Magician 01: Caught in the Act
The magic of a good costume
Thanks to my editor kenjisato. Also, to LanguageTool. Combined, they put me right. Any problems left all belong to me.
I hit a slow spot, so decided to do something different. This time, I decided to start a collection about magicians.
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I was born and raised in Vegas. Like many young girls, I aspired to be up in lights, as a dancer. All those sequins, feathers, and skimpy costumes looked perfect to me. Before I could be in the lights, I had to grow up. The wait seemed forever in fourth grade, so my dad suggested I figure out a hobby to bring me to the attention of the ones who made the shows. I think he knew I wouldn't become one, since I was rather short as a kid. Heck, my mom was short, and my older brothers weren't very tall, unlike my dad's towering six foot one.
So, I read comics. There, I fell in love with Zatanna, the lady illusionist who turned out to have real magic. Well, I decided to become a magician, even though I didn't believe in magic. Initially, it was card tricks, because everyone has a deck of cards. But as I mastered more complex tricks, I branched out to other household items. For my twelfth birthday, dad bought me a magic kit, and I was delighted. Within a month, I had mastered the first of twenty tricks. After three months, I had mastered them all.
I convinced my folks to let me perform, so they invited a few friends over, and I performed for them. I was so nervous, that I messed up over half of the tricks, and was so embarrassed, I stopped the show after doing the only ten, and I ran into my bedroom and cried. Later, I heard a knock on the door.
"Alice, can I come in?"
It was my dad. "Leave me alone. I'm a failure."
Through the door, he said, "No you're not. You just weren't ready for an audience. Come, let me in and I'll tell you about my first time performing."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, I flubbed it also."
I stopped to think about this, even though tears were still flowing. Then I got up and opened the door before flopping back down on my bed. Dad came in, and sat next to me, put his hand on my back and rubbed my shoulders.
"It's okay. I remember I had to present a paper in school, like you sometimes do, but I couldn't get the words out, even when they were right there on the paper. I felt bad for days after, but my folks told me I just needed to try again."
"You really think so?"
"Don't worry about making mistakes when you are doing something new. Everyone does, and in a crowd this friendly, no one will mind. Why not come back down, and try again. Take it slow, and don't worry about being perfect. You have practiced the tricks a lot, but you also need to practice playing to an audience. Did you do any trick correctly the first time?"
"Well, actually I did. But it was an easy one."
"Most of the time, you had to do it over and over. Well, the same applies here. Why not wash your face, and come back down and start over?"
"Okay, dad."
He left, and a few minutes later, I was trying again. The first thing he said was to take it slow and easy, and not worry. So I tried. I was still nervous, but managed sixteen successful tricks out of twenty. My audience gave me a round of applause, then mom came in with punch and snacks, causing the conversation shift, and I got to sit and listen to how the others enjoyed my show.
We did it again the next month, and it went smoother, with only one failed trick. The month after that, I got them all correct. At this point, dad said I was ready for the small time. I soon learned he meant kids' parties. He said they notice things, but don't care about failure too much, and it will give me good practice.
I kept learning new tricks, and continued to practice at kiddy shows, and got better. But I was also growing up, and puberty hit. I grew a bit, but not enough, and I realized I would be too short to be in lights. Yet, I continued to learn magic tricks. I also hung out at the magic shop to meet other enthusiasts, and spend my money for more tricks. But school ate a lot of time.
When I entered high school, there were a lot more kids than in junior high. Also, the clothing trends were more adult. Nothing improper, usually, but definitely designed to catch the eye. While I was often overlooked due to being short, I wanted to fit in, so, when we went clothes shopping, I pestered mom and dad. I didn't get all I wanted, but I fit in better, fashion wise.
By the time I was in my junior year, I learned the senior girls tended to dress a bit more provocatively, and it was rumored, to lack underwear. However, as skirts had to come below the knee, no one saw anything unless the girl was being bad. I, sometimes, wanted to be a bad girl, but guys didn't notice me since I had little up top. My only hope was that by the time I graduated, I would be tall enough for guys to care about me, and maybe have a bit more up top.
That summer, I got a job as a magician's assistant. Because I was underage, they couldn't get me too sexy an outfit, but that didn't matter because the woman I worked with was catching all the attention on stage. She also taught me the usefulness of distracting with eye candy, because it let other things happen without people noticing. Soon, I was able to synchronize with her antics, to slip cards into special places, move other things about the stage, and even pass her props, all without anyone noticing what I was doing. It was an education in itself, about the usefulness of having a second person on stage.
When summer ended, the job ended, and I had a bunch of money saved up. I blew most of it on more magic tricks, but saved almost a quarter of it for later.
When school started in the fall, I was unexpectedly promoted into a more-noticed social class, because I had performed on stage. A number of the girls wanted to know about everything, and I welcomed telling them. I actually gained several friends from it. However, life is not only working on stage. There were, of course, boys. As seniors, we could get away with dressing a bit sexier, and I did what my friends were doing. I did notice some boys occasionally looking at me that way, but not that often. But as the year went on, I learned the no-panties rumor was true.
With the crowd I was hanging with, what one dared and got away with, the others soon followed. Given the heat of the desert, and the energy conservation measures, no one wanted to wear that much. We couldn't change the skirts or shirts, but beneath that, well, by the spring, the boys knew what we weren't wearing.
When the prom happened, the committee asked me to do a show, and I got all excited about it. While I wanted a boy to ask me out, none did, and I couldn't ask any of the three boys I liked, because I was too scared. So I dove into my act. I went all over the vintage shops to see if I could make a real magic act outfit. I had the outfit from the summer, but I wanted to spice it up. I did manage to get a white bustier, but it was a size too large. I figured I could wear a padded bra to make it fit better. I used a pair of black pants I had, and I was able to use the coat from the summer job.
Prom was a success, and I got my three shows done without a hitch. I also got home a lot earlier, as I didn't have a date to take me someplace private for fooling around. By the time graduation happened, I knew three girls that had to deal with the consequences.
That summer, I worked again for the same lady. A few weeks in, she presented me with a birthday present. I didn't know how she knew it was my eighteenth birthday, but when I opened the gift, it was a sexier outfit for the show. Not as sexy as hers, but a lot better than what I was wearing. She insisted I try it on.
Well, I went into the nearest restroom, and excitedly did just that. I replaced the shirt and skirt, and looked at myself in the mirror. The first thing I checked was if I could see my nipples through the shirt. Nope. So I pulled the shirt a bit tighter, and still no nipples. Good. I wouldn't need to wear a bra with this shirt. I never wore one in summer, but I wasn't sure about the top. For the bottom, I was a bit more concerned. Instead of being above the knee, it was mid-thigh, that is, about four inches higher than the other.
I had gotten used to being naughty, and I was concerned if anyone would see my lack of underwear. Standing still, I was fine. I tried standing with my feet apart. Yep, still okay. Then I tried a twirl. Great. The fabric was heavy enough to keep the mystery. So I rushed out with my previous outfit in my hands, and I twirled for her.
"That looks good on you, Alice."
