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Pink Cigarettes


Pink Cigarettes

When I was a little girl, I used to play with dolls. Beautiful, blond Barbie Dolls. And they were perfect; ideal to every young girl who wished to be flawless. They had perfect hair, the perfect body, and the perfect, plastic boyfriend with the large grin and gelled back hair. In other words, they had the perfect life.

Now, that hasn't changed except for the fact that I no longer play with dolls. I am the doll. I am the entertainment, the coveted, the ideal woman.

One other thing has changed, too. The second change in my Barbie Doll lifestyle is that it is no longer fun once it is real. Realism tends to strip the fun out of everything. I believe this is because it is much more fun to play and pretend like we do as children.

This sounds confusing, I know. But I am a Barbie. I'm a Malibu Barbie, to be exact, and I'm not the only one. We're all the same, yet so different at the same time. We're beautiful, and blond, and our names start with the letter "B", and we live in a huge mansion with enough pink to make anyone go insane.

We are what women wish they were, and what men pay very much to have. Men have payed to only look at us, but to touch is so much more.

It sounds like quite the life, does it not? At eighteen years of age, I am the youngest of the Barbie's but that does not make me any less experienced. However, have I been in love? No, never in my life. And I don't think that I ever will fall in love.

So, really, it's not that ideal for a girl such as myself to be living in a mansion and performing every single night for a bunch of older, rich men who have some sort of Barbie Doll fetish. It can be pretty disturbing, actually. But I can't complain; a life like this is better than the one I used to live.

So now, as I stand outside of the club, inhaling deeply on my last cigarette, I have nothing to complain about other than the slight wind that is sending chills up my spine. I have money, and beauty, and people who care about me, or at least they act like they care. That's good enough for me.

"Blair, you're looking sort of thin," I hear a voice behind me; one that I know well. "You know I like you with a little more meat on your bones. Men won't want you flat."

I roll my eyes before turning around to face him. Standing before me is Calvin, my oh-so-loving boss. "Thanks, Calv. You're too kind."

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit, which makes him look much more important than he really is. Okay, so he has put a lot of his life into this club, but it's the Barbie's who run it for him. He just handles the money, and takes most of it while he can. "You have a client waiting on you. One of the regulars. He says that he, uh, brought you those pink cigarettes that you love so much."

Instantly, I drop my cigarette on the ground and step on it with my hot pink peep-toe pumps. I strut up to Calvin and stand before him, allowing a smile to cross my face. I lift my hands up to fix his tie and smooth out his shirt. "You look good," I tell him. I lean in and lightly kiss his cheek. "I'll see you around."

He grabs onto my arm, pulling me back as I try to walk away. "You know, that client is getting attached."

I just smile at him. "Well, what do you expect? That's how we make money, isn't it?"

I pass him, and once he can no longer see my face I let the smile slip from my face. I open the doors to sneak back into the club, leaving Calvin alone outside to think about money, which is all he ever thinks about.

I don't even think he likes blonds.

Music is blaring as I enter the room, which is, of course, filled with men. The Barbie's are up on stage, preforming a sexy dance number that we've been working on for the past week. Some of the other Barbie's are off seducing men, which really isn't too hard to do when you're dressed in pink lingerie or a slip dress. Sequins are everywhere, scattered across the marble floor, and it's just like a Victoria's Secret fashion show.

"Blair!" Brenna, one of the Barbies, and a good friend of mine, comes running up to me in five inch heels and a glittery pink dress. Her blond hair is all over the place, and she's working that huge grin that never leaves her face. "You look gorgeous, sweetie! Oh, and number fifty-four is waiting on you." She winks and points to a man that is definitely familiar to all of us, especially me.

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Candice Swanepoelas Blair Brington
Josh Duhamelas Landon Henery
Mark Wahlbergas Calvin Marks
Blake Livelyas Brenna Jones
James Francoas David Hampton
Sophia Bushas Kelly Waters
Ian Somerhalderas Trey Martin
Paris Hiltonas Berlinda Hellmont

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