Tom had been in full flow, his mouth organ twittering out shanties and tunes. Even those not native to Penmarin, who didn’t know the ancient rhymes and lyrics, had participated through foot stomping and clapping. It had been a golden night, one to remember.
Tanya loitered at the end of the bar. Her red hair fell over her shoulder as her head lolled to one side. She gripped the motorbike helmet under her arm, the biker’s first and last present to her. She was ready for her ride home.
Rodney grinned at her as he gulped the remains of his single malt. She was gorgeous and for once it wasn’t his beer goggles that gave her that irresistible edge; she had been drawing his gaze since he first saw her. If he was being honest, he liked the idea of the rough diamond that wouldn’t be looking for romance and whispered exchanges. He would take a guess that her usual beau was sparing with the chocolates, corsages and Moët. This would be easy.
‘A good night?’
‘I’ve had better.’ She smiled.
He liked her confident banter, not like some of the dozy tarts who hung around, laughing at his every word, dreaming of living in the big house or at the very least hoping for a day trip on his yacht. Her cutting repartee told him all he needed to know: this was no-strings fun. He had let the pot boy and barmaid go early, almost as if clearing the stage for this long awaited performance. Perfect.
‘Where you going with that?’ He grinned and pointed at the helmet.
‘Dunno, any suggestions?’
Her retort might have been sexy were it not for the sad familiarity with which the words dripped from her glossed lips, and the Lolita-like pose that she had been perfecting for a while. It was how she got things done, reeled them in, gave them what they wanted, felt loved.
Rodney sauntered across to where she stood and slowly pulled her behind the bar. She giggled, but didn’t find any of it funny. It was a laugh that they expected, a laugh that gave them permission: it’s okay to carry on, just a bit of harmless fun.
Gripping her from behind, he breathed into the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of her young body. Slipping his hand under the thin material of her T-Shirt, flat-palmed against white skin, he drew small circles that warmed the space they touched. Tanya turned around slowly until she faced the man that would seduce her. He was old. She studied the creases and lines that traversed his sagging face and noted the coarse hair that sprouted in trimmed clumps.
She smirked at his inexpert kissing. She’d assumed that an older lover would have mastered the art, but apparently not. He felt huge against her tiny frame, a giant that she would fell. His impatience amused her; fumbling at belts and snatching at buttons, he grabbed and pawed, his need urgent. She smirked in recognition of the fact that they were all the same when it came right down to it, aged twenty, thirty, forty or fifty… At this point, it was all about a need, a longing and an ache that she could satisfy. With her eyes closed, all her lovers past and present were remarkably similar.
The mismatched pair slid down onto the sticky red linoleum behind the bar. The smell of beer and the sugary scent of spilt wine was overwhelming. There were no words of seduction, no affection or intimacies of love. This was an act of pure physicality, animalistic, verging on aggressive.
Tanya laughed into his plaid-clad, middle-aged shoulder, which had long since lost its definition. She enjoyed the brief power, it was always this way. This was the moment when she felt supreme. She radiated at the thrall in which she held the local big-wig, he of powerful car and fat cigar, a connoisseur of life’s finer things. For a few seconds this union would make her too feel like a finer thing.
She wanted the pace to be slow; she hoped for a few words of tenderness. She got neither.
Her spike of elation was not to last. All too quickly the pair were restoring clothing, tucking in hems and patting down wilful hair. This aftermath was conducted in silence, not the awkward variety, but, judging by Rodney’s expression, a hush born of disgust.
Tanya’s sense of omnipotence was immediately and forcibly replaced with a deep self-loathing, a feeling that was more comfortable, familiar.