Topless

by Relentless Aaron

  “I guess . . . just last minute jitters. The biggest entertainers have told me the same thing. Even though they’ve performed in front of thousands, every experience is a new one . . . with new, nervous energy. Still, we need to be on our P’s and Q’s.”

  The elevator was moving past the 20th floor now.

  “By the way, what floor are we headed to?” Greg had made all of the preparations with the hotel and it made Douglass feel like a third wheel, ever since Greg became more of a fixture by his side.

  “We’re all staying on the twenty-eighth floor. I got you the double room that you asked for. The same hook-up like in South Beach. Everybody else is doubling up. Demetrius is watching Destiny at night. As for the auditions . . . that’s all going on in the penthouse. The top floor. We’re gettin’ classy, with hors d’oeuvres, wine and cheese . . .”

  “For the older—”

  “Of course, Doug. Only for the afternoon session. It’s fruits, veggie snacks and Kool Aid in the morning for the children. In the afternoon, after the hotel staff freshens up the rooms, it’s age eighteen and over. That’s when we pour it on heavy. I’ll show you the layout of the penthouse later . . . it’s not too far from all of our discussions. Just turned up a notch. As for now, we’ll need the rest. The setup will most likely be all night. There will be a couple of hours for rest, then we’re up and at ’em, like at six AM tomorrow.”

  “Do I get the feeling that you’re starting to like this more than me?” Greg smiled back and cut the conversation by stepping out of the open elevator doors first, searching for their assigned rooms. The rest of the staff was close by, if not just behind them, toting the various equipment, registration forms and other accessories for the presentations. While resting in his hotel room, with eyes half drowsy and half awake, Douglass considered the turbulence of activity that was taking place all because of his ideas. The hotel was already flagging dozens of callers inquiring about Black Beauty day. Douglass was familiar with the frenzy, not unlike his days while handling “TALENT WANTED” responses with his ex-girlfriend. Some naive, some meticulously curious, but everyone hungry for more information. Hotel receptionist had to be somewhere caught between lack of patience and utter frustration, while straining for the event organizers to show up. When they did, they did, and the hotel staff just couldn’t wait to redirect the inquiries. In fact, as Douglass was swiping his room’s key card through the digital reader on the door for the first time, the phone was already buzzing. And there it was again, with the girls busily putting their feminine touch on the room and juggling responses while in motion.

  A Swarm of Black Beauties

  Thursday, December 5th

  Darryl maneuvered as inconspicuously as he could with a broadcast video camera balance on his shoulder, recording all night long as the various rooms on the top floor were organized and prepared for the expected crowd. Balloons and orchids were the pink and canary accents that brought fresh color and fragrance to the atmosphere. Tables and chairs and velvet ropes were arranged in the lobby and foyers to create a reception area and to control the movement of applicants so that they’d be directed to the banquet halls. Inside, a VCR and five TV monitors were positioned for optimal view. Come 6AM, the staff was rested and hungry. After one last, quick run-through (as if the night before wasn’t already filled with exhaustive rehearsals), the staff sat together for a 45-minute breakfast. The 4-course, catered meal was a particular large one for the hungry, anxious staff. They savored the eggs that were cooked to order, and the orange juice that was freshly squeezed, all right before their eyes. A bulky, Oriental chef moved quickly, with a flair about him—you knew he did this every day. Just about everyone dug into the modest heaps of fresh pastries and drowned themselves in coffee. Everyone, that is, except for muscled men one and two—Demetrius and Danni—on the job throughout the trip to Chicago, during the setup, and now on the morning of the event. They maintained communication like pros, with earphones and miniature microphones attached to the lapels of their sporty blazers. They were disciplined and poised enough to be Secret Service agents.

  As the 8AM hour neared, Demetrius greeted mothers and their daughters as they stepped off of the elevators and up to the registration tables. Mechelle orchestrated the operation in the lobby, making sure that applications were completed and that registrants were provided with a questionnaire. After registration, it was into the banquet hall where the presentation was about to begin. Surprisingly, those who responded to the advertisement adhered (for the most part) to the scheduling—youngsters only in the morning. By 9AM, the presentation began with a sea of eager faces as attentive as could be. Debbie and Valerie kicked the day off with an introduction and Greg followed them, offering the “Opportunity Of A Lifetime.” There were scores of females looking on; either older, with responsibilities on their minds, or younger, with stars in their eyes and not a care in the world. Some dads were also in attendance when no mother was available to accompany their child. And in very few instances, both parents were there in support. Greg covered the various areas of the Internet gallery, using a laser pointer and diagrams projected onto a large screen. The diagrams were complete with graphics, photos and descriptions that explained how the program worked. Greg then ventured into the possibilities of being chosen for Face Of The Month, where a $100 prize was to be awarded to the winner of a monthly vote by website visitors. Finally, he segued into a video presentation that had a commercial appeal and which drove home the bottom line so that the adults, young women and girls alike were compelled to take advantage of the one opportunity that required the least experience; a way to get into Black Beauty International’s “Black Beauty Gallery.”

  When the video ended, Debbie and Valerie stepped up to the platform again to introduce the program founder. Douglass made it short and sweet, basically welcoming all into the BBI family. That was his job, to close the sale and to provoke the next step—if it hadn’t been done already. For the next 4 hours, the event staff processed and photographed more than 350 candidates for the website. A lot of the young mothers (quiet as it was kept) also signed up and got in on the action. By 1 o’clock, before the first shift of registrants were even completed, the second group had begun to fill up the adjacent ballroom. These women were 18 and over, trickling in, spilling in, and finally pouring into the penthouse ballroom. The large space reached capacity within 30 minutes, and a partitioning wall had to be opened to accommodate another 300 registrants. With the hotel staff scurrying to clean up the more obvious debris, the transition turned into one big juggling act for the Black Beauty Day staff. But it went along considerably well. The subsequent presentation commenced for a standing-room-only crowd.

  By 2PM, the entire penthouse floor was wall to wall pussy. The kids were gone. In with the weaves and perms, clogs and stilettos, skirts, ponytails and makeup. Perfumes of varying fruits, flowers and other illusions penetrated all common sense. And the perky titties and tight asses were in outrageous abundance. The floor was consumed with an all-adult crowd of 2,100 applicants, with presentations happening simultaneously in separate wings. In another room, snapshots were being taken and downloaded to a computer hard drive. Greg and his journalist comrades were helpful (to say the least), very absorbed in orchestrating and navigating the women between dressing rooms, photo rooms and bathrooms. Demetrius was steadfast, with groups of women gloating over his physical perfections. Meanwhile, Douglass charged through completed questionnaires, red flagging hot picks and pointing out those women whom he wanted to speak to. His confidence was swollen something like shopping with an unlimited credit line at a market that sold only the juiciest fruits. Doe-eyed dolls didn’t hesitate to respond when Douglass curled his finger at them, or when in passing, he simply said to “Come with me.” He was the man to watch as he searched for 40 new dancers, 40 bright personalities, with beautiful bodies and (of course) that ever-alluring smile.

  His objective wasn’t hard to match, browsing through those endless lures for his atte
ntion. There were short ones and tall ones, thick boned and frail. There were females who thought they were pretty and others who underestimated their own impact. The damned penthouse had to be shut down, for God sakes, with candidates still downstairs in the lobby grieving for access to the top. However, Douglass put a stop to any more participants, asking the hotel management to block access from the elevator. Now, the only way to the floor was via the roof.

  By 10PM, Douglass had spoken directly to more than 100 women whom he hand-picked according to their questionnaire and (what he recognized as) their vibe. The key factor that brought him to say yea or nay was if a candidate was ready to pick up and go. After all, what good was a lollipop if you couldn’t suck it? It was a long event and Douglass knew that the women and his staff were edgy from being on the floor all day. So he surprised everybody, having the hotel staff cater dinner for everyone. Before a lamb could shake its tail, there was a massive banquet going down. A long table was set out front on the platform, and dozens of round tables were arranged all throughout the hall. Douglass presided over the feast as a king would his kingdom and he smirked. It was interesting to see his own girlfriends react to the room full of competition. They had been exercising their given authority all day long, but suddenly their faces expressed humility, perhaps realizing that any number of these top picks in the room (the top 100 respectively) might replace them. Sometime later he pulled them to the side.

  “Listen, I’ve been watching you . . . and I know you’ve been watching me . . . oh yeah! You’ve been watching me . . .” Douglass made a face that was humorous enough to break the tension in the small circle. “But seriously, girls . . . ladies . . .” he put his open palm to Debbie’s cheeks, “I’m not leaving you.” Now he held Valerie’s hand. “I just wanted to make that clear. I’m-not-leaving-you. Do you understand? We are family. I know it’s cliché, but it’s so real. And the more that we believe in family and practice family, then the more faith we’ll have in one another. The more faith you have in me, the more I’ll grow. Got it?” They all nodded, in some cases, a bit silly with tears in their eyes. “Good.” The group returned to the banquet.

  Halfway into the meal, Douglass leaned into Greg to bring focus to a few hot spots in the room. It was evident that none of the staff had ever seen so much raw, black beauty in one place. So many shades of brown; even white girls with black features, and other nationalities that embraced the concept of black. Greg’s colleagues were undergoing their own conversations about who was the hottest. After the meal, the waiter poured champagne for everyone and Douglass led in a grand toast for the hundred or so persons in the room.

  “To Black Beauties!”

  “To Black Beauties!!” the women echoed and lifted their glasses also.

  “To Black Beauties!!” Douglass repeated. And they answered him. “Ladies, you are truly the world’s most beautiful women. We’ve photographed you. We’ve interviewed you, and we’ve wined and dined you . . . I feel like I’m on one big ole massive first date!” The crowd chuckled. “But now, we’re gonna hire you.” There was a hush, and an obvious energy embraced the room. “Everyone knows by now that I’ve built an adult entertainment complex in New York. And you also know that we’re looking for a legion of dancers for the club. We’ve reserved this decision for late in the day so that there would be a mood. You see out that window? The darkness outside right now? That indicates money to me. Ours is an evening business. So guess what . . . every time the sun goes down . . . what happens? Exactly. That’s when we make money. I make money and you make money. Like a nocturnal money machine . . .

  “On the questionnaire you filled out, the questions were designed so we could get a full understanding of your situations at home, school, your jobs, et cetera. Overall, everyone here is sick and tired of their jobs, you’re childless and you’re ready to make it big in New York. Have I got that right?”

  “Yes.” The crowd answered in unison.

  “The fact is that we’ll only be selecting forty of you tonight . . .” The voices and whispers hummed and buzzed. “That doesn’t mean that you won’t be involved with us, the website, or other plans that we have. We may someday open a second club and come back to get all of you . . .” He smiled assuringly. “. . . But just so you know, we’ll be keeping your information on file and every one of you is guaranteed to at least be part of the Black Beauty Gallery on the Internet. So give yourselves a round of applause for that accomplishment . . .”

  The room applauded. The staff added to the applause.

  “. . . But again. Forty girls.” Douglass amused himself, pretending a drumroll. “Now, let me ask you this once and for all. Is there anyone in the room that isn’t ready to go. Don’t be shy. Raise your hand if you’re not ready.” Nobody spoke up, but there were a few heads that were uncertain, as though everyone would be boarding a bus immediately. “Excuse me . . . in the leather jacket. Y-e-s, you. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I . . . uhm . . . I have a dog at home. He . . . well, I don’t know what to do with him if I have to leave tonight.” The young woman must have been 21 years old at best. Douglass smiled to console her, letting her know that her problem was not really a problem at all.

  “Don’t worry, honey. We’re not body snatchers, throwing you all on a bus tonight.”

  Giggles in the room.

  “But seriously, girls, we’re not a kennel, either. No dogs. No babies. None of that. You’ll have to decide to choose this million-dollar lifestyle over the one that’s been tying you down. You’ll have to decide what your true priority in life is. Now, our staff may be able to help you troubleshoot with certain issues . . . if you’re selected . . . and the bus to New York won’t be leaving Chicago until about week or so . . .”

  The heads throughout the room seemed to rise all at once, as though there was one deep sigh of relief. “So . . . without further ado, Darryl, the gentleman you’ve seen roaming and crawling around the banquet hall with a video camera, has put together this twenty-minute video for you to watch. It’s a little more in-depth, about what to expect from us, what we’ll expect from you, and how our program works. Going to New York might seem exciting, but please keep in mind that this is a business. A multi-million dollar business. Greg.” Demetrius acted on cue, cutting the lights off, while Greg started the video. As waiters milled about, collecting emptied plates and silverware, the black monitors came to life with the image of a Gulf Stream jet soaring through the sky, descending towards a landing strip. The sound of the engines, a hollow, winded, whiffing noise, and the Miami Vice theme music were effects which underscored the narrative: “Black Beauty International presents . . . Your Million-Dollar Lifestyle . . .” The music bounced on as the jet landed. The graphics transposed over the moving aircraft, affirming the narrator’s words with fancy, platinum lettering. As planned, while the video worked its magic, Debbie, Mechelle and Valerie stepped away from the table, their eyes working a little harder to see in the darkened room.

  “Excuse me . . .” A timid voice and hand reached out for Debbie’s attention. Debbie almost brushed it off with a perfunctory, gotta-go response until she looked a little harder.

  “Hi . . . oh—hi!!! What’s happenin’?” Debbie spoke excitedly, but at a low, respectful volume. She led Trina, an old acquaintance, to the rear of the room, out of the way from the presentation. They traded brief updates about one another before Debbie had to run and get back to business. It seemed that Trina didn’t expect Debbie to remember her, a neighbor from her block. And, indeed, Debbie had become so . . . so . . . worldly.

  “Hey, Trina, I’ve gotta go do something. I’ll be back—we can chat later. Go watch the video. It’s good. And I’m in it!” Debbie smiled proudly and dashed towards the foyer where Mechelle and Valerie disappeared. On the monitors, the jet plane was parked and Valerie descended from its open hatch, down the steps, to the pavement. The music faded out and the narrator supported the the sights and sounds on the video: “And now, here’s your host
ess, Valerie . . . ” The video showed Valerie strutting across the blacktop to where a waiting chauffeur and a shiny, white limousine stood. She carried a shoulder bag fancy-freely, with the camera capturing a full body view of her. “Welcome to the world of Black Beauty. I’m Valerie and I’ll be your tour guide on this preview of what we call your Million-Dollar Lifestyle . . . ” Valerie was now nestled inside of the limo. “As you know, we’re conducting a search for the most beautiful women of color. Those who are selected will be on their way to a most successful career in show business . . . ” A close-up showed Valerie’s upper body. She was snug while reaching out to accept a martini that was conveniently handed to her. She sipped and continued her dialogue.

  “Whether it’s your dream to model, to dance, to appear in videos and movies, or to be seen in magazines or in our calender . . . Black Beauty is your ticket to a world of desires fulfilled.” The images on the monitors reflected snippets of a model’s photo shoot, an active photographer, as well as there was a syncopated rhythm of hip hop beats. Then the images showed exotic dancers while the camera panned from left to right. More sensual displays, a few dancers with provocative moves. The blitz was classy and surely tested the edge. There was Valerie, back in the spotlight, still in the limo. Now she had magazines and photo calendars in her hands. The hip-hop beats faded out.

  “This is an idea whose time has come . . . and the opportunity is now available to women of color who are age 18 or older . . . ” Valerie put the items down at her side, picked up her bag, and the video cut to a view of the limo progressing around a circular driveway, until it parked in front of the entrance to a mansion. Valerie got out of the limo and walked through the front door which was simultaneously opened by a butler. The butler welcomed Valerie with a smile and a bow before she took a strut down a hallway, as if to walk straight though the mansion. Seconds later she emerged out back, approaching an in-ground pool, buxom as ever in a strapless 2-piece bikini. At the pool’s edge, she went on to say, “So what are you waiting for? Join me . . . dive in!!” Valerie took the dive into the pool and classical music accompanied her underwater image. The camera maintained focus on the distorted, watery view of her figure until she reached the opposite end of the pool to come up for air. Except now, the underwater image that appeared to be Valerie was actually Debbie, who came up for air as if by magic. At the pool’s edge, Debbie picked up where Valerie left off.