TheInvisibleMan
“Ladies and gentlemen… Tonight, Frau Rausch has decided to give you everything.”
The music started. The curtain parted.
Give Me a Reason.
The stage drowned in thick red light. Against a backdrop of heavy velvet drapes stood a woman in a black top hat. Pale curls framed her face in soft waves. A dark lace choker wrapped around her neck, long earrings glimmering faintly in the half-light. Black opera gloves. A narrow silhouette. A smile that looked faintly tired, faintly amused.
Frau Rausch slowly walked along the edge of the stage.
Unhurried.
As though the entire night belonged to her.
The crowd stirred. Someone clapped. Someone whistled.
She only tilted her head slightly.
I’m so tired of playing
Playing with this bow and arrow
First—the glove.
Slowly, finger by finger, she peeled it off and casually tossed it into the audience.
Laughter.
Applause.
Then the second one.
She tipped her hat. Her hair lifted and swayed with the rhythm of her movements.
The hat dropped to the floor.
The music flowed on.
Give me a reason to love you
Give me a reason to be a woman
I just want to be a woman
Frau Rausch moved slowly, letting the audience wait longer than necessary. Sometimes she held someone’s gaze. Sometimes she turned away before they could decide whether she had been looking at them at all.
She spun in a slow, waltzing pirouette and flung her coat toward the edge of the stage.
Her bare shoulders gleamed beneath the spotlights. Her chest rose against the tight line of her corset.
The front rows held their breath.
“More!”
She smiled.
And froze for a second.
From this time, unchained
We’re all looking at a different picture
With one sharp movement backward, she stripped off her trousers.
A black corset. Sheer stockings. Tiny black panties.
The audience groaned—they wanted her.
So don’t you stop being a man
Just take a little look
She moved toward a man in the front row.
Placing the heel of her shoe between his spread legs, she peeled off one stocking and tossed it into the second row.
The other followed.
The disappointed man let out a breath.
She winked at him.
Took a step.
Rolled her hips.
Leaned forward and slowly slid off her panties.
It’s all I wanna be, is all a woman
For this is the beginning
The man’s mouth fell open.
She slowly slid her hand downward to her lips. Ran her fingers across them—then across his.
He inhaled sharply.
She smirked, stuffed her panties into his mouth, and walked back toward center stage without looking back.
The crowd howled.
“More!”
Slowly, to the sound of the fading music, she unfastened her corset.
It dropped to the floor, leaving her naked.
Give me a reason to love you.
The music died away.
Her body gleamed beneath the lights, her chest rising and falling slowly with her breath.
The crowd was beside itself.
“More!”
“More!!”
Her fingers found the black choker at her throat.
It was the last thing she had left on.
She unclasped it and threw it into the audience.
The crowd still wouldn’t settle.
“More!”
“More!!”
She looked out into the darkness beyond the footlights.
And then suddenly smiled—as though this had been exactly what she’d been waiting for.
A hand from the audience placed clippers into hers.
The music kicked in: a clicking rhythm woven through with quick, shallow breathing.
Frau Rausch took the clippers.
Turned them over in her hand.
A guitar riff cut through the room.
She lifted her gaze to the audience.
Pressed the button.
The clippers vibrated.
Personal Jesus
The first pale lock fell almost immediately.
The room erupted.
She ran the clippers through again.
Slowly.
Almost lazily.
As though she already knew the audience would endure any pause she gave them.
Blonde hair slipped across her shoulder.
She caught a long strand between two fingers.
Looked at it for a second.
Then tossed it into the front row.
Hands nearly collided trying to catch it.
Reach out, touch faith
One side of her face was still framed by hair.
On the other, bare skin already gleamed beneath the stage lights.
The contrast looked almost theatrical.
As though two different women stood on stage at once.
Frau Rausch turned halfway toward the audience.
Let them look.
Lifted her chin.
And ran the clippers through again—higher this time, toward the crown.
Hair settled onto her shoulders, clung to her skin, slowly slipped downward.
The front rows had nearly stopped making noise now.
Some simply watched, leaning forward ever so slightly.
Others held the lock they had managed to catch.
Lift up the receiver,
I’ll make you a believer
I will deliver, you know
I’m a forgiver
Only a few strands remained.
She lingered.
Deliberately, it seemed.
Ran a hand over the short bristle of newly shorn hair.
Smiled at the audience.
And only then finished.
One final pass of the clippers.
Frau Rausch slowly ran her palm over her head.
Then again.
As though inspecting the work.
She closed her eyes for a second.
Exhaled.
Picked up the top hat from the floor.
Put it back on — this time over smooth skin.
Winked at someone in the crowd.
Then bowed.
The audience broke into a roar.
Reach out and touch faith.
The music faded.
Curtain.
