Her Melting Point

Voulez Vous?

Jackie slipped onto the passenger seat and gave Bernie a forced smile.

"Hiya." The dentist looked her over. "Is that what you're wearing? You do know it's a drag club, right? You need more glitter and... pzazz!"

"Evening," Jackie answered flatly. "I don't have much pzazz in my wardrobe."

"You're as cute as a button, though," Bernie said softly. "Whatever amount of glitter you're comfortable with is alright."

She drove her Panda onto a larger street.

"Are you OK, Josie?" she asked, and Jackie jolted out of blindly staring at the countryside rushing behind the window.

"Yeah, sorry. Just knackered." Jackie lied. "October is always busy. Everyone has settled in their classrooms; and now proper work starts."

"Well, then tonight's exactly what you need." Bernie grinned. "You'll let loose, dance on a table, make out with someone you shouldn't - and you'll be as good as new! Doctor's orders!" She dramatically poked her chest with her straight index finger.

Jackie snorted. "I thought we're watching a show."

"There's an afterparty later, with karaoke and dancing." Bernie gave Jackie a wink. "Your mate Michael is ace, by the way. Drag name Solo Velour. We're half acquainted. But I'm good friends with the star of the show, Joy."

"I haven't even checked it online," Jackie said. "I've been swamped. But I trust your taste, so it'll be lovely."

The truth was that about a third of said 'swamp' had been self-induced. It had been three weeks since Alexander left; and she required a workday of ten plus hours and complete exhaustion afterwards if she hoped to silence the anxious thoughts and to fall asleep, at least for a three or four hours per night. These days she often asked herself how it was that she'd managed to get an education, build a career, and maintain a decent level of professionalism before. After all, she had been in love before, and just as unhappily - but it had never affected her capabilities to this extent.

***

They took their seats at a small round table, right next to the stage. The club - called the Anteroom - was decorated in red, white, and gold: velvet tablecloths, star-shaped pendants hanging off the ceiling, massive letters ABBA on the backdrop.

They ordered their 'soft cocktails' - alcohol-free versions of the classics - and Jackie put her phone on silent. Some sort of an aching knot behind her solar plexus was starting to loosen; and she inhaled deeply and brushed her hands to her thighs, over the skirt of her black shirt dress. She'd accessorised it with an oversize bright-coloured brooch and a neon green belt, but she was definitely underdressed. She could've gone a bit heavier on the make-up as well.

The show started; and she focused on it, pushing her worries to the back of her mind. The performers were brilliant! They sang live; the backup dancers were excellent; and of course ABBA covers were never a disappointing choice of material.

And then, four numbers later, Joy Montague stepped out onto the stage.

"Oh," Jackie gasped.

Bernie laughed. "Remind you of anyone?" she asked cheekily.

Jackie nodded, unable to tear her eyes off the queen. Through the magic of contouring and shading, the tall blonde on the stage - in the iconic blue satin jumpsuit, tight on her perfect pert bottom, and endless, supple legs - bore an unmistakable resemblance to Dr. Viola Holyoake, Jackie's GP.

An outstanding rendition of Honey Honey followed; and Jackie was feeling rather tickled by the queen's sultry voice and her sensual dancing - and then Bernie leaned to Jackie's ear.