Tracey looked over the bonnet of the Lansdowne Sprint as it sat on the podium at the Royal Annual Car Show. The gleaming bodywork reflected the many lights from around the hall where other companies had their latest products on display.
Her eyes slid over the fine lines of the bright red car following them down the length of the body, before lingering on the sumptuous pale leather interior of the open tourer. It was a magnificent machine, one to be proud of, and one to be seen in. She sighed for although she had worked for Lansdowne for ten years there was little hope of her ever owning one. The price tag was over five years salary for her, this was the nearest she would ever get. Unfortunately she was also heavily in debt from some bad market calls and needed every cent to pay them.
The company only made a hundred cars in a year, and it was renowned for its quality and image. There was only one other car that came even close, the Ripley Roadster. It was produced by a rival company who also only made a few cars a year. Their display stand was a little way away, but was just close enough for her to see how many dreamers and prospective buyers were viewing their latest offering.
She had wandered over there earlier and had to admit the latest roadster was certainly a good looking vehicle; with its rich blue paintwork and tan brown leather upholstery. They would certainly interest a few more customers than last year, when their Ripley Rocket failed to attract the buyers the owners had hoped for. This year they had pulled out all the stops. Tracey could see from the men ogling this model, which might even have it a little bit over their one.
The two company's incomes depended very heavily on this car show to attract the main body of buyers for the year, and if they could attract more viewers then they would certainly make more sales. There had always been a fierce competition between the two.
As she stood watching the ebb and flow of the crowds, she thought how lucky she was to be working as the second sales rep for the company; her only problem was her boss Mr. Chambers who had been the main rep for donkey's years. Mr. Chambers was, if the truth be known, a real chauvinist. He thought women should stay in the home, preferably near the bed to be called at a moments notice. He definitely considered cars the domain of men, and let everyone know this. It had been a real struggle working her way up though the company from a receptionist to where she was now. It was only because Mr. Green, the owner, had an eye for the ladies that she had been given the job as sales rep. Although she hated to admit it her slim build with D cup breasts had helped to get his interest, especially when she wore a low cut top.
"Looks like the Ripley car is attracting quite a bit of interest," a voice interrupted her revelry, and she turned to face Mr. Chambers who stood with his dumpy secretary Hilda. Tracey and Hilda had never hit it off, she thought Tracey as a brainless blonde bimbo and Tracey thought she was a fat creep, of course they never said these things, but it was not hard to see their animosity.
"Yes," she replied, "it is better looking car than their last effort."
"Hm, we'll just have to work twice as hard then,." he said as he too looked across the crowded showroom to where there was a group of onlookers around their competitor's car. There were very few around their offering even though it was at least as good, which did seem odd.
"What's happening, why there are so many punters over there? Go and have a look Hilda" he said.
Dutifully his dumpy secretary wandered through the crowd as Tracey moved a step away from Mr. Chambers who had taken a step closer.
"They must have something happening to draw the crowd."
Tracey continued to stand watching the crowds as they flowed through the various stands. The smell and the sound of the show had always excited her. There was a vibrancy to it that was hard to explain. She turned to talk to a middle aged man who had picked up one of their brochures. They conversed for a short while as he flicked through the publication, before smiling and saying that he would think about it.
Tracey turned back to where Mr. Chambers was now conversing with his secretary, who had returned from her reconnoiter.
"The bastards, they're using a model in t-shirt and shorts to attract the men over there," he said as if he had regretted not thinking of doing the same.
"That's not fair," she said as she looked down at their car with the few men still looking at it. "Some people will stoop to anything to get a sale."
"The trouble is it seems to be working, Tracey."
"Well what can we do to attract them over here?" Tracey enquired, "Are we going to stoop to the same foul tricks?"
"I suppose we've got no choice, we'll have to get a model as well, two can play at that game," he said with feeling.
"But where are we going to get a model now at such short notice?" Tracey replied, thinking he must be crazy.
"I don't know but if we don't find one soon we could be losing out customers even as we stand here." He said crossly.
"I know, Mr. Chambers!" his secretary piped up.
"What!" he said, with a hint of irritation.
"She can do it," she said pointing at Tracey.
"Me! You must be mad, I'm not a model." She said with disdain.
"No, you're not," Mr. Chambers smiled, "still she's got a point, I mean you're not bad looking and keep yourself fit. Look I don't think you have any choice, if we are to compete with their low tricks."
"But I'm a sales rep, not some dolly girl."
"Look Tracey, I don't think we have much option, and I'm sure Mr. Green would approve." Tracey was sure Mr. Green would approve, he liked any good looking girl, especially one dressed in shorts and T-shirt.
"Well," Tracey said hesitantly, "I suppose I could sit in the car."
"I think we need a bit more than that Tracey to catch their eye." He thought for a minute, "I know, what you need is a swimsuit!"
"What, modeling, here, in a swim suit, with all these men around, no way!" "What's the problem, it only the same as being at the beach."
"There's a world of difference. Anyway I don't have a swim suit handy, I hardly carry one around with me do I?"
"I know," piped up Hilda hopping about like an agitated goat, "there's a surf shop around the corner, I'm sure they have lots of suits."
"I suppose I could go and have a look then," Tracey said reluctantly feeling the situation was getting out of control.
"No, you're needed here, Hilda can go and get one, just tell her your size and she'll pick one out. Just make sure it is white to contrast with the car."
