Well, salons do that these days

Candi felt like she was moving at a half-march as she attempted to keep up with Daphne, a random girl from reception who she was certain she had never spoken to before, but whom was happy to maintain a constant barrage of inane celebrity gossip as she strutted on. In truth, the struggle was probably partly due to Candi having the slightly higher heels of the pair, but she hadn't really expected to be on her feet this much.

As the pair exited the building, the slight foot pain was almost a welcome distraction from the idiotic chatter. It was mostly one sided too, but Candi was almost pleased that her glitching laptop had prevented her from reading the news... at least now she could make an occasional comment amidst the backdrop of Daphne's torrential prattle.

About 20 minutes, Daphne pushed open the door to a pink dominated and neon signed salon that was several socioeconomic groups beneath Candi's usual strata. It was odd, therefore, when the trashy, bleached blonde stylist asked "Oh, is it time for your touch up already, Candi?"

Candi realised her mouth was hanging open in surprise. She closed it... mostly. It felt oddly comfortable to have her lips slightly parted and it added a vacant air to her face as she sat in one of the salon chairs, awash in confusion. Somewhere in her foggy brain, she thought: "As strange as everything is, I guess a little touch up to my hair couldn't hurt. Has it always been that .... big?"

Even as the muddle thought bounced in her mind, it became clear it wasn't relevant.

It was a testimony to the skill of the trashy blonde that both quick pokes of the needle had delivered their contents to Candi's lips before she had even released her little "Eep!" of shock.

In the mirror, the big-haired brunette in the blue business skirt could see the fresh collagen plumping her lips. The little 'o' shape they retained felt ever more natural.