Friday, April 13, 2007
Woman’s movements, where strong in the 70’s-she was in the front line when it came to woman being strong and independent. Long gone was the 60’s where war and drugs reigned. It was the time of music, fashion, the time of change. She felt empowered knowing that she would change the way woman are seen by the world. She had committee meetings in her one bedroom apartment, every week. She wrote for the New York Times, pay was little but that did not always matter to her, she was making a difference.
The next assignment came, she had to interview Hugh Hefner, his business where at its peek and he was the talk of the time. She worked out question, gruelling cross examination and she was to nail him for making woman into objects of sex.
She did not sleep well the night before the interview, her mind racing with anger; this was her big chance to truly speak up for all women. The morning was crisp and the sun was leaving a lazy shadow in her room. She put on her gypsy dress, with rough patterns and beads around her neck. She made sure that she was not revealing anything, last was her mood ring, it was more a good luck charm her little brother bought for her when she got the job at the New York Times. Her earth shoes where last, perfectly over her small delicate feet. She gave herself one last look in the mirror; she brushed her hands over her small hips.
She was walking down the street and wondered why she would care what she is wearing. Meaning this man must be disgusting, and she is there to fight for woman everywhere.
Well she did not want to look hideous the man is surrounded by beautiful woman since the 50’s when the magazine started. She was lost in her thoughts the cars where passing by, everybody rushing to get to work.
She walked into his huge mansion; even the entrance hall was bigger than her small apartment. She waited for the butler to show her to his study. He was a very calm man, soft features and a very gentle manner about him.
“Please Miss Cronnely sit down. Can I get you something to drink, maybe some peppermint?” His voice not very deep, but filled with compassion.
“No Thanks!” she seemed surprise at her own reaction.
“Well then we can start immediately, I assured your editor I will answer any question you should ask me”
“Do you take pride in degrading woman?” the question seemed so harsh to open with, she did not even ask how he was, and could she really be this rude.
He had a smirk on his face, not a rude or nasty one, it seems like he enjoyed the question.
“What I do is not degrading to woman at all, I pay them a handsome fee for their art and I do not force them to do anything. They are empowered cause they earn their own money. It is honest they do not harm themselves and it can be fun. You should come to one of the shoots Miss Cronnely!”
She felt her cheeks flush up a bit, not in anger, she was actually feeling shy. Silly that is, seeing that she is a woman and she does see herself naked every day.
“Why did you start the magazine?” the question seemed so boring after she basically attacked him.
“My first paying job was at a box printing company. I finished my studies with a major in psychology and a double minor in creative writing and art. I also did a courses in sociology and women and gender studies at Northwestern University where I wrote a term paper examining U.S. sex laws in light of the newly published Kinsey Institute research on male human sexuality. So one could say I loved woman’s anatomy!” he gave a little giggle and looked at her.
Her face did not move into a smile or a frown, she just sat there emotionless, writing her notes.
“Why do you think I started the magazine?” he asked breaking the uneasy silence.
“To make money off defenseless woman!”
He started to laugh.
“They will all be very upset if you call them defenseless, Mitsy was a double black belt in karate and she was the centre fold two moths back. I am also sure Miss Monroe would also take offence to that.”
She quickly asked another question.
“Don’t you wonder how it feels to Love someone, you seem to have endless partners.”
“Love from a woman is something rare and perfect; I have loved every single woman that was in my bed. I treated them like they were the only person on earth and in that moment in time they were. Why do you hate men?”
She looked up sharply: “I don’t hate men, why would you say that?”
“No man has loved you before, I would have offered you love but you despise me!”
“I don’t despise you, I just do not like what you do that is all.”
“Let my photographer take nudes of you! There is something very powerful in that, and I think each woman needs to be proud of her body. Woman are indeed perfect, slick, smooth, soft lines, breast soft and hypnotizing, the soft short curls between your legs are something wonderful. Let me book a session no one will see the photo’s I promise.” His voice sincere
Her eyes were wild now as if he took her clothes off and looked at her breast for too long.
“There is no way!”
“My dear you are lying to me and mostly to yourself. Why did you put on that lovely dress that brushes so delicately over you features? You wanted to look good for the man that always have beautiful woman around him. Am I right?”
Three weeks later:
Her package came trough the mail. Her address was big bold letters on the yellow big envelope.
She shivered a bit when she opened the envelope, she kept the white part to the top, she was not sure what she was about to see.
The money she got bought her this lovely Oriental rug and new bed linen and a gorgeous couch.
She turned the pictures around. They where big and she wanted to scream of excitement. They are perfect; her body so naked and gorgeous, the lines of her body was artfully draped across the photo.
She smiled and lied back in her perfect new couch.