Mannequin

Originally, this was going to be an erotic horror story. Only I get embarrassed writing erotica, and I don't have the pacing for horror. So I nipped it in the bud and cut it down to exposition and slapped a "Literary fiction" label on it. T

 

Obviously, this isn’t something I really planned on doing.  I mean, when I was a kid.  You don’t see any seven year olds saying, “I want to be a stripper when I grow up.”  Maybe they should.  Maybe then people will stop asking them.  Maybe then, when the kids grow up a lifetime later, they won’t think about how much they’ve missed the mark of their childhood aspirations.  Maybe then they’ll never have to waste one second of being a kid on thinking about being a grown-up.

Unlike every other girl at Eros Agape, I didn’t want to be a ballerina.  Personally, I doubt they did, either; it’s just something they tell themselves and each other, so they can say in their minds, “Hey, dancing’s dancing.” 

Little girls don’t want to grow up to be ballerinas; they don’t want to grow up to be doctors or nurses or news anchors or football players, because those are all actual jobs.  Once a kid says they want to be something when they grow up, and it’s even remotely possible, they’re less of a kid.  Little boys and little girls, they want to grow up to be dinosaurs, unicorns, wizards or princesses or cats.  Professional bubble-gum chewers, candy testers, court jesters; they want to be the one who paints the dots on ladybugs or polishes the moon. 

I wanted to be a mannequin.  And my mother told me it was patently impossible and that I could be a model instead.  It’s like telling the would-be dinosaur to become an archeologist.  Completely missing the point and the magic.  I didn’t want to wear pretty clothes and be stared at.  I wanted to have secrets; to listen to the old ladies in big hats as they chatter, running their paper-skinned hands along the threads of my dress, talking about how their granddaughters would look lovely in it.  I wanted to stand stark still and vacant-eyed when bumbling teenage boys look down my top to see if I’m anatomically correct.  I wanted to be overlooked during the day, when the shop is open, and then at night, take off my clothes and talk and laugh with the other mannequins, sharing our secrets.  We’d all switch outfits and positions, and see if anyone noticed in the morning.

But I guess what I’m doing isn’t that far off.  Eros Agape is one of the better clubs, all the girls are clean and if there’s hooking on the side I don’t know about it.  It’s up-scale, the kind of club where men ignore the women and don’t get too grabby; rich business tycoons discuss takeovers while getting a lap dance.  Overlooked and secretive is something I’ve more than got a handle on, and you know what else?  You’d be amazed at what you overhear when people forget you’re human, or think you’re deaf and dumb.  Stock tips, scams, lies and vices and sins.  White collar men and white collar crime, starched-shirt murderers, and they can’t see past their noses and pot bellies and erectile dysfunction to know that I’m on to them.

I am a mannequin.  I wear the pretty clothes, I smile the pretty smile with the empty eyes, and I keep their secrets.

 

Reviews

[Khef Kha]

Wow. That's really f*****g good. Strong. Solid. Excellent pacing. I really love this story.

[Eric Lowther]

Very intelligent piece, especially your observation of children and the inevitable question that seems to hurry them along too quickly to maturity. This is my first read of you stuff. I'll be back for more.

[Hal]

brilliant stuff - you get my very first 5 star rating.

[[untitled]]

I really liked this...I wanted more. THe protagonist's voice shines through here, and that's a gift writers seek to accomplish in many first-person narratives. You pulled it off so easily. Bravo!

[Richard McLin]

Not since the 80's film of the same name had I been so intrigued with the statues of fashion. This was a great, and obviously the mannequin is a metaphor, but I want you to know that I though it was great.

[Charlie [away]]

This was really good. You're a very talented writer. You knew what you were going to do and said it well, too.
I think you should also write it as a horror as well, just so that other writers can
a ) Grade both (see which people like more)
b ) Experience seeing a story two ways.

Something about looking through the eyes of a more outcast-ish character and still feeling sympathy and honor for them just made me really like this. (and, of course, any piece working with the acumen of a child is always fun to go over, because so many people have so many different ways to describe one popular theme) :D I can't wait to read more stuff by you. :)

[Nihad Dweidary]

I am glad this didn't turn into a horror story. I have never read a single horror story, other tha Frankenstein, of course. I was touched by the stripper's expression and logic. I was easily let in her mind and comfortably stayed in till her thougth ended. This is painlessly beautiful. The ugliness is totally stripped, like vegetables brought from muddy fields and waxed to shine on Sunday's Farmers Market. You can hate my analogy, but that's what crossed my mind.

I love it when a writer knows what he/she is talking about. It makes the reading all the more enjoyable, and this commanded my ultimate interest all through. Needless to say, the last paragraph is perfect. AND, I totally dislike people how can't see beyond their noses. Sometimes, I wish there was a huge recycle bin for such characters.

Love,

Nihad

[David Alan Hale]

I used to work at the biggest strip club in the tri-state; your depiction is accurate and intelligent. I was friends with many of the girls and I never forgot to look them in the eyes and respect the fact that they were human, which is why. Smart writing here, excellent parallels.

[Dj Golden]

I've read this one before (me and Sarah have known each other for along time), and its not my favorite of hers, but it is a great story.

[William J. Wilkins]

I know you mentioned that this was meant to be something all together other. However, I can't imagine it being anything other than what it is right now -- f-ing AWESOME!

I absolutely love the intelligent, easy voice that is telling the story. The observations are astute and truthful. The view into the mind of the stripper is clear.

I'm not pretty; I've never aspired to be a stripper. Yet, after reading this, I feel like I know what it's like to be *this* stripper, at least.

The ol' favorites box has room for another, and this one is it!