When Strangers Call Me Beautiful

11 Mar

I’m going to describe to you what it feels like when you, a stranger, shout at me from across the street like that, touch me, blow kisses at me, call me beautiful, ask me to do something dirty for you, etc.  This might get pretty uncomfortable, but you make me uncomfortable so I think it’s fair.

You walk into a cold dark room with a small raised platform in the middle.  Spotlights are focused on it.  It’s about 4 feet in diameter and 9 inches tall, there is a chair about 10 feet away facing the platform, it’s not lit directly but you can see it in the bounce of the light that is aimed at the pedestal.

You are instructed by strangers to enter this room, there are more strangers closer to the pedestal who are awaiting you.  They greet you coldly, you’re late and they have a lot of work to do.  You stand uncomfortably still while they fuss around you; they are close to you in height and look like they know what to wear, what products to put in their hair, their breath has no odor as it passes across your skin.  They are obviously better than you at looking good and they know it.  They do not speak to you save the occasional stern “Arms up, please” or “Please hold still.”  They do not whine their requests like children but calmly demand them like parents.

They take your clothing from you, stripping you down until your toes are chilling on the cement floor.  Then they slowly alter your body to suit their whims.  Hair removal here, bleaching and/or tanning there.  Then, with a full face and body of itchy powders, scorching chemicals and sticky pastes applied they start layering you back up with ‘clothes,’ small things mostly, an arm band (the Armani ‘AX’ symbol proudly emblazoned on it), some combat boots a famous futbol player has been hawking on TV lately, Tight white Prada boxer briefs you wouldn’t really feel confident in picking out on your own.

One by one this prep team starts to retreat towards the shadows to examine their work.  One makes a wide circle around you before deciding you need more fake tanner to ‘highlight’ your calves.  After that the waxer takes a few turns about you stopping a few times to pluck stray hairs from your arms, abs and lower back with a pair of tweezers.  Someone else stares at you for a while, disappears, and comes back with an earring gun to pierce your right ear and left nostril.  It hurts and you are scolded for flinching because it smears the drying fake tanner.

This process takes a while and by the end you’re exhausted and in pain.  The prep team starts to spend more time standing back and looking and saying to each other (they don’t care what you hear, your input is not requested) things like ‘well that’s the best I can do with his abs the way they are.’ or ‘What do you want from me?  I can’t fix a lazy eye, I’m not a magician.’  You are cold, you haven’t been asked for your permission once all day and you want to sit down and eat something or perhaps just take this sticky eye stuff off and go to sleep.

Just when you think the humiliation is over a man comes into the room through a different door than you (yours is for common people after all) and sits in the chair. He is neither ugly nor attractive but looks like he might live in your neighborhood or one nearby.  He is not someone you would be drawn to at a bar or flirt with ever. The prep team moves aside and quiets down, hoping for approval.  You hope for approval too, not really because you did anything worth approving of but more because you know that if he doesn’t approve the whole process might have to start all over again and by now you really have to pee and are worried about having that feeling while almost stark naked.

He does not smile, he does not walk around you, he sits in his chair and gets comfortable.  He looks bored.  He looks you up and down and tells the prep team to add or subtract things.  You’re changed into underwear of a different color, you’re given a ‘shirt’ that doesn’t cover enough to be called a shirt by anyone other than American Apparel.

When he looks satisfied he takes out his penis and starts touching himself.  You flinch, unnerved and are snapped at for moving without being instructed to.  The man in the chair periodically and stoically demands changes to be made.  You are instructed to turn around for a short while, smile for a while, strike a Charlie’s Angels worthy pose and a pouty face for a while.

You want to find this whole scenario funny but no one else in the room does.  The man is quite intent on getting himself off and the prep team while not directly looking at him (our of respect) are staring at you mentally noting what parts they should have tried harder to fix and wishing you were a better canvas.   No one smiles.

You scratch your nose and he yells at you, the prep team looks at you like you’re an idiot and they can look forward to being reprimanded later for not adequately preparing such a fool.  At some point the man stands up, still stroking himself and walks around you in a tight circle, you follow him with your eyes for a moment but are instructed to look forward as before.  His breath too is innocuous smelling but the heat of it on your skin is more bothersome than the prep teams.  He’s smelling you, getting very close to you and continues to stare and touch himself, examining and getting off to the ‘shadows’ the fake tanner has ‘cast’ down your legs.

The man finally finishes, relieving himself on the floor just to the side of you getting some on the platform and a speck or two on the combat boots.

He refastens his pants, gives an appreciative if not patronizing look to the prep team and looks at you like you’re the Porsche he has just taken out for it’s maiden ride; like he’s excited to break you in as you’re his and he has all the time in the world to make you look like and do and be what he wants.

Is it a compliment now?

I want to point out quickly that for some kinksters this actually might sound like a good time and that’s okay.  That scenario would involve consent and trust.  This one does not.

One Response to “When Strangers Call Me Beautiful”

  1. UnmortgagedPolygamist April 3, 2012 at 2:24 am #

    From Kids in the Hall, “Guys on a Break” — http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpfRiIYYVHU

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: