The misfortune of Danielle Nicholls

Another retake was yet again needed, smile, pose and charm. A lot of energy was needed to be a children’s presenter and Danielle had to give a lot of that, the short chestnut haired beauty spelled out a charm with children alike on CITV. Presenting with over positivism was draining but it was a stepping stone in her career, it worked wonderfully even if rehearsals were taking their toll, it wasn’t like they were doing a movie. Sipping the coffee she ordered she opted to drink from a straw, absurd but she was image conscious they didn’t have as many white shirts for her to keep wearing and was determined to keep mistakes nonexistent.

Then came the call.

The director saying the prize winning scene had to be shot again, she expected that and quickly sucked the drink, it wasn’t as warm as she wanted it but it was good enough. The cameras came to light, the stage lights were in full blare, the staged audience by her left were waiting with their smiles on the ready and she was to with her co-presenter. Jokes, smiles and generating excitement over things that would bore an adult or destroy his braincells just by watching it but it wasn’t difficult, years doing drama and managing on and off relationships was, in a way a kids show was all about avoiding difficulty, escapism yet even for the silliness it was still seen as braindead food for kids. It could be that these shows were made because parents had grown afraid of seeing children cry. She carried on her lines for a further few minutes, going into length about a phone in competition, speaking pleasantly but her vision was looking a little blurred on the edges, she kept her legs crossed on the coach, same natural pose but her skin felt very warm now but carried on, she was only a sentence away from finishing her lines and before she knew it, she finished them. Then there was a cut and that, which was it. She sighed, it was tiring, the children on the bench looked disinterested and left and she picked herself up, smiled weakly at her co presenter and made her way back to her changing room, the steps were beginning to feel a bit heavier now and whilst nothing was blurring, her skin was getting warmer and her hands fumbled badly on the handle and pushing by her weight to swing the door open. Her mind was asking what was going on and she had no answer but to get the chair and sit down, now that she did, everything began to spin a little bit more, the centre of her sight seemed to be meshed as everything was circling around as if gravity existed at her visual and was now squarely at the canter and pulling in her vision to one possible spot. Her ears became a bit dull to hearing but she heard quite clearly a sound,, the sound of her door being closed.

No one spoke but she felt the heavy touch of a strong hand on her breasts which creased the shirt and was trying to rub out the cotton of her shirt and press into the skin without pulling of fher top. It was a wanting touch that she immediately found unwelcoming and it wouldn’t be the only part of her he would touch...