Department store window, Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Two window dressers, Darlene Askew, 60 something, stocky, and Felicity Grupp, 18, are working on the Fall menswear display in the south end window, River St side of Eldridge’s. It is 2pm.

Felicity: (slowly turning a mannequin arm in her hand) These could be anything, huh? Like an...elephant trunk... with fingers

Darlene: Put that down! (soto) You shouldn’t drink at lunch

Felicity: I like it.

Darlene: Well I do not. Build the damn dummy...you look like a crazy

Felicity: Yeah yeah (she puts the arm down, picks up a leg and slides on a dark wool blend sock. She looks up to find an older gentleman peering at her cleavage through the store window as she bends down. She narrows her eyes, struggling to focus, to figure this out. He remains locked there, blank face, staring. His two dark eyes look tiny wheels under the brim of this hat. She runs her tongue over her lips). Doncha wish you could have some, huh, old man? Wooo...

Darlene:  Felicity, what are you doing?! This is Eldridge’s! Not some..

Felicity: I hate ‘em,...(points)..him (the man walks away)

Darlene: Don’t look at them. Remember where you are. (she glances back in the direction of the store, over behind the plywood wall, ever fearful) Do your job.

Felicity: I am.

Darlene: I have to go get pins, and you better have that Main Street Man finished by the time I come back. Y’hear me?

Felicity: Oh, yes maam. Yesss

(she puts a tan brogue on the socked foot as her older colleague struggles back out from the display into the main store. The man is back. She smiles sweetly, rising to her feet, staggering a little. She notices she can taste the wine when she changes altitude. Huh! Without taking her eyes off the watcher, she unbuttons her blouse, and slips it, and her bra off in smooth succession. She can almost hear him gulp. A corridor of early afternoon sun angles down between the Westinghouse building and Sears spilling across her bare shoulders. It feels good, nurturing. Clear.

 He moves off quickly. She turns to the dismantled mannequin on her left and carefully places the leg she’s been working on into the recess where the head would fit.)

Felicity: (to herself) Flamingo. Yep.  Black one.