Tough Call by Lauretta Scalzo

Trapped in here and my head hurts - what was in that crème de menthe he gave me? I can hardly walk and even if I could, I can’t very well walk out in these clothes - they’re a dead giveaway. The last thing I need now is too much attention.
And these tights are cutting into my groin. God, my reflection looks haggard. What a predicament. I can’t believe I fell for the oldest line on earth. But he was so plausible, so clean-cut and respectable - that should’ve put me on my guard immediately, an old pro like me. “Come up and see my emerald collection.” - Omigod - did he really say that - and worst of all, did I really swallow it?!
It’s cold here too - I‘m bursting out of my top, it was obviously meant for someone with a much smaller chest. I don’t even have a pocket in this bloody outfit. Oh, why didn’t I wear something else. I’ll never escape now. I’ve tried all my usual ploys but nothing is working. Could just one small drink have knocked me flat? That wasn’t really crème de menthe I drank, was it? And those bright green gemstones weren’t really emeralds?
Not even a dime to my name. I’ve been sitting in this phone booth for at least half an hour pretending to make a call. But who could I call anyway? Who’d believe how useless I am?
Think. Think fast. What happened last night? We met, as arranged. He was sociable, well-bred, generous and charming. Of course, I had my own agenda. Thought I was onto something - on top of things. How could I have got it so wrong?
We went to his penthouse apartment. He offered me a drink - took the emeralds from the safe. Beautiful, large sparkling green stones. What happened then? Next thing I know, I’m weak as a kitten, down on my knees in the lobby, crawling for shelter.
How long before I get some strength back? If I wrap my cape round me, would that be enough of a disguise to risk walking out of here. How far would I get before someone recognised me. And then what. Total exposure. Tabloid headlines. Can’t you just see it:....

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