The Chair

Chardonnay smiled at the woman caught in the spotlight, "Really, stand up. What's your name?"

"Heather," the blonde replied. She suddenly blushed, embarrassed at the attention, but still stood, nervously running her hand through her pixie cut hair.

"Come on up! Everyone, a big hand for Heather!"

Heather looked around at the audience, and hesitantly made her way through the seats then up the aisle to the stage. The magicienne came downstage to help her up the steps. "I like your dress, Heather." The volunteer blushed again and curtsied, lifting the hem of her summer dress just a bit.

"Don't worry, Heather. Normally. I don't like people calling out during my shows, but I think you'll be perfect for this next bit. In fact, since you liked being the center of attention, we even have an appropriate seat for you-"

Chardonnay motioned to the cloth-draped chair the stage hands had wheeled out while her volunteer was coming forward. "Don't be shy, just have a seat."

Heather hesitantly sat down, her knees together to one side, her hands grasping the armrests. Chardonnay quickly flipped up the cloth beneath one of the rests, and slammed a shackle over Heather's left wrist. She looked at the metal bracket, and pulled against it as the magicienne slipped around and did the same to her right arm.

"There we go, partway secured." Chardonnay stepped behind the chair, grasped the cloth, and pulled. It whipped itself right out from under her volunteer, revealing the chair beneath, bare wood, and very simple, save for a few more shackles and straps. "Come on, Heather, you'll need to spread your legs if I'm going to secure your ankles. What are you afraid of? The audience seeing what color panties you're wearing?"

"But I'm not wearing-"

Chardonnay was already at work, positioning her volunteer's ankles against the front legs of the chair. Too shocked to resist, Heather allowed her feet to be secured in place.

"And one last restraint-" Chardonnay buckled a belt across Heather's waist. "Now, Heather, would you say you're fully secured?"

"Um, yes?" She wriggled a bit, futilely.

"Great. One last bit, and we're set." Chardonnay stepped behind the chair, and pulled out a glass sphere, with a black rubber gasket attached to the bottom. A tube hung down from the back of it. "Say bye, Heather!"

"I don't know about-"

The magicienne slipped the sphere down over Heather's head, the gasket secure around her neck. She looked at the audience and muttered something too muffled to understand.

"That seal is nearly soundproof- oh, and the tube is attached to a vacuum... which I've now activated."

Heather made gasping expressions inside the glass sphere. It fogged a bit but soon cleared.

"Now, don't worry, Heather. You just have to hold on for a bit. This next part won't take long. Oh- I almost forgot, I need another volunteer! Now who should I choose?"

Heather struggled against her restraints as the magicienne looked over the audience. "You, sir. Why don't you come up on stage? No, don't rush, take your time, wouldn't want you to trip." The gentleman worked his way through the audience. "Tell me, what's your name? John? Okay John, step on up."

John stepped up onto the stage as Chardonnay took a cloth covered device from her stage hands. He looked rather distracted as Heather's struggling grew more desparate, her skirt riding up and her legs thrashing to reveal she'd been truthful about her lack of undergarments.

"No, don't worry about Heather. Have a look at what's under this cloth." Chardonnay lifted a corner. "What do you think it is?"

John turned back to Heather, but the magicienne grasped his wrist and turned his head to her eyes. "What's under the cloth?"

John blinked. "I, uh, I don't know."

Chardonnay smiled. "Ah, it's a generator. A hand cranked one. And the reason I put a vacuum around Heather's head is- oh. She seems to have passed out." John turned to look at Heather, sagging limp in the chair.

"Don't worry, John. We'll soon jolt her back awake." Chardonnay took two metal cups, and placed them on opposite sides of the sphere where Heather's head lolled, eyes shut, mouth slack. "Now, when I say go, turn the crank on the generator." John grasped the handle of the wheel.

Chardonnay turned to the audience. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, the reason I put Heather in a vacuum, well, apart from keeping her from speaking out of turn again, was to demonstrate electricity. You're familiar with a light bulb, yes? John, turn the crank."

John spun the crank on the generator. Sparks shot from the two cups on the sphere as Heather's hair stood on end. Then the sphere filled with blinding light as her body started thrashing again.

"John, stop!"

The gentleman stopped cranking, startled. The glow from the sphere vanished, revealing the interior full of smoke.

"Okay, John, I think that's enough. Let's have a big hand for John, you can go back to your seat, now." Chardonnay stepped over to adjust Heather's skirt, then stepped behind the chair, touching a button as John left the stage. The smoke cleared from the sphere.

"Oh dear, John, I really think you cranked the generator too hard."

Within the glass globe, a lightly charred skull rested against the glass, slack jawed. Chardonnay grasped the sphere, and twisted, stepping in front of the chair to place the globe on Heather's lap. She pulled out a small handkerchief and made tying motions, then picked up the sphere again and stepped away. Heather's body hung limp in the chair, the handkerchief tied neatly around the stump of her neck. Chardonnay rolled the sphere like a ball back and forth in her hands, the skull sliding loosely, vertebrae and jawbone detaching themselves. She handed it off to a stage hand, who took it off stage.

"Heather- I know you can't hear me, but how are you?" The magicienne put her hand on her victim's arm. Heather's body moved under her touch, feet wiggling, hands opening and closing.

"See, ladies and gentlemen, nothing to fear. The electricity has brought her back... Oh- and since she has so much residual energy now, here's a neat demonstration!"

Chardonnay reached up and pulled a light bulb from thin air. She took it, reaching up between Heather's legs, and made a few twisting motions before pulling her hand away. From beneath Heather's summer skirt, through the fabric, the bulb could be seen beginning to glow brightly as Heather's shackled left hand waved to the applauding audience.