Miss Kylie slid the last of the outfit on. Long, shaven legs were accented with a pair of uncomfortable red heels. A short skirt barely covered the rear, and a tight top showed off more cleavage than should be possible.
Blonde hair hung in ringlets around Miss Kylie’s face, and shades covered the eyes. The ensemble was complete with a scarf in a bright shade of pink tied around the neck.
“You don’t have to do this,” Erica said.
Miss Kylie just nodded and smiled. Erica shook her head and muttered, “You’re crazy going out like that, but there’s no talking you out of it now.”
“Rape culture at its finest,” Miss Kylie said gruffly.
Erica looked Miss Kylie up and down and sighed, “How is it you look better in those clothes than I do!”
With a shrug, Miss Kylie picked up a tiny purse and started for the door.
Erica drove Miss Kylie into the city and parked off a major street. “Good luck,” she said.
A laugh, “You’ll see. Nothing to worry about.”
Miss Kylie stepped out of the car and heard a whistle.
“Hah, yeah. You’ll be fine,” Erica said. “I’ll see ya soon.”
Miss Kylie nodded and walked down the street. The shoes proved to be the hardest to master. But after some time, they seemed to get easier. An old couple walked past and gasped. Mutters of “why would she wear that?” eddied across the sidewalk.
But Miss Kylie continued on.
A whistle here, a catcall there – all well-received. But the longer the walk went on the more was heard.
A hoot, a holler, a slap on the rear, a dirty joke, a bad pickup line, a few sexual advances, repeat.
For half an evening this went on until Miss Kylie had had enough.
How do they do this all the time?
Miss Kylie travelled back to the apartment where Erica was waiting with a bottle of scotch and a frown.
“How was it, Kyle?” Erica asked as the door slammed shut.
Kyle slumped into a chair and tossed the blonde wig onto the ground.
“People are disgusting,” he growled.
He didn’t say another word. He grabbed the breast pads, threw them down on the ground, and proceeded to remove all reminders of Miss Kylie.
“I tried to tell ya,” Erica sighed. “No matter how progressive the world gets, women will be objectified.”
He grumbled, “I know now.”
The social experiment was over, but the lesson was not soon forgotten.