Gather Together in My Name - Maya Angelou [56]
“They walk in here,” she continued, “and take their choice of you or Bea. L.D. said you shouldn't use make-up and ought to keep on wearing those junie flip clothes. That's all right with me. When you get regulars, Bea is not allowed to pull them, unless you're busy and they can't wait. That's the same with her steadies. Anything you want to know, ask me.”
The doorbell rang.
“See, Rita! Look at the string.” The red dot had reached a knot on one of the strings. “Trick time.”
Bea came running into the room, and the sound of her footsteps was a little more audible than my heartbeat. The moment of truth had gotten stuck in my throat and saliva refused to go around it.
Clara went to open the door.
“Hello, Papa, come in. I've got something special for you today.” She stage-whispered, “A school girl.”
My God, she was lying. I was already going to be a whore. Take this man's hard-earned money, go to bed with him without love. Why add lying to it?
They came in view. Clara had her arm around the shoulders of a short little fat man who wore matching gray khaki pants and shirt. He looked Indian.
“Sugar, come over and say hello to Papa Pedro.”
I walked over as if I were being introduced in my mother's living room.
“Buenos días, Señor Pedro.”
His eyes left my flat chest and narrow hips. “Oh. Hablas español?”
My mind flinched at his use of the familiar. It should only be used between family members, close friends and lovers, according to my high school teacher.
“Sí. Yo lo puedo hablar.”
“Okay, Sugar. Take him in the back and show him a good time.”
Bea's voice hacked through from the corner. “Yea, Pedro. If she don't give you enough, you can see me after. Remember the last time?”
His glance didn't stay two seconds in her direction.
Clara took us both by the hand. “Come on, you two. You're wasting time.” And drew us to my bedroom door. “Get in there and have fun.”
I found my voice. “Viene con migo, señor.”
He stood in the middle of the floor, looking like a bemused Akim Tamiroff. I had to say something but didn't know how to say “take your clothes off” in Spanish, so I asked how he was. He said well. I pulled off all my clothes during the long pause and he opened his pants. Dignity rode his face bareback.
I washed him and all I remember of my first great slide down into the slimy world of mortal sin is the scratching of the man's zipper on my upper thighs.
At sundown Bea washed her face and spent a few minutes in Clara's bedroom. She came out clicking her purse shut.
“I'm nearly shamed to show this little money to my daddy. I've spoiled that man.” She looked at me, and without the cosmetic she was ten years younger. “How you feel?”
I didn't know how I felt. I said, “All right, thank you.”
“Clara, you ought to get the news over to the camp. Tell them that you got a cherry. Maybe that'll stir up some tricks.” She walked to the door, shaking her hips from side to side. “You won't be a cherry long, little girl. Better git it while the gittin's good. See you all in the morning.” She slammed the door behind her.
Clara followed and snapped a double lock, then drew a chain across the door.
“Sugar, you better take a long bath. Put some Epsom salts in the water. Take out the soreness.”
I said nothing because I thought nothing.
“Don't worry, you didn't do so good today but then, you're just starting. I'll give you a few tips. Don't take off all your clothes. It takes too long. And remember, the men come here to trick, not to get married. Talk to them dirty but soft. And play with them.”
She hmphed to herself.
“You got it easy. I was turned out with white men. They want to talk all the time. They tell you how beautiful you are and how much they love you. And wonder what you're doing being a whore all the time they're jugging in you and paying for it. Then when they get finished they got the nerve to ask you how you liked it. And talk about your freaks! White men can really think of some nasty things to do.