End of school
Here we are, standing in front of the infamous notice boards: the end of school, the final year. It still feels unbelievable! After five years spent in this old, filthy technical school, the torture is finally over. I got through my final exams reasonably well, so I’m hoping for a good grade. I push my way through the crowd of anxious students and search for the line with my name on it:
Pamela Pini, 77.
I let out a sigh of relief. It’s done: I’m finally a graduate.
The feeling of peace doesn’t last long, though. What am I going to do now? I have a diploma in accounting, so I guess I’ll have to find a job in that field. I’m good with numbers, but the thought of sitting behind a desk every day, entering invoices or filling out forms… It’s depressing.
I haven’t had parents for a long time. My mother got pregnant when she was sixteen, a single mother with very little money and a lot of dreams. She loved me, in her own way. She died five years after I was born, under circumstances I don’t want to remember.
My father… Well, he doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned. The only thing I know about him is that he was Swedish. DNA doesn’t lie, after all, which is why I have very blond hair and I’m quite tall and slender, like a Nordic goddess. From my mother I inherited only my dark eyes and the tendency to store fat around my breasts and hips.
“Hi, beautiful!”
Michela, one of my closest classmates, walks toward the notice board and hugs me.
Beautiful? I don’t know about that. I do get some attention from guys, but I’ve never considered myself anything special. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. Never.
Still, I know that when I put some effort into it, I can be quite attractive.
“Look what I found on the ground in the courtyard!”
Michela hands me a black flyer, covered with just a few white lines of minimalist text.
“You’ve just graduated and don’t know which path to take? Contact Madame Valerie. We are looking for girls for an introductory interview. Honest work, immediate payment guaranteed!”
Phone numbers and an email address follow. The flyer is elegant, sophisticated, almost luxurious in its design.
“I could call her. After all, I have nothing to do this summer!”
“Lucky you. I’m going to work at my father’s company instead…”
After chatting for a while, I slip the flyer into my pocket.
That same evening, I return to the group home where I live and decide to call Madame Valerie’s number. My heart is racing. I’ve never had a job interview before!
A woman answers. She is Madame’s secretary, and she schedules an appointment for the following afternoon.
There are a few requirements: hair down, light makeup, heels no higher than five centimeters, and an outfit entirely in white or entirely in black, my choice.
It seems like an unusual request, but acceptable. I have an old black dress and a pair of black heels that should work perfectly. I’ll complete the look with a pearl necklace (fake ones, obviously!).
There is something that unsettles me, though, so much that I can’t fall asleep.
It isn’t really the interview. It’s the secretary’s voice.
I found it… disturbingly sexy.
I fall asleep imagining a beautiful, elegant woman wearing a suit with a dangerously short skirt.
I wonder if I’ll really meet someone like that tomorrow, or if this is just another one of my childish fantasies.
