Freudian Slip

The managing director walks over to my desk. I push my chair back and turn to face him in my black, drop-waisted dress, a long string of pearls knotted about my neck.

'Hello!' he says loudly, 'You look like a slapper!'

I'm confused, embarrassed, and as the whole office erupts into laughter, it twigs:

'I think you mean a 'flapper',' I say, 'You need to mind your consonants!'

He face drops and he turns scarlet. 'Oh God, yes, of course! A flapper! That's what I meant. Goodness me - I didn't mean to be so rude.'