Short Story: Escape Artist (Complete)

My first story post here. Wrote this one tonight while taking a break from a much longer one that I hope to someday complete. No promises on that one.

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Dressed for her act, Wanda presented herself as a voluptuous redhead with an ample chest. In truth, the hair was extended considerably by a wig, and though she was endowed well enough naturally, she wore a revealing top and stuffed underneath to accentuate her gifts towards exaggeration. Truth, though, didn't pay in this game, she mused to herself as she straightened her "hair" in the mirror.

"Five minutes, Madam Wanda." Her stage manager called.

She sat down the brush she had been holding nervously and picked up her trademark necklace from the table, sliding it over her shoulders and fastening it in the back. "On my way!" She replied, hurrying out of her cluttered dressing room. At the last mirror on her way out, she stopped and checked herself. The outfit barely covered anything, with light stockings up to a legless and armless black unitard, the midsection of which was open both in the front and back, exposing all but the most indecent parts. The v-neck top nearly reached the midsection gap, accentuating her facade of real breasts atop a layer of padding. She wasn't fooling anyone that the attraction here was her act, but the act was what set her apart from other shows.

In the auditorium, the lights faded and the crowd hushed along with it. The stage manager yelled out to the crowd. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, once again, the Roliard Theatre is proud to present our very own, Madam Wanda!"

The spotlight flared on blindingly on red satin curtain. Suddenly, four feet to the right, a puff of smoke materialized, shooting upwards several feet. It dissipated quickly, revealing Wanda waving her arms as if to get someone's attention. "Hey, mister spotlight guy, I'm over here!"

The spotlight swung and found it's mark, shining brightly on her and causing her to squint. The stage manager called out, "Sorry folks. She's still working on her aim. Last Tuesday she was off so far she ended up in the audience in some poor gentleman's lap. We'd like to thank him for generously forgiving her, and for coming back every night since." Several members of the audience laughed at the innuendo.

While the laughter subsided, the spotlight slowly lowered and focused in on Wanda's chest. "Hey!" She replied, "I'm up here." In response, the spotlight returned to it's previous height and focus, amid audience applause and laughter. "These people didn't come here for that sort of nonsense," She began. The stage lights came on in preparation. "They came here for THIS sort of nonsense!" She flicked her wrist, sending a wand along a thread behind her bare arm and into her hand, making it appear out of thin air. The crowd oohed at her first magic since her entrance, making her smile. She then waved the wand in a circular motion, ending with a snap of the wrist that hid her movements pulling another thin strand that made a bouquet of flowers spring from her bust. The audience broke out in another round of laughter.

Taking the flowers out from her chest, she found attached to them the classic string of handkerchiefs, and continued pulling until the last handkerchief came out, tied to a bra. She pretended to be embarrassed, wadding the whole mess into a ball. To dispose of it, she walked across the stage to a small but thick-legged table with a basket on top and stuffed it inside. "One of the perks about being a magician." She said, lifting up the basket. "You never have to take out the trash." At that comment, she flipped the basket around, revealing the empty bottom.

Next, she took the basket back to the table and sat it down again. "Of course, not everything fits in a basket like this." She walked past it with her hand on the top. As she continued past what should have been the end of it, it continued for an extra foot, ending at the far edge of the table when she walked past it. The audience applauded the illusion, not having seen that she simply rolled out the doubled back side of the basket. "So folks." She asked. "What's the trashiest thing you think we can fit in here. Just point me to it and we'll see if it fits in here."

A man from the audience shouted, "That'd be you!" and several others cheered at the jab.

"Me?" Asked Wanda. "I don't see how anyone could think that, but ok. I'll throw myself away." She walked over to a small step-stool by the edge of the stage and pushed it up against the leg of the table. Stepping up onto it, she heard the audience grow quiet again in anticipation. At the top, she stepped into the basket, standing up on the table. "You sure you want me to go in there? It's dark in there."

The audience cheered and a few made cat-calls. The man from before shouted "Do it!"

"Ok." She continued, reaching up to hold her nose with one hand as if to swim and the other taking hold of her necklace. She jumped up in the air above the basket, curling her knees up to her chin. Just as quickly her momentum ran out and she fell back into the basket, seemingly to crash into it and the table, but as she passed the top edge of the basket there was no sound, she simply fell past it and didn't appear on the other side. Were it not for the bright lights and the shadow from the table, someone of particularly sharp vision might have seen a tiny form land on a net hanging behind the table and then scurry down grooves in the back of the table leg. They couldn't have seen it then slip into a small hole in the stage beneath the stool, though. She had made certain that part wouldn't be seen at all, even by her stage manager.

The audience gasped at her failure to collide with the bottom or crash through the table. On cue, the stage manager took over. "What have you done, ladies and gentlemen? You've thrown away our star? Well, it's a good thing Madam Wanda believes in recycling."

While he was speaking, unseen, a small form pushed through a hidden panel behind a trash bin at the base of the stage. It reached up to it's necklace and began to grow. First doubling to six inches tall, then to a foot, then stopping at nearly two feet. The smaller version of Wanda pushed in a panel in the trash bin that was usually intended to allow easy removal of the plastic bag inside. Pushing it aside she held her necklace again and grew twice more, reaching her full height, crouched inside the trash bin. At the word "recycling", she pushed up the top of the bin and knocked it off. "It's not about the environment." She replied. "I just don't like seeing a good me go to waste."

The audience applauded loudly and cheered. This was the part of the act she loved. Coming up was the part she was much more worried about, but it had worked for the last three weeks in her act, so what was one more night? She held up her hands to silence the audience.

"I seem to have ended up off stage, would one of you fine gentlemen in the audience care to help me back up?" She looked out over the crowd and pointed to a particularly muscular Austrian looking man in the sixth row. "You, sir, you look like you're my type." She held her hand to her mouth in mock modesty. "I mean you look like the type that could help me."

The audience cheered again at her word play while the man made his way out of the aisle and up to her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Laughing, she announced to the audience, "He wants to know what he's supposed to do. Isn't he so sweet and innocent?" More laughter followed, which gave time for her to motion for him to lift her up onto the stage. The audience grew quiet as he started to do so, but gave way to cat-calls and whistles when he put his hands on her hips and lifted her up. She stumbled onto the stage and bent over forward, giving the man an enviable view. More cheers and whistles followed, meanwhile she righted herself and held out a hand to him. "Come on up, I'm not done with you."

The man took her hand and raised his leg up onto the lower stage lighting, then braced himself with his other hand against the stage. He stepped up and stood beside her, facing her rather than the audience.

"Turn around, you goof. You're on stage!" She chastised him. The stage manager slid out a fish bowl on another table behind them and then backed off the stage the way he came. "You're here to help me with one of mankind's most ancient pursuits." He raised his eyebrows, garnering more laughs from the crowd. "No, not that...yet." She corrected. "Prognosta, um, prognasta... telling the future!" She walked behind the fishbowl and stared through it back at him, her face magnified so much that not all of it showed on the audience's side. "You go first, tell me what I'm going to do with this bowl."

The audience laughed at her cop-out. The man, though, tried to be a good sport. "Um, are you going to make it disappear?"

"No, honey, I just do that with myself and money." She paused to let the audience laugh, then continued. "I'll take over the predictions then. I'm going to pull your future out of this seemingly empty bowl. Ask me any question and you shall have it answered."

"I'll start with the big one then, how long will I live?" He asked.

She reached into the empty fish bowl and swirled her hand around in it, her hand magnified greatly by the glass so that the whole audience could see it. She pulled her hand out and smoke poured from her palm into the bowl. She swung her head back as if in a trance and spoke in a slow voice. "You shall live for another twelve years, three months and seventeen days..." The audience oohed at the prediction, but she continued, "Give or take twelve years, three months and seventeen days."

The audience rolled with laughter and the man hung his head, chuckling. "Very accurate, thank you."

Wanda bowed as if she'd accomplished something, allowing the smoke to settle in the bowl, making it seem clear again. "Ask your next question, good sir."

"Will the Mets ever have a winning season?" He asked with an amused look.

"I don't need a magic fishbowl to tell you that one!" She replied, getting a mix of laughter and boo's from the audience. "Let's have one more question then."

"Is there ever anything good going to be in that fishbowl?" He asked, chuckling.

Pretending to enter another trance, she held her hand over the bowl again, letting another smoke pellet pour into it and cloud the inside. "I am getting a strong signal from the fishbowl. Something very powerful will be inside it, but I can't see what it is. It's almost as if..." Suddenly a cloud of the same color smoke enveloped her. In the midst of the cloud she gripped the side of the bowl with one hand and her necklace with the other. The smoke where she had been dissipated first, revealing her absence and silencing the audience. A moment later the cloud inside the bowl dissipated as well, revealing a magnified but seemingly tiny version of Madam Wanda standing inside the bowl and pretending to be quite surprised. She pounded loudly on the inside of the glass as if she was trapped.

The man, now obviously a part of the act, turned to the audience and commented, "I don't think she predicted that one either." The audience roared with laughter and applause, and several even stood up to applaud.

The fish bowl filled again with smoke to hide her escape, lifting up a false bottom in the bowl and dropping down into a lower part of the table. Seemingly empty now, the assistant checked in the bowl, reaching his hand in and seeing it magnified as before, then he shrugged and returned to his seat. As he was hopping down to the audience floor, the stage manager came out. "And now, we come to the final act of the night. Each night we ask members of the audience to bring in an item. Not just any item, but a container large enough to hold Madam Wanda, though we never really said it had to be comfortably." He waited with a smile for a soft chuckle from someone in the audience. "Tonight, Gregory Jones of Jones fishing has brought in the first container for this act." The stage dimmed and another spotlight came on, lighting a worn wooden crate with large gaps between the boards. With the lights dimmed, the small figure appeared again in the darkness and made her way under the stage. "He tells me that he usually has a wire mesh inside this that he uses to catch lobster. They crawl through the small hole in this box and then into the mesh, but then can't find their way out. Since Madam Wanda is a little bit bigger than a lobster, Gregory assures me there's no way she can get out without opening or breaking it."

He held his hand up towards the opposite end of the stage, where another spotlight appeared on a large oil drum. "Which brings us to our second container. This rather large can is brought to us by Mark Weisell, who wants it back afterwards for the ten cent deposit." He waited as the audience laughed again. "This thing is sturdy, the only openings are hole they use to fill it with oil, and the top, which he cut off just for our act tonight, so that we could see inside it and make sure there's no tricks."

He paused for a moment to build up suspense. "For her final feat tonight, Madam Wanda will be locked in the lobster cage. To make it more interesting, we will be confiscating her clothing as we lock her in." Several whistles rang out in reply. "We will then place her clothing in the second container. This means that if she fails, you will see quite a show tonight." The male members of the audience cheered loudly, obviously hoping for a failure. "It is for this trick alone that we don't allow children in the audience for her performance. If she succeeds, she will be able to retrieve her clothing from the oil drum and will retain her dignity for another night." Pausing one last time, he raised his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, Madam Wanda!"

When her name was called, Wanda stepped out from the curtain and walked to the crate. "So, guys, you ready for this?" She asked. Unsurprisingly, a loud cheer answered. "Ok, who's going to help me with this one?"

In response, nearly every man in the audience stood and shouted. "First in the front row who reaches the base of the left staircase will get the honors." Called the stage manager. Several men started shoving their way towards the stairs, but two broke free and made it simultaneously.

"Ok, boys." Called Wanda. "Both of you come up here." She climbed up onto the table and kicked off her shoes, then pulled off her stockings, one after the other, exposing her bare legs. Next, she stepped into the crate. Finally she unfastened her straps and leaned down into the crate so the audience couldn't see her. The two men came up the stairs and hurried over to the crate. After a moment, the audience saw her hand reach up and hand the nearest man her unitard. Indistinct bits of flesh were visible through the slats in the crate.

"Is she wearing anything at this point, gentlemen?" The stage manager asked. Both men shook their heads with wide grins, but neither looked away from the box. "Very well, close it up and lock it." The second man lowered the lid, and the first tucked her unitard under his arm and picked up a padlock from the table. Once he had locked it in place, the stage manager continued. "Is she locked in good and tight?"

"Yes sir!" Called one of the men.

"Then drape the cloth you see there over the crate." He instructed. The two men once again did as he asked, covering the wooden container just enough that the slots weren't visible anymore. Inside, Wanda quickly reached for her necklace and began to shrink. After five spurts she was small enough to slip between the slots in the wood and make her way onto the table under the cloth. She pulled up a small plug in the table and slipped into the hole under it, pulling it back behind her. Sliding down the inside of the table leg, she landed on a giant pillow under the stage and sprinted towards the other side as fast as she could.

The stage manager continued. "Now, gentlemen, take the garment she has given you and place it in the drum on the other side." This time, the man holding her unitard walked alone over to the drum. He was intercepted by the stage manager halfway, though, who whispered something to him and handed him a small yellow handkerchief in exchange for the unitard. The man then went to the oil drum and dropped the handkerchief inside instead and putting the lid back over it. Once again the audience burst out laughing, but the stage manager shushed them with a finger to his lips. "Give these two gentlemen a round of applause for helping out."

After the audience had applauded them, the spotlights swung wildly around the stage and the two volunteers made their way back down. Finally the spotlights stopped on the two containers. The stage manager walked to the first one, ripping the cloth off of it, revealing the empty crate. He lifted it up and turned it around, showing it was both empty and intact. "No naked Wanda in there. Looks like she may have succeeded!" He then walked over to the drum. When he opened the lid and peered inside, a feminine hand reached up and slapped him. The audience again rolled with laughter.

Holding a much larger version of the yellow handkerchief over herself with the other hand, Madam Wanda stood up. The stage manager held out his arms beside her, and she used her free hand to hoist herself into a sitting position on the side of the drum. Reaching behind the yellow cloth, he lifted her up by the waist with a grunt, then sat her down in front of him. Comically, he stared at her backside and raised his eyebrows in excitement, getting another laugh from the audience.

Wanda walked to the front of the stage and waved. "Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the show, and remember to come back tomorrow. I'll be here!" She then bowed, and as she did, let another smoke bomb go off, hiding as she held her necklace again and shrank the handkerchief back down to normal size. She faked a cough as the smoke cleared, and then acted surprised and embarrassed as it revealed her standing naked with just a handkerchief pressed up against herself. She waited a moment as if in shock, giving the audience their show, then covered herself and dropped another large smoke pellet. In the cloud of smoke, she used her necklace once more, dropping through another hole she had found in the floor when she devised her act.

The audience cheered and shouted to the empty stage when a call for "Encore" began.

The stage manager laughed, "Give the lady a minute to get dressed, and we'll bring her back out for her encore."

The audience boo'd at him and chanted "Encore" again.

"If you insist!" He replied, waving his hand and snapping it at the spot where she had disappeared. Another pillar of smoke rose, giving her cover to climb back up and re-enlarge. When it cleared, she looked around as if she was confused, still naked and covering herself. The audience cheered again. To close the act, he brought the cloth that had been draped over the lobster crate and put it over her shoulders, bringing the "show" to a close, amid more boo's.

***

Two hours later, Wanda was sitting in her dressing room with a bottle of scotch, making a small dent in it. The cloth had been replaced by a two-piece swimsuit, but she still wore the necklace. Her stage manager stuck his head in, "We've got both of the containers for tomorrow's show. Time to test them out."

Exhausted and a little tipsy from her drink, she sighed, then slid out of her chair and followed him. She had waited around for this, even dressing lightly so they could test for that part of the trick as well. It was a farce she had to keep up, since she couldn't admit to the man that she was using real magic, and that she could just use her necklace to shrink out of any box, even if she had to go down to the microscopic to do so.

She first inspected the second container, her destination. This time it was an oversized suitcase that was just large enough for her to fit in. She checked the zippers and decided it would be easy enough to slip in through the gap where it didn't quite close if she shrank down to a quarter inch or so. She looked up at her manager silently and nodded that it would do.

Next, she walked over to the table holding the first container up. This one was more elaborate. It was a large wooden box with a two inch diameter hole in the bottom. She knew immediately that it would work, but looked up at him and asked, "What the hell is it?"

"One of our regular patrons made it especially for you. He says it makes a perfect airtight seal on every square inch of it so he doesn't think you'll get out. To make sure you don't suffocate, he cut the hole. I insisted it be on the bottom so it doesn't look like a trick when the top is opened."

"Good enough, it'll work." She said, satisfied with his explanation. Usually the donors were there for her trial run, but it didn't sink in that no one else was there tonight. She stepped up onto the step stool and then onto the table. Hunkering down in the box, she unfastened her swimsuit top and slid it off, dropping it outside where it fell to the ground. Next she did the same with the bottom, leaving herself again naked and ready to perform the stunt.

"Ready?" He asked, picking up the fallen clothes.

"Yep, close it up." She replied.

He reached over her and lowered the lid, letting it latch as he did so. "Ok, light cue!" He yelled. As the light pulled away from the box, he quickly slid a glass underneath the opening and held a magnet up by the space in between. A moment later there was a small "tink" against the magnet and a clunk inside the glass. He pocketed the magnet and slid a small board in between the top of the glass and the bottom of the box. "End light cue." He said after a few minutes. He then opened the box, revealing that it was empty. "First step complete. Madam Wanda made it out of the box."

He then crossed to the other container and unzipped it. "Second step not complete. She did not make it into the suitcase. We'll just use the safe from last week, Marty. I'm not going to keep you for a retry."

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it!" The man operating the spotlights called back. "Tell Wanda goodbye for me, my wife's waiting for me as it is."

"Sure thing!" He replied. After a few minutes, he heard the outer door close as Marty left. Smiling to himself, he returned to the box and slid the glass out from under it. Just as he had guessed, there in the glass sat a very upset, very naked magician, her magic necklace no longer around her neck. "A real shame." He said to her. "I liked your show, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for a greater prize."