Gimme, gimme, gimme a mane like the moonlight

Burchmore’s Auctioneers is the last place you expect to find such a beauty.
But there she was, skin glistening like moonlight on a midnight lake, flowing flaxen hair caressing her shoulders as she floated between the cars like a dusky vision, a figment of his imagination.
Could she even be real, this marvel of African beauty? What could such perfection possibly be doing at a car auction?
She probably worked here, KK told himself. She wore the fitted collared shirt and the tailored grey slacks of a professional woman and she did not carry a handbag, which was always the sign of a woman in the middle of her working day. Or night – it was 6.55pm and the auction was starting in five minutes.
KK finished the last of his R16 bacon-and-cheese toasted, abandoned his chips and stood up from his red-and-white checked table at the Burchmore’s diner. He wiped his mouth with the tiny, delicate serviette, crumpled it and threw it down with the finality of a man about to bid on some cars.
Of course, he wasn’t. This was an exploratory first visit to Burchmores, and a look at the advertised prices of the few dozen second-hand vehicles on the floor of the vast, hangar-like premises had confirmed that he couldn’t afford to buy here.
KK had R25 000 saved, and the cheapest Mazda 323 on sale had a R33 000 sign in its windscreen.
So, intimidated and ashamed, he had not paid his R5 000 auction deposit.
He was filing into the auction hall with the dealers, speculators and first-time buyers, but he was not qualified to bid. Not quite part of the scene, as always…
He’d thought he’d just check things out. It was his first auction.
The auctioneer commenced by explaining the rules. “To arrange finance, please talk to the lovely Tiro.”
And at the mention of her name, the lovely Tiro nodded and winked, in her tailored shirt, flowing, flaxen hair and her midnight moonlight skin. For there she stood, at the edge of the dais, at the foot of the auction block, ready to arrange finance.
“Our first lot, the 1997 Escort 1.4. R30 000 worth the retail. Gimme a bid, gimme a bid! Fifteen, gimme fifteen, gimme fifteen. Fifteen-five, sixteen, seventeen, seventeen-five. All done now. Closed at seventeen-five.”
Bang! The auction was on. Sixty seconds a lot. Sixty cars would be sold in the next hour. They were driven onto the auction floor, where an attendant placed an extractor pipe over their exhausts to avoid gassing the customers, and within a minute they were sold.
Bang!
“Closed at R13 500 for the Uno Fire.”
And KK realised the auction lots were far less expensive than the cars on the sales floor. He could afford to buy something!
He also realised that many successful bidders would come down from the bleachers of the auction hall once their bid was accepted and be led into the finance office by the lovely Tiro.
And each time, he – and the rest of the bidders – would be treated to a view of Tiro’s flowing, black hair and her proud buttocks beneath her tailored grey slacks as she marched her client from the room.
It was irresistible.
So when lot 26, a 1998 Kia Clarus 2.0, came up for bidding, KK could not help himself. “Fifty thousand worth the retail. Opening bids at twenty-five,” boomed the auctioneer. “Twenty-five, twenty-five. Twenty-five”
KK raised his right hand. He knew he was not registered, but he desired, he needed just five minutes with the lovely Tiro. It was the only way.
“I’m sorry sir,” the auctioneer responded. “You need a number board to bid. Only registered bidders may bid.”
And he glanced elsewhere. “Twenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five. Gimme a bid. Gimme a bid.”
The lovely Tiro gave KK a mischievous smile and a wink, then a large man in a powder-blue T-shirt, shorts and a pair of hiking boots eventually raised his number board. “Twenty-five, thanks Mike” said the auctioneer. “Now gimme twenty-six. Twenty-six, twenty-six.”
After that, KK sat obediently in the stands and saw out the last half-hour of the auction, He just sat there and let the auctioneer’s booming numbers wash over him. And he savoured the mischievous smile and the wink of the lovely Tiro, with her flaxen hair and her midnight moonlight hair.
It was worth at least R25 000. More than a Kia Clarus 2.0, that’s for sure. Much more.