Several groups of detectives sit in a conference room gathered around a large screen TV. Swirls of cigarette smoke creep through the air, as the smell of fresh brewed coffee permeates the room ...
“Go ahead Bob, play it again” requests Lieutenant Wilson.
The group around him glue their eyes to the scrambled screen in front of them.
The familiar scene begins to come into focus once again, as the confused onlookers begin looking for a clue in the only piece of evidence left behind: A grainy surveillance tape retrieved from the last crime scene, which took place last night at a convenience store on the outskirts of town.
A digital clock starts running in the lower left hand corner of the screen.
The detectives watch, as a young West Indian girl attempts to apply a fresh coat of red enamel to her nails, while talking away on her cellphone. Occasionally, she pulls her long, dark brown hair up over her ear out of habit. At one point, she almost drops her phone, quickly twisting her trim body at an angle, to balance the phone in between her upraised shoulder, and her rounded cheek.
Soon the customer in question enters the view of the surveillance camera. Dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt, casual slacks and a winter cap on his head, the suspect reaches for his wallet to purchase a carton of cigarettes.
The cashier turns her back to the suspect and bends over to grab a carton. As a result, her short T-shirt creeps up her back, revealing the top band of her thong, which disappears down into her hip hugger jeans. Upon turning around she is startled to see the man now holding some sort of odd looking antique camera . . .
A sudden “flash” lightens up the screen, hiding the view of the store for several seconds . . .
“See! What the hell was that right there?” asks a detective.
One of his partners comments “It almost looks like he uses some sort of pyrotechnics or something!”
“No, that couldn’t be. We had explosives experts swab all over the counter area . . . no sign of any residue of any sort,” comments the lead investigator.
They all continue to watch the grainy screen as the extreme light subsides, once again seeing the interior of the store.
A female detective clears her throat in the back ground, then says “Ok guys, I don’t think we need to watch the rest of it again.” She motions to one of the other detectives to shut off the tape.
She is soon greeted with protest from her surrounding colleagues: “Hold on a minute; now this is a legitimate part of the investigation!” says one guy, as another states “Yeah, we just might have missed something here! ”
The female detective rolls her eyes in disgust, then says “You creeps aren’t any different from that perv on the screen.”
Her accusation falls on deaf ears, as the male detectives in the room watch the screen a little closer . . .
The suspect, still standing on the opposite side of the counter, reaches over and takes his carton of cigarettes away from the compliant cashier. Her arm remains extended outward toward the man across from her, but when he flips up the divider beside them, she remains fixed and staring out over the counter.
“What about the boy friend on the other line, he couldn’t hear what was going on?” asks the rookie detective.
The sergeant replies: “No, he heard nothing . . . well other than a loud “pop,” which we would assume had something to do with the flash on the screen.”
The suspect begins loading up cartons of cigarettes into a hand held shopping basket, then leaves the store with stolen goods and camera in hand. While the suspect is unloading his loot, the cashier remains standing without movement, until her customer returns into view. The suspect then walks around the counter again, and turns the cashier by the waist, to face him directly. At this point, the young woman’s arm still reaches outward to offer him the missing merchandise. The suspect moves in closer toward the young woman, pulling her T-shirt up over her breasts, then reaches around and unhooks the clasp of her bra, which almost springs forth like a slingshot. The dastardly fellow then begins to grope her in full view of the camera!
“Really guys, I think that we have seen . . .” the female detective is quickly cut off by a protested “SHHHHSUSH!” from her colleagues.
The suspect on the screen then hoists the young girl up over his shoulder, bracing one arm across the back of the woman’s legs, while placing his free hand strategically across her bent behind. With her hair dangling loosely, and her exposed breasts squished into his back, the suspect then quickly leaves the scene with his captured booty.
“DAMN, WHO IS THIS GUY?” asks one of the detectives sitting close to the screen.
The staff sergeant leans back in his chair, making it squeak in protest. “Yeah well, more importantly . . . what did he use on her, ( pauses to take a deep drag of his cigarette ) and what does he plan on doing with her?”
* * * * * * * * * *
Jack Claussen removes, then carefully folds his reading glasses and slips them into his shirt pocket. He winces once more at the headline at the top of the local paper, then reads it to himself:
ANOTHER LOCAL GIRL DISAPPEARS WITHOUT A TRACE!
The professor then studies the picture beneath, before folding the paper in half and tossing it off to the side of his desk.
The old man slowly gets up out of his chair, then stretches out his back, as if he had recently lifted something heavy, then turns to walk to a stainless steel door adjacent to his work shop. He lifts the heavy cast iron latch out of the way, then tugs on the door, which emits a suction noise like one would hear opening a fresh jar of vacuum-packed peanuts. Pulling the cord on the ancient circular florescent light overhead, Claussen reveals the patiently waiting figure standing just a few feet inside.
The professor wobbles the figure onto an awaiting handcart, then wheels his new found friend out into his work area. He walks back to shut the door of his cooler, causing a rush of fog to form around his feet, then returns to admire the curvy frozen form beneath the clear plastic cover.
Claussen carefully pulls back the plastic sheeting away from the figure, fully enjoying the aesthetic-fetishistic view of the suspended girl before him.
“So, I hear your name is Sari?” asks the old man, now courteously picking a few static stray hairs away from the stiff young woman’s face. “I have been admiring you from afar for quite sometime you know. We would occasionally pass each other on campus grounds. You would look so fetching, with your long dark mane blowing in the wind behind you . . .”
Claussen flips her dark hair out over her shoulders, making a mental note that she will need a fresh shampoo, before being fitted for her costume.
“I knew that you would appreciate your visit, but now I’m giving you the chance to stay permanently. And with your exotic West Indian looks, I think you will work just perfectly for my next little project my darling!” the professor affirms excitedly. Claussen slowly runs his hands down over the girls shoulders. He eventually comes to her wrists, which he playfully grasps. “So, why don’t I shampoo that hair, then get you prepped for your position in my newest display?”
The girl stares back at the man who she innocently tried to sell a pack of cigarettes, just the night before. Now she stood alone with him, stripped bare, except for the little dot on her forehead. She first had to go through the conversion process for hours, then being left alone in a meat cooler under a plastic sheet to cure. If she had the opportunity, she would surely take the first available flight home. With just a hint of unconcern showing in her expression, Claussen attempts to enlighten the unconscious subject with his quirky sense of humor: “Look, as far as I’m concerned, yes . . . you should win employee of the month. But look at it this way, now you won’t ever have to go back. No more worries about scheduling or being late. If you will have enough money to go shopping for all of the latest styles of western clothes. No more last minute cramming for exams . . . I will take care of all of that for you from now on!”
Sari continues to stare back, unconvinced.
The Professor looks down to notice the contrast of the girl's unfinished fire red nails, in comparison to her dark Indian skin. “But of course, I completely forgot about your nails! How could you have finished them, when you were . . . well, preoccupied, if you will?” Claussen gently glides his hand around and over the woman’s hip bone, then promises “I will personally see to it, that your nails are finished in the finest enamel.” Claussen pinches the girl’s cold cheek, much like an elderly person would pinch a young child’s to show affection. He could almost swear that she cracked the slightest smile.
Sari stares off into space in defiance, as if to ignore her admirer.
Just then the phone begins to ring, breaking the awkward silence . . .
“Ah, hold that thought for a moment won’t you my darling?” says Claussen, who steals a quick kiss, before reaching for the ancient rotary phone. “Ah hello, who's calling please?”
Voice on the phone: “Jack, just get your hands out of that girl's pants, you bloody pervert!”
Claussen looks around to insure that the doors to the studio are in fact, locked. “Pitt, is that you?” the professor foolishly asks. “But . . .how did you know that I . . ? ”
Pitt: “Ah, I was bloody kiddin’ you fool . . . I didn’t know you were actually feeling up some young bird!”
“Riiiight . . . so what did you want? You didn’t break one of the dolls did you?” asks Claussen.
“Oh hell no, in fact that Mandy Doll gets more use than my girlfriend lately.” states Pitt, rather dejectedly. “Say old chum, how is my ex wife treating you anyway? I do hope that your getting the most from her, you old bastard! You know you did promise me a look once she was finished, and I will hold you to it.”
“Ah yes! Josephine turned out quite well, if I do say so myself. A very even trade . . .” replies Claussen with a dastardly smile.
“You know, that was a very devious plan you came up with! And the idea with the pool boy, I can’t believe everybody bought into that story!” states Mr. Pitt, now looking at a wedding picture of his former wife, that he keeps hidden in his bottom desk drawer.
Claussen looks over at Sari, who now has her back to him . . . still patiently waiting. From the other side of the room, he admires her slim waistline, the slight flare of her hip, taught rear . . . then grows impatient. “So exactly what did you want again?”
“Ah, . . . Jack, Is it possible to request another favor of you?” inquires Pitt, now lighting up a bootlegged Cuban cigar.
“What kind of favor are you talking about?” asks Claussen cautiously.
“Ah well, . . . you know. The kind of favor that only you can perform, my man!” Pitt lets out a cloud of smoke in his office.
“Forget it. Once was enough, and you already know too much as it is!” says Claussen, now digging around in his pockets for his own cigarette.
“I will stop by Saturday evening, with a new proposal Jack.” Pitt taps some ashes in a tray, then adds: “Oh, and make sure Josephine wears something sexy! I’ll see you then my good man!”
Mr. Pitt hangs up the phone, as the professor yells at the other end . . .
The self-made millionaire swings his office chair around, and admires his panoramic view of the city, then eventually gets up and walks over to unlock his liquor cabinet. Inside the heavy wood doors, the young cheerleader once known as Mandy Pepperidge, stands at attention to the left. The young girl obediently waits, holding a bottle of Vodka in one hand, and his favorite drinking glass in the other.
“Heh- heh, that’s my girl.” compliments the old man, now tapping his finger on the tip of the girl’s nose . . . but Mandy doesn’t flinch. Mr. Pitt turns to the right, where her “statuefied” boyfriend stands at attention as well. “Keep an eye on her sport,” says the businessman. He gives a nod, then closes the cabinet, leaving the two in the darkness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Several nights later, Mr. Stanley Pitt returns to his old college pal’s house once again, choosing to drive his personal Lexus. The slick black luxury model pulls into the driveway at 119 Pine Hollow Road. The driver quickly exits, then makes his way up the concrete walkway.
BING, BONG, BING, BONG . . . BING - BING - BING- BONG
“ Egats! You would think a man with this much skill at his disposal, could come up with a better sounding door bell for bloody sakes!” states Pitt out loud, as if somebody were listening.
Pitt waits for a moment, then bangs on the Lion’s Head door knocker to avoid hearing the dreaded doorbell once again.
“COME ON YOU BLOODY FOOL, PULL YOUR TROUSERS UP!” Yells Pitt with a hint of impatience.
Inside, Claussen quickly runs back upstairs after making final “adjustments.” Nearly out of breath, he yanks the door open to find a slightly drunken Pitt with open arms raised, standing at his door.
Pitt: “You bloody bastard! The last time I saw your face that red and out of breath, you had just nailed . . . er, what was that birds name?”
“It was Beth. My first girlfriend was Beth Paige . . . ” replies Claussen before he is cut off.
“Yes Beth, That was it! What a fine-looking dame . . . surprised I never shagged her myself!” exclaims Pitt, while giving a bear hug to his old buddy.
“Yes . . . well she and I did go out for quite sometime,” reflects Claussen.
Pitt: “I often wonder whatever happened to that old girl! Probably has ten kids, and sagging down to her britches by now I’d imagine . . .”
Claussen: “Well, not exactly” states the professor, now slightly lowering his head, but with one evil eyebrow slightly raised. “I ran into her just recently, and she looked better than ever.”
Pitt: “You don’t say! You know, that old chap Fonda married a good lookin’ lass too . . . er, ah . . . what was that broads name?” The old man pauses, scratches his chin, then blurts out “She had a magnificent pair of titties on her!
Claussen: “Kathy Lee was her name.”
“Yes, I believe it was Kathy Lee, another prime pick!” says Pitt laughing like a fiend while making a screwing motion with his hands. “Sometimes you just gotta dig right in and give it to em’. . . and old Pete must be doing something right.”
“Ah, . . . yes, I can just imagine. Well, why don’t you come on inside before you start to scare the neighbors,” suggests Claussen.
Pitt: “Ah bloody hell, I’ll buy all the damned houses on the bloody friggin’ street and have em demolished!”
Claussen pushes his friend along inside, then quickly shuts the door. They soon end up in the study mixing drinks, and discussing business. It isn’t long before Mr. Pitt gets down to the point of his visit . . .
“Jack, I have to say . . . you did a bloody wonderful job on that Mandy Girl.”
“Well thanks for the compliment, but she pretty much had all the goods to begin with.” Claussen pauses briefly, swirls his drink around, then adds: “ I just made sure that it would last, so to speak.”
“Yes, that you bloody did!” exclaims Pitt, emitting an evil looking smile. “You know, I would love to see how my Josephine turned out.”
“Yes, well we’ll get to that . . . but tell me, what was the real reason you contacted me?” asks Claussen, now lowering his brow.
“Well Jack my friend, It’s Elaine. That woman is a gold digger. I swear that girl seduced me every night when I was married. But now that Josephine is clearly out of the picture, she sleeps in another room in her own bed! Sometimes I feel like she’s just waiting for me to keel over! She used to change my socks, but now she doesn’t want to be in the same room. And those bloody friends of hers, popping in, stepping out . . . do you know that she still goes to the movies with that Jerry fellow? Those two dated for a while . . .” Pitt rubs his forehead in anguish.
Claussen quickly replies “Well what did I tell you was going to happen? I mean the woman is thirty years younger than you are!”
“Yes, yes . . . but you bloody do it all the time Jack! You’re surrounded by young beautiful women every stinkin’day!” Pitt slams down another Vodka.
“So what do you want me to do?” asks Claussen, knowing very well where this conversation was headed.
“I want you to make me another doll . . . an Elaine doll to be exact.” Says Pitt while pouring himself another drink.
Claussen: “Forget it, no way . . . I don’t even know this woman.”
Pitt: “Don’t tell me to forget it . . . I know that was you on the news, I know what you did! You can’t tell me that you knew that exchange student!”
Claussen: “Well, I noticed her around campus on a few occasions, and knew that she was going for a medical degree. Unfortunately she wasn’t one of my students. I stopped one night to get cigarettes . . . and there she was . . . with those big dark eyes.”
The two men stand staring at each other for several minutes. Pitt with a smirk because he knew he had him, and Claussen with a look of disgust, because he was backed into a corner.
For a moment, Claussen actually thought about using the camera on his former college mate to get himself out of the bind . . .
Pitt stares back, then as if reading his colleagues mind, warns: “Don’t even think about it my good man . . . remember the oath?”
The two men repeat it in unison: “Doohrehtorb noilamgyp.”
Claussen sighs, “Very well then . . . I guess I have something to show you downstairs.”
“Ah my good man, . . . I BLOODY THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEVER ASK!” barks Pitt, giving his old chum a slap on the back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After another hour of drinks, and a quick, but hearty meal for both, the two men walk downstairs, step behind the bar and make their way into the secret studio. Briefly, they pass by some old monitors stacked up against one wall. Thick and dusty text books line the other. The two men then turn a corner and enter a lighted hallway, carpeted with thick shag.
Pitt admires Claussen’s taste in the decor of the hall as they walk along. Dark maroon walls trimmed with elaborate woodwork, burning candles and various forms of collectible art are on display throughout the entire area.
“I don’t know if I took a wrong turn into me lords’ Castle, or if I’m in a cathouse down in the bloody French Quarter!” chimes Pitt, looking like a 5-year old kid about to enter “Toys-R-Us” for the very first time.
They pass by several closed hardwood doors before coming upon two larger, riveted steel doors at the end of the hall. Claussen digs out a series of keys, flipping them back and forth until finding the right one. The professor works the key into the padlock, unlocking it, and letting it hang loose on the latch. The old man then turns to his former fraternity brother and speaks somewhat proudly and excitedly: “What you are about to see, is the result of more than 30 plus years of my hard work . . . many sleepless nights, and countless hours have been spent down here. And yet, the pain staking details remain consistent throughout every subject of my entire collection.”
Pitt looks on excitedly, waiting for his friend to get on with it . . .
Claussen proceeds to tug on one of the steel doors, rolling it along a track that’s mounted into the floor. The massive door slowly disappears into the adjacent wall allowing the professor and his curious guest into the vault behind it.
Once inside, Mr. Pitt’s eyes begin to adjust to the poor lighting. The old man notices that the aisle way (which is only about 5 feet wide by 9 feet high to the drop ceiling), seems to be very deep. It could go back a good 100 feet or possibly more. The floors are covered by polished black marble tiles, but the walls are painted dark maroon and trimmed in the same fashion as the hallway.
With some flickering, wall mounted candles providing the only immediate source of light, Claussen once again feels his way over to a control panel mounted to the wall on his right. He reaches into the front of his heavy polo sweater for the spectacles in the pocket of his Stafford shirt.
“Ok, let me see here. . . . (The professor tweaks the specs on his nose back and forth) . . . Rotation Speed? Nope. Ah . . . Mood Settings? Dammit, one of these days I’ll get some decent lighting!”
“ON WITH IT MAN!” yells Pitt.
“Dammit just hold on to yourself! . . . Ah, The Main Switch. Yes, that’s the one!” The professor flips the switch, then turns back around to face Pitt with a devilish grin. “Welcome to my little slice of heaven my friend!”
Mr. Pitt looks into the vault with a confused, yet excited look on his face. He turns to Claussen as he quickly pulls out a kerchief to wipe his brow off then asks “What? What is it Jack?” He then turns around to see several glass booths illuminating in succession throughout the length of the vault.
Claussen lowers the dimmer switch to set the mood, then invites his guest in . . .
The glass enclosure before them slowly begins to illuminate, revealing a blonde woman, who stands stock-still. She greets/stares out at the two onlookers with a jubilant smile. Dressed in a snug, but smart black Tuxedo on her upper half, and black velvet G-string bottom, she resembles a Rockette at first glance. But her serving tray and tipped pill box hat with a chin strap, quickly give her away.
“Oh bloody hell, Jack Claussen, I thought you were kidding when you said you had more of them!” Pitt excitedly looks on in awe at the realism of the model before him. From the woman’s glassy blue eyes and crimped blonde hair, to the sheen of her neatly shaved dancer’s legs, she was a vision of beauty. A perfect replica of a cigarette girl from an old time movie theater. Only instead of having cigarettes in her tray, she patiently held a simple greeting card that said “Welcome!”
Claussen: “This woman’s name is Linda, and she worked in a truck stop at one point. I used to have her posed in a stretchy black gown, but thought that she needed a new look.”
Pitt turns to Claussen to compliment him on his work, but notices the brunette bombshell posed leaning across the front fender of an old “Rat Rod” in the booth behind him.
“Why Jack, what a beautiful rendering of a fifties pinup girl!” exclaims the businessman as he approaches the booth quickly. Pitt’s hands press against the glass like that of a child looking in the window of a toy store.
The girl in this booth had rather long, dark brown hair. Her bangs were cut evenly across the front, the rest was completely pulled off to one side of her head, and left to hang seductively over one shoulder. She wore a simple white T-shirt that looked one size too small, with “high cut” hot pink shorts covered with a black polka dot pattern. One long leg was kicked up in the air behind her, as the rest of her body leaned on the front fender of a primer black 32 Ford coupe . . . not the entire car mind you, just the front clip, from the windshield forward to the bumper. At first glance, it looked convincingly real, until Pitt noticed it was simply butted against the wall, and the backdrop was painted in behind it. The sexy model took the old man’s eyes away from the background, making the scene looks “realistic”enough to him.
Pitt walked from one end of the viewing window, to the other, hoping to get a better angle of the woman inside. “Hot Rod Girl” said the old man out loud, as he read the engraved plaque just inside the window. But the longer he looked through the viewing panel, he realized it wasn’t just the detail of the girl, but some of the period correct items in the scene: the thin red scarf wrapped around the model’s neck, the bobby-sox and saddle shoes, the huge white walls on the old bias-ply tires, the baby moon hubcaps on the red steel rims . . .
“ . . . and the lacy seams of the push up bra beneath that tight white shirt!” says Pitt aloud, rather excitedly.
“What was that?” asks Jack Claussen, knowing only all too well what he had just heard.
Pitt: “That must have taken quite sometime to gather up all of items, just to make the scene work!” exclaimed the old man, now noticing the pack of Lucky Strikes resting on the hood of the fake automobile.
Claussen: “Not really. A majority of it I found on Ebay.” The professor rubs his chin while staring at the model in front of them. “Quite frankly, I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t recognize her.”
Pitt: “Why, should I?” the businessman asks, as he studies the woman’s features over, then begins to acknowledge a resemblance to somebody he had known many years before . . . the long eyelashes, turned up nose. Pitt squints his eyes, and edges up to the glass just a little bit closer. “Wait . . . it almost looks like a slightly older Beth Paige.” The old man slowly turns to his former college mate, who stands picking a piece of food from his back teeth.
“The one and only!” states Claussen, now pressing his hands into his pockets rather casually. “I actually bought the '32 nose out of a salvage yard in Arizona. Just about the only place you find those things anymore. I had a custom body shop in town repaint the front clip, did the body work myself . . . on both that is, the car and the girl.”
Pitt: “But . . . but how did you locate her after all those years? I would think it would nearly be impossible.”
Claussen: “Nah. Actually it wasn’t that hard at all. And it was just like you said, she had a couple kids, was stuck at home watching the soaps, buying groceries, doing what mom’s do. Life was pretty much taking a toll on her, and I thought she could do better, so I brought her here. She was actually my first, back in . . . '74 I believe it was.”
Pitt begins to pay closer attention to Beth, now noticing the crow’s feet and slight bags under her eyes covered with the somewhat heavy eye make-up. And that push up bra was probably functional at this point . . . “Did she come here willingly Jack?” Pitt asked, while noticing the woman’s well-toned legs.
Claussen shuts off the interior light on his remote, leaving Beth in the darkness, and without giving an answer.
He steps forward and illuminates the next window, which looks like another retro piece by the looks of the high back corner booth seat, neon signs and vintage fast food table. However the doll posed in this one is actually dressed for more modern times.
Pitt steps up to the window, with the neon light glowing upon his face. Staring off into the distance beyond him, stands a young woman, possibly of Latin descent, dressed in a Hooters uniform. Complete from the high cut satin orange shorts, to the outstretched “HOOTERS” logo on the front of her white T-shirt, she is the perfect replica of everybody’s favorite sports bar waitress.
Pitt: “Good lord, she’s absolutely gorgeous! Jack you old fool, I’ll bet you’re down there harassing those girls every night! She’s the perfect girl for the job!” The old man continues to leer at the frozen beauty before him, admiring how her shorts tuck down in snug, between her tanned-up thighs.
“Yes, well actually . . . Maria did work at Hooters, so she’s no replica. She was one of my former students whom I acquired . . . uh, not intentionally. Well let’s just say that she didn’t want to feel left out, so-to-speak.”
Maria stands stock still, with her big dark eyes slightly rolled upward (just as the Professor had remembered them from class). Although Maria’s mouth is closed, she almost has a slightly bemused look about her. Holding a serving tray up with one arm, Maria’s other rests on her turned out hip. Her toned tummy peaks out from the bottom of her shirt.
Pitt: “Well she’s doing a splendid job if I do say so myself. Ah, but I’m quite curious old chap ” Pitt looks at his pal, then points at the serving tray chuckling “What about those cheeseburgers on the tray there. Aren’t those bloody chew toys for dogs, my good man?”
Claussen: “Ah, a good eye. Those were purchased in the pet supply section at Wal-Mart in haste. Besides, do you think she noticed the difference?”
Pitt: “Ah you sneaky bastard, I see your point!”
The two men burst out in laughter, then move on past to the next couple of figures, and leaving Maria to rest.
At one point, Pitt sees a young Asian girl, wearing a short plaid skirt, white knee-high stockings and a white dress shirt with a black tie. With her legs pressed tightly together, and arms placed evenly at her sides, she is posed to look like she is standing at attention. Her polished black shoes match her shimmering black hair.
“I’ll be damned Jack. She looks very regal if I do say so. This one is even better than the last one!” Pitt looks on at the obedient young girl, wondering what she would look like on display in his own office.
“Yes, that is Swan. She is indeed one of my favorite girls. She has that certain . . . innocence about her. She was an exchange student at the college.”
Pitt continues to look in on the girl, with big dark staring eyes, and slightly parted lips, she almost looks as if she is about to speak out to her admirer. “Say there Jack, I was just wondering how...” Pitt is quickly cut off with “Forget it, she IS NOT for sale . . . PERIOD!”
Pitt: “But Jack, how did you know that I wasn’t going to ask how old she was?”
Claussen shakes his head then turns off the light, “Old enough” he mumbles.
Pitt: “Yes, . . . yes I see your point.” The old man gives one last look at the beauty, whose white shirt is slightly aglow, even in the darkness.
If Swan was the image of innocence, then the next booth, titled: “A Little Devilish” must have been made to represent the total opposite. Standing in this window was a young woman wrapped completely in shiny red rubber. Holding an upright pitch fork in one hand, and with her other hand raised and posed like a claw, this girl was suited up like she was the devil in PVC. From the horns coming out of her page boy hair, to the stiff, “S” shaped tail, that sprung out behind her, the entire scene looked rather tongue-in-cheek, than anything evil. An airbrushed Styrofoam cave entrance, with what appeared to be a converted electric fireplace inside, made up the back ground of “the gate to hell.”
This booth was on the end of the row, so Pitt walked around to the side window panel to get a look at the dolls rubber molded glistening ass! A slight bit “chunkier” than most of the women in the professor’s collection, this girl was quite voluptuous from every angle. Her large breasts were practically being molded into perfection by the tight rubber. A deep cleft in the lower front, proved that the rubber had penetrated even the most personal of regions. The only bare skin seen was that past the ankle bones, her bare hands, and of course her beautiful round face. With red spiked high heels, big brown eyes and fire red pouting lips, Pitt found it rather odd that such a beautiful woman would be posed wearing big thick, horn rimmed glasses!
Claussen: “I can tell by the look on your face, your wondering about the glasses.”
Pitt: “Well yes Jack, she is very shapely woman with a very cute face, but . . .”
“It was sort of her trade mark. And out of respect for her, I left her trademark intact. I’m sure she would have wanted it that way.” says Claussen, now looking longingly through the viewing panel. “Her name was Velma . . .a rather smart young lady.”
Pitt: “Yes, well apparently not smart enough to end up in here!” (laughs for a moment) “I would hate to think of what it’s like when you take her out and have to get that rubber suit off of her. You must have had to shave her bare, and greased the young lady up real good.”
Claussen: “Yes I did completely shave her and I had to grease her entire body as well, however the suit will never, ever, be taken off of her.”
With the finality of that statement, Pitt looks in once again on the woman forever sealed in rubber, once known as Velma. She stares back out at him with a serious expression and the look of discipline, before fading into the darkness.
The two men then enter a somewhat darker part of the hallway. Claussen steps a few feet forward and reaches to turn on what may appear to be a lamp at first . . .
Pitt almost jumps in shock, as Claussen flicks on the first hand held candelabra, which is held upright by a tall dazzling beauty of Italian descent. With jet black hair pulled up tight to her head, she stands straight at attention, in a small alcove beside them. The woman is posed, with one hand splayed around the curve of her thigh, the other raised like the statue of liberty and holding the candelabra to offer the men light. Dressed in a simple white sheer toga, and staring blankly across the hallway, she obediently serves her purpose. Pitt raises his hand to touch the breast that he can faintly see through the light fabric, but is quickly warned by his buddy . . .
“Ahh, no, I don’t think so.” warns Claussen, who steps the five feet across the isle way then turns on a second light.
Pitt quickly blurts out “Great Scott!” as a second statue that mirrors the image of the first one, lights up before him. The old man steps up to this woman, who appears to be of West Indian decent. She is posed and dressed exactly as the Italian woman across the Isle from her. She too is standing in a shallow alcove.
“Quite lovely, aren’t they?” comments Claussen, who brushes the Indian woman’s long ribbon-like locks, away from light brown skin on her face.
Pitt: “Absolutely dazzling you crazy bastard! Every time you work that remote in your hand, you manage to out do yourself!”
Claussen: “Yes. Well this is another student from campus. An exchange student from India, who transferred here during her freshman year in high school. She was studying to be a doctor on my campus. Another . . .very smart girl.” The professor runs his index finger up under the woman’s round chin.
Pitt: “Yes, the one that disappeared that was on the Tele.”
Claussen: “Yes. . ., indeed this is her.”
Pitt: “And the other beauty?”
As Claussen turns his back to go to the other side of the isle, Pitt sneakily grabs the Indian woman’s breasts. He is quickly surprised at how firm they are!
The West Indian woman continues to stare ahead with black piercing eyes, unaffected by Pitt’s actions. . .
“Ah yes, and this . . .this is Mia.” Claussen readjusts the woman’s toga, to show slightly more cleavage, just to tease his old friend. Mia obliges the men a better view. The professor then continues “I ran into her at a bar during happy hour one night, she had several drinks, then agreed to come back here for cocktails. I believe she was working for a law firm.” Pitt listens intently, and moves in closer to get a better view of the woman’s cleavage, then is told by his former college mate “THIS WAY, PLEASE.”
As the professor walks away, Mr. Pitt looks the Italian over once again. He looks over his shoulder to see if Claussen is watching, then quickly pulls the bottom of her toga outward to sneak a peek. In a lowered voice, the old man says “From where I’m standing, you sure don’t look like a lawyer, but you can represent me any time honey!” Pitt drops the hem, while giggling like a school boy, then sneaks away.
Mia continues to stare straight ahead , unamused . . .
The two men walk out into a larger, much more spacious room. The floor in the center, is covered by a large oriental rug. Claussen leads his old friend to a roped off display on the side. The professor turns on a switch that is mounted on a nearby stand, and soon a young black woman begins to slowly rotate on a lighted display base. Her long, auburn highlighted hair glistens under Claussen’s custom built lighting. Her ebony skin is a sharp contrast to the off white crochet top and mini-skirt that she is wearing. Her pronounced derriere protrudes in, then outward like a lobe on a cam, as she continues to rotate in circles. A chrome rod seems to protrude into the woman’s backside, as seen on several other of the “oddly posed”models before her. She stares out at the two men, with a rather awkward looking smile.
Pitt: “Look at the ass on that woman! It looks so hard, that it would probably break your wing-ding right clear off!”
Claussen: “Yes, I have strained myself quite a few times . . .believe me, she is as hard as she looks too!”
Pitt shakes his head and smiles with approval, as the two make their way to the next exhibit. As they do, Pitt looks back towards the entrance of the hall, and notices the side profile of the two candle holders, still standing obediently at attention, never to lose their pose. Pitt thinks to himself: “That Indian woman definitely has some awesome tits!”
“Now, this next one is the result of an ongoing project that I have been working on for the last year, and gathering the mechanicals for at least the last two years. It is by far my proudest display to date.” says Claussen, with a note of pride in his voice.
“What? What is it?” asks Pitt with anticipation. Whatever the display is, Stanley soon notices that it takes up one entire side of the room. Oddly enough, the actual platform it’s built on, doesn’t seem to quite touch the ground.
Claussen steps into the darkness for a moment, and pulls down a handle on some sort of transformer. An electric buzz can be heard at first, and the smell of electricity is in the air. Soon a cooling fan fires up, as some sort of pulley begins to squeal, like that on an old children’s merry-go-round.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS IT JACK?” yells Pitt, now competing with the drone of the running equipment.
“PITT MY GOOD MAN, I NOW PRESENT. . . (Claussen raises up his remote, and aims it at the mysterious object across the room) “THE PEEPING TOM !”
An unseen pipe organ begins to slowly crank up carnival music, as the light throughout the room gets brighter. Pitt’s eyes go open wide as the Professor looks on with pride.
Planted in the corner of the room and facing the two men, is a wall representing the bedroom window on the exterior of a house. It measured a good ten feet wide by seven feet tall, complete with aluminum siding and a window, with the typical vines growing up the side of it. Half crouched/standing in front of the window was a young man, peeking in . . .
“THAT IS NATHAN . . .HE WAS ACTUALLY THE REAL LIFE BOYFRIEND OF THE LITTLE DEVIL GIRL DOWN THE AISLE. HE SEEMS TO HAVE A PROBLEM WITH PEEPING IN WINDOWS . . . NOW WATCH THIS!” Claussen yells over to his friend , who is standing right next to him.
Pitt looks at his former college buddy, and notices that he looks like a madman possessed . . .
Claussen: “GET READY STANLEY PITT!”
Pitt: “YES, YES GET ON WITH IT YOU BLOODY WANKER!”
The entire wall of the house begins to slowly rotate around, with Nathan still leering at whatever was on the other side of that window. Soon after, what appeared at first to be a large fiberglass bubble, came into view. . .
Pitt looked on in awe at the scene unfolding before him: On the other side of the exterior wall, was a cutaway view of a bedroom on the other side. It was entirely enclosed in with huge clear plexiglas panels. Inside it were two beds with a night stand, a cutaway dresser, and assorted stuffed animals. But the main attraction was the frozen participants involved in a slumber party pillow fight!
Pitt: “HOLY SH I I I I T!”
Claussen: “WAIT, IT AIN’T EVEN GOING YET!”
Claussen pulls some toggle handle on an old Lionel train transformer mounted on a stand nearby, and suddenly out of nowhere, feathers begin flying in a frenzy all over the place inside the plexiglas cube!
“GREAT BALLS OF FIRE! CLAUSSEN, YOU BLOODY LOON ! YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY OUTDONE YOURSELF !” yells Pitt, still trying to take in the scene now rotating before him.
Two young girls first pass by. One girl in short white nightgown, has her arms raised above her head, and is getting ready to smack an older teen that is approaching the bed with a pillow. A second one is perched on all fours, leaning over the edge of the bed, appearing as if she just tossed her pillow, and is catching her balance. A third stands on this side of the bed and nearest to the plexiglas viewing panel. With her back facing the walkway, she appears to be pointing across the room at who would appear to be her mother. The mother figure is standing just inside the bedroom doorframe in a full length sheer nightgown, with arms raised and the look of shock on her face!
“THIS IS BLOODY FANTASTIC YOU DIRTY BASTARD!” yells Pitt to his friend, who continues to work the fan controls that are blowing feathers around on the inside.
The suspended tableau slowly rotated around to the mother’s point of view from inside the doorframe, as Pitt and Claussen (like he has done so many times before) got to look over the mother’s shoulders and between her well formed legs at the scene unfolding in the bedroom. Pitt notices the see through gown that the mother is wearing, and catches a glimpse of the swell of her huge breast as she passes by.
The interior wall of the fake house soon blocks everyone’s view, but the opposite side of the second bed, rotates around soon enough. Claussen is entertained by his friend trying to spot every detail moving before him.
Pitt looks in on time to notice the smiling face on the one girl leaning over on all fours at the edge of the bed in the tight gray sweat pants and white tank top . . . “my, she looks kinda young”, thinks Pitt silently to himself.
Soon the view comes back to the peeping Tom, who still lingers outside the window. Then the scene rotates back to the bedside once again, as the light blonde girl still holds her pillow above her head. Her teammate still holds on with all fours, at the edge of the bed. The third girl with dirty Blonde hair, remains standing between the bed and plexiglas, her finger remains pointed at her intruding mother. Feathers begin to slowly build up on the shoulders of the young girl, as Pitt notices the slight wedgie from her baby blue briefs.
The room rotates until the mother soon returns to view, and Pitt once again catches the side profile of mom, then notices the slit that is cut up the front of her gown. . . he then catches a glimpse of the back of the older teen approaching the bed. She has dirty blonde hair, and is wearing a sheer pink baby doll, with a matching pink g-string. The scene rotates away, as Pitt once again catches a glimpse of the swell of mother’s breast. The interior wall of the house soon blocks everything from view, until the opposite side of the room rotates into site. Pitt, now trying to concentrate on the girl in the pink baby doll, notices another girl who looks to be eighteen or nineteen who looks like she is teamed up with the girl in the baby doll. This girl stands in a leopard print g-string, with her brown hair pulled into a ponytail that appears to swing in the air. Her tight black “half-shirt” barely contains her firm breasts, as the swells peek out from the bottom.
“HOLY COW, DID YOU SEE THE BOOBS ON THAT BIRD?” cries out Pitt.
“YES OF COURSE I DID! WHO DO YOU THINK POSED HER LIKE THAT?” yells Claussen in return.
The peeping Tom boy passes by, then the bedroom once again comes within sight. The skinny blonde in the back still holds her pillow above her head, and as the room rotates, Pitt catches the light just right behind her, and sees a faint shadow of the form beneath her gown. He then quickly turns his head to look over the shoulder of the dirty blonde girl standing closest to the plexiglas. He notices that the front of the mothers full length gown, . . . is in fact sheer! Mom’s hair is piled on top of her head, and so are the feathers!
“If there ever was a giant snow globe to own, this would absolutely be it!” Pitt thinks to himself.
“JUST LOOK AT THEM, AREN’T THEY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THINGS YOU EVER SAW!?” yells Claussen to his friend, catching a glimpse of Bridget in her pink baby-doll teddy as she cruised on by. Her sister Christie blipped by just a few moments later with her back turned to the plexiglas.
“YES SIR. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!” Pitt grabs his buddy by the arm, and requests “NOW CAN YOU PLEASE TURN THIS THING OFF?”
Claussen: “YOU KNOW, SOMETIMES I’M DOWN HERE FOR HOURS ON END, JUST ENJOYING THE ILLUSION . . . AND THE DIFFERENT VIEWS! I HAVE THE BEST SNOW GLOBE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!”
Just then mom passes by again, and Pitt notices through her armpit, and past the swell of her breast, that the girl in the leopard print g-string has quite the wedgie going on! The scene rotates around slowly, as the interior wall passes by . . . then the girl in the leopard print comes back into view from the opposite perspective “Wow, she has a nice tummy too!” Notes Pitt silently. The tableau begins slowing down, and Pitt gets a better glimpse of what was going on inside. . . the peeping Tom passes by once again, then the view of the girl in the powder blue briefs comes around, now completely covered in feathers. He notices that the skinny blonde girl in back with the short white gown has quite a collection of feathers going as well. She still holds her pillow above her head, but never seems to get around to throwing it. The interior wall passes by, and Pitt finally gets a good look at the rear end of the mother character, noticing that she is actually in well kept shape, however she has one of those steel rods protruding from her undercarriage like that black girl did down the isle. “Funny thing I didn’t notice that before . . .must have been too much else to look at” thinks Pitt to himself. The interior wall slowly passes by, until the far end view of the second bed comes into sight. Pitt waits for the girl in the leopard print g-string to circle around into view. When she finally appears, he gives her a better look over than the previous times that she sped by.
To Claussen, the view of this girl, reminds him of a skit that he once saw on the Man Show. In this skit, there was a stripper frozen in the middle of a lap-dance. Giving this girl the same pose and identical wedgie was just one of his small personal details.
The rotating tableau finally grinds to a halt, and the “carnival like” organ music stops. Pitt is know facing the entire bedroom view, as seen over the leopard print girls slightly bent back. She indeed does have a splendid rearview! He then gets a good look at the girl in the pink baby-doll nightie. The old man can clearly see her young tight body under the sheer pink material. Only the puffy “boa like” trim, hides her well formed breasts from view. The bottom hem line fur material doesn’t do quite as good a job, as part of her well formed butt cheeks, stick out of the bottom in back.
Pitt then looks over at the mother figure and leers at her full sized breasts, seen clearly through the front of her full length sheer gown. His eyes wander downward at her solid legs, then work their way back up along the hems and ruffles that hang from her curves, until suddenly . . . he sees her familiar face!
Pitt blurts out “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?” The old man looks on astounded, but not quite sure of where he has seen her before. He scans over the rest of the room, then noticing the young girl standing near the plexiglas in the powder blue bra and briefs. She too looks familiar! “Now wait a minute here” . . . Pitt thinks to himself, as he digs out his oversized wallet, and begins flipping through the pictures in the billfold.
Meanwhile, Claussen has entered the plexiglas playroom, and is meticulously dusting the feathers off of his latest creations . . .
Pitt continues to flip through until coming to a family “Holiday” photo all the way in the back. And there they were. Pitt looked at the woman in the photo, then up and to the left, and there stood Kathy Lee Fonda . . .in all her splendor. He then looked off and to the right of her at the girl in the leopard print g-string. “Nope, no match there” . . .he looked over at the young girl on all fours who was almost falling off the edge of the bed, but she was a Brunette. He scanned over the light blonde girl in the short white gown in back, still patiently waiting to throw her pillow, but she had braces and didn’t look like a Fonda. He slowly scanned over to where Claussen was brushing off the feathers on the dirty blonde girl in the powder blue briefs. He looked at the family photo of the vibrant smiling young girl, then looked up to see she now stared blank ahead, expressionless. Christie!
A sudden chill ran up his spine . . .
“Jack? I don’t quite understand . . .why would you take them?” Pitt asked, as he watched Claussen pluck an unwanted feather out of a waistband, letting it eventually snap back into place.
“What’s that?” asked Claussen, (pretending not to have heard his former frat buddy). The professor looked up just in time to notice Pitt looking Kathy Lee closely over from outside the plexiglas.
Pitt: “Peter never did anything to you . . .and certainly Kathy Lee, or her daughter never did.”
Claussen: “Well . . .yes that’s true, but . . .you know me. Once I see it, I have to have it.”
Pitt: “So what, I suppose now you will have to find the other one now to have the complete collection?”
Claussen: “What other one?” asks Claussen plucking one last feather out of Christie’s Golden locks.
Pitt: “You know, the one that had the big graduation party last year.”
Claussen approached his old friend, then dropped his brush on the foot of the bed next to the girl on all fours. “Are you referring to Bridget?” asks Claussen.
Pitt: “Yes, Yes Bridget, that was the one. . . a smart young lass, quite a looker too!”
Claussen picks up the girl that is on all fours, plucking her hands, then knees away from the bed. (It is then, that Pitt notices the velcro pads that kept her affixed to the bed). The girl is then set down on her back, farther up the bed. Her tank top creeps slightly up her tummy, exposing her belly button. The girl looks odd as she still retains her pose as if she is crawling around on all fours.
Claussen: “Hmm. . .Bridget you say.” The professor picks up the girl in the pink baby-doll nightie, and pulls the edges of her g-string out of her butt, then slowly rotates her around by the waist to face Pitt. “No, I hear Bridget is doing just fine these days. . . aren’t you dear?”
Pitt looks on in shock, as the girl standing before him is indeed Bridget, Peter’s eldest daughter. She holds one hand up and outward with her fingers spread out, as if to stop an incoming pillow. Her other arm is stretched behind her back, as if to wing a pillow at somebody else. The look on her precious face is that of shock, with her mouth wide open, however her crystal blue eyes now appear to be dull, lifeless, and almost milky in color, just as some of the other models had appeared in the museum. Her skin has a waxy sheen just like all of the others. In a way, it was almost creepy how the former graduate could look so realistic, and yet almost fake up close.
Pitt: “But, Peter was one of us! You can’t pollute the same well you drink from!”
Claussen: “Yes well, they are all better for it”, mumbles the old man, now pulling the baby doll nightie outward, to “shake” the feathers out.
For a moment, Mr. Pitt gets a brief view of the young woman’s breasts, through her nightwear. Bridget continues to stare back coldly at the old man with her mouth open and glazed eyes. He thinks to himself “That is probably how she would really look if she had the slightest idea of what she was being put through!” The girl slightly wobbles from side to side on her positioning rod, unconcerned . . .
“Well, get over it. The process is irreversible so there is nothing that can be done to bring them back out of it.” The professor lets the short nightie glide back down into place, then steadies the girl. He stands a few feet back for a moment looking the girl over, then “fluffs” the bottom hem, so it hangs off of Bridget’s body “just right.”
Mr. Pitt looks over at the girl on the back of the bed, still holding the pillow, then points. “You could do this to her?” Then he looks over to the girl near the plexiglas, “Or to Christie?” It is then, that Pitt just happens to notice the positioning rod was apparently used on her as well.
Claussen rolls his eye’s, then slowly gets a suspicious look on his face. “Stanley Pitt . . .your not going soft on me already are you?”
Mr. Pitt picks a stray feather out of Bridget’s dirty blonde hair that his buddy missed. “Well no, not exactly . . . . . .it’s just that, well . . .”
“Then I strongly suggest you drop it,” says the professor flatly. Claussen begins to get edgy, then turns and walks up to Kathy Lee. She stands bold, despite being covered completely in feathers, from her stacked hair, all over her sheer night gown, to her matching nude hosiery beneath. He picks a single feather out of her “O” shaped mouth, then unties the back of her strapless gown, letting it gradually fall to her feet. The woman’s garter-less stockings were all that remained intact. She stands with her arms upraised as if to say “OH NO!” at the shocking, yet fictional scene taking place in her real life daughter’s bedroom.
“Go ahead, check them out” offers Claussen.
Pitt steps forward . . . it was true, her newly enhanced breasts looked much more firm and fuller, than any other woman he had seen at that age. Pitt grabbed hold of his former school mates wife’s breasts, admiring the detailing of her nipples, then gradually kneading and groping them, squashing them together. They would quickly bounce back into place, defying gravity!
“Look at her ass! It’s as tight as a twenty year olds! You can’t tell me she wouldn’t appreciate that!” exclaims Claussen.
Mr. Pitt walked around the middle-aged woman, sizing her up. As he looked her over, he noticed the elastic bands on her stockings, came just short of her butt cheeks by inches, further enhancing their curves. It was true, her ass was very tight, Pitt concluded as he felt around her full backside. He then walked back around her front, then admits out loud “She does have a slight belly, but she certainly is foxy for her age!”
Other than the manipulated look of shock on her face, Kathy Lee showed no hint of being embarrassed by being stripped nude in front of these two men, the entire time she stood there.
Claussen takes a deep breath, then states with confidence: “Although she can’t speak up about it, I can almost see the pride in her eyes. I took somebody that had natural beauty, and made her near perfect.”
Pitt: “But what about these other girls? What would they have to say?”
Claussen: “Look, I’ll tell you what . . .let me do a quick introduction.” (The professor walks over to the bed itself). He first points to the girl still holding the pillow over her head. He pries her fingers away from the pillow, placing it down on the bed. He then slowly presses her mouth closed, then pushes her arms back down with some effort, so her nightie is no longer half way up her waist. Even with her mouth closed, she retains a surprised expression. She continues to stare past the two men, seeking her target. “This is Ashley. Her partner in crime is Jill, this one in the gray sweat pants.”
Pitt looks down at the bed to see the Jill figure still posed as she was at the foot of the bed, with legs and arms still raised, and smiling dreamily at the ceiling.
Claussen states rather coldly: Their “redemption” is now complete.”
“REDEMPTION?” asks Pitt loudly.
Claussen: “Yes. They were scamming people for months . . . had quite the little operation going on.” The Professor slowly bends the girls arms and legs down flat on the bed, then adds: “Actually I think Ashley was the bad apple and Jill just kind of went along with it. Then apparently, the money wasn’t enough, so they stole the hand blown glass “reclining nude” that I got on my sophomore year trip to Italy.” (Claussen pulls the girls tank top tight at the waist to cover her exposed tummy). “I guess you could say Jill here just was just in the wrong place at the right time.”
Pitt: “Ah yes . . .the reclining nude, I remember that piece. It was kept under a glass cover.”
Claussen: “As many of my finest pieces are.”
Professor Claussen chuckles as he turns around, then walks back across the room. (As he passes by Bridget, he slowly caresses her arm).
The two men walk over to the brunette with the ponytail, who continues to leans forward in determination on the edge of the second bed. Her right arm reaches for a pillow just inches away from her. The left arm is swung out at an angle to her side, her hand splayed out in excitement.
“And who is this lovely young gal?” asks Pitt, while moving in close to the girls face. The old man quickly notices her skin is perfectly flawless, her eyebrows plucked into two perfect lines, and her smile a perfect row of whiteness, framed by supple lips.
“This would be Amanda.” says the professor, as he walks around the girl and places his hand gently at the small of her back. He scans his eyes over her tight rear, then adds “She’s a jogger.” Claussen then motions to “pay attention”, then finger-flicks her ponytail. It moves very slightly to one side, but manages to stay straight up in the air for the most part. “It took quite a few layers of gel to keep it up there, but it adds to the illusion of her sudden movement! Neat huh?”
Pitt nods his head in agreement at his friends constant creativity, but is soon distracted by the frozen athletic body that leans forward beside him. The old man gets down on one knee to get a different view below her. It’s then, that he notices her smooth, freshly “waxed” legs. Her half shirt is black in color, with “HOTTIE” printed in glitter across the front. The “H” and “E” letters are slightly distorted outward . . .Pitt flashes a glance at his old college buddy, begging for permission.
Claussen shakes his head and walks over toward Kathy Lee. Eventually he mumbles a “Go ahead . . .”
Pitt smiles, then reaches under the edges of the girls shirt, slowly rolling it over her perfect breasts. The shirt momentarily catches on something, then gives up resistance, causing both breasts to spring outward. They are capped by fully erect, ½ inch nipples! The dirty old man begins twisting and turning them like two dials on an AM radio. A bead of sweat quickly forms across his brow.
The girl continues to stare straight, oblivious to the stranger “tuning her in” beneath.
Pitt pulls the shirt back over the girl’s breasts in courtesy, causing the print to once again “distort out”. He gets back up, then steps behind her, eyeing her firm derriere. He places one hand on her thigh, then slides his free hand down over the satin material stuck in her backside, letting his fingers eventually sink into her crack. Pitt makes it all the way to the bottom, brushing his finger tips up against her beaver, then works his way back around the curve of her ass, working his spread palm back and forth . . .and back . . . and forth, back and -
“Alright, I think that’s enough”says Claussen flatly, then waving his hand in a motion to “move it along”.
Pitt flinches, as if to snap out a dream, then slowly stands upright. He stands there momentarily admiring her well toned glutes from a few feet back. Pitt then nods to his friend that he’s ready. As Claussen steps out of the giant booth, Pitt quickly taps the girl on the ass cheek one last time, as if to give her his “seal of approval”. The old man then brushes past Kathy Lee who still remains frozen nude in the doorway. He quickly gives her a second look-over, then gives her right tit a squeeze while exiting the door . . .
Pitt: “That is absolutely the most incredible thing I have ever seen! . . .And how did you get that bloody contraption to rotate around like that anyway?”
Claussen laughs and shakes his head. “Well, to make a long story short, I went to an estate auction. And . . .the owner of this particular estate, had owned an amusement park years ago on the Jersey shoreline. The guy had some of the old rides and equipment saved in a large storage garage on his property. I took the money that you gave me from the dolls you bought, and financed the entire project with it . . . the first thing being the Merry-Go-Round. I bought the only working motor assembly he had left. After I had it shipped by truck back home, I took it down through the bomb shelter one piece at a time. . . Took me quite awhile actually.
Pitt: “Absolutely brilliant. Totally mad, but brilliant all the same. But what about the carnival music? Where did you hide the Organ?”
Claussen laughs, shakes his head, then replies “The carnival music was just a soundtrack played through stereo speakers in the roof. Could you imagine trying to get an entire organ down here?”
Pitt smiles, then looks over at the plexiglas covered room. “Well, after seeing a rotating 360 degree, life-size pajama party . . . .”
Claussen begins to laugh, then corrects his friend: “Make that an interactive life-size pajama party!” The two men laugh in unison for a bit, then Claussen continues: “Yeah you have a pretty good point there.” Claussen pulls the main power switch, and powers down the room, leaving the frozen tableau in the dark.
Pitt looks at the room, now full of shadows . . . “Is that how your going to leave them?”
Claussen: “Well, I have to finish brushing and picking the feathers off of them first. Then the feathers have to be re-packed in the fans . . .”
Pitt: “And the girls?”
Claussen: “Oh no. I actually have some smaller booths I custom built over here that I store them in when not in use. Except for Nathan standing over there in the window . . . he stays.”
The professor walks up to six narrow cabinets built into the side wall, just tall and wide enough to hold one figure standing upright. Each booth had a full length glass door, and as Claussen opens the nearest one, he flips a light switch which lights up all six booths. The bulbs are mounted in the floor of the booths.
Pitt: “I’ll bet that looks pretty eerie at night!”
Claussen: “Yeah well . . . .sometimes I like it like that.”
As Claussen clicks the lights back off and shuts the door, he glances at his watch.
Pitt looks around from one side to the other a bit nervous, and possibly disappointed . . . “Ah, so is that it?”
“Yeah that’s it for now . . .why wasn’t it enough?” asks Claussen, now walking back the way they came.
Pitt: “Oh yes . . .yes, certainly!” replies Pitt, rubbernecking as the two walk past the curvy candle holders marking the entranceway for the room they were just in.
The combination of shadowy frozen forms held in their booths, endlessly staring, combined with the sound of the two men’s shoes clomping on the cold marble covered floors was almost creepy...
Professor Claussen breaks the silence: “Now, are you sure this is what you want for Elaine?”
Pitt: “Oh yes, absolutely!” The businessman looks down at the impeccable polish of his shoes. It reminds him of the Asian girl he saw just a short time ago, with a pair buffed to the same high gloss.
Claussen: “Once she goes through the process . . .there is no changing back.”
Pitt: “I’m good with that.” The old man looks up just in time to see that very same Asian girl standing in the darkness, the lowered “mood lighting” reflects off of the lens of her glasses. The lack of direct light, plays tricks with the white dress shirt she is wearing, exposing the dark imprint of her nipples on the fine silk material. The “Hooters” girl soon passes by as well. . . the whites of her eyes still rolled up, and staring, waiting to deliver her order. The lack of direct light plays tricks with her too, as the impression of her large breasts and engorged nipples can be clearly seen . . . even as she’s surrounded by the darkness.
Pitt slows his speed slightly, giving Maria one last look, then asks “How soon can we . . .you know, get started?”
Claussen laughs, then shakes his head, “How about we discuss it over another drink?”
Mr. Pitt glances over at the “hot rod girl”, then quickly back at the blonde opposite her, only to be led out the large steel door by the professor. Pitt looks back just in time, to see the lowered “mood lighting” in the remaining booths, as well as their occupants, fade to black in succession.
Professor Claussen rolls the large steel door back in place. There is a pronounced “thud” followed by the sound of a latch locking into place. The two men walk back down the carpeted hallway, through the workshop and back through the secret rotating door behind the bar. Claussen grabs the last bottle of vodka, then motions his buddy upstairs.
* * * * *
The two men eventually seat themselves in the private study. Again, studio lights mounted in the ceiling of the room adjusted to low, create the mood. The walls of the room are lined with hundreds, if not thousands, of books. A computer and its accessories takes up one corner of the room, while a very smart looking grandfather clock, a good eight feet tall from top to bottom, stands against the wall opposite. Professor Claussen is seated behind his large oak desk, while Mr. Pitt is seated across from him in a large cushioned leather chair. The professor flashes a brief smile at his old pal, who is now taping his fingers nervously on the edge of the large Oak desk, as usual.
The professor pours two vodkas into the two rock glasses before them. The old man glances at his watch, then slides one of the drinks across the polished surface of the desk and says “Stanley . . . (takes a drink from his glass), I’m just a bit disappointed with you.”
“Why do you say that?”asks Pitt, slamming his first one down, then handing the empty rock glass back across the desk.. With watery eyes, he manages to cough up“Give me another one!”
Claussen unscrews the top of the vodka bottle, and begins to pour another. Then with a noted change of tone in his voice, says “Well, I just think it was kind of odd . . . you did mention that you wanted to see how Josephine turned out, and you never even mention her once we were downstairs. Considering how long you two were married, I just thought it was a bit rude of you, that’s all.”
“Bah! If you were married to her, you would try to forget as much of it as possible!” blurts out Stanley Pitt, now accepting his second glass of vodka. “Besides, with all of those beauties you have salted away downstairs . . .why would I want to see her?”
Claussen: “Well . . .I think once you see her, you will have a different opinion.” The professor looks at his watch one last time with a knowing smile, then looks off to the other side of the room mouthing numbers to himself silently, as if to start a countdown: “6 . .5 . .4 . .3 . .2 . .1"
BONG . . BONG . . BONG . . BONG . . BONG . . BONG . . BONG!
Just then, the two elaborately carved wood doors on the grandfather clock, begin to open outwards, and away. . .
Claussen nods to his friend, and says “You may want to pay attention!”
Mr. Pitt turns around just in time to catch a glance of the figure that stands erect, with hands at her sides, contained within the base of the large grandfather clock. “And what is this contraption you bloody loon?” The old man quickly gets up from his chair, and approaches the figure mounted in the giant clock.
Claussen eases his office chair back, and enjoys the show. “Now hold on a minute . . . don’t touch her. Wait, and she will come out to you.”
Pitt reaches the giant clock, and quickly notices the figure contained within. It’s his former wife, Josephine!
The Josephine figure is dressed in a “Dutch girl” costume, complete with frilly white half top, which hangs low on her arms, exposing her bare shoulders and ample cleavage. A black corset with red trim is tied tight in a cross pattern up the front, cinching her waist and framing her recently augmented breasts. Two long, black French braids hang down, resting upon the woman’s shoulders. She is posed standing straight, with legs pressed together, covered in white knee high stockings. Her slightly weathered hands, hold up the outer edges of her already short skirt, exposing her tanned thighs. The woman’s facial make up is a bit overly done, such as the thick, long eyelashes that outline Josephine’s wide open eyes. Her smile is jubilant, but her overall expression looks strained . . . as if she was forced.
Pitt looks over his former lover excitedly . . .
Just then, the small pedestal that Josephine’s wooden clogs are mounted to, begins to slowly come forward on a two foot long track. It abruptly stops in place at the end, causing the figure to slightly jerk forward. The middle-aged woman stares forward blindly, suspended perfectly in time. However, the clockwork cutey almost has an “air” about her, as if she is expecting something to happen.
Pitt stares at Josephine’s beautifully detailed face. The old man’s eyes eventually drift downward to the woman’s two glistening globes, squashed and lifted upward by the tight corset beneath. The faint points of her nipples poke at the white material that contains them. Stanley’s eyes drift even further downward, to admire her freshly waxed thighs, and the way the white stockings make her look twenty years younger.
Suddenly, a slight motorized noise begins to emit from the platform at the bottom of the giant clock. The figure jerks slightly, as the timing belt picks up tension. The Josephine doll slowly begins to rotate at the base of the clock!
“HELL’S BELLS, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT JACK!” shouts Stanley Pitt. The old man looks on in excitement as his wife slowly circles around and around. The old man quickly glances at the way the short dress hangs from the curve of her backside.
The doll’s side profile slowly turns, showing her uplifted breasts, then gradually returns to the front view. Josephine stares forward beaming into oblivion, almost as if to say “Just look at how beautiful I am!” The woman makes two more rotations, then suddenly stops and jerks slightly in place once again . . .
Pitt reaches a hand out to touch the figure, but quickly pulls back as Claussen yells out from the other side of the room “AHHHH-AHHH . . . NO TOUCHING!”
Pitt turns and flashes a disappointed look at his friend, then asks “But why not, it’s My bloody wife?”
The Josephine doll behind him jerks once more, as she gets pulled back into the bottom housing of the giant clock.
“BUT WAIT!” yells Pitt, as he gets a brief last look at his former lover fade from view. The solid wood doors slowly swing closed, emitting a final “Thud”.
Pitt: “But . . . But she was absolutely beautiful! I must have her back!” The old man rubs his hands across the front of the elaborate doors.
Claussen casually kicks his feet up on his big old desk, and lights up a cigarette. The professor takes a drag, blows the smoke into the air, then says “I thought she was beautiful all along. Maybe you were just to damned busy chasing your secretary around to actually notice.”
Pitt: “But you can’t deny me, she’s my bloody wife!” Stanley looks over at his college buddy. With the smoke swirling around above his head, and the limited lighting in the study, the business man noticed for the first time, just how evil Claussen could look.
Claussen: “No, she was no longer yours once you traded that air-headed cheerleader, her boy friend, and that mountain of cash for her.”
Mr. Pitt turns around slowly, bows his head, then rubs his hand across the front of the clock once more. “Take care of yourself honey,” he says softly. The old man stands there momentarily in silence . . .
Claussen : “So . . .I thought we had some business to take care of?”
Pitt turns, and slowly returns to sit in the chair across from the professor. Stanley plops down, slams the remaining vodka in his glass in one shot, then mumbles “Ah yes, so where were we?”
Claussen cracks a devilish grin, then taps the edge of his cigarette on an ashtray. “I believe that you said her name was . . . Elaine?”