It was 2am, and I’d just gotten home from work. I danced around my kitchen, humming quietly to myself in between bites of dinner. My bare feet, toes painted bright red, padded on the floor, and my white lacy nightgown swayed and moved over my full hips. I wasn’t wearing it for anyone in particular - I just liked wearing pretty things, especially at night after work. It made me feel sexy, and luxurious.
Work had been good tonight. Being a Thursday, the club had been full enough but not crowded and the rude patrons had been at a minimum. I’d had time to chat minimally with a few cute guys, and to flirt, bending over the bar to show off my low-cut shirt and ample cleavage. Still, I was tired. And the job had definitely begun to wear on me gradually over the months.
The other bartenders were mostly all skinny women - aside from my friend James, who’d landed me the job, of course. I was getting tired of listening to them giggle and gossip and, on not a few occasions, go home with guys at the end of the night. Men would stare at my chest and chat me up, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate me so much if they could see me from the waist down. Anyway, I was starting to get annoyed with the night shift, and sleeping half the day away. But there would always be excuses. The fact was, I’d never stayed in a job for very long, be it office or bar.
Still humming, I idly checked my phone. One missed call, from James, who hadn’t had a shift for a couple of days. When he wasn’t at the bar, he tended to forget that I still was, until the early hours of the morning. I made a mental note to call him back the next day.
My dinner had been vanquished, so I tossed everything in the sink and made my way to the bathroom. Everything in there was white and soft, just the way I liked it. Candles, soft fluffy towels, and my favourite bathrobe hanging on the door. I glanced longingly at the tub with its various scented lotions and soaps, but knew I was too tired. I’d probably fall asleep in there and wake up in cold water at 5am. It had happened before.
I scrubbed at my face, doing my best to remove the heavy black eyeliner and mascara, and looking into my own wide green eyes in the mirror. Some said they were my best feature, so I tried to play them up. Letting my long dirty-blonde hair out, I tousled it and let it fall over my shoulders.
Then, as I always did, I undressed myself in front of the mirror, letting my nightgown fall and pool at my feet as I critically examined my body. I ran my hands over the slight curve of my stomach and turned to get a side view. I liked the round curve of my hips, but wished my boobs were a little less heavy and a bit more perky. My ass stuck out like a shelf, I often complained to my friends. It was an empty complaint - just self-deprecating humor. I didn’t mind the way I looked. I was, however overly conscious of the fact that it seemed most guys were looking for skinny girls.
I yawned, exhausted, and retired to my room. There I fell into bed, exhausted, and pulled the sheets around me.
I woke to the insistent buzzing of my phone. I groaned, and fumbled around among the blankets, where I vaguely remembered tossing it last night. It was just James. I picked up.
“What?” I slurred politely
“What the - Jess, are you still asleep?”
“Not anymore.” I grumbled, and then let out a sigh. “Sorry - what’s up, James?”
“Well, I was talking to a friend of mine, and I have a lead on a job for you. He needs a personal assistant. Like, yesterday.”
I sat up a bit straighter in bed. “I’m listening…”
James chuckled on the other end. “Well, I say he’s a friend, but I don’t really know that much about his professional life, so I can’t really say what the job entails. Standard PA stuff, I guess. I was just talking to him about work and mentioned you. Then I remembered you used to do admin.”
“I see.” I glanced down at the phone. It was almost midday. I rubbed an eye with my free hand.
“But he’ll expect hard work, Jess. I put in a word for you but if you don’t want to-“
“I’m not afraid of hard work!” I screwed up my face in protest, as though he could see my indignant look.
There was silence for a few seconds on James’ end. “…Anyway… this would probably be a good opportunity for you, and he hinted the pay isn’t bad either.”
“Who is it?” I enquired, choosing to ignore the attitude.
“Rick Alcott. From Tableau.”
I didn’t know his name, but I knew the company - a high profile advertising business. “I see.”
“You have to get there this afternoon for an interview, if you’re going at all.”
I pulled the phone away to look at it again, having already forgotten the time from a few minutes ago. “Aww, fuck. What time?”