Classic Rock One Shots

Dave Clark I "Every Girl in the World" {Old Friends, Flirty}

Muse: English Model and Actress Tania Mallet
Musician: English Musician, Stuntman and Drummer of the Dave Clark Five, Dave Clark
Time: Mid to Late Sixties

[Request]

With the way her boss had yelled at her the week prior, spilling coffee on her uniform was the least of the girl's worries. Margret was on thin ice and she knew it. People stared as she bolted through the terminal, her heels clacking with each crashing step. In one hand she held a cold double shot of espresso, and in the other, a hastily packed and barely-closed suitcase with lace-trimmed skirts and knit sleeves sloppily spilling out of the sides.

Should she make her flight wait, she'd surely be out of a job, and with the rent in England rising the way it was, she simply couldn't afford to be without steady work for any stretch of time.

"You're late, Marg." Her seasoned coworker Cathy grumbled as she fumbled through the entrance of the plane.

"I know, I know." The blonde sighed, her brows knitted as she fought back an annoyed whining tone. I've got no right to be complaining, she thought. "My bloody heel broke this mornin' and after trying to fix it for a half hour I just had to pick up a new pair!"

Cathy laughed at her exasperated story, gently rubbing the girl's back as she moped towards the stewardess cabin. "I'm only yankin' your chain, girl." She laughed. "The passengers are late, too."

Margret couldn't help but smile as she dropped her tense shoulders in relief. She placed her espresso on the bar, coffee now staining the lid and leaking down the sides of the paper cup. She took her time to open her small round suitcase, folding the dangling garments inside before closing it and straightening out her uniform.

"Who's flying today, anywho?" She asked as she checked her frilly collar in the tiny mirror. "A small group rented, right?"

Cathy chuckled, careful not to smear the cherry red lipstick she was applying. "Don't know if I'd call them a small group, dearie." She popped her lips as she clicked the cap of her lipstick closed. "It's the Dave Clark Five and their staff."

"Dave Clark?" Margret repeated, her slender, painted fingers absentmindedly trailing down her blazer as she furrowed her brow. Her waist twisted to let her eyes follow the brunette woman as she scurried around the spacious cabin, tidying the blankets and pillows.

"Mhm. Dave Clark. And another four. The rest of the band." Cathy stopped in her tracks, turning to face her slightly disheveled acquaintance. "You do know them, right?" She asked.

Margret scratched her scalp beneath her tight bun. "I know of them, I suppose." She mumbled, suddenly getting the urge to mirror Cathy in touching up her makeup.

The girl began to dig through the tiny purse she'd nearly forgotten she wore on her shoulder, hurrying over to the small mirror hung on the opposite wall as she scrabbled about with the cap of her magenta lipstick.