This story contains some strong language. if you are offended by strong language, please read no further.

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Bethany tasted blood and suddenly became aware that she was chewing her lower lip, No, not chewing, she was actually biting it hard enough to produce blood. How long had she been doing that for? Bethany had no idea.

She made a conscious efort to stop gnawing her lip but, in doing so became acutely aware of the cheap short skirt and the 6 inch heels on which she tottered.

“Fuck, what am I doing here?”, she thought, taking hold of the lamp post for support. Dam those heels, she could hardly stand in them let alone walk!

“Looking for business love?”. Bethany started, and became aware of 2 scruffily dressed guys in an old Ford. “No”. “Then what the hell are you standing there for, on the street corner?”, the driver said and, not waiting for an answer stuck up 2 fingers and drove away.

“Oh god this is all a fucking mistake”, Bethany thought, stamping her feet trying to keep warm. Shit, her right heel had snapped clean off. “cheap bloody shoes, horrid skirt”, she said outloud, starting to cry.

A car pulled over and a man in a clerical collar leaned out of the driver’s window, “excuse me, are you looking for business?”, “you know I bloody well am”, Bethany said climbing in next to the vicar.

They drove in silence, Bethany glaring at the clerical gentleman. “Chill out Bethany. You can’t deny that its authentic. I bet you will be the only girl at the Tarts and Vicars Party who can say that they have stood on a street corner, dressed as a tart and been picked up by her boyfriend, dressed as a vicar!”.

The end