“Where’s the cab?”“We’re up market tonight,” he replied, “Mercedes, no less.”Annie walked into the cold night air with very little to ...rotect her other than the trench coat that she wore. Her dark hair was braided and platted into a single pony tail that had taken her ages to get right. Her red lipsticks and fingernails sparkled under the yellow street lights. Greg held the door open for her to get in. The almost silent ride was punctuated by a few questions, mostly coming from Annie but Greg’s. There was no sign of her. I grabbed a cab, gave the driver the name of my next attempt and sat back and smiled. It’s good to test the skills sometimes. The next bar was a wash out. It was a University night out for a group of baby dykes and to be frank that wasn’t my idea of fun at all. More likely get puked on than fucked. When all else fails, go to Ernie’s. Ernie, more properly Ernestine Drummond but nobody calls her that, runs an understanding little bar for dykes down near the racecourse.. More

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