She looked up as she was adjusting her stockings, and suddenly for the first time felt a bit self conscious. The rest of the evening had been pleasant and hadn't bothered her in the slightest, but this part always did. Still, she asked for the money she was owed. Sometimes it cast a pall over the evening and they got angry, or treated her poorly. Tonight, though, this one was gracious. He was a new customer, and so she hadn't been sure how he'd react, even though she was always clear and upfront with everyone beforehand.

She thanked him profusely; for while she truly had enjoyed their time together, this final gift of compliance and understanding meant a lot.

She finished dressing and departed. As she strolled through the megacity, the all around lovely evening replayed in her mind. She couldn't help but whistle, despite the grime of the city and the pit in her stomach and where she was headed.

She returned to her home base, and waved at her coworkers in the window. She pushed past them down the hallway. Past the flickering lights. Past the parts and pieces on the ground. Into the room where her make and model was stored.

THX-1182 sat down in her corner, plopping off her heels and putting her bag down. She felt around her toned, flat stomach for the nearly imperceptible latch, popping open the charging port and I/O dock. Upset but unable to do anything else, she plugged herself in to charge and wait for the next call.

In the meantime, she'd think about happier times, and the best part of her job -- when she was out of the storage room, amongst the real people of the city.

I think you might like this one in particular @gildenstein for the twist halfway through. And @lapicosita here is a brand new narrative -- I know you're interested in telling some of these yourself. And of course @artfx85 it isn't Camille perse, but is sure it a green haired lady...