Museum

Solo Male

The room is stark white, sterile. A few pedestals stand across the parquet hardwood floor, most have something on them. Hot bright lights spotlight each.

A man wearing a light blue frock with an embroidered oval letting everyone know he is ‘Andre’ carries me towards a large white marble hand resting on one of the pedestals. I have no arms, no legs, and no memory of why. I have no clothes on. The marble hand is icy cold against my hips.

He brushes my pixy cut black hair until it is perfect then adjusts my breast, just the left one since the right is missing.

I ask what happened and where I am. I hear no words leaving my moving mouth.

“You always talked too much. Just smile.” His voice is stern.

Across from me is a pedestal with two full legs on it. One stands barefoot, the other has the thigh lying flat and the knee draped over the edge with a red stiletto high heal shoe on the foot. A hand with only the wrist rests atop the thigh with fingernails painted a matching red. The ring finger is mostly missing and a wedding ring lies below on the pedestal.

I look around the room. There are four other people on pedestals, two men, two women, each missing parts of at least one limb, and all undressed.

Andre pauses at each pedestal zonguldak escort to ensure everything is as it should be. At one of the men, he adjusts the penis and moves each short arm stump slightly. On one woman, he straightens her in a hand similar to the one I sit in. She is missing only her legs. Across from her is a pedestal with two legs crossed in a sitting position. White nylons cover each leg to mid-thigh and brown loafers adorn each foot.

He scans the room to make sure everything is perfect then leaves.

“What happened?” the man with the adjusted penis asks me. My lips move, again without sound.

“Quiet!” the voice blares from a speaker in the ceiling.

A pair of wide doors open and an older couple dressed formally enter. Her hair is long, blond, with pleasing curls. His is short and gray. He wears a tuxedo; she a black dress with the front cut in an upside down ‘V’ with the point at her navel extending to her lower legs and exposing all between her thighs.

He places a pair of glasses part way up his nose and reads aloud the card on the wall behind me. “Torso (2005) A gift of Mr. and Mrs. Decamps.” He removes the glasses, folds them, and then places them back in a pocket. “One of my favorite. I just tunalı escort wish it was on display more often.”

“Yes, exquisite,” she assures him in a voice that reeked of money. “The missing breast adds a nice touch, don’t you think.” She glances at the pedestal with the legs and hand and reads aloud the card. “Torso’s Limbs.” She looks back at me. “How sweet. Where’s the other hand?”

“Maybe she’s sitting on it.” He alone laughs at the joke.

They speak about me as if I am not real. I continue to be quiet and smile as ordered.

He speaks after a long moment. “I particularly like the lack of legs. If you were missing only one dear.”

He moves behind her and drags a hand slowly up the front of her thigh. They both continue to look at me. Lips peck at her neck then an ear. Fingers play between her thighs, parting folds of skin, digging inside. I feel a warmth rush over me as she leans her head back on his shoulder letting her mouth drape open.

“Doll-ling,” she drawls forever.

He unzips his fly and enters her from behind though what I assume is a matching ‘V’ in the back of the dress. They continue to look at me as he pumps slowly at her hips.

Across the room, two women, also dressed as formally, tunceli escort stand in front of the female without legs in the other marble hand.

“Such sensuality,” one says, her voice filling the room as if important. Her head turns to look at the crossed legs. “Woman’s Legs (2008) Gift of Mrs. Franklin,” she reads aloud then looks back.

Still looking at the woman without legs, her companion lets a hand slither inside her friend’s dress and cup a breast. “Is that Mrs. Franklin?” She snickers.

A lone man dressed in a business suit, walks directly across the room to the pedestal with the man without arms. His zipper slides down. I hear soft grunts as his hand rapidly strokes.

“I love you,” he tells the man as he finishes.

“Wipe that up!” the voice from the speaker demands. “The room will be closing in ‘five-e’ minutes.”

The couple in front of me is still fucking. Her eyes are closed and her gasps faster, louder. I can almost hear him slapping against her hips.

The buzzer sounds and everyone walks quickly out of the room. Andre closes the double doors at the same time with a loud echoing thud.

A hand shakes my shoulder. “Wake up dear.”

I look around, rubbing my eyes. “Craziest dream. I guess it is back to work. First day back since the amputation.”

“You’ll be just fine and you are beautiful with one leg.”

“Thanks. I’m getting use to the stares.” I stand and slip the crutches under my arms. “They’re working on a new exhibit at the museum so I’ll be helping with that.”

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