Annie becomes an exhibit

Inside the bronzing capsule, Annie leaned back against the padded surface, completely oblivious to what was brewing just beyond the narrow walls. The unusual absence of light or warmth was strange, had they finally developed a tanning method that didn't require uv? And how was this supposed to be dangerous for her face and hands? She flexed her bare feet and sank in further, savoring the rhythmic hum coursing through the machine. But the gentle pulses soon shifted into erratic jolts, more like a car dipping in and out of potholes than a relaxing kneading motion.

This wasn't right, Annie thought, surely spas were supposed to relieve tension rather than increase it? Whatever, this was a sunbed first and foremost, she could just get a massage from human hands when the session was over.

A short while later, another violent shake, then—whoosh—the entire thing flipped vertical. Annie gasped as the door flung open, sending her sprawling forward with an unceremonious whump, spilling onto the floor like a toppled sack of groceries.

"Oof!" She blinked up at an unknown ceiling, limbs tangled, more confused than ever.

Annie steadied herself just as the tanning booth disappeared, catching the briefest flash of fire exit door snapping shut. Dread coiled in her gut as she took in her surroundings—no spa in sight, just the clear confines of a glass enclosure. The atmosphere was heavy, strangely oppressive.

She froze when her faint reflection stared back at her. The white makeup covering her face, her hands encased in gloves— these weren't for her protection - she'd been transformed into a naked mime!

The exhibit doors burst open, revealing a tour guide who pointed at her with theatrical flair. "And over here, we have a special surprise—a real, living mime!"

Annie's pulse spiked as chuckles rippled through the crowd. She had to act now. "Wait, this is obviously some kind of mix-up! Let me out of here!" she blurted.

The Guide pressed close to the glass, voice dropping to a sly murmur. "Mademoiselle, The contract you signed with his gallery specified a 3 hour performance. Backing out now would be... unwise. Unless you'd prefer we involve authorities?"

"But I didn't—"

The Guide had already turned back to her flock, projecting loudly. "Observe as our artist whimsically embodies the mundane!" She shot Annie a pointed look. "Go on—entertain us!"

Thoughts raced as Annie scrambled for a way out, trying to recall what she'd seen of the Cirque De Nue's mime acts.

"Alright, how does Stéfanie do this?" she thought to herself, forcing down the heat rising in her face.

Annie inhaled sharply, and pantomimed reading an invisible newspaper with elaborate gestures, as if some scandalous tabloid headline demanded her full attention.

Titters spread through the onlookers when she suddenly batted at an invisible insect circling her. Her arms windmilled wildly as she spun, face contorted in exaggerated frustration.

A burst of laughter followed as she lost balance mid-flail, slamming chest-first into the glass wall—her small breasts squashing against the transparent barrier, offering spectators an unobstructed view of her rosy pink nipples.

She reeled backward, landing hard on her backside with an undignified whump.

The crowd roared while she blinked up at the ceiling briefly before scrambling to stand, brushing non-existent lint from herself.

Undeterred, she squared her shoulders. She mimicked rolling out dough on a counter top, arms moving in rhythmic motions as if kneading invisible pastry.

Feigning a fierce battle with the stubborn make-believe mixture, she heaved and tugged, beads of sweat forming at her temples. One last dramatic pull sent her staggering backward, crashing rear-end-first against the glass, her butt cheeks splayed unflatteringly against the surface before she face-planted completely, backside still raised skyward and mooning her audience.

Thud.

"Oww…" she moaned into the floor as the audience howled with laughter.

Naked as the day she was born, thoroughly humiliated, and acutely aware of every camera aimed her way, Annie questioned the universe. This was part of her tanning package? What twisted spa owner approved this nightmare? What cosmic karma had she earned to deserve this?

As Annie continued tumbling around her display case like a fool, the Queen watched from afar, arms crossed and eyes in disbelief. It was the same woman performing with Laura at the circus, clearly the two of them were closer than the Queen had assumed. And now she had fallen into the trap she'd set for Laura.

The Queen cursed herself for not double checking with the operator on who was in the booth, and then she began questioning why she had even used hired help at all. Her plans had never used to be this convoluted, why was she over-complicating this? What she needed was something simpler, something direct. A wicked grin spread across her face as inspiration struck.