Tuesday, and Claire sat at a small table in an unobtrusive bistro impatiently twiddling her thumbs. Tucked away down an alley, the restaurant was secluded but only a few steps away from a busy thoroughfare. The place was a gastronomic oasis. Over the low murmur of the clientele and the business of running a restaurant she could no longer hear the constant sound of commuters or detect the metallic tang of exhaust fumes, only the waft of food from the kitchen. If it tasted half as good as it smelt it would be delicious.
She had arrived early but Hershey, in a repeat of their previous date, was late. She tugged at her suit jacket and smoothed her skirt, feeling badly dressed. This morning she’d rattled through her entire wardrobe to try and find something suitably sexy whilst looking professional, but hadn’t come remotely close to the right combination. Just then the bell above the door tinkled and Hershey, at last, walked in. He looked around briefly, saw Claire and threaded his way through the closely-set tables mostly filled with business people doing business.
“Sorry,” he said as he dragged out a chair and flopped down. He picked up the menu that the waitress had placed on the table ten minutes ago.
“It’s becoming a habit,” Claire said with a smile. Hershey looked up and a flash of irritation breezed across his face, coming and going in an instant.
Before he could respond the waitress materialised as if from nowhere, pen and pad poised, keen to get them moved on. “Are you ready to order?”
“Chicken Caesar salad for me,” Hershey said. “Hold those fishy things.”
“Anchovies?” asked the waitress.
“That’s ’em.”
“Same, please,” Claire said.
The waitress evaporated, leaving them with only themselves for company. Claire wanted to get down to the action as well. She bent over to reach for the briefcase she had placed beneath the table, grabbed it, popped it open and extracted a tightly-bound sheaf of paper.
“On the basis of our conversation I’ve prepared a brief proposal for you to consider,” she said and put the document on the table in front of Hershey, almost exactly where the menu had been.
“Okay, thanks.” he drawled. He picked up the proposal and flicked through it. He took a couple of minutes to skim through twenty pages whilst Claire held her breath.
“Looks great, let’s do it,” he said.
She opened her mouth to give her pitch, then abruptly closed it again when she realised Hershey had been positive. “What did you say?” she asked.
“I said yes.”
At that moment the waitress delivered their salads and promptly retreated.
“Are you sure? You barely read it.” She couldn’t quite accept what Hershey was saying, although she was desperate to do so.
“Sure,” he shrugged and shovelled a forkful of salad into his mouth and chewed it thoroughly.
“Our fee is on the final page.”
“I’m sure that’s fine too.”
“It’s a bit steep.”
Hershey shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Oh! I don’t know what to say.”
“How about thank you.”
“Thank you!” Claire giggled.
“Are you eating that?” Hershey pointed his fork at her salad.
“Christ I completely forgot.” She started eating her lunch, barely registering the taste of the dressing or the crunch of the lettuce. She put her fork down again. “Look, I need to know you really are happy with the rebranding proposal.”
“Uh-huh. When you know, you know. You know?” He reached over and squeezed her hand. She felt herself blush. “How about a drink to celebrate?”
Without waiting for her reply Hershey waved the waitress over and ordered champagne. He ate whilst the bottle was being prepared but Claire had completely lost her appetite. She stared around the restaurant as if she wasn’t quite sure where she was. The popping of a cork brought her back to her senses.
“Cheers!” Hershey said, toasting her success with a raised glass.
She followed suit and a swallow of the overpriced chilly liquid helped her brain accept her successful negotiation. The alcohol punched her bloodstream like a sledgehammer.
“So, what are you going to do with your bonus? I assume you do get a reward?” Hershey asked.
She nodded. “A new look I think,” she said, casting her mind back to her wardrobe difficulties this morning.
“Is that it?”
Before she could think about it Claire blurted, “I could do with a good fuck.”
Hershey looked momentarily shocked and then burst out laughing. She joined in, her giggle tinged with relief and disappointment in equal measure. Hershey put his fork down and looked at her thoughtfully but didn’t speak. Claire caught his expression.
“What’s the matter Hershey, have you changed your mind about the proposal?”
“Yes.”
“Oh shit. My boss will fire me for sure now.”
“No I’m fine with the rebranding exercise.”
“Well, what then...” The penny dropped. “Oh.”
“What are you doing Saturday?”
Claire blushed.
Claire was assassinating her plastic. So far she hadn’t found the knockout punch — her credit limit was down on the canvas, but not out. Ordinarily shopping was therapeutic, but today it was a celebration of a job well done. Due to the impending contract with the Bank she was set to rise meteorically to the top of P&R’s sales table. When she’d called it in Patricia hadn’t known whether to be delighted or angry with her so had settled for both — praising Claire for getting the business but then bollocking her for not getting it sooner.
For once she didn’t give a flying fuck about Patricia’s attitude. She was cast-iron now. The deal was so significant in the PR world that it would bring her to the attention of all the major houses. And with her burgeoning relationship with Hershey, she felt like she had the world at her feet. So she’d reasoned that she might as well spend the money that she would be earning in the future, to maximise the enjoyment of it and catch up on all she’d missed.
Weighed down with bags of clothes and shoes, she swept out of the store. Her old, dowdy garments had gone, left behind on a hook in the changing room. She figured her new look might as well be shown off straight away. It had cost enough.
A glance at her watch told her it was time to get back to work. She marched purposefully to the bus stop, sweeping past other pedestrians with an imperial air, ignoring the noise of the traffic. All around her was serenity. Then she drew up abruptly, the colourful display in the shop window grabbing her attention. She hesitated for half a second then pushed her doubts away and went in.
What felt like hours later she emerged, a little tender of body but transformed of soul. For an interminable period she’d lain on her front, the top half of her body naked except for a bra (she was pleased she’d worn one of her few good ones today) and skirt pulled down to the bum crack, whilst the tattoo artist had punctured her with an inky needle to create the Celtic design at the base of her spine that stretched from hip to hip.
Then she’d sat up and the bra had come off. The next operation was exceptionally faster but significantly more painful. The tattoo artist had swabbed her nipples before piercing them with a bolt. Not feeling in the slightest bit embarrassed Claire had slowly dressed (but not bothered to replace her bra, stuffing it into a bag), paid for the procedures and left the shop.
She’d never done anything remotely so risqué before; her previous low-water mark had been drinking flaming shots at 1am as a student. Claire revelled in the feeling of release. It was addictive, breaking her mother’s lifelong rules. Like a gambler on a winning streak or a drug user having the high of their life, she had a vague thought that it might all end in tears, but as soon as the doubt rode up in her mind she pushed it away with a shrug. Now she was on the up she believed failure was something that happened to others — well, from now on at least. She couldn’t wait for her next fix and, after only a couple of minutes of tender walking, she found it.
Claire dumped her bags on the pavement and cupped her tiny breasts in her palms. She wondered if Hershey would pay for the surgical enhancement or whether she needed another loan...
“You’re late!” Patricia started shouting before she clapped eyes on Claire, pre-warned by one of her office lackeys that the errant employee was returning from an extended lunch break. “Where...”
Patricia stopped mid-rant, staring in open-mouthed shock at Claire’s new style, which from top to bottom was decidedly sluttier than the previous bookworm look — knee-length boots, a very short skirt and an equally short shirt which revealed plenty of Claire’s flat stomach, but ,despite it having a couple of buttons undone, very little of her flat chest.
“Celebrating,” Claire replied before Patricia could get her jaws half way closed. She put the Bank proposal in front of her boss and walked out, giving Patricia one last shock as she goggled at Claire’s new tramp stamp.