Shame

Running from shop to shop, Jennie clutched at her remaining clothes in fear. Passers-by stared and laughed at the half naked freak dancing a fear foxtrot before them. As fast as Jennie grabbed at clothes to cover her modesty, so others fell from her skin until she stood wearing just a blush in front of the hysterical masses. The laughing seemed to go on and on and on... taunting, shrieking, tearing at her. She shrank back in shame from their jeers, tears running down her cheeks. Turning a corner, she climbed from a train and ran across a sandy beach to an azure sea hiding her body beneath the waves. It was cold, her arm was growing numb, a shark was biting on it. She screamed in terror and awoke in a cold sweat with George glowering above her.

"Get up, you're on" he yelled into her face, spittle covering her lips. Recoiling in confusion and revulsion Jennie pulled herself off the couch and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was just a dream she reminded herself. Just a figment of imagination.

... She smoothed down her skirt and pulled back the curtain to the stage before seductively wrapping one silken leg around the pole and winking at the expensively dressed punter in the front row.

A Sunday Scribble. Theme: Shame