“Remind me what we’re doing here.” Tina rubbed the spot at the top of her thigh where the little fat man had pinched as she pinned on his poppy.
“We lost a bet. But we get to knock off at six. In ten minutes.”
The clock was striking as Tina pinned the last blood-red reminder onto the lapel of yet another leering ‘suit’.
She felt a hand at her thigh and turned to see fatso was back.
The last sonorous ‘bong’ signalled freedom.
Just in time for her to kick the little man. Hard.
“Off duty now,” she grinned.
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