One Thing Different 1: Introduction free porn video

One Thing Different 1: Introduction I All five women had been lucky in life. Decisions made had been for the best all round. At each critical junction they had chosen the path that led to riches beauty and fortune in love. And now, at thirty two, they had earned the right to sit back and enjoy it. Gemma and Kim were blondes working in the fashion trade - Gemma as a designer, Kim as a model. A brunette, Samantha managed one of a chain of BMW showrooms and was on the fast track to taking on a role at head office with twice the pay. Anna was a redhead married to the wealthiest man in the county and Christina was the television presenter of a game show and a documentary series. She was a striking oriental. Each one of them were friends because of their looks and contacts and the round of social contacts they shared. Each was slim and gorgeous - perfect figures honed by effort or carved by a surgeon's scalpel. Each had a perfect life. And everything to lose... II Gemma grinned, holding up the tray in front of her as she re-entered the lounge. "This is it girls. You're going to love it." The others looked round at her, Kim and Sam craning over the back of her leather sofa, Anna glancing up from the open copy of Cosmo propped on her knees where she was sitting on one of the matching armchairs. Christina was making herself a drink. She cocked her head and said in perfect English, at odds with her oriental ancestry, "What have you found this time Gemma?" Gemma reached for the cloth that concealed what she'd bought. "It's a real beauty. And it only cost me four hundred and fifty." She whipped the cloth away with a flourish. There was only candlelight in the room, barely making a dome of light half way to the towering ceiling. The other four women squinted in the gloom at what was revealed. Gemma stepped closer, lowering the tray to give a better angle of view and didn't let herself feel disappointed at the looks of disgust on more than one face. "What's it supposed to be?" asked Samantha. "I can answer that," said Kim, "It's a piece of junk." "Very funny," said Gemma, popping the tray down on the coffee table. Sam reached across and picked it up. "A statue?" Gemma nodded. "Of what?" "I don't know. But I like it." She sat on the arm of the sofa. "It isn't human," said Anna, "whatever it is." "There's an engraving on it that I fell in love with." Christina walked back into the circle of light with her drink. "The number of trinkets that you fall in love with, you're going to fill this whole house." Kim leaned over Samantha. "What does the engraving say?" "Get out of my light and I'll tell you." Kim groaned and leaned back, crossing her arm. "I'm not interested anyway." "It says," began Samantha. "What changes could be wrought on your life," cut in Gemma, "if only one thing had been different." There was a pause. Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Kim broke the spell by saying "Nothing but a piece of junk." "It's not!" said Gemma, snatching it back. "I think it's beautiful!" "You'd think a severed head was beautiful; if it cost enough," said Christina, sitting in the other free armchair and crossing her legs. "And that would be nicer to look at than this monstrosity," grumbled Kim. "No! You lot are missing the point!" said Gemma, exasperated. "I admit it isn't the prettiest thing I've ever brought home but that inscription called out to me. I knew we were meeting up tonight for drinks and I thought it would be a nice thing for us all to talk about." "What did it say again?" "I thought it might help us to appreciate what we have." "Appreciate what we have," echoed Christina. "Yes." Gemma stood up and walked away from them then turned sharply back and pointed at Christina. "You. Chrissy." "What?" "Think about what you do - about all your success. You should appreciate it." "I do." "No. I mean really appreciate it! Like it says on the statue! Think how different your life would have been if only one detail had been different." "What do you mean?" "You're a household name. People recognise you in the street and ask you for your autograph. Like all of us, you're rich. What if you hadn't attended the audition that gave you your big break? What if you'd had a cold that day?" "I didn't have a cold." Gemma sighed. "But what if you had? You wouldn't be a TV presenter now, would you? You'd be a nobody." Christina shrugged. "I suppose not." Gemma smiled, holding out the statuette toward Christina. "That's what I'm talking about. I saw the inscription on this ugly little thing and it made me think about what I had and how easily I could have ended up with a lot less if I'd not been so lucky." "I tell you what would have changed my life beyond all recognition," said Christina, taking the statue. She looked into the middle distance, lost in thought. "If my parents hadn't moved from Japan when they did. If they'd only brought me over here recently." She shivered. "What a horrible thought." "Are you cold?" "I'm okay," said Chistina, passing the statuette on to Kim, "I just felt a chill." "One of the candles has blown out," said Anna, not looking up from her magazine. "Maybe there's a window open." "There shouldn't be," said Gemma. She sat down on the arm of the sofa again. Kim scrutinised where the face of the statue should have been if it had been human. "I'll tell you what would have set my life on a different course and no mistake," she said, not lifting her eyes from the smooth carved metal. "If my aunt hadn't died." "Your aunt?" "Yup. My aunt." She looked up at the others. "I used to be pretty chubby when I was a teenager. Not like I am now." "Fat? You?" "Not fat. Chubby. But definitely not model material. My mum wanted me to go on diets. She pushed me all the time but I was quite happy. And I couldn't be bothered to go to all that effort to lose weight." Anna said, "How did your aunt come into it?" "She was fat. Very fat. Enormous. I used to walk with her down the street and listen to the kids making nasty comments about her she couldn't hear. I watched her growing old lonely because she couldn't get a man she was so obese. And then she died of a heart attack. She died alone. And I started dieting before the funeral. I vowed I was never going to become like her. I was going to be beautiful." The glow of the candles flickered, moving the pockets of shadow on the statuette's torso, seeming to animate it. Gemma got to her feet. "I think there may be a window open after all." She walked toward the archway into the hall. "Another candle's blown out." III There were no windows open. There shouldn't have been a breeze. But nevertheless, goose bumps were raised on Gemma's slim shoulders as she walked back through to the lounge and another candle was out. There were only two left burning. Anna was passing the statuette to Samantha. "Did I miss anything?" Kim groaned. "Only Anna droning on about how lucky she was to have married the richest man in the world." "In the county," corrected Anna. "What did you say would have made your life different?" asked Gemma. "It doesn't matter. It was silly." "Not to mention offensive," said Kim. "I didn't mean it like that," whined Anna, "I just said what I thought." "I'll tell you what could have made my life different," said Samantha, cutting over the top of them. "A whole lot better than it is now." "What?" She smiled devilishly. "If I'd slept with my boss when I'd had the chance." The others laughed. "You slut!" said Gemma. "I'm serious." Anna threw a cushion at her. "Careful of my statue," said Gemma. "The manager of the whole chain of garages came to visit our showroom a few years ago," said Sam, "It was me who showed him round. I wasn't the overall manager then. I was just the assistant but this guy liked me. And he obviously wanted to sleep with me. He propositioned me." "No!" "Really?" "Yes," said Samantha. "He said he could guarantee a meteoric rise in the company if I had sex with him." "But you didn't do it?" "No. Course not. I'm not a prostitute. I wanted to succeed but I wanted to do it on my own merit - not cause I slept with the right guy." There was a moment of silence. "But you've always regretted it," said Christina, "haven't you?" Samantha shrugged. "Maybe a little." She sipped her drink. "I managed to get out of it gracefully. I fed him some line or other. I don't remember. But I always wondered how much higher I could be now if I'd said yes. How rich I could have been." The second to last candle flickered and died. All five women looked at it, at the thin trail of smoke rising vertically from the smoldering wick. Not one spoke. Then they all looked back up at one another, eyes wide, lips loose, mouths hanging partially open. "Tell me that's just a coincidence," said Anna. Silence. "Of course it is," said Gemma uncertainly. "They would have to charge me a lot more than four hundred and fifty pounds if that thing was magic. Here give it to me." Samantha handed it across quickly, glad to be free of it. "It feels warm," said Gemma. Christina gripped her shoulders. "But the air's cold. Has your heating gone off?" "It shouldn't have done." Gemma looked at the ugly statuette in her hands. On its base the inscription was in shadow until she turned it so that the candlelight caught the grooves of the letters. What changes could be wrought on your life if only one thing had been different? She looked at the single candle that remained lit and its dancing flame. Only she had not cast her mind back to some crucial event in her past and considered what might have been different if that fact were altered. Four had spoken. Four flames had died. In her periphery Gemma sensed that they were all looking at that single flame. She laughed and the moment passed. They all laughed. "For a moment there, we were all wigging out." Anna giggled. "You say something about your life Gemma. Complete the spell." "What spell?" "I don't know. The spell." "There isn't any spell," said Kim, "We haven't wished for anything." "I did," said Samantha. "I wished I shagged the head of the company when I had the chance." They all burst out laughing. Anna and Sam chinked glasses. Then the laughter gradually died away and when it did they were all looking at the statuette in Gemma's hands. Then they looked up at Gemma's face. Gemma focused on the candle flame and started talking quietly. "There wasn't any single thing that made my life what it is today," she said, "I worked hard. That's it. There was no single exam I could have failed because I would have retaken it. God knows I retook a couple. There was no interview I could have failed that I wouldn't have tried again at. That's me. I don't give up so easily." She paused. "I don't know..." The candle flickered despite there being no breeze. "I guess the only thing that could have stopped me getting where I am is if I hadn't been born with the brain God gave me." Gemma looked at her friends. Then nervously back at the candle. She swallowed. "See," she said, "It wasn't magic after all. Nothing happened." Then the flame shuddered and died. And all five of them were plunged into darkness. SAMANTHA I Samantha climbed out of her BMW the next morning, smiling to herself about the party the night before. Her friends had been so freaked out when the candles blew out, screaming in the darkness while she laughed at them. Every one of them had been sucked into believing that some kind of magic was taking place. Except her. Magic didn't exist. If she'd spent her life thinking it did then she never would have become the manager of her own car dealership - BMW Direct. She walked across to the front doors in her tailor-made trouser suit, heels clacking on the tarmac, shoulder length bobbed hair swinging. Half way there she paused. There was a distant ringing in the bottoms of her ears suddenly and she felt a lurch of queesiness that fluttered then disappeared. Odd. She stood still for a moment then walked on. Mike, the dealership's best seller was just getting out of his car as she passed. He nodded respectfully. She returned a brief courteous smile. When Samantha got to the building, Jenny, the receptionist smiled crookedly and mumbled something but Samantha strode past her without acknowledgement. She would have liked to have been friends with all the lower employees if she'd had time but she didn't and someone like Jenny particularly would have been low on the list of priorities. Sam knew Jenny didn't have anything like the wages she did but she could at least have made a small effort with her hair and clothes. Her assistant manager greeted her at the top of the stairs outside the suite of offices. "Morning Samantha." She made herself smile. "Good morning Dave." She continued past without stopping. "Do you have those figures I asked for ready for me yet?" "Uh yes. I'll bring them right through." "Good. Make it quickly. I want to call head office with an update." She walked through the glass doors into her office and sat down at her desk. Talking to her friends about it last night had got her thinking and she wanted to get on top of doing what she could to get that job in head office as soon as possible. She smiled to herself again. It was quite true what she'd said while holding that statuette. If she'd slept with the managing director of the chain when she'd had the chance she would have been far higher up than she was now. It was a pity but she was going to make sure she climbed the ordinary way as fast as she could. Dave knocked and entered quickly carrying two cups of coffee and some papers tucked under his arm. "Here we are." Samantha stood as he came round her desk. As he got level with the corner of the desk, Dave tried to shuffle the papers out from under his arm without spilling the coffee. "Hold on." "Watch out." The papers slipped suddenly and Dave jerked, trying to catch them. Samantha saw it coming a mile away but couldn't move back quickly enough to avoid it. The coffee mug lifted sharply and jolted. The liquid inside kept coming, shooting out in her direction. She managed to move one step backward but that was all. Then it hit her, striking her jacket and spilling down her thigh and lower leg. She cried out from the horror then again as the scorch hit her. Dave set the cups down on the desk, flapping around apologising. He reached for a box of tissues but Samantha pushed him back. "Get out of here you stupid little man," she snapped. "Just get out." He apologised again and stumbled out, blushing. Samantha dabbed at the stain herself, sighing irritably. Jenny, the receptionist, poked her head round the door. "Are you all right Ms Kemp?" That was all she needed. "I'm fine," she replied testily, "I'll just have to go home and change now." Jenny hesitated, unsure whether to speak. "I have some spare clothes in my locker downstairs you could put on for your journey home if you like." Samantha looked at her then looked down at her sodden suit. It might have been the height of elegance and style two minutes earlier but it wasn't now and the warm coffee was soaking into her skin. "It'd be a shame to get the seat of your car wet," said Jenny. "You're right" said Samantha. She paused and then felt she ought to add "Thanks." II Samantha walked into the staff room clutching a scrap of paper with Jenny's locker combination scrawled on it. She tried to avoid going down there if possible. It wasn't as clean and tidy as the executive rooms upstairs. There was a row of lockers on one wall, a few cheap chairs and a table in the centre of the floor, a whiteboard used for training purposes. Jenny was standing guard outside so she slipped quickly out of her jacket and trousers. Her skin was clammy and wet underneath. She dabbed it dry with her jacket. She started to fold them neatly over a chair then thought better of it. There was an empty carrier bag on the table. She bundled them into that. She opened Jenny's locker, wishing the coffee hadn't soaked through to her bra. It was going to be an uncomfortable drive home regardless. In the locker was a mess of keepsakes and clutter that made Samantha turn her nose up. The contents were a snapshot of Jenny's entire life and demeanour. No wonder she had never progressed beyond receptionist in the five years she'd been working there. The rumours of loose sexual antics hadn't helped either. Nor had the fact that Samantha didn't like her. She'd done her best to block any attempts Jenny had made to move forward. Hanging from a grey bar in the top of the locker was a skirt, jacket and top. Samantha had no idea why she would keep a whole spare outfit at work and didn't really want to know. It was just lucky for her. She took them out revealing a bra on a little shelf that had been concealed. Samantha chewed her lip and glanced at the frosted window in the door. Her damp bra was very uncomfortable. Would Jenny mind her borrowing that too? She shrugged. What did it matter. Samantha was her boss. She could do whatever she wanted. She slipped out of her own bra and thrust it into the bag with her own clothes. There was a sink with a paper towel dispenser in the corner of the room. She pulled a few towels out and padded the damp skin round her breasts to dry them. Then she slipped her arms into Jenny's bra, suddenly wondering if this was a mistake. Jenny was fairly slim but she was a bigger girl than Samantha was and her boobs were bigger too. Jenny didn't have the drive or ambition it took to maintain her body slim and athletic. After a brief pause for deliberation, Samantha shrugged and tilted forward. It couldn't hurt to try them. She manoeuvred her breasts into the cups, tied the straps behind her back then stood up, pulling at it to get it comfortable, feeling strange wearing another woman's undergarment. But it was surprisingly comfy. It fit well. In fact it made her boobs look bigger somehow. They seemed to fit it perfectly. How odd. She walked over to the mirror above the sink. She'd always wanted slightly bigger breasts and there they were. She'd never seen a wonder bra like it. Well... Who was complaining? She'd have to buy a similar one at the weekend. She started to turn away from the mirror but paused. In the glass she could see a discoloration on her right breast. She looked down to get a better view and frowned. It was odd. There was a roughly circular red mark on her skin that must have been some kind of reaction to the coffee. Or maybe the fabric of the bra. If she didn't know better she would have recognised it as a love bite. It didn't matter. It would be covered up. She reached for the top. Or would it? The top was made of synthetic material designed to approximate the look of silk. It had thin straps and no sleeves and Samantha could tell just to look at it that it would cover little more than her bra. Maybe she could just wear the jacket. Or at least she could expect that to cover up the rest. Shrugging again she quickly slipped the top over her head and manoeuvred it into place. It was snug to say the least and as expected did nothing to cover up the love bite shaped blemish. Samantha quickly put the jacket on over the top and sighed heavily when she realised how snug that was too. It was designed to button up only as far as the tummy button and leave the chest exposed. With her new larger breasts it barely covered them at all. An enormous square of cleavage was revealed. It was going to be humiliating walking past her staff looking like this. How did Jenny stomach it the lack of respect that would inevitably come with an outfit like this? She angrily picked up the skirt and slipped that on. "Oh for God's sake!" It only came down to her mid thigh! She hadn't worn tights to work because she was wearing trousers. Without any on or at the very least without boots to cover some of her skin up she looked like a slut. Without her cleavage hanging out as well she was going to be a laughing stock. But what else could she wear? She looked down at herself. It was going to have to be her wet clothes. She couldn't possibly go out like this. She turned to pick up the carrier bag, miffed now that she hadn't folded the clothes straight. It was better to be dishevelled but decent than go out leaving nothing to the imagination though. The bag wasn't on the table where she thought she'd left it. Samantha bent down and looked under the table. It wasn't there either. "What the hell...?" She looked all round the room. It was gone. It had to be a practical joke. She did another search, becoming more and more irritable but she found nothing. She even looked in the sink but it was empty. Then she looked up at the mirror and let out a tiny scream. Her hair was blond. Curly, big and blond. It was impossible. She reached up and touched it. It was real. It didn't matter how impossible it was. It was real. It was a dye job - her original dark roots were still visible - but she was blond. And that wasn't all. The make-up on her face was different. There was more of it. It looked cheaper. And there was another mark that looked like a love bite, this time on the side of her throat. She touched it then started with shock when she saw false scarlet nails on the ends of her fingers. She turned her hand in front of her to look at them. Scarlet against the pale skin of her slim fingers and hands. What the hell was happening? What - the hell - was happening to her? III She had to leave the locker room. But she couldn't. How could she go out there dressed like this? Everyone would laugh at her. But then again, what other choice did she have? It wasn't far to the front doors and out to her BMW. Once she was there she'd be safe. She wished now that she hadn't made Jenny stand guard outside. Looking like this, Jenny was the last person she wanted to face. She looked as bad as Jenny did on her worst days. Nevertheless, she had to. There was no other choice. She walked up to the door then froze when a man's silhouette filled the frosted glass. The handle turned. Samantha gasped. Then Mike, the dealership's best seller entered the room. He stared at her and she stared back, waiting for the laughter. Then he grinned and said "Hi Sammy, I was wondering what had happened to you." She gaped at him. He had never been so familiar. He walked toward her, eyeing her bare legs and cleavage. "You look good today. You always look good." She stepped back but he kept coming until he was right in front of her. He put his hand on her waist. "How about a quick snog?" She couldn't find words to condemn him. Nothing came to mind that could possibly express how angry she was. He was finished at the company. That was definite. He would be out of there within the hour. But she couldn't find the words to say that or anything else. "Come on darling," he said, "Robert in acquisitions said you and he had a rumble over the weekend but that doesn't change things between us, does it?" He pressed his lips up against her mouth and forced his tongue in roughly. Samantha raised her hand above back, making her fingers into a fist, ready to pummel him and push him away but a huge swell of passion came up inside her and she felt herself give in to it. And after all, she thought, I could lose my job if I don't put out when they want me to. It's the only reason they keep me around. Mike pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "As good as ever darling. She found herself wanting him to continue but he pulled away and it was only then that she recognised the thought that had entered her head when he kissed her. Why on earth should she ever think that she'd lose her job if she didn't have sex with this man? Quite the opposite was true. "Nice hiccies," said Mike, looking at her neck and chest. "Who gave you those? Robert?" Samantha didn't know what to say. Then the memory of a man snuggling under her chin at a club the night before came into her mind and she found herself stammering "Just some bloke I met last night. It didn't mean nothing." Mike moved toward the door leaving Samantha stunned. She hadn't been to a night club the night before. She was sure she hadn't. She never went to them. But the memory was there. She felt herself being turned on by it. Then the door clunked shut behind Mike and she was alone again. She went to the mirror again and stared at herself, at the slutty looking bleach-blond staring back at her and thought to herself, "What on earth is going on here?" IV Samantha steeled herself, looking into her eyes in the mirror. Just walk out of the building to her car and drive home. That was all she had to do. As she formulated the plan in her mind two flashes of memory she had never seen before entered her mind. A battered lime green VW Beetle and a grubby little flat above a pet shop in Barton. She shuddered, pushing the pictures from her mind, terrified of what they meant. Just get to her BMW lime green Beetle parked at the back of the car park because her boss said it made the BMWs look bad and go home. Get into a hot bath and relax. Squalid tiny little bathroom with peeling wallpaper and a ring of brown around its edge. "No!" Samantha shut her eyes tightly. She didn't know where these memories were coming from but they weren't hers. They couldn't be. She owned a big house in Farley, the posh suburb of town. She owned a BMW. Didn't she? Why was this happening to her? Had she done something wrong? Was that it? She hadn't been the nicest boss - that was true, but surely she didn't deserve what was happening to her now. She tugged her jacket as far as it would go across her chest. It barely covered anything and sprang back to reveal the full scope of her cleavage. Her bare legs in their high heels and short tight skirt were so revealed. She felt exposed. How could anybody go to work like this every day? And something else was wrong. She felt her stomach and then her thighs. She felt her upper arms through the jacket. She'd put on weight. Suddenly. Not too much. There was just a slight roundness to her face, to her whole body. She didn't look taut and fit anymore. She looked like somebody who'd given up on that and had settled for being as slim as she could be - who ate less to keep slim rather than exercising. Her larger breasts no longer looked out of place and she fit into Jenny's clothes perfectly. She had to get out of there - get home - as soon as she could. She had to go now. She walked to the door and took hold of the handle. Just go quickly. Avoid looking at people on the way out. She pulled open the door. Jenny wasn't standing guard outside. Nobody was around. The showroom was full of BMWs, sleek and new. She glanced down again at her bare high heeled legs and exposed chest then self-consciously stepped out. The door swung shut behind her and she froze, unsure suddenly. Her new curly blond hair was visible at the sides of her face, framing her view. She took a step forward. Her heels felt higher than she was used to. She normally wore low heels but another glance down showed that the ones she was wearing had changed as well. They were stilettos. A wave of pride moved through her mind. She loved how sexy they made her legs look. That was what she needed. She needed to net a good bloke - one of the salesmen and get him to marry her. Now she was never going to make it as a career girl she needed to be kept somehow. Looking sexy was the best way to get that. If only they wouldn't just keep sleeping with her then sharing her round. But no. That wasn't who she was. Why was she thinking like that? She had to get out of there. She started walking quickly, between the cars, heading toward the front exit. She got as far as the foyer when a man's voice stopped her dead. "Sam! Where do you think you're going?" She turned slowly. Dave, her assistant manager was walking down the staircase. He looked taller than he had but it wasn't that he'd grown. He just wasn't cowering anymore. "I'm just going home to change clothes," said Samantha, flushing, shocking herself by how nervous she felt in front of this man who had always worked under her. It wasn't just him seeing her dressed like this. There was something else. "I know Jennifer doesn't approve of the clothes you wear Sam but like I've told you before, I think showing a bit of leg brings more of the male buyers in." "Sorry?" "And as long as I manage this place," said Dave, "what I say goes." "As long as you manage it?" stammered Samantha, "But I'm the manager." Dave laughed. "I'm sure you would have been if you hadn't made the mistake of shagging the head of the company five years ago." Samantha stared at him. "What did you say?" "Surely you didn't think it was a secret. Everybody knows. That's why you got demoted - why they'll never let you get past being receptionist." She could barely form the words. "Receptionist? But what about Jenny?" "I'd prefer it if you called me Mrs Clark Sam, I've told you before." Samantha span on the spot. Jenny was coming down the staircase following Dave but she didn't look like she had done half an hour earlier. She was wearing a grey ankle length skirt and perfectly tailored jacket. Her hair was short and stylish, her make-up light and elegant. Samantha felt her heart speed up in her chest. How could this be happening? How could any of it be happening? "As for going home," said Dave, "I'd rather you get back to your desk. The phone's been ringing on and off for ages. Where have you been?" "In the locker room." "Well go on. Get back to work." Samantha looked across at the reception desk. Surely not. Surely she wasn't going to be trapped there for the rest of her life. She looked up at the spacious offices at the top of the stairs. "Go on Sam," said Jennifer, "and if you have to show so much cleavage, please refrain from letting the men you sleep with give you visible love bites." She shook her head and walked away. Samantha tottered to the reception desk and walked behind it. Surely she had never been on that side of it but it felt like she had been there every day for years. She looked at the switchboard. Extension numbers for different departments came into her head instantly - numbers she shouldn't have known. Dave was still waiting with his arms crossed. "Well sit down girl and get to work. You had your chance at management. Now you need to accept your station and get on with it." She sunk into the seat behind the desk. Was this it then? Had her life shifted? And why? Why could this have happened. Then she remembered. She remembered the statuette and the party - all of them wondering what their lives would be like if only one thing had been different. That was it wasn't it? She had imagined how different her life would have been if she had chosen to sleep with the business owner and the statuette had somehow made it come true. But in a way far darker than she'd ever imagined. She had to call Gemma. What change had she talked about happening in her past? Samantha had to talk to her before it happened. She reached for the phone but a split second before she touched it it started to ring. She stared at the receiver, trying desperately to remember who she had been planning to call. It was important, she knew that much. Terribly important. But she couldn't remember who. Unless it was that bloke she'd met last night at the club. Ben? Was that his name. No. Ben had been the one the night before. Trevor was the one from last night. Well, regardless: she'd have to call him in a minute. The phone wasn't going to answer itself. She had a job to do. She picked it up and smiled, crossing her legs. "BMW - Direct, how may I help you?"