“Hello, everybody,” said Hayleigh. She was sitting on a cream sofa in a small, well-lit studio, talking into a camera in front of her. Not seated on the sofa, since it would not, in fact, be cream coloured anymore if she was, was her co-host Erin, who was still being cleaned up after her ‘blackening’. Unlike her disgraced colleague, Hayleigh was looking a picture of elegance in a striking emerald green skater dress that hugged her lean frame, and with a pretty flower pinned to her gorgeous blonde hair. “A belated hello, I should say – I’d like to thank everybody who tuned in earlier than our originally scheduled time this morning; I know email notifications go out to you whenever the stream goes live, so keep an eye out for those, as who knows what other surprises may lie in store for us all! We’ve already gotten ourselves an unexpected contestant, young Claire Bardsley, who’s already completed her first challenge and who I’ll be handing you over to in just a moment. I can tell you that right now, Claire is sitting in a restaurant along with a number of unsuspecting patrons who are about to get caught up in our second task of the day.
First though, on behalf of all of us here, I’d like to thank all of you watching so much for your support in helping us put this show together. This wouldn’t be possible without all of you! And I’m sure you all appreciate that it’s the unexpected twists and turns that make a show like this so special. I daresay there’ll be a few more before we’re through! Right now though, we are ready to go live to Claire. I hope you all enjoy the show!”
The Supreme Court restaurant was utterly charming, Claire thought to herself, looking very sophisticated with the dark wood tables and chairs that outfitted the establishment. She’d been seated near to a large window that let in the sunlight and offered her a nice view of the lovely garden just outside; a number of patrons were sitting outside in the middle of it, enjoying the summer heat much as her sister had been, at least until Claire ruined it for her by splattering her face and near-naked body with cake. Not everyone had escaped outside however; the air conditioning inside the restaurant was keeping everyone lovely and cool, even though the place was becoming ever more crowded as the lunch rush began. Claire typically liked to take her lunch early to avoid crowds like this – being around too much noise or too many people tended to make her uncomfortable. She had originally planned an early lunch with her friend Ethan, but since she was now on Larissa’s timetable, she’d texted him to cancel. He’d seemed disappointed, but he was polite about it. He always was; she really liked that about him, how well-spoken and well-mannered he was. If she actually somehow managed to win this thing, she would have to treat him.
She would have liked to bring him to The Supreme Court; despite her nervousness she was really enjoying the ambiance of the place, and the lunch she’d ordered (which was Larissa’s treat – she was apparently picking up the tab) was particularly delicious. Of course, she wouldn’t dare to show her face here ever again after today, at least if she actually went through with her next challenge. She really wasn’t sure that she would. Not that caking her sister was a very nice thing to do, but at least it had been someone she knew, in their own home.
Her phone, which she’d kept out on the table, began to ring. Taking a deep breath, she picked up.
“Claire! How was lunch?” asked Larissa. Claire had been dreading hearing that beautiful voice again, even though it sounded sweet as honey. It made this completely surreal situation feel all too real again. From the table behind her, she heard the horrible chipmunk laugh that had been coming from a blonde woman there ever since she arrived; it was certainly far less pleasing to the ears than the sound of Larissa’s melodic mirth. It was beginning to get on her nerves.
“Lunch was great,” said Claire. “Thanks so much for paying for it.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, sweetheart! So, are you ready for your second challenge?”
“Larissa… I don’t know about this… I mean, we could get into a lot of trouble…”
“I knew you’d be stressing your little heart about it! I bet you’ve never gotten in trouble a day in your life, am I right?”
“You’re too good, right? Well, I’ve never gotten into trouble a day in my life either. Too good to get caught, you know? But seriously, you can relax. I have a team that has plenty of experience with this kind of thing standing by outside; as soon as you’re done, they’ll move in, explain to everyone that it’s all part of a show on the internet, we’ll pay them a bunch of money, we’ll have a good laugh, everything’ll get smoothed over, and even if there is any problem (which there won’t be), it’s OUR hassle to deal with, not YOUR hassle. You’re only our contestant; we’re the ones who’d be liable. You should follow my example. See, me, I never care that much about how things get done – I swear, every time I ask Taylor in our tech department whether we can do something she’s all like ‘well if we use this gadget and set it to this and modify the blah blah blah’ BORING. I only care that it works. And you, you’re just here to play our little game – let us worry about the rest. So on that note, it’s time for your second challenge! Do you understand what it is you’re being asked to do?”
“I guess,” said Claire. Larissa had informed her that the goal of the challenge was to initiate a food fight in the restaurant. To help her with this, a member of staff who was in on the whole thing had discretely left a trolley full of ‘goodies’ near her table. Claire’s eye first fell on the middle rung which held a wide assortment of cakes, each of which looked considerably more palatable that the one Larissa had apparently made herself. On top was an assortment of jugs and other containers that obviously held various liquids, although from her vantage point she couldn’t get a look at what any of them might be, and she wasn’t about to risk hanging around it in case she drew any attention to herself.
“A little enthusiasm wouldn’t hurt!” said Larissa. Claire said nothing. She thought the challenge quite ridiculous, not to mention unfair, but wasn’t about to argue the point with Larissa. It seemed rather self-defeating to begin an argument where if you won, the likely outcome was being told “you know, you’re right; it is ridiculous, let’s call the whole thing off – you can go home and bythewayyoudon’tgettowinfiftythousandpounds.” Still, although Claire had a slapstick IQ equivalent to zero, she felt that if a food fight were ever to break out in a restaurant, it would have to be a spontaneous thing. It was akin to getting something trending on social media (not that she used it herself) – you could try to engineer it, but ultimately the things that really caught fire tended to do so organically.
“All right, be that way if you want!” said Larissa, who didn’t sound put out in the slightest. “You’ve got twenty minutes in which to get a serious sloppy food fight going. As far as rules go, I’ll be judging whether you pass or fail, and I will say I’m not going to be too hard on you, but I am going to have to see a food fight… it can’t just be you throwing something and then running away! I don’t want to distract you on this one, so there’s no need for you to wear the earpiece this time out. The challenge will begin the moment I end this call. Good luck, Claire! Ciao, ciao!”
Putting the phone back down on the table, Claire took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead.
Claire jumped almost as hard as she had when Larissa’s voice erupted from the hidden speaker in her room for the first time. She hadn’t seen Jill, the pleasant young waitress who’d been taking care of her through lunch, come back round to her side of the partition.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. That was the best meal I’ve had in a while,” said Claire as Jill picked up her dishes.
“Can I get you anything else? Tea, coffee?”
“Tea would be great, thanks,” said Claire. She needed a reason to be here while she carried out her challenge, after all. She hoped Jill wouldn’t get caught up in the challenge; her elegant waitress outfit, with it’s white shirt and light grey vest looked expensive. At least she was wearing an apron around the waist of her black trousers. Although she wasn’t certain, she thought she might have seen Jill around the university, and here she was doing exactly the sort of job that Claire might be able to avoid doing if she managed to win the prize money. Not that she was opposed to hard work of course, but she had no customer service skills whatsoever. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t work, but the money would certainly put her in a position where she could afford to wait until she found something she was a bit more suited to.
Jill’s smile faltered just slightly as she looked past Claire’s shoulder to see the trolley behind her. Claire’s heart leapt into her throat. She tried desperately to think of something to say that might distract her – as far as she knew, Jill knew nothing about the show. It would be a disaster if she took it away, or started questioning what it was doing there.
“Excuse me, miss? We’re ready to order.”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief as a young couple drew the waitress away from the suspicious trolley, but she knew she had to make a move quickly. She really didn’t want to be doing this; despite Larissa’s attempts at hand waving, it seemed particularly mean to be pelting people with cakes when all they wanted to do was enjoy a nice meal. Yet despite her moral objections to the whole thing, her panic when Jill had spotted the trolley told her that she was going to go through with it.
Although she felt disappointed in herself, there was no time to think about it now. As she enjoyed her meal, she’d devised a half-baked plan. Always supposing it worked (which she was quite certain it wouldn’t), it would be perfect: no-one would even know what had happened. It was that grating laugh behind her that inspired the idea. From the conversation she could hear from the table, she knew the owner of that laugh was a woman named Holly who was here on lunch with a few of her work colleagues. Like the rest of her colleagues Holly was smartly dressed, wearing a magenta lace blouse that Claire just adored the colour of, along with black trousers and shiny black shoes. If she wasn’t well-mannered, she was at least well-groomed, with pretty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Another group, consisting of all women, was seated at a table in front of Claire, and every time she heard that dirty sounding laugh, she could see one of them frowning over at Holly. Although that table was too far away for Claire to hear too much of what was being said – there was a wooden partition, around shoulder height separating them, and that area was slightly above her position, at the top of a short flight of stairs – there was no mistaking the fact that she was muttering something uncouth about Holly to her companions. She did manage to catch that the woman’s name was Rebecca. She had something of a snooty look about her; Holly wasn’t the only person in the room she’d looked down her nose at. Rebecca was wearing a long, pleated white dress with a floral pattern decorating it. Her long brown hair was worn up off the face, with her bangs pinned back.
So, bereft of any other ideas, Claire had cooked up a scheme to pit the two women against each other. Licking her lips, Claire looked around her nervously. She slowly stood up to find herself on legs that felt like they’d turned to jelly. She looked around the restaurant and saw everyone around her either in animated discussion or completely focused on their meals; good, she thought to herself. No-one was paying her any attention. As a life-long introvert, Claire had often felt as though she were invisible to other people; while usually she saw this as a bad thing, she was grateful for it right at this moment. Her mind still couldn’t process the idea that, in fact, hundreds of eyes were on her right now while she did this. Trying to look as casual as possible, she walked over to the trolley, and with no hesitation or thought, picked up a lemon meringue pie from the middle and walked back to her table with it, keeping it turned away from the group behind her so no-one could see it. She sat back down; as far as she could tell, no-one had noticed her. The fluffy, white top made the pie look so pretty that Claire thought it looked too good to eat, let alone get splattered all over someone. It looked almost like nice comfy pillow, although she had no intention whatsoever of resting her head on that nasty goo!
This time, she didn’t stress about her bad throwing arm. It didn’t necessarily need to hit its target this time, she told herself. Jill could be back at any moment, so it was best just to throw it. Once she threw it, whatever happened next was pretty much out of her hands, and what a relief that would be.
(Don’t think about it! Just do it! Just do it!)
People might get upset…
(Don’t think about it!)
I am so going to screw this up…
(DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!!!!)
People are sitting at home on their computers watching me! I can’t have people watching me humiliate these people! I’m supposed to be the responsible one…
(But I don’t want to be responsible, I want to be rich, so STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!!!!)
She threw the pie. Through the many, many layers of panic that were seeping through Claire all this time, she’d never really considered just how difficult the throw was, having to throw the pie upwards towards her target. She watched it soar wildly through the air.
Oh fuck! FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!
She’d done it! She couldn’t believe it. There was a moment of absolute comical surprise on Rebecca’s face as she looked just in time to see the pie begin to descend from its arc and then it slapped full force right into her. For a moment all that could see seen was the pie crust as the lemon filling and meringue soaked against her face, and then the crust dropped down against her dress. A slimy line of yellow oozed down over the flowers printed onto her pretty outfit. Her face was now… sort of visible again, Claire supposed, revealing a very shocked looking Rebecca, a pie in the face clearly not something that had been on the agenda for the day. The splashing of white meringue and yellow filling was interrupted only by the ‘o’ shape on her mouth. She clawed at the top of her hair, angrily tossing bits of the pie that had gotten up there all over the table with a flick of her fingers. The woman all around her squeaked and pushed their chairs back quickly to avoid getting caught by any of the gooey splatter.
Claire didn’t like to see people upset, and she particularly didn’t like them being upset because of anything she had done, but she had to take a minute to bask in just how good that throw had been. She’d never made a throw as good as that in her life!
“WHO THREW THAT PIE!!!!????”
And she so wasn’t about to take the credit for it!
She turned to look at the table behind her, trying to look as innocent as possible. She didn’t usually have to try; she was now having to play at being something she usually just was. It seemed surprisingly difficult.
Holly, looking up to see what all the commotion was about, burst out laughing. She nudged the person next to her, pointing over at Rebecca and the state the poor woman was in. That incredibly irritating laugh reverberated through the restaurant. Rebecca blinked a few times, highlighting a few white splotches that dabbed her long eyelashes. Her eyes burned. Her lips formed into a sneer that sent more meringue dribbling down her chin. She pointed an accusing finger at Holly that quivered with rage.
“YOU!” she roared. Jill was just returning onto the floor with Claire’s tea, and she was right on time to see Rebecca lift a plate from the person next to her. The plate, filled with Spaghetti Bolognese, had been pushed away by her friend after only a few bites, having foolishly overdone it on their starter and appetisers. It had been sitting out for some time now, and fortunately, would have gotten almost completely cold.
A sudden sensation of dread gripped Claire as she realised that, with all of her not thinking about things, she’d not thought about something which might have some unfortunate implications for her.
(Hang on, what happens if…)
Rebecca, keeping a firm grip on the plate itself, suddenly lurched forwards and launched the contents high up into the air. Claire gasped, her jaw dropping as she looked upwards to see the discarded lunch hurling across the room. She put her hand to her mouth. Holly’s hand gripped tightly at the man sitting next to her, digging painfully into his shoulder. An uncertain flicker crossed the blonde woman’s eyes and she tilted her head to one side with a cringe on her face.
(But I’m sitting right between…!!!)
Claire gave a girly scream as the leftovers –practically a full plateful – rained down on top of her. Long, wet strands of spaghetti landed in her hair and then she shrieked as the bulk of the minced beef and spicy sauce struck her square on the top of her head. She stiffened and scrunched her shoulders, looking up at Rebecca with complete disbelief. The sauce dribbled down her face, dragging beef and spaghetti along with it. An overpowering aroma of spice, tomato and onion caught her nostrils as it ran over her cute, delicate little button nose. She screwed up her face in disgust, sputtering as strands of slimy spaghetti coated with that horrible feeling sauce ran over her mouth. For a moment she felt completely outraged, then, adding to the burning feeling of embarrassment she felt, realised there was no-one to blame apart from herself. Selfishly, even though she knew she was going to be getting a whole lot of people very messy if she wanted to win, she’d hoped that she might actually be able to get through the whole thing without anything devastating happening to her. And now, right at the very beginning almost, here she was looking and feeling completely horrible. She tilted her head to look at the floor, hoping to avoid anything else slimy making it’s way onto her face. It was already too late for her poor hair, she realised, raising a hand to try and remove some of the mess that was running all over it. She was still sputtering, but now it was from pure disbelief over what had just happened to her, rather than anything around her mouth.
“Oh my! What… what’s going on? Everyone, settle down at once! Please!” cried Jill.
Claire didn’t want to, but as she heard chairs getting pushed back all around her and the sound of footsteps and raised voices, she lifted her head back up (causing Bolognese to fall down the back of her top, GAAAACK!) to see what was happening. Rebecca, apparently realising she couldn’t manage a throw as awesome as Claire’s, had stormed down from her section and was making her way to the trolley. Holly looked about ready to have a fit, still clinging to her colleague’s shirt and trying to duck down behind him.
“It wasn’t me!” she wailed. “It wasn’t me, I don’t know who it was but I swear, it wasn’t me!”
“That’s right, it wasn’t,” said one of Holly’s female colleagues who was sitting with her back to Claire. She turned to look at Rebecca. “I didn’t see what happened, but I can assure you none of us were involved.”
Rebecca looked at Claire.
“A-all I saw was something being launched over my head,” stammered Claire. “I don’t know who threw it. Um, sorry.”
Rebecca appeared to consider this. Claire sat nervously. It seemed certain that someone from Holly’s table would point the finger at her. Yet no-one did. They hadn’t been paying any attention to anything outwith their table – they hadn’t seen anything go over their heads, but they couldn’t be certain that it hadn’t happened, either. That meant there were other possible suspects than Claire. And none of them were able to quite picture the seemingly innocent and shy looking young woman sitting by herself as being the culprit. Rebecca looked back and forth between Holly and Claire. Holly just couldn’t help it. Even though she was still anxiously cradling her colleague, as she looked at Rebecca’s pie covered face, she caught a fit of the giggles that she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. To Rebecca, this confirmed Holly’s guilt. Seeing red, she picked up one of the large jugs from the top of the trolley. The woman who was defending Holly saw this and quickly stood up. She grabbed the other side of the jug to block Rebecca from throwing the contents over the blonde woman. The two of them began to fight over it. Claire’s eyes widened.
“NO!” she squealed, ducking and throwing her hands up -too late – as the two women’s struggles resulted in them accidently turning the jug over and emptying the thick white pouring cream inside all over a cringing Claire’s head. “Eeeeeeeek!”
Poor Claire gasped as the cold cream sloshed all over her, completely drenching her mousy brown hair and face. It flowed down her forehead and furiously blushing cheeks; one large blob hung precariously from her nose. She curdled her lips with disgust and shivered at how cold and wet it felt against her skin. Her orchid purple t-shirt wasn’t spared either, catching a large brunt of the creamy assault on her person as the white mess was poured over the front and back, turning it white and dampening it against her body unpleasantly. She was soaked to her skin in cream. Her arms were stretched out at the sides flapping up and down with horror and disbelief.
The rest of the women from Rebecca’s table had now arrived to help back her up. People from both tables now grabbed as many items from the trolley as they could and then immediately retreated to put some distance between them. Claire looked around with wild, panicked eyes. Her scheme, which she had never for a moment actually envisioned working, had in fact turned out well. Horrifyingly well; it was like she’d set out to start a campfire and was now looking at the forest burning to the ground around her.
She was caught right in between the two groups.
“DON’T!” she cried, as she saw one of Rebecca’s friends pull her hand, containing a cake that was absolutely dripping with a thick coating of strawberry jam, back to launch it towards Holly. Claire knew all too well that if the woman missed, she was right in its path. Sure enough, with a limp throw that was as good as Claire’s usual form, the sticky cake smacked her right in her face. Her face was now red underneath from blushing and red on the outside as sticky jam engulfed her features. Impossibly, and causing her to get pretty angry, a number of the women who were now throwing things at each other actually seemed to be having fun. Indeed a few of them appeared to have completely forgotten the entire reason the food fight had started in the first place, as another jug was picked up and deposited over Claire, who despite being the real guilty party in all of this, was a complete innocent bystander as far as everybody else was concerned. It seemed like a few people on both sides had kind of called a truce, but still wanted to be involved with all the action, and so decided they might as well gang up on the person who was already the messiest. This jug was full of horrible yellow custard; the person pouring it over her had gotten a bit over excited and not aimed it terribly well, resulting in a whole load of custard being poured over the front of Claire, who squealed as the gunk was deposited over her shirt and lap, soiling her denim shorts and spilling down her thighs. She gasped at the feeling of the cold, cold goo that was
(going into my shorts eeeeewwwww oh no! OH NO!)
pooling in her lap and running down her bare legs.
Another person picked up a raspberry and blueberry panna cotta, smushing it into Claire’s face and rubbing it around as she quivered, absolutely appalled and repulsed at what was happening to her. Raspberries and blueberries were squashed up against her face and burst open against her skin; the raspberry juice topping the desert also ran all over her face, mixing with the generous helpings of jam and cream that already making their home there. A few of the two groups were getting lightly splattered here and there, but nothing like Claire, who’d clearly been victimised. She wondered what it was about her that seemed to make her such an inviting target for everyone around her, and the fact that she really didn’t know only served to make her humiliation even worse.
Was this her karma? She had always thought that you got back from the universe whatever it was you sent out. Perhaps if what you put out into the universe was pie, you would get pie back.
Holly, meanwhile, had no intention of being on the receiving end of a pie to the face. Unlike the other women, she’d remained seated, still holding onto the gentleman next to her, looking extremely worried about the whole thing. Her friends had initially been shielding her from Rebecca’s wrath, but now everything was erupting into total chaos, and it was every man and woman for themselves. Holly thought things over for a second, and then, as a helping of trifle soared past her head, got to her feet and ran for the door.
“Everybody stop RIGHT NOW!” cried Jill, cusping her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice. Sheepishly, everyone turned round to face her, apart from Claire, who had stood up to follow Holly’s example and flee the epicentre of this nightmare. She quickly scurried over to one side, shifting awkwardly due to the cold, horrid slime that had invaded in-between her legs, in case anybody decided to send anything else flying her way. She’d already been severely trashed, and had no desire to face anymore mess.
Her phone, still sitting out on her table, started to ring.
Jill looked over at her severely. The whole area around them was a complete mess, with bits of cake, custard, cream, and a whole heap of other things strewn all over the floor and tables.
“Look at this place!” said Jill, putting her hands on her hips. “Who’s going to clean all this up!? Who started this? What the hell happened!?”
Normally Claire would have offered to help – even if this hadn’t actually been her fault, she liked things kept neat and tidy – but right now she had to answer her phone. Fortunately the various women were all trying to talk to Jill at once to explain what had happened. Now that the opportunity to victimise her had passed, Claire was apparently invisible once more, so she meekly slunk over to the table, quickly grabbed the phone, and headed for the exit as fast as she could move without running, still moving in an awkward huddle that, she had no doubt, was giving anyone watching on stream no small amount of hilarity. She just couldn’t help it. Once outside, she moved down into an alleyway out of view of any passers-by. She’d never been comfortable with people staring at her, and she certainly didn’t want them staring at her in the state she was in. She answered the phone the second she was concealed, holding it a little way away from the mess that was all over her head.
Larissa kept trying to speak, but every time she did she was reduced to a fit of laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. It still had that musical quality to it, but right now it annoyed Claire every bit as much as Holly’s had.
“Well, Claire,” Larissa finally managed. “That went much, much better than I expected, I must say. Lucky for you I didn’t say anything about you winning the food fight, huh? Tee hee! But you’ve passed your second challenge with flying colours. Congratulations! Only five more to go! I really think you’ve got what it takes to go all the way. So, are you ready for challenge number three?”
Claire was aghast.
“No, Larissa, I’m not! Look at the state of me! I’m supposed to be at the University in just over an hour! I need to go home, and, and get myself cleaned up, and…”
“Oh no, you don’t!” said Larissa, sounding much too excited. “I’ve just had an amazing thought for what your third challenge should be. I did have something else planned, but maybe we’ll come back to that later. But I think, given your current condition, and given that you’re apparently due at class… why not mix things up a little!”
“What do you mean?” asked Claire, who didn’t like where this was going at all.
“Challenge number three: you have forty minutes to get to the University. Which I’m afraid leaves you no time to get cleaned up!”
“What!?” screeched Claire. “Larissa, I can’t go to University looking like this! I just… I can’t, Larissa. Please!”
“You remember what I said during your first challenge, sweetheart? About fairness? I can’t give you anything that’s unfeasible as a challenge, right? But fairness works both ways – it wouldn’t be very fair if I let you choose what the challenges were, now, would it? So that’s what you’re doing! And it is doable – you can make it in thirty on foot, at a push.”
“But I can’t possibly walk through town looking like this!” Claire protested.
“You don’t have to walk,” said Larissa. “You can take the bus if you want.”
“I can’t possibly take the bus even if I wanted!” screamed Claire. Larissa giggled.
“You know, a couple of my friends here were against using you as a contestant. They thought you were too shy, but I said we’d get you to come out of your shell, and here you are, arguing with me and everything! There’s some steel in you after all, isn’t there, Claire?” said Larissa. She sounded pleased. “I’m very proud of you!”
“Larissa,” said Claire, a thought occurring to her. “This won’t work as a challenge. You had cameras set up at my home and inside there, right? But I know for a fact you don’t have cameras set up everywhere between here and the university. There’s no point doing this if you can’t get it on stream, is there?”
“Oh, we’ll get it on stream, no problem!” said Larissa. She said something to someone who was with her, but Claire didn’t catch what it was. “Time for you to meet a couple of members of my team.”
From somewhere further down the street, Claire suddenly heard a motorbike start up and head down towards her. She risked a peek out of the alley and saw someone on a bike, and another in a sidecar, wielding a camera like they were ready to film her running the world’s messiest marathon. Her heart sank. There really was no way she was getting around this, other than to give up.
“There is one special rule in play this time round – I want you to hand your phone to the driver. I don’t care if you walk, run, get the bus, or whatever, but you can’t call anyone to help you out. You’ll get it back at the end of the challenge. So that we can stay in contact, I want you to put the earpiece back in – don’t worry, all that gunk on your head won’t affect it or anything. The driver is also going to put a microphone on your clothes so we can hear you on the feed. We can have a little girly chat as you go! Won’t that be nice?”
Claire trembled. She couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. This was too much, just too much. Through the earpiece, Larissa signalled the start of the challenge. Wanting this unbearable ordeal over as soon as possible, with an embarrassed look around her, Claire began to jog uncomfortably down the street. She could hear the sound of custard and cream sloshing around from within her top; worse, she could feel it squelching between her breasts. She winced, forcing herself to keep moving. All around her came the sound of laughter, Larissa’s included, right inside her ear. This was just awful – the worst ordeal of her life.
That had been such a sweet throw though.