The Mannequin

It was about 4:00 PM when Steve Lomax pushed the gate of Strickland Lumber Company, got out, and stopped momentarily to look down at his pay check. The check was a good check, he said to himself. He walked to his rusted LTD, opened up the driver-side door, and fell, sitting onto his seat. The seat was comfortable when he sat on it, but there was a long, snaky crack on the windshield that always seemed to grow an inch or two whenever he sat down behind it. He was still smiling to himself and to the check, when the sun outside was shining weakly on the green grass. He opened the glove compartment, pulled himself a Budweiser and cracked it open. He had two kids-- a son and a daughter. Drunk and driving was a big issue to him and to his wife, Kristine, who had lost two distant cousins just because of it. So he wouldn't drink a second beer until he got home and spread his legs on a table in front of him. But he wasn't going to go home now. He was first to stop at Morgan department store to buy a baseball glove for his son, Ben.

He drove off the dirt road and turned on Hennepin Avenue South at a legal speed, and then took a sip of his Budweiser, and bent down to turn on his favorite station: KQ92.

The parking lot of the department store was almost full of cars when he arrived. He parked his car next to a white van that said Shotgun Express on its side. He placed his empty can underneath his seat, and got out. He felt some pain in his ankle when he got out, and so he started to walk awkwardly. There were many people around walking in and out of the department store. One of the main doors automatically swung open when Steve approached it. He got in and stood looking momentarily, sweeping the inside of the department with his tired eyes-he had a long day at work and work was no fun for him. He walked down an aisle directly heading for the sports section. But to get to the sports section he had to go through the women section, first. You could tell from Steve's walk that he had no interest in spending time looking at things he wouldn't buy. He seemed to be in a hurry and he knew what he was looking for. He suddenly looked up and saw a mannequin. She looked at him but maybe she didn't look at him.

She was bald but had a nice outfit on. The outfit was red but had black pockets and was slightly tight, showing her delicate curvature. Her face was pale, mottled pink and yellow, and her neck was sexy and long and weak.

Steve had never experienced such thing before. He passed her, turning his head, looking at her now as though she had sent some dark magnetism into his brains. He was a married man and had two kids. And the last thing he could think about at this moment was to have sex with a mannequin. But the mannequin was skinny and his wife was overweight. The mannequin was bald and his wife had a long, wavy hair, which sometimes she didn't comb.