Short story exercise, week THREE. Prompt: Life in Brief. I decided to interpret the prompt childishly, but make the story serious.
The black and gold dressing gown
gliding over my body, caressing my skin, supple and soft, was the highlight of
my day. It made me feel luxurious, it made me feel invisible, draping my body
like a piece of Japanese art. The black trim, absent of all colour, conceals me
within its protection, keeping me away from the fearful experiences I’m
susceptible to. The gold, guarded by the black, was my outlook on life; optimistic
and healthy, but safe. Patterned with lanterns and feathers, but secured by
blossom and its trawling branches, curving inwards to keep them from floating
away.
The scent of honey and chocolate flickering
often frees me, taking me to that other place, that place where I can enjoy
life’s pleasures. I would lie against a tall tree, surrounded by blossom with a
trail of thick amber slowly making its way down the length of my body, filling
my naval en route. I would take bites out of my finger nails which were made of
the darkest, richest cocoa you could imagine, crumbling on my lips and falling
into the flowing sweetness that made me tingle in the right places.
‘Cynthia, you got five minutes
girl, don’t you be late!’ bellowed the door as it shook, testing its hinges. Reality
resumed. I blew out the candle, tightened
my gown with another knot and made for the door. The stickered mirror, stained
walls and worn carpet crept back in as a constant reminder of my life.
As I opened the door I was blinded
by a foray of lights dancing across my face. ‘Honey, clean up your face, you
can’t be going on like that! You heard what Danny said: “No nose candy!”’
ordered Shuga-Eve.
I made my way to the top of the
stairs as my song started, three, two, one ‘You
let me violate you, you let me desecrate you’. I’ve performed it a million times; the moves
are a thoughtless process. The knots come undone, my shield slumps to the floor
in a golden heap. I’m left, as I always am, in my leather underwear; exposed
and forever frightened. The only positive being that the lights are so bright I
can’t see the swine that surround me, snorting, whistling and shouting things
they’ve picked up from their dirty habits.
I tease the chrome bannister with
my leg, polished to perfection with that phallic motion, and squat. Down a few
steps only to crawl back up so that everyone can see what a nice tight ass I've got. The rest becomes a blur. I feel the occasional hoof wedge a dirty twenty
in my panties, but I don’t see it. I am their trough and they are hungry. It’s
just the way it is.
This is only the beginning of my
shift, next I’ve got to see if my John[1]
is in, otherwise I have to work the room. I put on my seductive eyes. ‘Want
some company?’ I’d say, or, ‘Buy me a drink?’ I tend to end the night slumped
over the bar with one hand still clutching an empty glass and the other in
someone’s zipper. Every night is the same: the people, the music, the abuse and
the lack of self-respect.
I've saved my tips for as long as I've worked here. At least they're safe, clean and secure.
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