Free The Dating Game by Susan Buchanan

Gill,
although Lisa could close the door on hers at five o’clock.  She read every
magazine aimed at beauty professionals that she could get her hands on.  Gill
kissed Angela on the cheek and sat down, as Debbie asked the girls if they
wanted another drink.
    ‘No.  We’re fine, thanks.  We’ve just got these,’ said
Angela. 
    Lisa looked at her and then at Debbie as if to say, ‘speak
for yourself.’
    Going into work hungover wasn’t quite as big a deal for Lisa
as for Angela.  You had to have your wits about you at all times dealing with
thirty teenagers, particularly those at the secondary school in which she
taught.
    Debbie returned shortly afterwards with drinks for everyone,
except Angela.  She’d read Lisa’s tacit instruction to bring her another
cocktail. 
    ‘So, what’s the occasion?’ Lisa wanted to know.
    Debbie looked at Gill and made a motion with her head of ‘go
on’.  Gill could have killed her. She hadn’t counted on telling the girls
tonight.  She hadn’t even fully considered what their response would be to the
dating agency, never mind the candidates’ profiles secreted in her briefcase.
    Sighing, she decided to just blurt it out, glancing around
first to ensure no one was close enough to overhear, ‘I’ve joined a dating
agency.’
    ‘What!’ said Lisa, her jaw falling open in astonishment.
    ‘You’re joking!’ said Angela.
    ‘No, I’m serious,’ said Gill.
    ‘Oh, this is brilliant,’ said Lisa, as she wiped the table
with a napkin.  ‘So, are you on a website?’
    ‘No, it doesn’t work quite like that.  It’s a professional
dating agency.’
    ‘Oo-oh, a professional dating agency,’ Lisa mocked.
    ‘Stop taking the piss.’ Gill snapped.
    ‘But aren’t you afraid that it will just be full of saddos
and weirdos?’ Angela asked.
    ‘Far from,’ butted in Debbie.  ‘Show them the profiles,’ she
instructed Gill.
    ‘Profiles?  Oh, let’s see.’  She was more excited than a
child on Christmas morning.
    Resigning herself to Lisa’s hilarity and fully expecting her
to ridicule them, Gill bent down and removed them once again from her
briefcase. 
    Rather than go through the long, drawn-out process she’d
permitted with Debbie, she simply handed Lisa the three profiles and sent a
silent signal to Debbie not to comment.
    ‘Ooh, he’s nice, Lisa said, putting her index finger on
Charlie’s picture.  I like him.’
    Angela agreed.  ‘I like his hair and those shoulders,’ she
said, as she read the blurb on him.  Lisa ignored the text completely, turning
instead to the second photo.  ‘Oh my God.  Who’s this ancient guy?’  Then
answering her own question, she said, ‘Ronald Fotheringham.  Christ.  Even his
name sounds old and decrepit.’
    ‘Is this a real date for you?’ Angela asked, astonished.
    ‘Yeah,’ admitted Gill.
    ‘Aren’t you a bit concerned the agency isn’t matching you
with like-minded people?’ she asked.
    ‘Well, to be fair, as you’ve all pointed out, Charlie is a
bit of all right.’
    ‘I suppose,’ conceded Angela.
    ‘Here’s the last one,’ said Debbie, handing it over.
    ‘Anton.  No, I don’t like the look of him,’ said Lisa. 
‘He’s all cheekbones, but there’s something about his eyes I don’t like.’
    ‘I disagree,’ said Angela. ‘I think he’s gorgeous, soulful
looking, tortured.’
    ‘Yeah, ‘cos tortured is a good thing,’ said Lisa sarcastically.
    ‘No, I think I know what Ang means,’ said Gill, ‘he looks
like he has a story to him.  I bet you he’s deep.’
    ‘Translate that as depressing,’ said Lisa.
    ‘The guy goes Zorbing for God’s sake,’ Ang said, ‘he’s
hardly unadventurous, even by your standards.’
    ‘Well, he doesn’t do anything for me,’ said Lisa, a tad
snippily.
    ‘He doesn’t need to do anything for you ,’ Debbie and
Angela said in unison.  ‘It’s Gill he has to do something for,’ grinned Debbie.
    ‘Yes, Miss McFadden, what