Authors: Izzy Mason
The Position (10 page)
She waited for a long time. The room was drafty, which made her all the more aware that she was practically naked. Occasionally, a glamorous looking woman would wander in to freshen up her makeup, or get a piece of gum from her locker. A pale young man with orange-dyed hair arrived with a makeup box, and set up at the end of one of the mirrored counters. One woman rolled into work late. She was beautiful and dark-skinned, with strange wide eyes. She settled onto the stool next to the man. Both of them stared at Madison in the mirror.
Madison had never been naked in front of strangers before, and she couldn’t help feeling that she was having one of those childhood dreams where she’d forgotten to get dressed before going to school. But she tried not to let it show. She leaned into the sofa cushions, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs. She studied her fingernails and tried to look bored. Occasionally, she even forced a yawn. But she found it was hard to look nonchalant while wearing nothing but a red thong.
Finally, a very poised, middle-aged man whisked into the room. He had dark, receding hair, and wore an expensive suit. Her first instinct was to cover her breasts, but she stopped herself. He approached her with his hand extended, so she stood up.
“Simon,” he said, shaking her hand as if they were in a corporate boardroom. “Manager of operations.”
“Madison.” She felt her cheeks burning. Be confident, she told herself. Confident, confident, confident.
Simon nodded brusquely and took several steps back. He looked Madison up and down. “Turn around,” he commanded.
She turned in a perky little circle, holding her arms out like a bird. He walked around her, studying her body as if it were a used car he was thinking of buying. With another quick nod, he strode out of the room. Madison stood there blinking, unsure of what had just happened.
“Put your clothes on, madre,” Beba’s disdainful voice piped in from the kiosk.
Madison quickly pulled on her clothes right over the uncomfortable thong, desperate to be covered again. Just as she was pulling on her shirt, the short man returned.
“Simon said you looked good. Come at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. You’ll need at least three dresses. Elegant. Nothing trashy. Be ready to go onto the floor by two thirty.
He turned and bustled toward the door, then remembered something and stopped.
“Oh,” he called across the room. “And he said you need to shave.”
There were titters from the woman and the makeup guy, and Madison went scarlet.
“Do you have a bag?” Beba asked, stepping out of her kiosk with a small black purse dangling from her hand. “One hundred fifty pesos for this.”
“A bag?” Madison asked, dazed.
Beba rolled her eyes. “For the plata, madre,” she said. “For the money.”
