The music was blaring, the drinks looked nuclear and Serena was suffering from the realisation that she couldn't keep up like she used to. She slunk over to the bar and ordered a drink from the one female bartender, simply dressed in jeans and a white tank top. Serena appreciated that she wasn't the only mature woman there.

The bartender poured drinks with a steady hand and a shy smile. The first time she caught Serena's eye she ducked her head and focused on the drinks. The next time she kept eye contact just that bit longer and by the third time, they didn't bother with anyone else.

'The music is killing me. I've come to play with someone my own age if you don't mind.'

She smiled.

'I don't mind.'

Serena sat with her dirty martini and observed…how skinny were those jeans exactly? She'd never had the figure for a pair of those. With those lanky legs, the woman wore it well. Shifting over crates of just washed glasses, she settled down to polish while attempting to converse with her. Serena appreciated it. It was a quieter corner and one she was intensely grateful for. She learned that the bartender was only here for one night as a favour to a friend, that disco night had long ceased to be a thing and not to drink the tequila, it was lethal.

Bernie considered the burgundy polka dotted shirt in front of her and the woman who wore it. She was a flirt and Bernie liked that, it had been a very long time since she'd been able to respond. Sometimes it felt like she was the only woman her own age out after dark and she appreciated that this distraction was here tonight. She wondered if there was something about herself that whispered lesbian to some women. She'd lived like a nun after that disaster with Alex, the one that had broken up her marriage. Almost like a nun, to her shame, she had paid for it once.

'You have the look of someone who is searching for something.'

She sat still in her chair, eyes ahead, not wanting to address it with an exotic stranger. The stripper stroked back a curl behind her ear and she trembled with fright, feeling vulnerable that she saw what Bernie wanted and the lack of courage to ask for it. For £30, the lady would provide extra services. Bernie finally cracked and handed over the money to let herself submit to the ministrations of a stranger. She'd done a good job inbetween Bernie's thighs and God knows that Bernie needed the release but the loneliness set in when she remembered that there was no kissing, no tender touches, just the isolated tongue and fingers of one who was skilled in her job. She felt dirty.

This woman might run to her preference. The tapping of those red nails stalled her. They were long enough to answer her question. Damn. Serena tracked her glance and smiled.

'Fun fact, usually the nails on your dominant hand are shorter' she informed her.

Bernie checked with a swift glance. She was right. Serena had been tapping with her left hand. So she must be right handed. She caught her eye and gave a slightly embarrassed smile for outing herself. But if this mysterious woman knew where her mind went, maybe that meant she was her type. She hoped. She liked, no, more than liked this stranger with the sparkling eyes, wanted nothing more to dive inbetween the sheets and explore her.

Serena in turn glimpsed the peek of the silvery pink scar that presumably ran down the bartender's chest. She was intrigued but stalled all thoughts of further investigation until she could be sure that they were on the same page. It looked like they might be but you could never tell. Serena had only recently started to dabble in what she could assume was previously dormant Sapphic tendencies. The jokes about her haircut were predictable enough but since turning 50 and having discarded the last useless man, she'd started to be chatted up by other women. She'd kissed a good many but had declined to spend the night with any of them. It wasn't just because she was a novice at it, goodness knows the urge was strong enough, but the spark that was just right to light up their kisses wasn't enough to go further. She wanted to, to the point of distraction but she wasn't sure if it was really just a fantasy or was she just bored and mistaking that for her horny state? She wasn't quite sure what to do if she got to that stage. She felt like this woman, if she were willing, might just take her there.

Bernie's voice startled her out of her thoughts. Just as well. Any minute now and it would start getting X-rated in her head. A glass of red wine was in front of her, her favourite Shiraz. She vaguely remembered telling the bartender that.

'On the house.'

Bernie's expression led Serena to draw a £5 note from her lacy bra and lean over the counter.

'I don't flirt for drinks, I pay for them.'

Bernie took her time in extracting the note from her hand, brushing her thumb against Serena's hand. They felt a tingle.

'I don't mind either way.'

The look she gave Serena made her feel dizzy. It turned out that they were on the same page after all.