Burnouts

That's What They All Say

Scene 1: Passion Fashion

Ethan Carey

"How is this, Mr. Carey?" The sales assistant brings Elizabeth in front of the mirror.

"Hm?" I look over it, the usual lacy black set that universally represents lust and scandal. "I like it...but not the color, not for her."

"No?" She says in surprise. "What color do you have in mind? A nice rouge, perhaps?"

I shake my head as my eyes scan over Elizabeth. She is still just as shy as she was when she auditioned for me. "Nothing dark," I reply while soaking in her timid features. I think her coyish demeanor gives off a kind of— innocent impression. It's oddly alluring to men, and we should play on that. "Show me your best pastels."

"Oh," The assistant nods, "right away, Mr. Carey."

I smile in response before she goes off to find more sets, when I turn back, Liz is glaring at me with her arms crossed.

I roll my eyes, "What now, Elizabeth?"

"What's wrong with this color?"

"It's not a good fit for you. Makes you look like you're trying too hard to be something you're not."

"Maybe because I'm not a stripper," she argued.

"No, it's because you're not sexy." Her face fell, and the defensive gleam in her eyes seemed to disappear with my words. I sigh, "I didn't mean it to come out that-"

"This was your bright idea, asshole. I never wanted to do this, and the only reason I haven't run away with the money is because I felt like I owed you," she shouts at me, "but if I'm not sexy enough for you then I'll gladly leave and hopefully never see your sorry, conniving, ego-driven-"

"Elizabeth," I stopped her from trying to leave the dressing area, "you've misunderstood me."

She scoffs, "There are only so many ways you can take being called unattractive."

"That's not what I said." Liz turns away from me, obviously not caring for an explanation. "You're clearly not going to go on that stage with a seductive look on your face ready to spin around and feel yourself up for cash. Girls like that don't look like phonies in black lace, okay?"

"Then go find girls like that. I quit!"

"Elizabeth!" I huff. "You're right, this was my idea. One that wouldn't have come to me if I didn't think you were attractive. I don't want you in black, or red, or fucking navy blue for that matter. You're sexy in a chaste...sinless way. I noticed that the first time you took your clothes off." She narrows her eyes but doesn't try to keep me from speaking. "You'll be a fantasy to the audience. They'll want to be the snake coaxing you to ruin it all and eat the forbidden fruit. It's men— there's just something about it."

"You're all creeps..." She side-eyes me.

"I am not a creep," I chuckle.

Liz scoffs in disbelief, "you're telling me that I look virtuous or whatever and men will pay at the idea of what— tainting me?"

"It's probably not what you're thinking," I shove my hands into my pockets, "but, I don't seem to be the best with words today."

"What is it then?" She raises an eyebrow in skepticism.

"You'll be working in a strip club, so how virtuous can you be? That's not the point. The idea is turning what appears to be this nice, sweet girl into your own little nymphomaniac. That's the fantasy, making a good girl crazy for you...and that's how you work the audience, only going bad for the guys who show you the most money."