Stop simpering, Lee. Or should I call you Lola now? You should be happy you got to make it to your precious Classic Car Show. Especially considering how you totaled my car a few weeks ago. Okay, you didn’t get to see as much of it as you might have liked, but on the bright side, that’s the most action the bonnet on that overpriced rust bucket has seen your years! Oh don’t hyperventilate, Lola. You know the boys don’t like it, and you’ve still got a long way to go if you’re going to hit your target for the day and earn enough to repair my car. I’ve really outdone myself with this ‘Kissing Booth’ idea. Who knew that these classic car enthusiasts would be such suckers for a foxy young pin-up girl such as yourself who’s willing to drape her curves alluringly over the front of a vintage model? This is the first time I’ve been glad you’ve dragged me out here! I’ve been totting up the totals so far. £872! That means you’ve French kissed 872 men so far, hot bottom! Remember how you used to brag about how you’d snogged over eighty women? Well, you’ve blitzed that by a ratio of 10:1! Who knew my womanizing boyfriend was secretly such a gayboy? But you’ll have to do much better than that, Lola.




The target for the day is £3500, and it’s already 4 pm. But don’t worry; my friend Carl has put in an offer of £2500 on that antique you’ve spent all day smooching boys on! I know it’s worth four times that much, but I need my car for work ASAP, and if you don’t hit 3500 I’m going to accept it. Heck, to get Carl to pay THAT much, I had to throw you in on a three-month loan! I know you’ve never seen eye-to-eye because of your homophobia, but I’m sure you’ll look an absolute doll when you’re sat dressed like Bettie Page in the passenger seat of your old pride and joy…or maybe getting down to a bit of ‘action’ in the back seat! Oh, come now. Don’t cry, I’ll only have to fix your make-up again and time’s a wasting. If you want to keep this thing, you know what you have to do. And look, here’s a couple of punters now. Do just as I’ve taught you, Lola. Make eye contact. Play with your hair. Fiddle with the hem of your dress. A theatrical wink. Blow them a kiss. Excellent! Numbers 873 and 874 are in the bag. Pucker-up, Sugar Lips! Seriously, you’d think men would know by now not to mess with a professional make-up artist, wouldn’t you?




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