Men were men to Gypsy--that's why the doctor puzzled her
"Anatomy Lesson"
by Kenneth A. Enochs
from
Mr.
Vol. 1 No. 5, May 1957
The name is James Carnright.
I'm a professional man, a doctor to be specific, and I wish it understood
right now that I do not make a practice of attending burlesque theaters.
Only unusual circumstances prompted me to attend the eight o'clock performance
at the Starlight Burlesque theater last Thursday.
My practice is on the sixth floor of the McGregor
Professional Building and down the hall from my office is a chiropractor
by the name of Donnelly. This Donnelly is a fairly decent sort, yet still
in all, he is a chiropractor.
It was last Thursday afternoon and I had seen
my last patient for the day when Mr. Donnelly came scurrying into the office.
He was very excited and it was some time before I was able to determine
the nature of his conversation.
"I'm telling you it was the damnedest thing
I've ever laid eyes on!"
"I'm sure it was," I assured him. "But what
are you talking about?"
"Gypsy Night. The one and only Gypsy Night!"
He said the words almost reverently. "I swear Doc it's the eighth wonder
of the world."
"I don't wish to appear ignorant," I informed
him, "but just what is Gypsy Night?"
"It's not a what, it's a she. And what a woman!
Without even touching them they climbed over the top of her dress."
The excited chiropractor made a number of
baffling gestures with his hands, which did little to clarify the picture.
"I wish you would be more explicit. Now just
what was it that climbed over the top of the woman's dress?"
"Her knockers! Her beautiful, muscular knockers."
"Breasts, if you please."
"That's what I said! And honest Doc even you
wouldn't believe it."
"Surely you must be enlarging on the young
woman's performance,"
"I knew you'd say that, that's why you got
to see it yourself to get the full impact."
"It's out of the question!"
"Come off it, Doc. No one will be the wiser.
Besides, you owe it to the medical profession to look into the thing."
We arrived at the burlesque house at a little
before seven. The marquee read: GYPSY NIGHT-THE WORKING MAN'S DELIGHT.
Mr. Donnelley insisted on sitting in the front
row, much to my annoyance, and through the entire evening I was sure every
eye was on me, though why, I cannot say.
At eight forty-five, Miss Night made her appearance.
The audience immediately broke into applause, yelling, whistling, and every
other noise the human body was capable of producing.
Miss Night raised her hand, much in the manner
a queen might do to command attention, and a hush fell over the audience
that was unbelievable. A single blue spot followed her to the center of
the stage and a four-piece orchestra began playing. She wore a white strapless
gown that was obviously soiled, but due to the blue spot it was difficult
to determine to what extent.
Miss Night held her arms straight out from
her sides and the drummer began a slow roll on the drums. Then the unbelievable
happened. Her, right breast slowly crawled over the top of her gown. It
moved slowly, almost timidly, from beneath the gown. The pap stood poised
in the air, then swayed from side to side as if to survey the effect on
the audience.
At once I suspected, trickery. This was against
all laws of physics. I strained my eyes for some obscure wire or thread.
I glanced towards the wings in hopes of detecting some off-stage assistance.
I'm not quite sure what I was looking for, but what ever it was I found
nothing that suggested deception.
By now Miss Night's left breast was free of
the confines of her gown and was slowly moving from side to side, much
in the manner of a cobra under the influence of flute playing.
Miss Night removed her gown with a single
motion and now stood in the center of the stage completely nude except
for a small silver star that clung mysteriously to an appropriate part
of her anatomy. As I recall I gave some thought to the means employed to
hold the star in place. I decided to learn at a later date the nature of
the miracle adhesive in hopes it might have a practical purpose as a medical
bandage.
The young woman now skipped about the stage
causing wild gyrations to various parts of her anatomy.
Then she paused and held her arms out from
her sides as before. Now I am not a man that is easily excited, but what
followed was nerve shaking to say the least. In all the annals of time
I am sure a struggle of this nature had not been witnessed: The woman's
breasts were actually engaged in combat. They started out by debonairly
poking at each other, then one of them appeared to have lost patience with
the other and complete chaos broke loose.
I'm not sure I can accurately describe what
took place, and as I look back I am not completely sure I wish to. They
pounded at each other in a fury that was inconceivable. Then one would
spring back, as if studying the situation only to pounce on the other with
renewed fury.
Miss Night finished and we left. But, before
long, I was back. Let me confess it: since last Thursday I have not missed
a single performance of Miss Night's act. I have criminally neglected my
practice and I am sure Mrs. Rogers, my nurse, is convinced something is
terribly wrong. I fear she is not completely mistaken.
It's now shortly after three in the afternoon
and I am standing outside the stage door of the burlesque house. I am not
quite sure what I am doing here and I refuse to trouble my already confused
mind searching far a reason. The doorman informed me that Miss Night frequently
goes out for coffee at this time and I intend to talk with the young woman.
She appeared on schedule wearing a gaudy print
dress, green shoes, and carrying a large yellow purse. I'm sure no one
would have suspected for a minute that she possessed abilities far beyond
human conception.
"Why, hello there," she said. "I wondered
when you were finally going to show up at the stage door."
"Miss Night, my name is James Carnright. I
would like to have a word with you."
"Sure thing, Sugar," she said hooking her
arm in mine, "but let's do it over a cup of Java."
She led the way to a small diner on the opposite
side of the street. The establishment had a very unsanitary appearance
and when the waitress brought the coffee I detected traces of lipstick
on the edge of my cup.
"Well, what's on your mind Sugar, as if I
didn't already have a good idea." She picked up her cup and made slurping
noises with the coffee, which I felt were entirely out of place for a woman
of her ability.
"I'm a doctor, Miss Night, and I have become
quite interested in your act."
"Doctor, lawyer, fireman, chief...what's the
difference?" As she talked I had trouble keeping my eyes from her breast.
I half expected to see one of them climb over the top of her dress.
"I assure you that my interest in you is purely
professional."
"What else? So what's the pitch?"
"If you could come to my office tonight, say
after your last performance, I would like to make a closer observation
of your unusual ability." I realized I had worded it very poorly but it
didn't appear to trouble Miss Night.
"Boy, I thought I'd heard 'em all, but this
tops the lot." She emptied her cup and turned on the stool to face me.
"I'm game, but you know Sugar, when I get on the stage I get paid for the
routine."
"Oh, I'll be more than glad to reimburse you
for your time. Would fifty dollars be satisfactory?"
"You got yourself a deal. See you after the
show." She put my card in her purse and disappeared out the door.
Miss Night arrived at my office shortly after
two in the morning. I took her coat and showed her into the examination
room. "We'll dispense with any formalities, Miss Night. If you'll proceed
with your act, without any unnecessary flourishes, I'll take notes."
"You serious?"
"Quite. I believe you agreed to the arrangement
this afternoon." From the puzzled expression on her face I was sure there
had been some misunderstanding on her part.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, no," she assured me, "but this ain't
quite what little Gypsy expected."
I decided not to press the matter further
and asked her to please proceed. Without further comment she removed all
her clothing except for a pair of pink step-ins and her green shoes. For
some reason I had expected she would have been wearing the silver star
rather than the step-ins, but when I thought of it, I realized there was
really no basis for this assumption.
She wasted no time in going into her routine
and I noticed she experienced some difficulty in keeping the theatrical
flourishes from her performance.
I was at once aware of the added benefit in
being able to examine Miss Night's muscular dexterity at such close hand.
I noticed she had mastered great control over the sternal portion and clavicular
portion of the Pectoralia major muscles. I also suspected the Traperzius
muscle was brought into play by Miss Night. It became apparent that the
movements of Miss Night's arms were not mere flourishes, but did much to
activate her control over her breasts.
She completed her routine, then I had her
run through it again, then again. I made notes of every movement, regardless
of how insignificant it might seem.
"I don't want to sound like a wet bar towel, Sugar," she said sitting
down on the edge of the examination table, "but I've had a full day."
Her breathing was noticeably fast and I didn't
wish to put her through any undue exertion. "I believe I have all the information
I need, however, I would like to ask you a few questions."
"Fire away, but don't get too personal."
"Just when did you first realize you possessed
such extraordinary control over the skeletal muscles?"
"You'll have to do better than that, Honey,"
she said as she removed the wrappers from three sticks of gum and stuffed
them into her mouth.
"When was it that you first became aware of
your unusual talent?"
"I didn't become aware of anything. I taught
myself the whole routine."
"Extraordinary! And at what age did you begin
this training?" Miss Night shifted the ball of gum to one side of her mouth
and scratched her bare leg. "I think I was twelve. Yeah, that's it...I
was twelve. I'd seen a picture of a tassle-waver, and I wanted to do the
same thing.
"I started out by just working my shoulders
up and down. Then I found by moving my arms a certain way they would lift
up and down. I kept experimenting with new twists and movements every day.
I knew I really had something when I showed the routine to one of the farm
hands. You ought to have seen the way his eyes bugged out."
I well appreciated the man's surprise, however,
my conversation with Miss Night had accomplished little as far as enlightenment
into her ability. I still felt that her talent had some practical place
in the field of muscular therapy, but I realized now it would take years
of painstaking research to determine the extent of its value.
I thanked the young woman for a very pleasant evening and expressed
my gratitude for her cooperation.
"That's okay, Sugar, but haven't you forgotten
one little thing?" I hesitated to inquire into the nature of my carelessness.
"Money, Sugar. Fifty clams."
"I'm terribly sorry, it completely slipped
my mind." I handed her the money and she smiled warmly. She crossed to
the door and turned to face me. As she stood framed in the doorway, her
left breast climbed over the top of her dress and waved to me. Not knowing
quite what was expected of me I waved back.
"Night, Sugar," she said and turned and left
the office. I mixed myself a sedative and locked the file on Miss Night
in the bottom drawer of my desk. Realizing my limitations I decided to
abandon any further research into Miss Night's disturbing ability.
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