Mystery in the City

With this post, I'm starting some REAL memoirs of mine, telling the story from day 1 - when I left family home and went to live alone in the Big City.

Would also like to announce I didn't have to give up on anything, since I found new job with The Bali Club - a really nice place, nothing like Mandarin Theater, but yours truly keeps the spirit of good old times entertainment up!

And here is what life was like for Mystery not so long ago...


I arrived in this big city with all my possessions packed In one old suitcase and a couple of dollars In my pocket. Stepping off the train, I still wasn’t realizing how different a world I was about to enter. Station still seemed pretty familiar, though with every step that was brining me closer to the exit, I was feeling more and more uneasy. The little city I came from – and that I naively assumed to be big – could never prepare me for anything like this. I was a frightened little girl, awfully shy, dressing very modestly and generally nothing too interesting.

But there I was – with my old suitcase and worn-out coat, in the middle of a strange busy city… not knowing what to do next. Of course, I needed some job, place to stay for the night – but I was all alone without any friend or at least a kind spirit to guide me through this jungle of brick, steel and concrete. It’s not the first time I was in such situation but this time it was different. I was determined to start living my own life away from the overprotective wings of my family, determined to make it big – somehow, someday.

Soon I realized how different from the Big City Ladies I were. And have to admit, often one would expect different behavior from a ritzy lady - in what appeared to be a very expensive stole – who’d make insane row in department store about some tiny unimportant thing.
I was trying to take example of those around me, who were making heads turn with their mysterious charm and elegant appeal. And – of course – the stars of the silver screen with their carefully arranged attires.

In the meantime, reality looked very different for me. Months gone by and I still couldn’t find a job. Nobody wanted a young lassie with no experience and big frightened eyes. I could no longer afford to pay the rent of my small moldy room I lived in so far. Crying my eyes out over the degeneration of my life – which I dreamt to become so bright and light in the Big City – I regretfully moved to the shelter for the homeless.

Oh, what a horror it had been! Living in one room with 11 other women who I’d rather never meet in my whole life, sleeping in bed all jumping with herds of fleas infesting it… But I wouldn’t complain – I had roof above my head and walls to protect me from the cold and dangers of the street life plus one warm meal a day. I was more than miserable, spending the very last penny on flea powder to ensure myself some rest – at least for the body – and saving the hair I was so proud of from getting shaved to the skin.

In the day, I was constantly walking the streets looking for job, queuing at the employment office only to hear that since I can’t type fifty words a minute I have little chance of finding any job whatsoever.

There were times I was really close to throwing in the towel and going home. But I was too proud – and too poor to afford the ticket…

By November, my only pair of stockings got too broken to mend it any further. I ended up drawing seams at the back of my legs, hoping nobody discovers the deception and the rain doesn’t wash it away. I was freezing to the bone in December, my toes getting blue and knees so frozen it hurt to walk. My state was truly pitiful, I cried more than ever – swollen eyes and clothes hanging miserably off me weren’t encouraging anyone to offer me any post. I looked as if I were about to faint – and that was indeed close to truth.

One day, I stopped by a display window of one of the big department stores, gazing greedily at the silk stockings adoring celluloid leg of the mannequin looking indifferently down at me. Suddenly, I realized someone was staring at me – saw his silhouette reflected in the window, standing a couple of paces behind me, wearing a warm coat with his collar put up, hands tucked in the pockets, stomping his feet from time to time. I peaked over the shoulder – it appeared as if he was waiting for me to do something, cause he approached me and stopped by the window next to me.

‘Cold day, isn’t it?’, he asked casually.

I thought back to the holes in the soles of my shoes, my bare legs and summer gloves…

‘Oh yes, very.’, I replied.

‘I couldn’t help not noticing you standing there by this window. And the moment I saw you I knew you were just the person I was looking for. Please, don’t be afraid’, he said quickly seeing me turning to walk away ‘I’m an artist – well, I take photos – and I would like to ask you to model for me. My study’s not far from here, it’s cozy and warm and I’m sure you won’t mind a cup of tea…’, he smiled. ‘Of course, I will pay you.’

I pondered for a minute… should I be walking away with a strange man who talks to me about the coziness of his place? But the prospect of a cup of decent hot tea and earning something made my heart beat faster. He looked quite ‘neutral’ – plain ordinary Joe.

I nodded and took his arm he offered me. Indeed, it wasn’t a long walk and I was glad to warm my feet against the radiator when he left to put the kettle on. Then, I looked around. His place – or at least the room I was in, except two chairs and simple table in the corner by the window, looked like a lady’s boudoir… there was a chaise-long upholstered with light-rose calico, elegant oriental dressing screen and a vanity table with huge phials of perfumes. The whole truly theatrical set seemed to be able to disappear behind a curtain of thick luscious cream velvet, leaving the remaining part of the room suddenly strangely cold and empty.

He came back carrying a tray of steaming hot tea set. We sat, having a little chit-chat – his eyes kept wandering all over me, making me feel somewhat uneasy.

'I’d like you to wear stockings for me.’, he said, and I nearly choked at the tea, realizing I was wearing the girdle with garter pins dangling loosely since there was nothing to clamp them on. ’I’ve got a pair I’d like you to wear along with a garter belt…’, he went on. I was so relieved! ‘You may use the screen to change. Everything you need is there on the chair.’

A strange smile appeared on his face, when I finished my cup and got up to walk over to change. Indeed, there was a pair of beautiful, brand new nylons and a very decorative garter belt. I only wondered why he wanted me to wear it, since I could simply clamp the stockings to my own girdle. I looked down at myself – and who on earth would like to see a photo of a girl in such poor clothes. Looked around for something he perhaps left for me to wear, but there was nothing but the stockings and belt. I finished changing, having cleared the false seams off my legs, and slowly stepped out.

He was standing by the camera, fiddling with the lens, he looked up at me.

‘Oh, very nice,’ he said slowly, smirking lightly ‘but wasn’t it stockings and the garter belt that I wanted you to wear?’

I looked down at the black nylons, raising my eyebrows. ‘But I am!’

‘Just.’, he shook his head. ‘Go back there and change properly, please.’

I froze. No way! No, I will never do that! My god, what a pervert I came by! Returning behind that screen I was only thinking of how to get myself out of that terrible situation. It would have to be a very long skid across the room to get to the door… and what if he caught me? I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard him walk out of the room. Tore the filthy clothes off me, grabbed my girdle and coat and stormed out of the room as if hounds of Hell were chasing me. I ran all the way to the shelter, fell breathless into my bed of flea, covered myself up to the top of the head and cried all through the night. I still had no job…