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The place is empty and quieter than any place you have ever been. You think to yourself that can’t be, but struggle to remember. The fluorescent lights washes out the colors of the furniture and floor. A place that you visit in the day has been transformed itself into an unfamiliar and scary place. Your stomach tightens as you walk to the back and your hand smoothes the creases out of your skirt. There is no noise as you knock on the door.

The door opens and you see three men and one woman over the shoulder of the heavyset man. He looks at you with contempt making you stare at the floor. He steps aside and watches your awkward stride into the room. They exchange glances with each other and the woman points to a chair. All of them know why you are here and don’t move until you are seated. The heavyset man who let you in and the sinister looking man with glasses come to either side of you. They steadily lash your arms behind the chair with soft leather cuffs. They then do the same to your legs so that they are attached to the legs of the chair. You can move but not get up or raise your hands. A chuckle from one of the men as you test the bonds. Two of the men begin rummaging around before you see one of them setting up tripods with lights on them. The other is holding a digital camera and declares that it is ready.

The woman walks behind you and you hear her rummaging around. She is older than you are, but is pretty. She is wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans. Her body is fit, but not the kind that works out but rather one that works. The perfume is a familiar one and bountiful breasts are pressing against your arm. Appealing at any other time-but not now and not at this moment. All of a sudden a plastic cloth is draped over you. Then the sound of the clippers makes you tense and try to leave. One of the men laughs and says, too late. Laughter fills the room. Then the snips of the scissors begins and you watch your hair fall before you. The woman mutters about such pretty hair being lost and you feel your tears build while you remember last night.

You are having a good time as you mingled with acquaintances at the local alternative club. He is sitting in one of the big chairs surrounded by his friends. All of them are caught up in their own worlds, but he is looking sternly at you. You walk over with just a bit seduction in your gate. The bad boy thing makes you weak in all the right places. Tonight is dare and truth night. Contestants come from slips of paper submitted by their boyfriends and girlfriends. The ones called up onstage are then handed an envelope with an embarrassing fact. The contestant then reads what is written. If it is too humiliating to be read, they then must face the dare wheel. When you heard your name you were surprised…no shocked.

Everyone chanting your name as you made your way to the stage made you wonder what would be your truth. The M.C. made sport of you as he milked your anxiety. Why did he do this to me? The Bad boy glared at you as you opened the envelope and read the words. You can’t let everyone know that, you panic. You think of running but know that there is a duplicate in the bad boy’s hands. If you run, you could never come back and would lose many friends. He has you. So you take the only option to spare your life.

The vertical roulette wheel is based upon the Mad Max Thunder Dome wheel. On it are humiliation and punishments for those who have done bad things. There is public flogging, public nudity, enema punishment, waxing, piercing, chastity, verbal humiliation, banished from the club, spin again, get out free and the one you fear the most. A test spin is made to demonstrate nothing is fixed. A hand grabs yours and makes you spin the wheel. You are trembling as you see it land on hair removal. The M.C. announces it to everyone causing the uproar of laughter. Taunts. Jibes. The M.C. explains that you have seven days or else the envelope will be read to everyone.

You open your eyes as you feel the clippers begin to run through your scalp. This is worse than the waxing and shaving of your lips at the salon across town. You can’t see what you look like, but are dreading it when you do see yourself. The woman’s breasts are pressed against your face as she runs them across your head. The cameraman bobs and angles himself to capture every moment. They will play this at the club for all to see. They step away for a moment smiling. Whispers and little laughs make you uncomfortable. The shaving cream is next. The sensation of the razor makes your nipples tighten and wetness between your legs. A toweling of the head, followed by some water, and then moisturizer, followed by the mirror showing you the work done. You gasp as you see yourself for the first time.

The next weekend, the bad boy is looking at you from the audience. You are standing on the stage wearing a hooded terry cloth robe. The embarrassing envelopes are burned. The digital film is played. Voices of shock and exclamations are heard, but you are no longer worried. You have become accustomed to the stares and gasps since leaving the shop that night.

The digital film is over. The M.C. milks the moment and teases the audience. Finally, he succumbs to the threats and insults of the audience. With a bold gesture, he removes the robe. You stand like a work of art before everyone: a totally hairless nude woman whose truth needs to be kept silence by this act of public humiliation. A moment of silence by the stunned audience before the cheers and jeers begin, while the bad boy watches smug and satisfied.

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