Temporary Secretary

Part 9

12 December 1980

7:50pm Friday

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Paul said he'd be around at eight with a car.

A strange invitation. You had no reason to deny it though. It was simply a dinner with record execs. You didn't know how you'd fit into it though, you wouldn't have anything to contribute.

You frowned at yourself in the mirror. Of course you had to dress for the occasion. You'd washed your hair.

Suppose it was to be expected. You were a secretary, but that also came with the caveat of being the "young woman" in a company. You could be brought to dinners as a prop of sorts. Eye candy if you will. You certainly felt like that in your earlier working days, starting out as a secretary. It was a drag, really, but it was whatever, you supposed.

You were giving your hair a little wave that'd curl at the end. You didn't care for the large styles much, all that product. Besides, having your hair coarse like that, the strands tickling your neck, seemed to drive you mad. It was a drag really, but little things like that, certain fabrics touching you even, made it hard for you to think. You didn't understand it.

You wore a dark dress, dark hosiery, low heels. The dress draped around your shoulders, showing your collar-bone, leaving your arms bare. It flowed along your curves, coming just above the knee. You never wanted to look like a tart at these sort of things, then nobody would take you seriously. However if you overcorrected in the opposite direction, wore a man's suit, they'd still think you daft. You snorted. What a line to walk!

It was still December, an intense chill in the air. You wore your overcoat.

You stepped out into the cold, searching the dark street. You wrapped your overcoat tight. Luckily it was warmer than the one you'd brought to Edinburgh. It must've just rained, as the concrete shone in the light of the streetlamps. It would likely do so many times over the course of the night.

You wandered to the sidewalk, breaths condensed in the cold air.

You barely had to wait a minute before a car rolled up.

"Ey!"

You held your coat tight, thankful to get out of the cold. Paul pushed open the door, and swiftly pulled you in. You landed on him, and he gave you a squeeze, before scooting back.

"How's it?" He said.

"Aye, s'good."

He squeezed your arm.

It was damned nice it the car, a whole lot warmer. You felt the feeling come back into your nose and ears. You didn't flush as easily as Paul, but they would probably be pinkened. You noticed the car had a divider up.

"You look nice, all done up like." Paul said.

"Ah, just a little extra I suppose."

Paul ran a hand through your styled hair, fingers teasing at the curl. He had on an overcoat as well, but it seemed that he had a starched shirt underneath.

"Feels like we're stepping out, in't it?"

"Hmm, yeah." You said. "Going out on the town."

Paul's eyes flashed, a thought going through him. As the car began to move, the lights of the city outside played across his bunched up cheeks. It was dark in the car. He began to sing a jaunty tune.

"I'm steppin' out with m'baby...Can't go wrong 'cause I'm in right... it's for sure, not for maybe...That I'm all dressed up tonight...!"

You'd suspected as much, but Paul had quite the bubbly singing voice. Sweet too. Very sweet. You beamed at him.