Shady Places

Dear friends,

This week’s I wanted to share with you an excerpt from my next collection of Embarressed Naked Female short stories, More than ENF. This time, I’m thrilled to share an excerpt from Freeze, a story about Loren, a woman with a peculiar “superpower” that’s more of a quirky inconvenience than a heroic gift. Imagine freezing in place, blending into the background like a mannequin, only to find yourself in the middle of awkward or downright chaotic situations. In this scene, Loren’s shopping trip for a new bathing suit takes an unexpected turn, leaving her in a predicament that’s equal parts humorous and nerve-wracking.

Get ready for a mix of wit, relatability, and a dash of modern-day absurdity. Read on for a sneak peek into Loren’s world, and let me know your thoughts—have you ever felt like you’ve blended into the background a little too well?

Enjoy the excerpt below, and stay tuned for more stories that capture the strange, beautiful mess of my imagination.

Warm regards,

Dr G

Freeze

Loren once read that everybody has a superpower. Not the stuff of comic books like flying or x-ray vision. Real powers like photographic memories, traffic light timing, or impeccable fashion sense. Loren also had one, though she didn’t think it was very useful. In fact, if the two women who had just barged past her in the change room were anything to go by, then she may have said her special ability was a super hindrance. Loren’s special ability was freezing.

Loren wasn’t frozen she would just become still, like a statue. She didn’t do it on purpose. It was when she was concentrating or vague-ing out that she stopped moving. Given a suitable backdrop, she would effectively become invisible. People would do and say the most inappropriate of things in front of her, gossip, plot, make-out, touch themselves, steal. If they then saw her, they would be mortified but sometimes they’d turn on her and accuse her of spying or following them. If she had a dollar for each time she’d had to announce she was just sitting there.

Like this morning, she had gone shopping for a new bathing suit. She’d selected a few nice ones and taken them to try on. Patiently waiting inline for her turn, she’d gone blank while thinking about lunch and the next thing she knew, the two girls had cut in front of her. She cleared her throat to get their attention.

“Oh my God,” said the taller of the two, “you scared me to death!”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to cut in,” said her friend.

That was more polite than some, so Loren returned the favour. “That’s okay.”

“Yeah,” the tall one continued, “we didn’t see you there.”

“I did,” the second one said, “but I thought you were a mannequin!”

Not knowing if the remark was intended as an insult or a compliment, Loren let it slide. Mannequins usually have ideal bodies, but the ones in this shop looked too real. But there was that other name: dummy. Had she meant it as an insult? Loren tried not to think about it.

A light flashed and chimed, indicting that the change room was vacant, and it was Loran’s turn to enter. This room was normal, with mirrors, a seat, and a place to hang clothes, but it also had new anti-theft technology. She hadn’t used one like this before, but she’d had to swipe her credit card and scan the suits before she could enter. An assistant had explained there were instructions in the room but that, essentially, if she didn’t leave the items she’d rejected behind, she would be charged as if she had taken them. Reading the long instructions attached to the wall, she was to place minor items she didn’t want, such as the suits, in a drawer and then press a button for re-scanning. Assuming she didn’t want any, the LED display would report her return; she would not be charged, and could leave. The next passage was about other items-coats, blouses, etc-but as Loren didn’t have any, she stopped reading.

Loren undressed and hung her clothes on the hook next to the sign. As the muffled voices of the girls threatened to intrude on her privacy, she thought back to the mannequin comment. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Maybe it had been a compliment. She had thin limbs and a smaller bust, like the dummies she’d seen. Her bald mound, ready for the swimming season, matched the sexless bare spot between the mannequin’s legs. Not exactly. Hers came with a little more ‘detail.’ Smiling at the notion she might be some designer’s ideal woman, she blew her naked refection a kiss and turned around to begin.

A fluorescent light cast a stark glow over the pile of bathing suits slung over the seat. The mirror, slightly smudged, reflected her hesitant expression as she held up the first option—a bright red one-piece with a plunging neckline. She slipped it on, tugging at the straps, but it clung too tightly, pinching her sides. Too bold, she thought, peeling it off. Next was a teal bikini with delicate ties. She knotted the strings, spinning to check the back, but frowned at how it sagged awkwardly. One by one, she tried them—polka dots, high-waisted, strapless—each revealing a new insecurity or spark of confidence. The last suit, a deep navy with subtle cutouts, hugged her curves just right. Loren smiled, then looked at the price. Not today, she thought.

Collecting up all the suits, Loren took hold of the return drawer and pulled it open. As per the instructions, she dropped the garments into the drawer one at a time, noting the beep that signified the system recording her returns. When she finished, she shut the drawer and, locating the button on the wall marked ‘Complete’, she pushed it and stood back. Before she understood what she was watching, her clothes, hanging on the hook above the drawer, disappeared as the wall rotated. Like some clichéd hidden passage entrance from a movie, the wall spun on its axis and an identical wall and hook took its place; minus her clothes.

“No,” Loren said. “No, no, no!” She stabbed at the button hoping that it would bring back her clothes. Instead, the LED flickered with the worst word in the modern world: ERROR.

She had no clothes, no hand bag which meant no phone or money. She had no way to get any of those things back except to stab at the button that did nothing. No, she was smart. She could think of something; she just needed a minute. An idea would come. But the exit door popping open and a five second countdown displayed on the LED telling her to leave meant only one thing. Time’s up.