The alarm went off, sounding like a amplified version of Big Ben and my head nearly came off with the noise.
After throwing the clock across the room, my heart rate dropped from an estimated two and a half thousand to a mere two hundred. With some reluctance, I cracked one of my sticky eyes open.
 
Working Girl ~ A Day In The life
 
By Susan Brown
 

 
 

Part 1 of 2

The alarm went off, sounding like a amplified version of Big Ben and my head nearly came off with the noise.

After throwing the clock across the room, my heart rate dropped from an estimated two and a half thousand to a mere two hundred. With some reluctance, I cracked one of my sticky eyes open.

I knew that I was not very good with drink so why did I have more than two, claw hammers, or was it an adjustable spanner or a long screw up against a wall? I wished that my memory was a bit better. Perhaps I should eat more carrots–no that help your hearing. Anyway, you don’t want to hear about my alcohol problems.

I sat up in bed, gingerly; it was the last day onboard the good ship lollypop–no, wrong ship, The Chelsy, that was it. The last night gala dance thingy was still fresh in my befuddled memory. A smile played across my lips as I remembered the tonsil massaging snogging that I had had with my Tim.

Stop Toni-rewind.

For those of you not convervant; consignant- erm, aware of what had happened previous to the present thingie, you should read my previous stuff called, Working Girl and Working Girl ~ Life Goes On —soon to be made into a film (Straight to DVD) starring that ex weather girl and B list movie icon Iva Lotton.

For those with a life, who haven’t got time to read my previous epic adventures, here is a sinkopsis:

My name is Tony Summers–or it was because it’s now Toni. My dad died in a ’plane crash and my mum was murdered by my ex step dad. I was chucked out of the family home by said evil step dad who was removed from my Christmas card list. I was forced to live in a crappy flat with only my friend Sheila who is a ninf-nifeo- nico –erm, sex-mad nurse.

I answered an advert for a job and the company thought I was ‘Toni’ not Tony. Sheila made me dress up as a girl to get the job. I had lots of adventures including encounters with pickles, a disgusting landlord who wanted me for my body a non-taxi driver in a black BMW and a sex- mad boss, but in the end, with the help of Sheila, two gay bikers and Starsky and Hutch, not forgetting my lovely Tim, I was able to scrape through everything. There’s lots more, but you should read the stories, otherwise Erin will get cross with me and start mumbling stuff about ‘reader counts and spoilers’ whatever that means.

Anyway, back to the action. Tim, being brave, resourceful and all- English good egg, accompanied me to the dance. I had a lovely time and I managed to shake and wobble bits that hadn’t been shaken and wobbled before. After a few drinks, I tried to recreate Baby Houseman in Dirty Dancing, you know the bit, where she throws herself through the air, to be caught by Johnny Castle; Tim being the obvious stand in. The trouble was, after having a few drinks, I could see two of Tim and launched myself at the left hand one when it should have been the one on the right.

Those of you who have stuck with me through thick and thin will know that my life doesn’t always run smoothly and this is a case in point. Picture the scene, the place was heaving with people attempting to dance. There was me, after a few long-nosed plier’s, not quite with it in all parts of my body; throwing myself at My Man and missing by several yards. I landed on something soft and slightly smelly, wearing a lime green satin shirt and orange tie. I instantly recognised the odour and to my horror, when opening my eyes again , my worst fears were confirmed–Davis. His pock marked face will haunt me for the rest of my days as I was pulled up by Tim and led away to another part of the room to recover. As we left, I noticed that Davis was being given the kiss of life by the oxygenarion waitress that was his true love. I wondered at her fortitude and obvious blind love as she took out her false teeth and got to grips with his flaccid, slightly blue lips with all the enthusiasm of a Death Eater snogging Harry Potter.

I remember little of the rest of the evening, except that I did end up having a rather nice kiss and cuddle with Tim as he managed to get me to bed in more or less one piece. I wanted him to stay and explore my never regions–but he, being the insufferably nice person that he is, wouldn’t take advantage of me even though I begged him to on my stockinged knees. Well, I was flat on the floor at the time, but you get the picture.

So here I was, on the morning of the last full day of our holiday cruise, feeling sorry for myself and having the biggest hangover since, since erm… the last one I had.

I knew Sheila would not be in her room as she had managed to get her clutches into what she called the Mother Lode. She was knocking six bells out of the Captain and she had been inspecting his port hole or is that the other way around, for several days. I did see the captain occasionally; he looked as if he needed to be on life support. I was told that he was only thirty, but post Sheila, he looked about fifty going on ninety.

I went into the bathroom and looked at the mirror; not a pretty sight. On the shelf was a bottle of brown liquid, rather muddy to look at. There was a note on the bottle and it read:

‘Drink this, you will feel better. Patrick’.


Patrick; the friendly, all-knowing and all-seeing barman! If he said that it would do some good; that was good enough for little me.

I popped the little cork stopper and without thinking, downed.

My eyes crossed slightly and I felt things some gurgly things going on down below. I sat down on the toilet as that was the nearest seat available. The room spun to the left and then to the right and I thought that I might bring up the contents of my tummy. I dematerialised and then rematerialised, and after a few breathless moments, the Earth stood still and time began to tick again. My headache went away and the slightly sick feeling left equally swiftly. I felt 85% human again and that’s not a bad fraction after what I had been through!

I stood up and after a few moments, I felt alive enough to be interested in getting ready for the day and not just having a burial at sea.

I took off my slightly pongy nightie and then had an invigorating shower. After drying myself, I put a bra and knickers followed by a strappy pink blouse and shortish white cotton skirt that covered my bottom–just. Looking out of the porthole, I could see that our final day was going to be a scorcher. I was a bit sad that the cruise was nearly over, despite all the problems with stalkers, paparazzi–well the ships weird photographer anyway-and little nose picking boys who just loved to show me up–I still shuddered over the Boobie Incident at the pool!

Talking of boobies, I slipped the little babies into my bra and checked for lateral and horizontal movement. I wanted nothing to spoil my final day on the Chelsy.
I slipped on my white sandals, noticing that my lickle toe nails needed some loving care and attention, the varnish being a bit chipped on a few toes. I promised to rectify that as soon as poss. Picking up my shoulder bag I left the cabin to go for a stroll around the deck.

As I shut the door, I felt a small thump in the side. Looking down, I could see that a small bellboy-shaped person had bounced off me.

‘Sod it.’

‘Hello Arfer.’

‘Sorry Miss, I didn’t see ya there.’

‘Why are you running about like that?’

‘Tryin’ to get away from Old Frozen Drawers.’

‘Oh, the Purser lady.’

‘That’s the one. She’s blaming me for the fact that her boyfriend is angry wiv her.’
‘Why?’

‘Well I sort of told him that I saw her snogging the head waiter the other night.’
‘Was she?’

‘Wot?’

‘Snogging the head waiter.’

‘Well she said that she was helping to get something out of his eye, but they looked more like snogging to me…’

There was a shout coming from down the deck, or is that along from…anyway, the purser lady was coming towards us like a fully armed battleship and with a squeak of terror, the little cheeky chappie got up and ran for it.

I shook my head as she sailed past me and I felt some pity for Arfer as it looked that he may soon be shark bate or whatever it’s called.

Remembering that I still had some money from my step uncle to spend, I sort of gravitated to the shops. As a man…well boy really, I had no interest in shopping, but now as a fully fledged semi-girl with aspera–aspoor…a wish to become a fully fledged girl–with an innie instead of an outie–and boobs that weren’t semi-detached, I felt it my duty as well as pleasure to spend some money on clothes and other things. I had seen–no lusted after, a peach sun dress that was in the window of one of the shops that catered for ‘women of refinement.’

I walked into the shop. There were no customers and the place appeared to be empty. I went over to the window and looked more closely at the dress. Yes it screamed ‘me’. I gulped slightly at the price. Could I justify  £699.99? Well it was less than  £700 and that just happened to be the amount I had to spend. Then I noticed that the tiny label said that it was size 12.

‘Bugger.’ I exclaimed in my best Sheila voice. ‘Wrong bloody size!’

I looked desperately around the shop and all the rails like someone in a desert looking for life giving shampers. I couldn’t see the dress in my size which was a petite 10; well I think that’s petite, anyway. I marvelled at the different types of dress, they all looked like they were for old people of 30 and above and there was nothing for a bright young thing like me. Then my eye caught a flash of colour over in the reduced rail. My heart started beating quickly as I realised that there were several dresses, the same as the one in the window! I rushed over and with what I must admit to my untrained ear sounded a little like a girlish squeal of delight, I picked up the dress I wanted in my size!

I looked around and saw that the shop was still empty, so I quickly went into the changing room, stripped off my old dress that now looked a bit dowdy and plain and tried on the new one.

It fitted me like a glove–well not a glove, because they go on your hands but you know what I mean.

I frowned slightly, because I couldn’t see very well in the gloom of the changing room, so I went out and had a look at myself in one of the mirrors that were dotted about the place.
Even then, the light wasn’t all that great, so I decided that as there no one was about, I should step out of the shop and have a good look in the full glare of the lovely warm sun. I was sure that it would be okay…

As I left the shop, blinking slightly in the bright light, I heard a sort of ringing bell sound behind me. I ignored it as I was more interested in having a good look at the dress.
I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and looking round, there was a severe looking lady standing there and behind her was a security guard. I knew that he was a security guard as his hat said that was what he was. He was about seven foot tall and half as much wide. I wouldn’t want to meet him on a dark night or any other time come to think of it.

‘Excuse me madam, you have not paid for that dress.’

‘I…know. I was just seeing if the light…’

‘Never mind about that; Arnold, take her to the brig. The captain will decide what to do. We have a strict prosecution policy on this ship and I think I know what he will say.’
‘But…’
‘You will have time to put your defence to the captain before he finds you guilty–I mean passes sentence. Now Arnold, take her away and keep a good grip on her, she seems to be a wriggler.’

‘But…’

I tried to explain but the neand…erm, idiot wouldn’t listen.

Imagine my shame as I was toad marched to a place deep in the bowels of the ship, below which even the rats don’t venture and thrown - well gently pushed actually, but I am allowed a bit of artistic license - into a six by six cell with just a bed, a rackety chair and a bucket to do my wee wee and poopie plops in.

I tried shouting at the retreating footsteps as Arnold bolted the door and left me all on my lonesome.

There was a bare bulb that shone dimly from the ceiling. A singe black buzzing fly was circling the bulb so at least I wasn’t alone. I wondered, if he or she got dizzy going around and around like that?

I was already going stir crazy after two minutes and I wished that I had at least a ball and that glove thingie that Steve McQueen had to while away the days in captivity. At least I had on that nice dress, so it wasn’t all bad but, as you can imagine dear patient reader, I was not really a very happy bunny.

To be continued...

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.