Melody Sharpe had a perky bounce in her step as she sprang up the steps at the 77th Street subway stop. Of course, Melody pretty much always had a perky bounce in her step. She had spent years practicing the bounce she maintained in her step to ensure maximum perkiness. But today she didn't even have to affect the perk; it just came naturally. Partly it was the glorious sun on her face and arms, arms that were going bare outdoors for the first time in months. Mostly, though, it was anticipation for tonight.
Melody wasn't necessarily the smartest person, though she felt she was much smarter than people gave her credit for. She wasn't very curious, nor very athletic. What she was, was cute. She had been an adorable baby. She had been a delightfully precocious kid. And she had grown into a cute-in-a-sexy-way adult. Melody was accustomed to being the cutest thing in any particular room she happened to occupy.
Melody paused to take a look at her reflection in a shop window she was passing, as was her habit. She had hair down to the middle of her back, blonde, starting out straight at the top of her head, wavey in the middle, then curling up into little ringlets at the tips. For fun, she pulled on one and watched it spring right back into place. She smiled, which drew her attention to her full-but-small lips, narrow enough to be cute but plump enough to be sexy. And then there was her tiny nose, a perfect little triangle, with just the smallest upward turn at the tip, just enough to give her personality without looking like a snout. She had soft brown eyes and rosy cheeks, all on a face that was as close to a perfect circle as a human skull would allow.
And that adorable face topped a body that certainly didn't hurt in getting people to pay attention to her. Perky breasts that just seemed to stay up on their own; a flat, toned belly; long, slender legs; and, most important of all, an amazing butt. Melody took a lot of pride in her butt; she had described it on numerous occasions as her best physical feature. Two perfectly spherical cheeks, just a tad disproportionately large compared to her figure, but not so large as to look fat. Firm and muscley, but with just the right amount of give. Her fiancée, in a rare moment of softness, had once described it as "the perfect human rear end," and declared that it was a crime that a plaster cast had not been taken so that it might be displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Thinking of her fiancée reminded her: She ought to send a reminder text to make sure her cutie pie remembered that they had a date tonight. On more than a few occasions, her sweetie had gotten so wrapped up in work that Melody had been stood up, without even a text to let her know what was going on. There she would sit, the cutest girl on the island of Manhattan, all alone at a restaurant. Just the thought of it made her a little misty. At least the food was usually free those nights; the waiters tended to take pity and pay out of pocket. After all, was anything more tragic than a cute girl all on her own?
She whipped out her cell phone with practiced ease and, with the skill of someone who has sent an average of a hundred texts per day for the prior ten years of her life, Melody dashed off a quick message: "Luv U, Huney! Knock 'em dead! SO excited 4 2nite! <3". She didn't expect a reply, really. Getting her fiancée to text was like pulling teeth. Still, a little text would at least remind her fiancée that this was their one-year anniversary and showing up would be important.
Melody stopped at the cupcake shop around the corner from her work. It was crowded, as usual, and Melody was running a little late. She shrugged, then walked straight to the front of the line.
"I'll take a chocolate cupcake with coconut frosting to go, please!" She smiled at the counter clerk, who stopped serving a customer mid-sentence to attend to Melody's needs. Behind her she heard people yelling and grumbling about her cutting to the front of the line. That was strange, people almost never got angry at her! Then she realized that they must not have gotten a good look at her. She turned around to face them, flashing a sheepish smile coupled with doe eyes, as though to say, "Oh, my! I hadn't realized there was a line! Pleeeeease don't be mad at me!" And, in defiance of every known principal of sociology and the lived experience of every battle-hardened New Yorker, the crowd's collective heart instantly melted. Some people actually had a difficult time making eye contact with Melody, so bad did they feel about their recent ill-considered angry outbursts.
Melody walked out of the shop and, while licking the icing off her cupcake with one hand, pulled out her cell phone with the other. To her delighted shock, there was a reply message from her fiancée: "I am excited for tonight as well. I will see you back at the apartment after work. :-)" This inspired a raised eyebrow from Melody. If it weren't for the stilted, formal grammar, that emoticon would make her think that her fiancée's phone had been stolen. Melody was clearly having an influence.
Melody rounded the corner and walked into the Clinton Rest and Rehabilitation Center, where she worked. It was located on the Upper West Side, a ten minute subway ride from the apartment she shared with her fiancée, which had been a huge perk to moving in. She breezed past security and into the exceptionally slow elevator, then pressed the button for the 9th floor.
She took the opportunity of the minute's peace in the elevator to think about tonight. They would be going to Le Cirque, one of New York's most expensive restaurants, then seeing Les Misérables from box seats; they would practically be on stage themselves! Melody loved Les Mis, especially the ending when Eponine married the surprisingly rich student who knew nothing about her except how good she looked, proving once again that adorableness conquers all.
She pulled out her phone to send another quick text, just to let her fiancée know how excited she was. "Do you hear the people sing?" She replaced her phone just as the elevator dinged, indicating her arrival on the 9th Floor.
Melody took a brief moment to survey her domain. Clinton Rest and Rehab was primarily an old folk's home, and Melody was the greatest social worker in it. Every day she brightened the lives of all of the clients who lived there by showing them that, yes, there was still beauty in the world, even if they were so very, very wrinkly and ugly. It almost hurt Melody to look at the clients, and it made her sad to think about all the time she was spending surrounded by such ugliness. Still, she was a social worker and accustomed to making sacrifices in the name of her poor, attractiveness-disadvantaged clients. If she could brighten their days just a bit by being the beautiful rose on their gravestones, well, it was all worth it!
"Melody! You're late again!" Melody heard the voice of the social work department head, Molly Spitz, calling out across the floor. She turned and smiled.
"Gosh, Molly, I guess I was just so excited about tonight that I took a little extra time making myself look extra-nice today! I think all the clients will appreciate it. Did I tell you about tonight? It's-"
"I know. It's your one-year anniversary. You told me yesterday as you were leaving. And also at lunch. And also when you were late yesterday morning. And also at lunch every day for the last month. I'm so excited the big day is finally here." Molly twitched slightly. She was basically a very nice and non-confrontational person. She always tried to find the good in everyone. But sometimes, with Melody, it was a bit of a struggle.
Melody turned her lip down into a concerned frown as she looked Molly over. Molly was wearing a pink-striped dress shirt, untucked in the back from loosely-fitting grey pants that were slightly frayed at the cuffs. She wore scuffed black flats that were starting to come apart at the seams. Worst of all, she didn't even wear any makeup or jewelry, which was unfortunate because she could really use something to conceal or distract from the bags under her eyes and the creases on her forehead and at the sides of her mouth. Molly was only about a year older than Melody, but she looked about ten years her senior.
"You know, Molly," Melody sighed, "you really should get more sleep. It would help with those bags under your eyes. And you should consider putting on make-up and just getting yourself a little more... together in the mornings..." she gestured to the back of Molly's shirt. Molly followed Melody's gaze, let out a disgruntled groan, then maneuvered the papers she was carrying into her left hand so that she could tuck herself in with her right.
"Sorry I'm not looking my best," Molly said as politely as she could manage after being dressed down about her appearance by a subordinate. She wanted to scream at Melody, but she called upon her years of social work training to repress her rage and calmly said, "I live pretty far out and I've been here late the last few nights filling out paperwork for the 9th floor patients. Speaking of which-"
"You should move closer to work! I live practically around the corner and it's great!" Melody smiled winningly, "Also, you should absolutely read this book I just finished, 'Be the Best You You Can Be,' it really taught me how to avoid self-defeating justifications, like all those things you just said." Melody looked pityingly at her boss, "I worry about you sometimes. I just think you could look so much better and be so much happier...."
