Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  “I get it, but you have never talked to a guy, as far as I know. I’m keeping Benny low profile, yes, but I’ve been with a ton of guys. Why is he a secret? I’d think you’d want to tell me all about him! What was his name again? Vincent?”

  I smile hearing his name.

  “Yes, it’s Vincent. I only just met him. Nothing’s happened.” Well, nothing yet. “I don’t really know him, he just keeps popping up.”

  “He seems like he’s really into you. He is ridiculously good looking, Lenore! If I were you, I would have told mestraight away! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything” He stops walking, a revelation has just happened in his head.

  “Ok, it makes sense now,” he says and starts chuckling to himself. I take the bait.

  “What? What makes sense?” I say, punching his arm.

  He looks up at me; something in his eyes tells me it’s embarrassing.

  “Just some of the nonsense you were babbling about the other night after that 90’s bar.” He laughs again.

  I roll my eyes. “Give it up, let me hear it.”

  “Well, I can’t remember word for word. You said you met a guy, the most beautiful man, and his eyes set you on fire.... Something like that.” He laughs softly again, “Me and Kazumi thought you were talking about something you read in a book. Or—I don’t know...”

  I am red as hell; my face heats up several degrees, how embarrassing!

  “Ok, that’s enough, I don’t want to know anymore.”

  “It’s weird, but something about him felt oddly familiar. But I would remember if I ever saw a fine piece of ass like that,” he adds and I grin.

  We walk together hand in hand back to my place. As I slide the front doors open, Jordan pulls me to him, hugging me hard. He starts singing the lyrics to “Murder She Wrote” and we dance for a couple of seconds before breaking out in laughter.

  “Thank you for coming tonight. And Lenore? Be careful please—just know you can tell me anything, I’ll be here.”

  He looks so sincere, my eyes prickle and sting with emotion. I smile up at him, and hug him back.

  “Ok, Jordan. I’ll take you up on that. When I’m ready. Let’s keep this between us for now.”

  “Ok. Goodnight, Lenore.”

  I slide the doors closed and grab Bucky from the backyard. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter 6

  “Lenore, hurry up, will you! I’m hungry and I’d like to cook my breakfast today!” Gladys, Maggie’s sister, shouts at me. I’m bringing their groceries in from their ancient Buick in a daze. I’ve come over early this morning for two reasons:

  1. I woke up impossibly early

  2. I’m anxious as hell, and I needed to find something to do other than obsess.

  I try to keep Maggie from getting behind the wheel of her Buick as much as possible. She won’t admit it, but her vision isn’t great, and she should really be “dialing-a-ride”, so I offered to run some of her errands before opening shop. She only needed me to pick up some groceries, and apparently I am not moving quickly enough.

  “Be quiet, Gladys! Can’t you see she’s love struck?”

  I stop in my tracks and stare at Maggie. Love struck? Love? What?! My cheeks heat, who the hell says shit like that?

  Maggie does, that’s who.

  Gladys pokes her head out from the kitchen and I shove past her, plopping the groceries onto the laminate countertop a bit too hard.

  “Really now?” Gladys says, shuffling over to examine my face. She’s only four years older than Maggie, but for some reason, she seems far older than Maggie’s seventy-two years. She puts her face right up to mine. I scowl at her, and poke out my tongue.

  “Oh, yeah, Maggie. I see it now! You’re right!” She howls with laughter.

  “Leave me alone!” I pout. I sound like a sullen teenager. I start putting their groceries away as quickly as possible. Gladys shuffles off to the living room, still laughing.

  Maggie sits at the kitchen table, arms folded over, giving me a good stare down. I roll my eyes again.

  “Sit down, Lenore. Tell me, what’s new?” She asks slyly, gesturing to the chair across from her. She has a smug look on her face, I wonder if some of her old folk friends have been spying on me and reporting to her. If they haven’t, then she must have the psychic powers she’s always accused me of having.

  I plop into the chair across from her, giving her my best stoic stare. It’s no use; I crumble. I look down at my hands on the table, and begin mindlessly twirling the ring on my middle finger.

  “So, are you at least going to tell me his name?”

  I look up at the ceiling; I forgot how well Maggie could read me.

  “His name is Vincent. And—I am NOT LOVE STRUCK!”

  She smiles at my outburst. “Ok, ok!” She says holding up her hands in defense. Her pale blue eyes crinkle with humor.

  I stand, pushing the chair back with my legs. It makes a loud scraping sound across her tile floor.

  “Ugh, is there anything else you need while I’m here? I’ve got to go.” I walk to the front door quickly, not bothering to say good-bye to Gladys. Maggie follows me out as I scramble to get away.

  “Lenore, come here, you damn child.” I stop, and turn around. “Let me give you a hug before you go,” she adds with a soft smile.

  This is a strange request from her; she knows I am not comfortable with affection, especially “parental” affection. She usually feels the same. I walk over to her slowly and hesitantly. She folds me in her arms. I pat her back awkwardly and try to pull away, but she holds me against her even tighter.

  “I love you, Lenore. Be careful. Be happy, you deserve it.”

  I break away from her. I try to scowl at her, but she looks so lovely and happy, that I can’t help but smile back at her. Her long dove-grey hair hangs artfully over her shoulder. I tug at it softly. I’m over eighteen now, so technically, she’s no longer my guardian. I’m not sure what she is anymore...but she feels like family.

  “Thanks, see you later, Maggie.” I toss her the keys to her Buick and walk to my rusty red bike in a better mood.

  I slide the shop doors closed and turn of my neon light. The U sputters before going out. I take a deep breath. I am going to perform burlesque tonight! And I’m going on my first date! I call Jordan and ask him to come over to help me choose something to wear. He is as overly enthusiastic as I am. I don’t mention that I’m going on a date with Vincent; I just tell him there is a possibility that I am going to meet him after the show. Of course, being the concerned friend he is, he insists that I call him as soon as I get back to the shop.

  “Wait, aren’t you coming tonight?” I ask, confused.

  He shrugs, “No. Change of plans. I’m meeting Benny at his apartment.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. Oh...I know what that means.

  “Oh, well that beats watching sexy girls dance on stage any day of the week,” I say with a wink.

  He laughs, “You’re not mad?”

  “Um, no! I mean, I would have liked you there for support, but it’s no big deal. I’ll be fine.” Even as I say it, I can hear the doubt in my voice.

  Thankfully, Jordan is so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t comment. He tells me they have a hair and makeup girl at the club, so all we have to do is pick out a dress for me to wear afterwards, for my date with Vincent.

  We end up choosing a black strapless dress with really pretty lace detail. I’ve never worn it. I liked it so much when I saw it at the thrift shop; I knew I had to buy it. All I had to do was replace the zipper and it was good as new. We pair it with a pair of leopard stilettos, also never worn. I grab my army-green wool coat with the fur collar and he drops me off at the Speak Easy. I am to get a ride back with Kazumi. Everything feels like it’s moving in fast forward, blurry, fast, and surreal.

  My heart is in my throat as I enter through the back door of The Speak Easy. As soon as I am shown to the ladies dressing room, champagne is thrust into my hands, it’s pink
and chilled and sweet. The girls are welcoming me and kissing me as I shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. I manage to smile along with them. Kazumi shows me to the makeup girl, and soon my transformation begins.

  My hair is pin-curled on one side, and set back with a comb on the other. I have a sequin headband wrapped around my head, with an exaggerated long black and green feather draping over it. The back of my hair is all curled under and tucked away. It looks really neat and very 1920’s. It only took Daisy, the hair and make-up girl, a few minutes to set.

  I have smoky brown and gold hews around my eyes, and blood red lips. For the first number I’m wearing a black sequin bustier, skimpy black knickers underneath a very small black tutu. I have black, thigh high fishnet stockings on, with brand new black satin ballet slippers, courtesy of Kazumi.

  Jill, Allison, and Ginger wear small witches hats, and gorgeous exaggerated makeup. I’m guessing we’re going with a Halloween theme tonight. I’m given another flute of champagne from Kazumi, which I accept gratefully, and I stare at everything happening around me in equal parts fear and excitement.

  Kazumi gives me a once over as we walk up the stairs and onto the stage. All that separates me from the audience is a thick and heavy curtain.

  “Are you ok? Do you need anything before you go on?” She asks in a whisper. I feel like I’m holding my breath. It’s almost 8:00 p.m. Time to go on for the first set. I can hear the M.C. announcing us to the crowd. I look from the stage to Kazumi, anxiety and fear threatening to choke me. She smiles, and hugs me tight.

  “Have a little faith, Lenore. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? You’re going to be fine,” she says, and slaps my ass as we all head up to the stage. She remains behind the curtain as she waves us on.

  There is applause and darkness, and a hard thudding in my chest. Then boom goes the music. Loud and brassy; sexy as hell, and it takes 0.3 seconds for me to not give a shit about who is watching, because the music is that good! I can’t really see anyone’s face all that well any way. The crowd is shrouded in darkness against the red glare of the stage lights.

  After only two practices I didn’t think I would feel so comfortable and so in harmony with the girls, but here I am, not giving it a second thought. Jill, Ginger and Allison have on corsets so tight I wonder how in the world they are able to move! But they do move, and they move well, revving all of us girls up with their erotic, yet elegant, moves.

  For this first set, me and the girls pretty much parade around with our feathered fans, covering and uncovering ourselves, then covering and uncovering Jill and Ginger. They wear many layers of undergarments, each layer smaller and sparklier than the next. Their costumes are much more complex than the rest of ours. They play with layers of sheer material and truly create an illusion. As a team, we’re magical and alluring.

  Each time we cover Jill and Ginger with our feathered fans, an article of clothing disappears and the crowd does a cheer! First it’s their gloves, and then their brief skirts, and then their corsets. It’s so fun to hear the crowd respond! The performance isn’t just sexy; it’s playful, it’s ironic, silly and most of all, fun!

  It isn’t just striptease. It’s not merely about stripping down into our unmentionables. We’re playing with the audience; we’re playing with our sensuality and putting on an elaborate performance. My part may be small, but when coupled with the rest of the girls, and the lovely Jill and Ginger, we’re a wonder. I wish I could float out of my body, and watch from the audience.

  Once we’re into the second song, Allison comes out from above the stage on a giant swing. Her costume has enormous feathers on its backside. It’s hard for me not to stop and stare. The twinkling lights around her make her look like a dark angel!

  She begins to swing back and forth ever so slowly above the stage and crowd, then in one swift move she drops, and grabs the bar with her two hands and begins a series of flips. With one leg hooked on the bar, around and around she goes! First her gloves come off, then her corset, and the front of her skirt comes off too! She is breathtaking!

  Beneath Allison, me and the other four girls compliment her every move. Fanning our feathers, turning with our rears to the crowd, and rolling our hips, and dipping down low. It is so much fun! I don’t think I have ever felt so alive, so comfortable, and so sexy in my life.

  It all ends with Allison dropping from the swing back into Jill and Ginger’s arms. We make our exit, and the three sexpots finish the show.

  Now the thought of this only being temporary is depressing! The set comes to an end and I feel like I’m in a thick and foggy haze as I float back to the dressing room.

  I am offered more champagne, which I decline. I’m high on adrenaline. All the girls congratulate me on a job well done. Really, I didn’t do much at all, especially not in comparison to them. I pranced around, which is no feat. Kazumi pops in excitedly.

  “Lenore, you did a wonderful job!” She winks at me and turns her attention to the rest of the girls, “You have 30 minutes, so get changed and ready!” With that she’s gone.

  “Those ballet slippers are a hit, all eyes were on you. You looked quite the sexy kitten out there. A natural!” Jill winks at me and walks away.

  My scalp prickles, all eyes were on me? Was she just saying that to be nice? How could she even see? For some reason that makes my nerves stand on end again. Daisy plops me back into the chair and touches up my makeup once more.

  For the second set, Ginger, Allison and Jill look like they’re basically wearing nothing but strings. Sparkling strings. They have thin, sheer pieces of material artfully tucked here and there. Atop of that, they don gorgeous, sheer sparkling dresses, and waist clinchers, cinching their waists to an unbelievable 22”. If they’re uncomfortable, they don’t show it, and it won’t be for long anyway. I know they will be coming off again in a matter of minutes.

  Me and the other gals are back in corsets again, as well as black silk stockings and garter belts, black elbow length satin gloves, and the tiniest pair of black satin bloomers ever created! I’m thankful that ballet has toned my butt, because it is practically all hanging out! All the girls find it hilarious that I’m self-conscious about it.

  “If I had an ass like yours, I’d be wearing that outfit every damn day!” laughs Ginger. I blush a deep shade of crimson. I am so not used to this. Jill walks up to me and adjusts the headband in my hair, adding two clip-on kitten ears to the top of my head.

  “There you go, you little sex kitten,” she growls, smacking my behind as she walks away. Jill, Allison and Ginger take a moment to adjust their headdresses. Each one is distinct. Jill’s is by far my favorite. There are two elaborate horns protruding from hers. They’re twisted and sparkling, yet they appear feminine and so very pretty.

  This next number is slower and a bit more seductive. All of us have a small solo before bringing out our nearly naked stars, Jill, Ginger, and Ally.

  All eyes were on you comes creeping back into my head. I sure hope I don’t butcher my 30-second solo because at this moment, I am welcoming only one man’s set of eyes. I hope he’s watching. Judging by the time, he’s sure to be arriving any moment.

  Kazumi rushes in and makes sure we’re ready before she ushers us out. I wonder what Vincent’s reaction will be when he sees me on stage. Will he be appalled, surprised, or angry? What right has he to be angry? No. There is no time to think about it. The curtain is up, and we’re off again before I have a chance to think any further.

  A slow and sexy old-time jazz song bellows out from the band. The trumpet seduces the audience and me. Its sound is so exquisite, unique and haunting. The stage is dimly lit, allowing me to get a better view of the crowd, and tables of fine diners. There is a slight fog covering the stage. I get swept away yet again. The Speak Easy is more crowded than it was for the first set, I can hear the din from the bar begin to quiet as we step onto the stage.

  We come out one by one, and line up along the stage, pooled in green light and smoke. The good
people of the Speak Easy fall silent.

  We roll out hips in time with the music. The tempo picks up a bit and we begin to move a little faster. The drummer plays lightly, tapping his symbols and snare. Each girl takes her turn to head further out onto the stage to woo the crowd. I’m in the middle, and the two girls to the right of me are in some kind of erotic, dancing embrace, as well as the two girls to the left. It is my cue for my quick solo.

  On pointe, I sashay to center stage. I am really into the sound of that trumpet; it possesses me, helping me to move sensually. I rock my hips until I hit my cue and spread my legs, still on point, and drop my hands down to my toes, slowly grazing my legs all the way up. I move into a plié, and quickly roll around so that my rear is facing the audience. I lift my left leg high up to my side so that it is parallel to my shoulder and caress the outside of my thigh. I carefully curve my leg back behind me and slide it down ever so slowly; I turn to face the crowd again. I dip down low, my left knee bent, as my right leg stays perfectly straight, my toe pointing at an extreme angle.

  I spread my legs wide, and caress the inside of my thighs, and pop straight back up slapping my thighs in the process. I get some loud whistles and applause.

  As I turn to head back to the girls, my hands wrapped around my small waist, (I’m starting to love this corset), they make their way toward me.

  I catch sight of the band off to the right side of the stage and lock eyes with the sexiest stranger I’ve ever laid eyes on. My stranger. Vincent.

  He is the one playing the trumpet! He is the one seducing my body with his beautiful sound. Before I can further process the fact that he is here, looking at me, and playing that golden brass, the tempo picks up as the trombone, saxophone and a very pretty black singer begin to add to my strangers alluring sound.

  Jill, Ginger and Ally slide back on stage and the crowd begins to applaud and whistle for them. Everything is a blur from that point on. I am vaguely aware that Ginger, Jill and Ally are stripping down. The gloves are off, as are their sheer skirts. The sexy three are barely wearing anything, and they are dancing their asses off, their arms and legs touching, stroking and intertwining continuously throughout the remainder of the set. Their moves are timeless and classic, it’s as though I’ve been transported back in time. They’re a pleasure to watch. And again, I’m so thankful that my bit is simpler than their complex and choreographed routine.