Something is different.

Busy at work thinking about resent events and watching, Amber going from table to table with a clipboard and the grins of women. Feeling hot and sticky in the steam of the coffee machines wanting to be alone to cool off without the uncomfortable clothes; is it true that I am a nudist, so why do I feel embarrassed and nervous about it? At home I barely notice about been naked and no one makes fun.

Amber broke me out of my thoughts "Do you want to do some evening work, Cherub." She said.

Where did the Cherub come from and since when did we open at night?

"New opening hours?" I ask.

"And a new uniform Cherub." She replies.

"Why are you calling me Cherub?" I say feeling insulted.

"Because that's you're special uniform, I've been taking sounding from our regulars." She goes on.

"What will I be wearing?" I ask.

"A loreal wreath, wings, and, sandals." She answers with a grin.

Just before I can make further enquires I am interrupted at the counter by:

Lucy.

Katie.

Mum.

Miss Johns.

Mrs Buckle.

A customer.