Easy reading for you. A short story.

[Zan]

A Pickup in the Pub

It had been a hard day at work, and Lisa was glad when she at last felt able to power down her workstation and make a dash for the door. She made a “fancy a drink” gesture in the direction of her friend Emma, but Emma made a miserable face and indicated that she still had work to do. That was a shame – Emma was good for a laugh in the pub, and could always be relied upon for some filthy gossip and the latest celebrity scandal.

As she waited for the lift, Lisa weighed up the remaining options for her evening. Back home to her flat to raid the fridge and slob in front of the telly, or drop in at the “Dirty Slapper” on the way to the station and see if there was anyone else there she knew? She was tired but didn’t really fancy her empty flat quite yet – a social drink sounded much more appealing.

So the “Dirty Slapper” it was. The pub’s real name was the “Princess of Wales”, but the locals always knew it by that slightly disrespectful nickname. It was much nicer than it sounded, and was often quite lively in the early evening with thirsty workers delaying the journey home.

On this particular evening it wasn’t too crowded, though, and Lisa perched herself as elegantly as she could at the bar, smoothing her smart black skirt under her bum. She glanced down the selection of hand-pumps along the bar and chose one of the guest ales that she hadn’t tried before. People who hadn’t met Lisa before often raised an eyebrow when they saw her choosing her a pint of real ale rather than a glass of white wine or trendy lager, but she’d been introduced to the pleasures of proper ale by a boyfriend at University, and while their relationship had ended in tears, she was happy to forgive him most things in return for having shown her the light in this area at least.

The ale was hoppy and refreshing, and Lisa’s glass was already half empty when she noticed a guy in a suit come up to the bar and start perusing the row of pumps.

“Can you recommend anything?” he asked the barman, with an accent that suggested he was from somewhere north of Watford, though Lisa couldn’t be more certain than that.

The barman seemed surprised to be asked this perfectly reasonable question, and stood there looking unsure of himself. Lisa decided to put him out of his misery.