Chapter 3

Veronica Harmsworth had just been given a parcel of clothes to put on, before embarking on a day of trial which, she hoped, would see her at the end, a rich and independent woman. A woman of substance.

The underwear had pained her greatly. It was swimwear - of a somewhat unusual sort. The kind of thing some bimbo on the make might wear in order to entice some sad bastard of a rich, but not very attractive, man. Her flesh had literally crept as she had put these items on. With loathing and disgust she had looked in the mirror at her obscenely attired body, seeing some caricature of herself staring back at her. What people will do to be rich!

After making herself up, she then turned to the three remaining items (shoes count as one item).

The skirt was a lulu! Bloody hell, I can't go out wearing this, she thought! (but then the £ signs flashed up before her eyes!)

She had heard about slit skirts before now. But this one had TWO slits! And they went a very long way up. It reached on her to just below the knee. And it also was a very aggressive shade of red.

And then! The TOP! Sleeveless and white with broad horizontal red stripes, it buttoned up not far enough to cover her cleavage. Veronica was never one for bare arms, even in the height of Summer - which this was not, it being early April at the time. It also left her midriff exposed, as was the fashion nowadays. She resigned herself to feeling quite a breeze in that area when she finally came to venture forth later on in the morning.

No tights or stockings had been provided and this was another source of distress, for our heroine was most fastidious in this regard, refusing ever to be publicly bare-legged.

The outfit was completed firstly by a pair of open toed and very high heeled shoes of the most incredibly impractical nature. The sort of thing one could not walk in, but merely totter. The final item was a shoulder bag...

She surveyed the overall effect and sighed sadly. She was certainly going to earn her million in a most embarrassing way!

She read the letter again. It instructed her to be at the Café Rouge at 9.30 am, where she was to order coffee and toast and await further instructions. She still had over an hour to wait and spent it reading the paper, which had just arrived.

...

Finally she realised that the time was nearly up. She must venture forth and go to the Café Rouge. This early in the morning she was almost the only customer as she tottered precariously into the place on her impossibly high heels. She sat in the furthest corner, hoping to avoid being seen from the street and ordered coffee and two slices of anchovy toast. By keeping her legs together, she was able to avoid exposing too much of her thighs, but there was nothing she could do to hide her brightly painted toes from view.

On her way here she had indeed felt the chill against her stomach as well as her unprotected legs. The breeze had blown her long blonde hair and flimsy red skirt about a fair bit and many a passing male pedestrian had experienced a welcome boost to his morale as he spied her handsome lily white legs shown up to such effect by her unaccustomed and eye-catching footwear. The red shoulder bag only served to enhance the general tartiness of her appearance on this memorable day.