Such a dull job. Boring boring boring. I work in a soulless office performing mind-numbing chores like filing bits of paper in grey boxes and making coffee for my pompous boss. My colleagues think I’m miserable. I seldom smile. Or do I? Little do they know that come nightfall I swap clerking for twerking!
How do I look? Lipstick not too bright? And what about my bouffant? Another swoosh of hairspray I think. Don’t want it collapsing! Now for the Chanelle, with an extra squirt for luck!
Right, off with the dressing gown and slippers and on with my slinky dress and my highest heels. I wonder what my workmates would say if they saw me now? With a glance in the and mirror a swing of my hips, I’m on my way!
And here we are, my favourite club. The noise, the lights, the people! Well, looky there! Handsome Rob from work chatting up silly Sally from accounts. He called me dreary this morning. I wonder what he’ll make of me now. Move over gal, I’m on my way!
Actually, I need to go to the toilet first. I must remember to go to the ladies room, not the men’s!
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding who also provided the photo.
*For the sake of my tale, I imagined the shoes to be in their prime with the addition of four-inch heels!