Shells

Lucky Bitch.Sitting there in her designer gear, gym toned body, perfect make-up, happy andcontented. Her bloke obviously dotty about her. Bet he gives her anything she wants. Aroom in this place costs well over £300 a night, and this meal won’t be cheap either.I smile benignly and deposit the crab claw platter-for-two between them.

Anna doesn’t like the couple she’s currently serving. I cantell by the way her warm copper eyes have hardened and hernormally fluid body is rigid. Maybe they were rude to her. Hereshe comes, walking towards me. Eyes still stone, but her beautyshines through.She passes me some empty glasses.‘Thanks, Anna’ I say.I like to use her name.

I thrust a couple of dirty glasses at the dumb kitchen boy standing in the doorwayand return to the bar. I can’t even pretend to clean anymore. It’s been dead all day.Unusual for a Saturday in August - especially when every room in the hotel is booked out.But then there’s that big seafood festival going on at the other end of the beach. And whowants to eat a SeaShell Hotel Seafood Platter indoors, when you can have a whole festivalof the stuff outdoors. Me, I haven’t been able to touch the stuff since I started workinghere.

Chef is shouting for a drink. Apparently if he’s not busyenough to throw abuse at people, he gets bored. Matt calls,‘Skivvy will get it’, meaning me. I grin and nod. They're lovingtreating me like a slave, but I don't mind. It’s the reason I’mhere. ‘Do you good to do a proper day’s hard labour’ Dad’s voicein my head. Besides, getting Chef a drink means visiting the bar.

Normally I amuse myself by searching out eligible bachelors amongst the diners. It’sthe reason I’m here. I try and kid myself that I came for the work, but really, I came to finda decent bloke. I can’t end up like everyone else. Shagging everything that moves thensettling for the jobless slob next-door who can’t even string a sentence together... until hegets bored with me and buggers off with some other woman. Then single parenthood,poverty, depression... No way. I want to do better for myself. Find myself a successful man,who will love me and look after me. Is that so bad?Unfortunately tonight’s pickings aren’t even meagre, they’re non-existent. I’m stuckwatching the ‘happy couple’ suck juices out of their crab claws. I’m actually pleased to findthe kitchen boy beside me.

Catching her unawares I get a glimpse of the real Anna. Ialready know she’s beautiful but just then she looked perfect. Herface like fine bone china, black braid like plaited silk, her bodycurved with a swan-like grace. I forget to breathe, then realiseshe’s looking at me expectantly. I haven’t said a word, just stoodthere staring.Idiot.‘Erm... Chef would like a double scotch...please.’

Oh my God! The kitchen boy has a crush on me. Hah! As if I’d ever consider such anobody. Sorry pal but I have higher ideals. I turn to pour the scotch, hoping it takes a longtime, pad out some of the elongated evening. I turn back and the way he’s looking at memakes my cheeks hot. I tut dismissively, but still, it makes my chest tight. It’s always niceto be fancied, however lame the fancier is. I think to myself, the night is young, I’m boredstupid, what’s a bit of flirting? So I turn on the charm. My face relaxes, my eyes soften. I tiltmy head to instil an innocence I don’t really have, unfold my arms, pull my stomach in. Thewhole nine yards - well there’s nothing else to do.

She opens up like a flower, her petals rolling out silkysoft. I have a sudden urge to pull her to me and inhale her scent.I feel like a child again, let loose in a field of wild blooms. Ialmost close my eyes in delight. Wild abandonment threatening tooverrule my formal upbringing.

Boy, has he got it bad. I haven’t even done anything yet and he’s practically rollingat my feet. Funny how I haven’t even noticed him before. It’s nice though and I feel thethrill of sexual shenanigans ripple through me. I even get a bit carried away as I hand himChef’s drink.

The warmth from her skin spills over my hand as our fingerstouch. Did she do that on purpose? Or am I reading too much into asimple action? I feel the world spin and blood thump thick in myhead as I struggle to form the words, ‘Thank you, Anna’.I should leave now that I have what I came for, but of courseI linger. Every second counts.

I’m going to have to do something quick if I’m to keep his attention. Boys have such shortattention spans.“Tonight is so slow,” I sigh.

A life-line! The excuse to prolong the moment withconversation.‘Yes. Very slow.”My God! Is that it? The best I can do? I don’t deserve awoman as wonderful as this. I’m useless.

For god’s sake! Do I have to do all the work here? Maybe I shouldn’t bother. It’s justpointless flirting anyway. I should just return my gaze to the crab couple, breaking their shells, digging their forks in to make sure they don't miss a thing. It’ll only end in himasking me out. And then what shall I say? Sorry, no thank you. I’m waiting for a better,smarter man than you to come along and sweep me off my feet. I don’t think so.

“Let me take you somewhere.”Oh my? Did I just say that out-loud? What was I thinking? AnIQ of 178 and I can’t even ask a girl out on a date properly.

Crikey! Maybe he does have some balls after all? I feel something stir inside me. Anexcited rush of adrenaline. I must be smiling because his eager little face is lighting up like