around for. He just smiled, "Depends on your taste Bobbi?" then nodded towards the outer railings where from this distance all I could see was a tall, slim body form, leaning over the balcony down onto the busy city street below.
Kenny leaned over the bar and said to me quietly, "The she is a he, and is very, very attractive, but oh so shy and only new to Adelaide. She might need someone to show her where to go to enjoy herself. I mentioned the gardens on South Terrace, but she had no idea where that was." I nodded and kept watch on the tall, slim figure who came with a recommendation.
Kenny has a discerning taste for the people he 'dates'. So, to get a nod from him was to say that this young woman was going to be very popular once she got her feet under the table. I finished my drink and was about to go and introduce myself to her. When she turned and started walking back towards us. And yes, she was very, very attractive. When she moved, it wasn't so much a walk as an elegant movement of her hips, her long legs hidden in black skin-tight jeans, her feet were housed in four-inch heels bright red, her white blouse, was of a sheer soft material, and anyone could see her development was in its early stages. I liked what I saw, I liked the way she moved, and I liked her simple makeup and the deep red lipstick. She oozed all class.
I smiled at her when she was twenty feet away from me. She smiled back, just briefly. I got off my stool to go and greet her, but she stopped and put one hand on her hip as if to be weighing up if I was worth her effort. She threw her shoulder-length hair back over her shoulders, using both hands, then let her handbag slide down her arm as she caught it in one very simple but effective maneuver. Again, a simple but elegant movement. I nodded and smiled at her, giving my girlish handsome face the best 'come on' I could muster.
