The mansion owner ran his entitled fat finger along the staircase banister. Fault-finding judgement announced on his artificially tanned features before she’d even looked. Ophelia knew what was coming. This was a mere formality to assert his superiority before the belittling – engineered to strip bare her dignity – began in earnest.
He raised the digit for her to see, dust clinging to it in one congealed lump. “Dust,” he bellowed, as if it were some sort of shocking surprise. That was as far as his acting abilities carried however. The unmistakeably sniffy tone and never less than arrogant manner, perfected over many decades since when he’d first inherited wealth and left humanity for good, flowed from him as naturally as champagne from a flute glass.
“Get dressed. I’m calling the agency,” he huffed while flashing a cold smile to showcase his insincerity. “You might have the body for it, but NUDE MAIDS FOR HIRE, or whatever those overcharging, lint-licking rice bubbles call themselves, are gonna get told the next hired help they god-dam-well send out here better come wearing at least a decent pair of bloody bi-focals!”
Ophelia bowed her head and felt sobs trapped in her throat. Grief surged from her with every expelled breath. She thought of all the sacrifices she’d made giving up her highly paid stripping job down at STARBUTTS GRANDE BOOBIE BUNGALOW to swap it for a less seedy, more respectable line of work.
She collected her duck-egg blue handbag from the front parlour and made her way through the massive pinewood double doors for the last time, with two welcome thoughts rising unbidden in her mind - THE BUSH OF LANDES FOREST and OMELETTE DU FROMANAJA TWA.
Ophelia took one last look at the miser. “I dress for no one.”
Out into the crisp night air and down the street she walked, her future becoming clearer and more resolute with each determined stride.
This story was written by Glen Donaldson, a Brisbane-Australia writer with a nutty aftertaste. He avoids clichés like the plague and admits to being disappointed that a group of squids is not called a squad. Glen lists his all-time favourite movie as CAPRICORN ONE (1978). He owns two telescopes – one working. Glen blogs at SCENIC WRITER’S SHACK.
