PART 7
Just then, two large limousines and a van, covered with the 'Glamour Girl' logo screeched to a halt beside the tree, and 'Glamour Girl' personal crew of beauticians, assistants, trainers and secretaries ran to the scene. 'Glamour Girl''s personal retinue was large, and each looked suitably concerned and serious as they approached their employer. Inwardly, they were all as delighted to see this insufferable b*tch thoroughly humiliated as everyone else was. Walking on the tar-covered feet was too difficult, so Paula suggested she sit on a stretcher to be carried to the waiting van.
'You know I can't sit down', she snapped, imperiously.
So she got on to the stretcher face down. Not wanting to squash the pizza into her pussy, she lay on her knees, which meant that her throbbing derriere was sticking up behind her in a most humiliating fashion.
'Get me to the 'Glamour Girl' centre, and be quick about it', she ordered her retinue. 'Paula. Get all the pictures from these ass-holes. And as for you, PussyWhip - I don't know how, but I know you had something to do with this. I'll get even with you, just you wait. No-one gets the better of 'Glamour Girl'!'
The smirking PussyWhip simply laughed at this, then pointed out that the cat had gone back up the tree.
'It can stay there as far as I'm concerned'.
The cat was indeed back up the tree, playing with the dart-gun again. As the stretcher passed, with the 'Glamour Girl' behind stuck-up invitingly, there was another loud bang.
'Yeeeeeoooooow!'
'Glamour Girl''s yelp of pain was nearly drowned by the cheers and laughter from the crowd.
NEXT UP--THE BIG CLEAN-UP
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