The Perfect Woman
Macy’s Department Store: 1951Richard took another long drag on his Lucky Strike. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of the stale smoke softly touching the back of his throat. As he exhaled, he was interrupted by a nagging cough, making a fist he softly pounded on his chest. He had smoked his lungs dry today. Reaching into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, he wrapped his hand around the pack of cigarettes. There was only one left. He stuck his hand out and counted on his fingers.
This was his fifth smoke break of the day.
It’s not even noon yet, he thought to himself, looking down at his wristwatch.
The cigarette burning in his hand was a now just a nub, so he flicked it to the ground and stomped it out with the tip of his dress shoe. He shifted his body weight to his left hip then his right hip, trying to get comfortable on the wooden crate he had found in the alley behind the store. It was not the ideal chair, but comfort was not as important as keeping hidden. If someone found him he would once again have to enter the retail purgatory that many people mistakenly called a department store.
He had once been a man of ideas. Big ideas. Not dreams though, there is a difference, because dreaming is only reserved for the individuals who don’t plan on following through. Ideas, however, can be acted on, set in motion and completed. But now he found himself dreaming constantly. It was almost a sickness, a longing to be somewhere else and a desire to not be fully present. He craved freedom. He craved it so ardently it frightened him.
So here he sat on his crate day after day smoking through packs of cigarettes while watching the cars go by. He imagined the people behind the wheel and wondered where they were heading. He wanted desperately to get in his own car and just drive.
“Richard!”
He was jolted back into reality.
Hank, the store manager, appeared in front of him. He looked down at Richard through his thick black rimmed glasses.
“Have you been out here this whole time?”
Richard stood up and began to retie his tie. His hands fumbled as he tried to do so.
“I’m sorry sir…”
“Just get in there and do what you’re supposed to,” Hank replied, opening the backdoor. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Richard closed his eyes as he stepped through the doorframe. He was determined to make work different today. He needed to start enjoying it, somehow, anyhow.
“Take this rack to women’s wear,” Hank said, pointing at a rolling cart stocked with the new fall dresses that had arrived on the truck that morning.
Richard clutched onto the rack and began to carefully push it through the store, as he approached women’s wear, he slowed to a stop. Grabbing a few dresses, he turned to put them on the sales floor, and turned straight into the face of a young woman.
“Hello there…”
Startled, he took a quick step backwards. His eyes roamed about her body. She was wearing a navy blue sailor dress that hugged her curves and extenuated her long, slim legs. Her deep wine red curls were pushed over to one side, cascading down the front of her chest.
“Are those for me?” she asked, her pouty, bright red lips pulling into a smile.
Richard locked onto her bright blue, bambi eyes. He couldn’t get any words to come out.
She waited for him to respond.
“You…you work…here?” He stammered.
“Of course,” she giggled. “You haven’t seen me before?”
“I don’t think I have.”
“I’m Jaqueline,” she said, sticking out a hand to him.
“Richard,” he replied, taking hold of her soft hand.
“Well now that we are through with introductions, we should probably get these on the floor.”
She grabbed a couple of dresses from the rolling rack and turned to put them on a display rack. Richard couldn’t help but stand there watching her work. When she leaned over to straighten the hem of one of the dresses, he found himself swallowing deeply. He turned and tried to focus his attention on something else.
“So let me get this straight,” he said looking at the wall in front of him. “You work…here?”
“You’re funny…I like that,” she stated, turning toward him. She went back to focusing on her work.
Richard grabbed a few more dresses and brought them to her.
“Aren’t these just dreamy?” she said holding one of the dresses up to her torso and gently swaying back and forth. “I love how they move.”
“Yeah, me too,” Richard replied, looking toward the ceiling.
Jaqueline placed the last dress onto the rack then turned and began to walk deeper into the women’s section, running her hand gently across the hallway of clothes. Richard stood still, watching her disappear behind the racks of clothing. Suddenly he found his legs propelling him toward her. It was as if her very presence had a gravitational pull. He followed slowly behind her, watching the tip of her long red finger nails running over the sweaters.
Richard reached out, grabbing her forearm. She stopped and turned toward him. He looked down at her arm in his hand and suddenly released it, looking around to make sure no one had seen. Instead of looking startled like Richard had expected, Jaqueline began to grin, but she didn’t say anything. She turned and kept walking, baiting him to follow.
“Richard, I need these suits taken to alterations…”
Richard closed his eyes. Hank was towering behind him. Jaqueline vanished behind a corner. Suddenly embarrassed that his manager had caught him flirting at work, Richard began to pretend to fold the blouses on the table next to him.
Hank reached out his arm and handed Richard the suits, then paused, looking Richard up and down. His eyes squinted, and then he slowly turned and walked away.
Richard exhaled.
He looked over at Jaqueline who was walking toward him again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking to the floor.
“I know how you can make it up to me.” She smiled, tilting her head towards her shoulder. “You could meet up with me tonight.”
“Really?” Richard replied, his eyes widening.
“Yes, silly…”
“When?”
Jaqueline looked around the room pondering for a moment.
“How about the warehouse tonight after work. You do have a key right?”
“I do.”
“Ok,” she brightened up. “It’s a date.”
“Alright then.” Richard said, backing away with a smile, almost tripping over the suits in his arms.
The rest of the day Richard’s mind was consumed with Jaqueline. Yes, she was beautiful, but she was much more than that. She had this dream-like sensuality. It was almost like a fog that engulfed her and lured people near her. She moved, as if gliding, slowly shifting from side to side. She talked slowly with soft, breathy words that sizzled at the end of her tongue. Jaqueline was like no woman he had ever met. Jaqueline was the perfect woman.
The only thing that Richard did not understand was why she wanted to meet at work.
Was she embarrassed by him?
That night Richard slipped into the darkened warehouse and hid behind one of the shelving units. He listened, making sure the loading crew had gone home for the night. He made his way to the center of the room. He heard nothing but the historical building creaking with old age. And there she was.
She laid sprawled out on one of the old sofas that the warehouse crew took their breaks on. A single Edison bulb illuminated her porcelain face. This time she was wearing a little red number, with a dropped neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. A cigarette burned in between her long, cat-like finger nails. She lifted her head back and blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. She watched it dissipate and then turned towards Richard.
“Hello,” she whispered then took another quick drag on her cigarette.
Richard stepped up closer to her and into the small patch of light.
Was this even real?
She propped her head up with her hand and looked up at him. Richard found his hands tremoring.
“Why don’t you sit down?” she said rubbing the empty seat on the couch.
Richard gently sat down next to her. She shifted and slowly pulled herself up next to him.
“You ready to go?” Richard asked.
“Go?” She replied tilting her head.
“You don’t want to go out?”
She moved closer to him, placing her head against his shoulder. Her fingers found their way through the gaps in his dress shirt, and she began to rub little circles on his chest.
“Kiss me,” she said locking onto his eyes. “Please…”
Richard moved his face closer to hers. Her nose softly rubbed against his cheek as their lips met. Richard closed his eyes, tasting her lips. They tasted sweet and fruity as if he were sipping on a cherry coke.
She was cold to the touch but not uncomfortably so. He felt one of her hands wrap around the back of his neck, and when he nibbled on the bottom of her lip, her nails dug into his skin. She took him to another place. That freedom he desired was found in those eyes. The dreams he had been dreaming, he found them in the taste of those lips. That fog, the sensuality, everything that Jaqueline was, was beginning to devour him. He let himself go willingly.
Jaqueline pulled away, running a finger down the side of his cheek, then winked.
Suddenly Richard was blinded by a bright light. He threw an arm up in front of his eyes. The warehouse lights had been switched on. Richard’s eyes were spotty with black floaters from the sudden change in lighting, but he could make out Hank’s form standing with his arms folded.
“Now this is just insane…”
Richard went mute, he was unable to find the words to explain himself.
“First I catch you holding its hand today. Now this?”
“It? What do you mean by it?” Richard replied, trying to defend Jaqueline’s pride.
“My mannequin.” Hank responded pointing at Jaqueline. “I knew you were a little out of it, but hell Richard, this is crazy stuff.”
Richard turned to Jaqueline. She was as Hank described. Hard white plastic with a little paint chipping off her shoulder. He felt her red wig in his hands and pressed his fingers to the painted on lips, the cherry cola lips that had tasted so sweet just a moment ago.
Richard sat motionless trying to process what had happened.
“You know what this means,” Hank said looking him over.
Richard nodded. He took the warehouse key out of his pocket and handed it over to Hank.
Taking one last look at Jaqueline, he got up from the couch and headed toward the back door, the same door that lead to the alley he sat in that morning. Hank switched off the lights and as Richard clutched onto the doorknob he took another look back.
Jaqueline was gone.
Richard closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Kiss me…” he heard a soft, breathy voice behind him. “Please…”
Richard looked up at the doorframe then opened the door. The night air lightly touched his face. He ignored the voice behind him. He was going to be an idea man again, not a dreamer. Because he knew now of one thing that did not exist: the perfect woman.
