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New barmaid Nina has all the regulars in a tizz. They're tipping her double time and buying her drinks, hoping to gain her attention. She says 'thank you' sweetly, sips politely on the drinks, but her eyes are focused somewhere else - she hardly sees us; we're all over 30 - the herd. I try telling her funny stories. She laughs politely at my stories, but still she doesn't see me; I'm past my sell-by date.
It's been like this for a week now when manager Lyle proudly shows me the bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil. Give me a meaningful look. I have to admit I'm really surprised.
"Lyle I didn't know that you felt for me in that way."
"Not you doos, her!" Lyle mutters exasperatedly under his breath - his eyes cocking over to where Nina is serving a bearded old codger who looks like me. The old codger is drooling. Nina wipes the drool from his chin with a dishcloth. His eyes widen in surprise, he can't believe she's touching him, falls back off his stool, cracks his head on the floor.
While Nina is phoning for an ambulance Lyle leans over the counter and whispers me into his confidence.
"It's all arranged for tonight. We cash up early, do it in my office before her boyfriend arrives to fetch her."
"But what's the baby oil for?"
"She doesn't want to cheat on her boyfriend."
"I don't get it."
"Look stupid, she never lets him into her poopchute, so that part of her doesn't count as part of their relationship and therefore she doesn't have to feel guilty about what we do."
Now let me pause for a moment. This barmaid Nina is 17 years old. If you look in her eyes very deeply you see an angel, a virgin, you see the girl you would want to marry, to settle down and have kids with. Who taught her these tricks? Where did she learn such ignominious perfidy?
The ambulance comes, sirens blaring. The old guy who looks like me is carried out on a stretcher. Manager Lyle offers me a double Jameson with lime - on the house. He locks the front door. The two of them go into the manager's office.
42 minutes later both of them emerge looking, well...how should I put this? Looking thoroughly shagged out. Lyle unlocks the front door, pours himself a double Bells, refills my glass and dumps his sweaty body on the stool next to mine.
30 seconds later a clown waltzes in jangling a very large bunch of keys. He is grinning from ear to cauliflower ear. He has "boyfriend" tattooed onto his forehead in large capital letters.
"Baby!"
Nina grins back twice as inanely. There's so much cutsie pie in her smile she would not be out of place as an extra in Little House On The Prairie.
"Darling I missed you so badly, it's been such a boring night."
The clown looks at Lyle and I and nods his clownesque head in amiable greeting. We nod politely, turn our gazes back to our drinks. Nina skips out from behind the counter and as she passes me she jabs a finger into my spare tyre by way of goodbye. Hand in hand the two of them walk out of Stones. It's true, ignorance is bliss!
Manager Lyle pulls out the bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil. It's 2/3 empty. Oh boy. We give each other the Westdene shake and I slip out into the full moon's gleaming. I look down at my fat roll, carefully examine the part where Nina's finger went in. I'm sure she must like me, otherwise why would she poke me goodbye?
The moon grins, the stars twinkle, my car drives by itself. It does that when I'm drunk.
I dream about Nina.
Dream that she likes me a lot.
That she's got this weird fetish for paunchy, bearded, much older men.
We buy 24 bottles of Johnson's Baby Oil.
The dream is so damn good I stay in bed for a week.