Amber looked up at the large wall clock. It read 4:55. Only five minutes until freedom. The boys had collected most of the scattered shopping trolleys and corralled them into one place. They worked on releasing the supermarket security shutters and fastened them to the floor.
One customer, a rotund lady in her late forties, waddled passed them, muttering, 'I need some milk. I'll be right back.'
Amber rolled her eyes and waited. Within minutes the lady returned with three cartons of milk securely pressed to her ample but sagging bosom under one arm. The other was attempting to reach her purse from the depths of a large shoulder bag. Amber swiped the three cartons over the bar code scanner and finalised the transaction. The lady paid in cash and quickly hurried away muttering about something else.
Amber had just about met them all. Customers of all types and persuasions. Different sizes and shapes. Good looking and ugly. Sincere and dishonest. Every day there was someone who stood out from the rest. Today it had been a good looking but narcissistic guy in his early thirties. By the type and number of items he had purchased indicated that he was moving into new accommodation. Mops, buckets, cooking spices, frozen dinners, cleaning agents, tinned food, paper plates, etc.
Amber caught him eyeing her as he queued at the check out. She had seen the look before - catching men undressing her with their eyes - craving to see what was under the dark-blue tunic of the uniform she was required to wear.
She smiled back at him quickly, if only to increase his anticipation.
By the time his turn had arrived to be served, he was keen not to let an opportunity like this pass him by.
'Hi there... how ya doing,' he opened with.
Amber just smiled back and continued to process his items.
'Cat got your tongue?' he asked with a dry smile.
'Nope,' was Amber's single word answer.
Not the least put off, he said, 'You have beautiful eyes – in fact beautiful everything...'
Amber smiled and said, 'Thank you Sir,' as she gave him a longer look.
He was cute, she agreed to herself. But there was a touch of over confidence in his manner, which she both liked and disliked. She wasn't sure about him. What he did next would push it either way. He dropped his car keys in front of her deliberately. The emblem of a prancing horse stood out. Bad move. Amber disliked guys that attempted to impress her by the type of car they owned. She paid no intention to the enticing move and quickly finalised his account and said, 'Are you paying cash or credit?'
Realising that his opportunity was about to pass, he pulled out his AMEX card and said, 'Put it on this, and, oh yeah – there's enough left for me to take you out to dinner tonight. Interested?'
Amber smiled a knowing smile. She kept him in suspense as she finished the credit transaction and watched him sign the chit. He looked at her waiting for a response.
'Well?' he asked.
Amber gave him his receipt, AMEX card, then looked him in the eyes. She let her full lips part slightly to reveal two perfect rows of white teeth, waited, then picked up his car keys and dangled them in front of him. 'Don't forget you're pretty horse, and hold onto the reigns real tight, 'cause that's all you're gunna ride tonight...'
Amber would get at least one of these approaches every day on average. She liked this guy because he was predictable. Some others were plain disturbing. Some men would touch her on her hand when she picked up grocery items for scanning. Other men would just leer at her. On one occasion, a disgusting old man played pocket billiards the whole time she was serving him. Part of the job she always put it down to.
Within five minutes after the muttering lady with the milk had left, Amber had balanced her till and stuffed the journal rolls and takings into the canvas security bag. Passing the bag to her supervisor, she smiled, said her goodbyes and walked out of the supermarket. The shopping-trolley boys were about to secure the last shutter, but instantly stopped as she walked past to drool on her shapely figure and confident walk.
Reaching her car, a dark green Mini Cooper, she unlocked the driver's door and threw her bag onto the passenger's seat. The first thing she did when seated was to reach down and untie the laces on her pumps. Sliding them off, and then her white socks, she stretched her perfect white toes.
Free at last, she thought.
The Mini's engine barked to life; the automatic selector was set to drive; Amber pressed on the accelerator with her big toe and the Mini moved out of the staff car park and onto the street.
Amber was tired. After four late nights in a row she was feeling it. She knew that if she didn't get sufficient rest soon, it would tell. Small dark rings would start to appear under her eyes; her skin would become dry; and, hopefully not, like last time – she would get a rash at the back of her long slender neck. She promised herself that after tonight, she would stay home for the next three nights and get some proper rest.
Arriving at her apartment, situated in a swank modern complex overlooking the river, she unlocked her front door and went inside. She dropped her pumps on the floor and let her bag down on top of them.
The apartment was exquisitely furnished. Expensive items purchased from the best furniture and electronics stores. The drapes were heavy and of fine texture. There were prints of her heroes on the wall.