Material Girl

The disco was very crowded but she spotted him standing over by the dance floor, with a group. She had a knack for spotting them now. It wasn’t just the clothes that gave them away, it was their whole demeanour, the way they stood, the way they laughed, but more importantly what they drank. She wasn’t into the pint of beer man or even worse the snakebite man, with saggy jeans and long hair, she wanted class, style. She could also tell by the bulge in his trousers what sort of man he was, the thick long protrusion usually gave it away and the size was everything. Contrary to belief, bigger was not better, if it made a neat package then she was on to a winner. Motorola was the preferred choice of mobile phone, a favourite with the yuppie city slickers. She knew she was on to a good thing with one of these boys, flash and they liked to show off their money. More importantly, they liked to spend the money, on her. After all, a good looking girl on your arm and enough money to flash around made a good combination.
It was Kelly’s blonde hair that attracted them, coupled with her long legs and let’s just say she knew how to use her assets. She was never short of a date and the richer the better. She had been on dates with footballers, stockbrokers and even a professor. She drew the line at sugar daddies though as the thought of their wrinkled hands pawing her made her shudder. People said she was materialistic but she always replied that she just liked the finer things in life, and the finer things are what she got, jewellery, flowers and chocolates. She even got a mink coat once, but the only thing she hadn’t managed to bag was an engagement ring. Once they realised she was only a good time girl, someone who looked good on the arm but was no keeper, then they dumped her. This hadn’t been a problem at first, she was just in it for what she could get, but now she wanted to bag herself a beau, now needed more than ever. The problem was that to mix with the elite, you needed to keep up with them. She could only trade on her looks for so long and time was running out, she could see it happening. The pickups were fewer these days and it didn’t take the high flyers long before they got bored and moved onto a younger specimen. One that gave them more kudos with their bosses and colleagues. At 24 she wasn’t old but when you are competing with 18 year olds you were.
As Material Girl by Madonna played she made her move, hoisting her skirt up ever so slightly so it showed more thigh than a decent girl should show she made her way over to the bar via the dance floor. Her six inch heels making her long legs look like a flamingo walking across the floor. She sensed all eyes on her, which happened often, as she stilted towards the bar. As she neared the man she licked her hot red lips seductively, flicked her luscious blonde hair and shot him a glance, he looked up and then carried on with his conversation, his attention not pricked at all. She was going to have to use all her charms to bag this one, he was not going to be a pushover. There was something different about him though, he was not like all the rest, he had an air of normality in a world of privileged, power-hungry entrepreneurs, who wanted everything, even expected everything. The more she watched him the more she liked what she saw. Although he seemed to court the group he did not dominate. Kelly had learnt to read a crowd these days, her experience of studying individuals meant she could tell the different types. She had not seen this man before but she knew some of the group, they weren’t bankers or stoke brokers, they came from privileged backgrounds. She looked over at the man, he was laughing and she liked the way his mouth creased when he laughed. Unlike many privileged, he did not stand facing the crowd but aside, vying for centre court, his hand in his pocket, the other hand cradling his drink. She couldn’t tell what he was drinking, it was in a short glass which could have been anything, Pernod, vodka or Barcadi, as it was white in colour. She edged closer to try to determine what they were saying but she was just out of earshot and any closer she would look suspicious. She waited, she had all night, there was no rush. She watched as he drew his hand up to his face and pushed his hand through a wedge of hair, not in a ‘look at me’ way but more a nervous twitch kind of way. She liked that, it gave him the edge over the rest of the group. She had to plan how she was going to get to talk to him. It couldn’t be corny, it had to be bold but at the same time subtle.
“Hi boys, I wonder if you could do me a favour I seem to have got my bag hooked up on my skirt, can anyone help me.” Kelly knew this would sort out the good from the bad. She waited for a response, two stood there sniggering, one ignored her completely, which left the mystery man and one other. She willed he would come to her rescue.
“Here let me help.” The plan worked, he handed his drink to one of the others and left the group to attend to her needs. He delicately unhooked the bag and handed it to her.
“Thank you so much, here let me buy you a drink by way of thanks.”
“That really isn’t necessary.” Kelly loved the way his eyes danced when he spoke.
“No I insist, you really got me out of a pickle then, please what can I get you?” She really had to get to talk to him and this was the only way she knew how.
“Honestly I’m fine.” She looked at him, pleading with him.
“OK, but if there is anything I can do to say thank you please let me know.” It was her last ditch attempt to reel him in.
“Look, I appreciate the sentiment but I am only drinking water. How about you take me out for a meal next week?” Kelly recoiled in shock and anger. She had not expected this response. A drink was one thing but a meal was on another level.
“Hey I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean a fancy meal, I meant a burger, a new McDonalds has just opened up down the road.” A burger? She wasn’t expecting that, she didn’t quite know what to make of it.
“Sure I can do that. I thought your sort were into fine cuisine, not burgers and that sort of food.”
“What do you mean my sort?” He teased.
“Rich I mean.” Once she’d said it she wished she could take it back but it was too late.
“Think you’re talking about the wrong person there, I’m not rich.”
“But all your mates are, aren’t they?”
“Yes they are but I’m not, I’m just your average guy trying to make a living.”
“So how do you know them then?”
“Oh my Mum works as a cook for the guy with the Tucker boots, they agreed to take me out and show me the sites.” Kelly had played this all wrong but she actually didn’t mind.

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash


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