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Men were men to Gypsy--that's why the doctor puzzled her

"Anatomy Lesson"

by Kenneth A. Enochs



Vol. 1 No. 5, May 1957

     The name is James Carnright. I'm a professional man, a doctor to be specific, and I wish it understood right now that I do not make a practice of attending burlesque theaters. Only unusual circumstances prompted me to attend the eight o'clock performance at the Starlight Burlesque theater last Thursday.
     My practice is on the sixth floor of the McGregor Professional Building and down the hall from my office is a chiropractor by the name of Donnelly. This Donnelly is a fairly decent sort, yet still in all, he is a chiropractor.
     It was last Thursday afternoon and I had seen my last patient for the day when Mr. Donnelly came scurrying into the office. He was very excited and it was some time before I was able to determine the nature of his conversation.
     "I'm telling you it was the damnedest thing I've ever laid eyes on!"
     "I'm sure it was," I assured him. "But what are you talking about?"
     "Gypsy Night. The one and only Gypsy Night!" He said the words almost reverently. "I swear Doc it's the eighth wonder of the world."
     "I don't wish to appear ignorant," I informed him, "but just what is Gypsy Night?"
     "It's not a what, it's a she. And what a woman! Without even touching them they climbed over the top of her dress."
     The excited chiropractor made a number of baffling gestures with his hands, which did little to clarify the picture.
     "I wish you would be more explicit. Now just what was it that climbed over the top of the woman's dress?"
     "Her knockers! Her beautiful, muscular knockers." 
     "Breasts, if you please."
     "That's what I said! And honest Doc even you wouldn't believe it."
     "Surely you must be enlarging on the young woman's performance,"
     "I knew you'd say that, that's why you got to see it yourself to get the full impact."
     "It's out of the question!"
     "Come off it, Doc. No one will be the wiser. Besides, you owe it to the medical profession to look into the thing."

     We arrived at the burlesque house at a little before seven. The marquee read: GYPSY NIGHT-THE WORKING MAN'S DELIGHT.
     Mr. Donnelley insisted on sitting in the front row, much to my annoyance, and through the entire evening I was sure every eye was on me, though why, I cannot say.
     At eight forty-five, Miss Night made her appearance. The audience immediately broke into applause, yelling, whistling, and every other noise the human body was capable of producing.
     Miss Night raised her hand, much in the manner a queen might do to command attention, and a hush fell over the audience that was unbelievable. A single blue spot followed her to the center of the stage and a four-piece orchestra began playing. She wore a white strapless gown that was obviously soiled, but due to the blue spot it was difficult to determine to what extent.
     Miss Night held her arms straight out from her sides and the drummer began a slow roll on the drums. Then the unbelievable happened. Her, right breast slowly crawled over the top of her gown. It moved slowly, almost timidly, from beneath the gown. The pap stood poised in the air, then swayed from side to side as if to survey the effect on the audience.
     At once I suspected, trickery. This was against all laws of physics. I strained my eyes for some obscure wire or thread. I glanced towards the wings in hopes of detecting some off-stage assistance. I'm not quite sure what I was looking for, but what ever it was I found nothing that suggested deception.
     By now Miss Night's left breast was free of the confines of her gown and was slowly moving from side to side, much in the manner of a cobra under the influence of flute playing. 
     Miss Night removed her gown with a single motion and now stood in the center of the stage completely nude except for a small silver star that clung mysteriously to an appropriate part of her anatomy. As I recall I gave some thought to the means employed to hold the star in place. I decided to learn at a later date the nature of the miracle adhesive in hopes it might have a practical purpose as a medical bandage.
     The young woman now skipped about the stage causing wild gyrations to various parts of her anatomy.
     Then she paused and held her arms out from her sides as before. Now I am not a man that is easily excited, but what followed was nerve shaking to say the least. In all the annals of time I am sure a struggle of this nature had not been witnessed: The woman's breasts were actually engaged in combat. They started out by debonairly poking at each other, then one of them appeared to have lost patience with the other and complete chaos broke loose.
     I'm not sure I can accurately describe what took place, and as I look back I am not completely sure I wish to. They pounded at each other in a fury that was inconceivable. Then one would spring back, as if studying the situation only to pounce on the other with renewed fury.
     Miss Night finished and we left. But, before long, I was back. Let me confess it: since last Thursday I have not missed a single performance of Miss Night's act. I have criminally neglected my practice and I am sure Mrs. Rogers, my nurse, is convinced something is terribly wrong. I fear she is not completely mistaken.

     It's now shortly after three in the afternoon and I am standing outside the stage door of the burlesque house. I am not quite sure what I am doing here and I refuse to trouble my already confused mind searching far a reason. The doorman informed me that Miss Night frequently goes out for coffee at this time and I intend to talk with the young woman.
     She appeared on schedule wearing a gaudy print dress, green shoes, and carrying a large yellow purse. I'm sure no one would have suspected for a minute that she possessed abilities far beyond human conception.
     "Why, hello there," she said. "I wondered when you were finally going to show up at the stage door."
     "Miss Night, my name is James Carnright. I would like to have a word with you."
     "Sure thing, Sugar," she said hooking her arm in mine, "but let's do it over a cup of Java."
     She led the way to a small diner on the opposite side of the street. The establishment had a very unsanitary appearance and when the waitress brought the coffee I detected traces of lipstick on the edge of my cup.
     "Well, what's on your mind Sugar, as if I didn't already have a good idea." She picked up her cup and made slurping noises with the coffee, which I felt were entirely out of place for a woman of her ability.
     "I'm a doctor, Miss Night, and I have become quite interested in your act."
     "Doctor, lawyer, fireman, chief...what's the difference?" As she talked I had trouble keeping my eyes from her breast. I half expected to see one of them climb over the top of her dress.
     "I assure you that my interest in you is purely professional." 
     "What else? So what's the pitch?"
     "If you could come to my office tonight, say after your last performance, I would like to make a closer observation of your unusual ability." I realized I had worded it very poorly but it didn't appear to trouble Miss Night.
     "Boy, I thought I'd heard 'em all, but this tops the lot." She emptied her cup and turned on the stool to face me. "I'm game, but you know Sugar, when I get on the stage I get paid for the routine."
     "Oh, I'll be more than glad to reimburse you for your time. Would fifty dollars be satisfactory?"
     "You got yourself a deal. See you after the show." She put my card in her purse and disappeared out the door.

     Miss Night arrived at my office shortly after two in the morning. I took her coat and showed her into the examination room. "We'll dispense with any formalities, Miss Night. If you'll proceed with your act, without any unnecessary flourishes, I'll take notes." 
     "You serious?"
     "Quite. I believe you agreed to the arrangement this afternoon." From the puzzled expression on her face I was sure there had been some misunderstanding on her part. 
     "Is something wrong?"
     "No, no," she assured me, "but this ain't quite what little Gypsy expected."
     I decided not to press the matter further and asked her to please proceed. Without further comment she removed all her clothing except for a pair of pink step-ins and her green shoes. For some reason I had expected she would have been wearing the silver star rather than the step-ins, but when I thought of it, I realized there was really no basis for this assumption.
     She wasted no time in going into her routine and I noticed she experienced some difficulty in keeping the theatrical flourishes from her performance.
     I was at once aware of the added benefit in being able to examine Miss Night's muscular dexterity at such close hand. I noticed she had mastered great control over the sternal portion and clavicular portion of the Pectoralia major muscles. I also suspected the Traperzius muscle was brought into play by Miss Night. It became apparent that the movements of Miss Night's arms were not mere flourishes, but did much to activate her control over her breasts.
     She completed her routine, then I had her run through it again, then again. I made notes of every movement, regardless of how insignificant it might seem.
"I don't want to sound like a wet bar towel, Sugar," she said sitting down on the edge of the examination table, "but I've had a full day."
     Her breathing was noticeably fast and I didn't wish to put her through any undue exertion. "I believe I have all the information I need, however, I would like to ask you a few questions."
     "Fire away, but don't get too personal."
     "Just when did you first realize you possessed such extraordinary control over the skeletal muscles?"
     "You'll have to do better than that, Honey," she said as she removed the wrappers from three sticks of gum and stuffed them into her mouth.
     "When was it that you first became aware of your unusual talent?"
     "I didn't become aware of anything. I taught myself the whole routine."
     "Extraordinary! And at what age did you begin this training?" Miss Night shifted the ball of gum to one side of her mouth and scratched her bare leg. "I think I was twelve. Yeah, that's it...I was twelve. I'd seen a picture of a tassle-waver, and I wanted to do the same thing.
     "I started out by just working my shoulders up and down. Then I found by moving my arms a certain way they would lift up and down. I kept experimenting with new twists and movements every day. I knew I really had something when I showed the routine to one of the farm hands. You ought to have seen the way his eyes bugged out."
     I well appreciated the man's surprise, however, my conversation with Miss Night had accomplished little as far as enlightenment into her ability. I still felt that her talent had some practical place in the field of muscular therapy, but I realized now it would take years of painstaking research to determine the extent of its value.
I thanked the young woman for a very pleasant evening and expressed my gratitude for her cooperation.
     "That's okay, Sugar, but haven't you forgotten one little thing?" I hesitated to inquire into the nature of my carelessness. "Money, Sugar. Fifty clams." 
     "I'm terribly sorry, it completely slipped my mind." I handed her the money and she smiled warmly. She crossed to the door and turned to face me. As she stood framed in the doorway, her left breast climbed over the top of her dress and waved to me. Not knowing quite what was expected of me I waved back.
     "Night, Sugar," she said and turned and left the office. I mixed myself a sedative and locked the file on Miss Night in the bottom drawer of my desk. Realizing my limitations I decided to abandon any further research into Miss Night's disturbing ability.

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