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The curtain rises. The stage lights come up slowly. An auburn haired young woman is standing on a box. She has very long legs. The woman is wearing a rose colored jersey. A brown leather belt is cinched at her waist. Her left arm is tied at the wrist to the belt. Her right arm is loose at her side. She's naked below the belt.
A rope stretches down from the rafters. It ends with a noose secured around the young woman's neck. Her green eyes peer nervously from the stage. Tiny drops sparkle through the red hairs at the vee of her legs, betraying her arousal.
The cover drops from a large device standing nearby. The woman can see it clearly. The device has the face of a clock. It's a timer. A full sweep of its pointer will take sixty seconds. The young woman's hands ball into fists. Her knuckles are even lighter than the rest of her freckled white skin.
The timer clicks on. The pointer moves. A sudden stream of urine runs past the woman's legs. As it hits the box, it makes a quick drumming sound like rain in a gutter pipe. The sound stops as abruptly as it started.
A bell rings from the timer. The woman closes her eyes. The box collapses under her feet. She drops a few inches and grunts as the rope jerks her neck. She hangs suspended. Her eyes pop open, very wide.
One leg reaches out delicately for support, finding none there. The other leg, toes curled, repeats the motion. She squawks softly, catching little breaths. She doesn't thrash. Has someone coached her how to prolong her time on the rope?
Her free hand comes up to the noose digging into her throat. She touches the rope, almost in wonder. Her eyes blink several times. Soon she makes little gagging noises. Her hand waves. It's harder for her to find air.
Her eyes are still wide, framed by her straight auburn locks. The long legs become more active, slowly pumping an invisible bicycle. The slit between the legs glistens in the light, moistening the surrounding hairs. Her pumping continues a while, its rhythm interrupted only by her gagging.
Her face begins to redden more. Her fingers clench. The dribbles of air aren't enough. Her chest begins heaving. Her legs kick fiercely now. She swings on the rope. She's fighting hard. The kicking goes on.
All in an instant her struggling stops. Her body trembles a moment then relaxes. Her feet paw very slowly. Her head is immobile, but her eyes look right then left. Her fingers return to the rope at her neck and come to rest . A small spot of drool drips from the corner of her mouth onto her jersey.
Her chest heaves again, then once more. Her hand falls. She's quiet for a long time. Only the movement of her eyes shows she is still there. As the eyes become glassy a final set of throes makes her body shake. The curtain descends.
There is the sound of polite applause.
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