Daydreaming at Night

The curtains pulled back, revealing the sensual shape hidden behind the emerald coloured dress. The high heels, jet black, matched the gloves the singer wore. Her voice, like an angel’s, rose over the noise of the eager crowd. Her pale skinned legs seemed to leap out of her dress as she walked, pushing out stronger yet still very sensual sounds. The lyrics would have made anyone blush, but she was in control. Her bright green eyes looking at everyone in the crowd, yet no one believed these eyes could be looking at them. Her bright red hair seemed to fade into the red backdrop of the stage. Maybe the backdrop should be black. But then her shoes and glove would look odd. Tonight the backdrop wasn’t an issue since the singer was blond, and she wore a black dress and white gloves.

“Hey, you coming with our beers?” yelled a patron. Jessica snapped back to reality. She wasn’t on stage tonight; she was waitressing in the cabaret. Her life was not one of glamour; instead, she had to bring booze to people who should not be drinking anymore while they gazed at the singer on stage. Take orders, go to the bar, ask for whatever poison was ordered, lean over just enough to get the owner to smile, walk back to the table, lean over while giving the drinks to ensure better tips, repeat ad nauseam until quitting time, and then go home and take a shower because even if no one touched you, you still feel dirty. That was Jessica’s life right now. And there was nothing she wished more to see happen than to walk on stage at the “Cabaret Francaise” in that horrible town she grew up in. She knew enough French to know that even before you walked in the cabaret, there was something wrong with the place.

She always wanted to be a singer, and while her parents paid for singing lessons, no agent ever noticed her. She was patient though, and although the best stages on Broadway had been replaced by ambitions of being a Cabaret singer, she did not feel bad about it in any way. This cabaret job, walking on stage, it would be what would give her enough money to produce more demo tapes, and to send them to agents and producers all around the country. All she had to do was to endure the eyes that were grabbing at every part of her body and then she would be able to make it to Broadway. Her voice would draw thousands of fans that could appreciate music, and would not just sit, hoping that by some divine intervention her dress would fall off. On stage, she could also avoid having her body abused by hands instead of eyes.

One more table, one more drunk. Lean down, get the tip. Turn around and walk away fast enough that her body is untouched. “You can’t complain about that,” said Frank, as he looked at her breasts instead of her eyes the first night it happened, “it’s bad for business if you throw out the customers that feel you up. Just try not to tempt them too much by leaving your ass next to their tables for too long.” Frank was behind the bar, but he could as well have been a patron. And so she moved faster now, avoiding the hands, but pleasing the eyes.

And now the night was over, and after she gave half her tips to Frank, she got changed, no sense looking like that on the bus, and she got home to her small apartment. Life went on. Maybe next day she would be the one to walk on stage, maybe Nancy, the regular singer, would have a small accident or inconvenience. Then she could walk on stage and show her talent. And then life would be better. But for now, all she truly wanted was a hot shower to wash away all the dirt she felt on her skin. To wash away what seemed like the remnants of a dream slowly dying. Maybe tomorrow, she would get her break, she was 21. She had her whole life ahead of her. And someday, all of these perverts would say while watching her in a concert: “I know that chick, she used to bring me beer, she had the nicest rack.” There was only one thing these animals saw; even in Jessica’s dreams.


[Today, the ambition of my 2 story a week schedule hit me full force. That doesn't mean I won't do it though, I love ambitious projects. It also means that like today, I will have to go in new directions with my stories. Which is good, one should not stay in a comfort zone for too long. I'm gonna go in various directions and will try my hand at more than just shock and surprise stories. A twist ending is only good if you don't always expect the stories to include one.]