Ka-Ching.
The drone of the cash register echoes through Cassie's head.
Her movement robotic from years of doing the same thing.
Her mind flipped back to a happier time, fleeting though it was.
Sipping cocktails on white sands in Barbados.
First class all-inclusive holiday, courtesy of a winning ticket.
A chance to pretend to live and love as the affluent do.
Every item grabbed and scanned reminded her of Marcel’s touch.
The soft fruit. His hand on her breast gently caressing hardened nipples.
The tinned goods. The hard weighted feel of his length fondled between nervous fingers.
“Would you like me to help you pack madam?”
Each item placed strategically and brought mental flashes of his hips as they moved in and out of her. Her legs wrapped tight around him.
Cassie flushed.
“My son will be along to pay.” They wait.
Cassie surveys this aging socialite. She looks immaculate in designer clothes and expensive jewellery. Working in Harrods, she sees them daily.
She remembered she lived like them.
Her son hands Cassie his Black card. His touch tingles in recognition.
Their eyes meet...
“So this is what you meant when you said you worked with money.”
