First
Second
Third
Make sure your bum sticks out
Flash
Never wore stilettos this tall
Fourth
Take your time
Flash
Smile, not too wide. Good.
Fifth
Flash
Tilt your head just a bit.
Sixth
Smile. Look stupid.
Flash
Think of flowers. White roses. Like the ones you got for your birthday last year.
Flash. Flash.
That's more like it.
Seventh
I'll never buy any of these.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Almost done.
Eighth Step.
Stop
Pose
Show them the way the silk dress caresses your body.
Stick your chest out.
Good.
They love attitude, give a reporter the finger. yes.
A river of flashes
They love you!
The guys want you and the girls want to be you.
You can't see a single thing and you love it.
You smile for them as they shower your body with light and love.
You are beautiful.
The lights are beautiful.
Life is beautiful.

Hello?
Oh hi. Yes. It's me
Oh what did he say? did he give you my number?
I don't do interviews.
Oh, Vogue! uh, that's different.
Will I get the cover too?
Hmm... I don't know...
How much?
Just for an interview and a shoot?
What about editing rights?
Yes.
I see.
Hmm.....
I've been reading Vogue since I was twelve.
Yes
Ok. I'll do it.
Great!
Let me just check my diary... Tuesday.... is Tuesday good?
Fantastic.
I'll just write it down. Oh Thirrrrty One, Dee, Yuu, Key, Eeee House, Holborn.
Yes. Well, leave your details with my agent.
Yes
Well, see you Tuesday.
Bye.... right, bye!
WHAT A WANKER.

"Lunch break?" you ask the girl with the megaphone, she nods at you and shouts "everyone take an hour!" you smile "thank you" you run out of the building, the shoes make you wobble so you take them off and leave them hanging at your fingers you are still wearing the red spotted dress that reveals too much of your thighs and breasts no time to change elevator too slow you run down the stairway simultaneously pressing the on button on your mobile phone with your red-nailed fingers that unleash a strong plastic smell "be there in five" you stop by the automated door that halts your momentum it opens with a shwang and a whiff of air you run around the building like a crazed marathon runner no paparazzi good move shoes to the other hand right hand into pocket you get your wallet out and search with your fingers for a pink fifty pound note digging past dead receipts and cards hes there you are happy you hand him the note and he hands you a ruffley shiny foil ball a book and a broken straw you kiss him on the cheek and you can feel his heart beating hard like a bongo drum you wonder whether it is the excitement or the drugs

You are sitting on a table in a large empty house.
Your back side almost touches the bowl of fresh fruit.
The tea lights infuse the air with wax crumbs that make your breath heavy.
Ella Fitzgerald sings to you from within a disc player.
Her hi-fi voice fills the room with emotion and poignancy that
together with the wax in the air force you to cry.
"Blue skies smiling at me"
A single tear scars your cheek as it descends
"Nothing but blue skies do I see"
You want to stop crying but you can't
"Blue bird, singing a song"
No one loves you
"Nothing but blue birds all day long..."

Don't you realise, when in courting of a dream,
The beautiful and the damned are but one?