0 comments/ 23839 views/ 7 favorites El Norte By: execuwriter The Star Dancer She was no longer bothered much by the leering faces of the men in the strip club for whom she would soon perform nearly naked. There were times when her mind turned the image of her audience into a mural, making her feel as if she were dancing alone before a depiction of the seamier side of life in early twenty-first century California. But more often, the image before her eyes was real, and she just accepted what she had been forced to become. Either way, those who loved watching her dance would be unable to resist her sad dark eyes when she slithered through the crowd to gather their tips. The memory of how her life had taken this turn flashed through the young woman's mind as she waited in the wings for the last dancer to collect her freshly shed undergarments from the stage. Her name was Salma Hernandez, until a few weeks before a Mexican citizen born and raised in the city of Tijuana, across the border from California. Her downfall had occurred quickly. Menial labor, the sex industry, and taking one's clothes off to the delight of drunken men were all things that happened only to poor Mexican girls, not to women whose family's were of some means. At the beginning of that summer, she had been living what in the United States would be considered a middle class existence. Her father, a modestly successful small businessman, had been able to provide well for his children and Salma, his oldest daughter, had just graduated from medical school. While waiting for a visa to the United States where she had been accepted for an internship, her country had gone into one of its economic tailspins and defaulted on its international loans. This time, however, the United States decided to take drastic action. With the acquiescence of the Mexican government, the U.S. Army invaded the family's home state, Baja California, and occupied the peninsula to extract its human capital. A severe shortage of unskilled labor existed in the United States and to remedy the situation, the American President ordered that 1,000,000 Mexicans be sent north and sold as chattel to individuals, government agencies, small businesses, and large corporations. The owners were obligated to feed, house, provide medical care, and clothe their newly acquired property while extracting whatever work they could without paying wages. The workers could not quit or refuse to work, but could be sold as property, making them slaves. The Mexican government signed a treaty agreeing to the expropriation and sale of a sufficient number of Baja California citizens into slavery to pay the country's creditors. . The rest of the country, jealous of the relative prosperity of Salma's state prior to the economic crisis and pleased that their own economic circumstances might ease, acquiesced to the brutal servitude imposed upon their brothers and sisters. Each slave's period of servitude would be three years. The majority of Americans, believing slavery to be unjust and inhumane, refused to allow immigration for the purpose of involuntary servitude. But California, whose populace had already been burdened by decades of legal and illegal immigration from Latin America, decided that addition of such free labor would be a boost to the productivity of its aging population and accepted the hordes of Mexicans. Her family, although shocked and angry over the state of their country, were apolitical and always had taken the economic downturns of their land in stride. An economic crisis might mean fewer Christmas gifts but no real changes in their lifestyle. They were chagrinned, however, upon finding that this time their bank accounts had been frozen to act as collateral against the country's debt. They were even more surprised when Salma's younger sister, eighteen year old Gabrielle, received notice that she would need to go El Norte. Since Gabrielle was still in high school and her parents feared the consequences of their beautiful young daughter living away from them in the United States as a piece of chattel, Salma volunteered to go in her stead, thinking it likely that her background in medicine would result in her being assigned to work in a hospital or clinic. Why she noticed that one of the girls at the assembly center was jaundiced she didn't know. Not wanting the woman's hepatitis to spread through the filthy cattle cars, in which the Mexicans would be shipped to the United States, she vigorously insisted that the girl be left off the transport and taken to a doctor. The guard to whom she protested hated Mexico and Mexicans. It made his day to separate the young physician from the rest and designate her for special treatment. What better place for an attitude adjustment to be made on this mouthy Mexican bitch, he thought, than the Southern California sex industry. It was perfectly legal-Salma would be bought or rented from the US government by a bordello owner, porno film producer, or strip club proprietor and the proceeds would be used to help satisfy her country's debt. After serving as a sexual outlet for American men for three years she was to be set free and sent back to Mexico. American laws were amended to deal with legal issues arising from the importation of human chattel. As property, constitutional guarantees of free speech, the right to due process, freedom from unreasonable searches, and the right to a jury trial did not apply to the Mexican slaves. A new bureaucracy was empowered to adjudicate criminal matters involving them, with appeals allowed only for the owners. Mistreatment or killing of the slaves was to be judged akin to animal cruelty, and those found in violation of a special code would be subject to a fine or forfeiture of their property. Salma had become satisfied with her lot at the strip club. What she did was not hard. The establishment was located in the Silicon Valley and had an upper class clientele. The owner was a decent man who did not make his slave women dance bottomless and even let them keep some of their tips. The United States had decided to vent its frustrations over corruption and economic mismanagement by its southern neighbor on her fellow Baja Californians. As Salma was transported to her place of work, she would see grim faced Mexican workers on highway crews being berated by their taskmasters. Beatings were said to take place out of the public's view. Her fellow countrymen did not resist, their spirit having been broken by their betrayal at the hands of their own leaders. Escape was nearly impossible. Internal transmitters linked to the GPS and a central computer had been inserted surgically into the peritoneal cavity of every slave, providing a record of their every movement. Punishment for escape was severe. The few who tried were soon broken by the floggings and long periods of solitary confinement on skimpy rations that were their reward for pursuing the natural right to be free. Even the humiliation of a young medical professional being transported from a barracks in chains every day to dance almost completely naked in front of a drunken crowd of her oppressors did not seem bad when compared to what others faced. She had always enjoyed dancing. Given her pride and competitive instincts, she performed with enthusiasm. Memories of more pleasant time blocked out the leering faces and helped her to ignore suggestive remarks from the customers. Tips that she secreted away enabled her to buy extra food that she shared with the other dancers. Her unaccented English and upper class demeanor was a turn on for many men. She enjoyed teasing them during table dances and laughed to herself when she saw the little wet spots on the bulges that had arisen in their pants after her performances. "Well, I know whom he'll be thinking about the next time he does it with his wife," she would whisper to herself. Salma thought her growing success as an exotic dancer was particularly ironic since she was still a virgin. She had enjoyed the kissing and fondling that occurred during the relationships she had before being enslaved. But she had not yet found a man good enough to make her break her vow to remain chaste until marriage. And as a devoted student of medicine subsumed in her studies, she had had no time to fall in love. She did not know how her life would change the night a new customer walked into the club. THE NEW FRIEND The evening that would change her life started slowly. The eyes of the few men in the audience were fixated on the stage watching brown nubile bodies gyrate as the slave women paraded before them, peeling off their clothes in a vain effort to liberate money from their voyeur's wallets. Polite applause would follow each woman's performance. But the sameness of the dancer's routines was only boring the audience. The dancers had already worked the small crowd and no new customers had come through the door in the past hour. The men who remained kept rebuffing the girls' approaches, their billfolds or patience exhausted by the cloying women who were involuntarily present to serve them. Only one of the dancers present could excite them, and it was for her that they waited patiently. Most of the girls were huddled together at one table, enveloped in a cloud of cigarette smoke, gossiping in their native Spanish. It was a tongue few of their Anglo patrons understood or cared to learn. Bilingualism was out of favor even among Americans of Latino origin, many of whom were abandoning their native tongue. Hispanic culture had become a laughingstock after Mexico dishonored itself by agreeing to enslave its citizens to pay off the debt it had accrued to its colossal neighbor. The dancers' staccato speech hummed in the background, almost drowned out by the blaring music to which the woman on stage stripped. The occasional guffaws from the slave women's table added a comedic aspect to the women's performances. There had been many such evenings recently, and Salma was concerned that if business didn't pick up the dancers would be taken out of their haven and assigned to something even worse. Finding tobacco smoke abhorrent, Salma had positioned herself far away from the other women, perching herself on a stool at the end of the bar next to an air conditioner. She gazed at the door through her tortoise shell glasses, hoping someone would enter and relieve her of the boredom that accompanied these slow nights. Her beauty and dancing ability attracted patrons who lead interesting lives or at least had good stories to tell, and time passed more quickly when she attached herself to such a man. Or maybe she brought out the best in them, for it was she whom everyone wanted to watch. The least likely of the dancers was the most entertaining. Teasing her patrons with her body was a game she played well. But never did she give them all they wanted. Salma watched a man dressed in a sportcoat and tie walk through the door and stride past the woman at the register, oblivious to the banner behind her that read 'COVER CHARGE TEN DOLLARS'. Before he could disappear into the audience, the cashier had to tug on the tail of his jacket to stop him. Credit card receipts fell onto the counter as he removed a ten-dollar bill from his overstuffed wallet to gain admittance, and he awkwardly replaced them into his billfold as the cashier stuffed his money into the register. Salma chuckled as the man stumbled down a step. Rather than being repulsed by his demeanor, she found it cute. Her best male friends were shy. Lacking what psychologists called social skills lead them to be candid, for they were without the wherewithal to posture and act macho. Shy people's isolation led them to think outside of the box, that is, to see the world differently than the glib confident people who usually got all of the attention. Once she had drawn them out, conversations were quite stimulating, and free from innuendo and lies. This guy might be fun. The man tentatively approached a table near the stage, but then looked around and stepped back, removing himself from the spotlight. Her experience told her that despite the awkwardness in his demeanor, hidden inside might be a capable individual who commanded respect in whatever was his milieu. The man spotted a table along the back wall and took a seat. He relaxed a bit until the waitress came over to take his drink order, and then looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. As the new customer watched the woman on stage jiggle her boobs in face of a patron sitting along the runway, Salma noticed him nervously tapping his finger on the table, with his right knee bobbing up and down. The sportjacket and tie he wore, though of good quality, did not match each other or his trousers. His face was handsome but his hair, though neat in front, stuck up in the back and his beard needed a trim. The top button of his shirt was fastened so tightly that she wondered how he could breathe, and it looked like his head was going to explode. When she looked into his eyes, even from a distance she could see that the lenses of his wire rim glasses were clouded with grime. The fourth finger on his left hand was not adorned by a wedding ring. Curious, Salma took off her glasses and strutted over to his table. His eyes widened as she took off her coverup, exposing the black thong teddy she wore underneath. Leaning forward on the back of the chair across from him, her breasts spilling out of the flimsy garment, she announced, "I want you to watch me up on the stage so you'll know exactly what you are going to get when you buy me a drink and I dance here for you." He looked at her and said nothing. She lingered at his table to let him admire her beauty, for she knew she looked hot tonight. Purple lipstick coated her lips and a thin stripe of dark blue eyeliner highlighted her eyelids. Mascara on her long eyelashes made her orbs deliciously sad. Shiny black pumps adorned her feet. Her long black hair was gently curled and descended below her shoulders. She sashayed over to the disk jockey's carrel and dug through his stack of tapes and CDs, tossing aside the recordings of the contemporary pop divas who offered nothing but gaudy outfits and suggestive lyrics. She guessed that the man to whom she planned to attach herself might be a fan of the Rolling Stones, and she enjoyed dancing to their songs. Amongst the CDs was one of the groups' greatest hits albums, and she presented it to the DJ to play. She mounted the stage and the spotlight tracked her as she strode to the center. Just before the music began, she flashed a toothy smile to the man she intended to seduce. 'Jumping Jack Flash' then blared over the sound system. Mimicking Mick Jagger, the famous lead singer of the group, she strutted back and forth across the stage, her mouth opening wide as she made ersatz vocalizations into an imaginary microphone. Her movements showed off her ample bust and graceful curves, enlivening the small crowd. Catching her breath as the song ended, Salma surveyed the audience. The man was having an animated conversation on his cellular phone; gesturing as if the other party was seated across from him, making her wonder if he had even seen her dance. Before the music started again he hung up and looked toward the stage, exasperation on his countenance. She smiled at him again and he smiled back, putting her mind at ease. She took little notice of the other men in the audience, even the ones who regularly tipped her. Why the new man's reaction mattered so much made her curious. She surveyed him again, and noticed nothing special. But that was it. His plainess bespoke a sincerity that was a rare trait among people today. He was not the least embarrassed by his appearance. He was sure of himself. Despite sensing that he was not quite in style, he seemed to know that whatever was good about him would shine through. Whatever he said or did for her would be from the heart. 'Honkey-Tonk Woman' began playing. It was during the second song that the dancers shed their clothing. She had started out wearing less than usual and, to keep her audience's attention, would play the tease by removing the teddy deliciously slowly. As her torso went through an array of serpentine movements, her fingers toyed with the shoulder straps, moving them on and off her shoulder, and all the while she sported a lascivious smile. As the music played on her movements became more overt and her audience witnessed larger and larger portions of her breasts become visible. She finally let the garment fall to her waist, but hid her breasts by folding her arms in front of herself. She then spun completely around and her arms fell to her sides, allowing those on either side of her to view her nipples in profile, while the men directly behind saw her bottom twist and turn to the music, as she ground her pelvis into an imaginary crotch. She suddenly turned to face them; again hiding her breasts behind her folded arms, and then flung her arms to her sides to the cheers of the crowd. She finally shed the teddy, revealing only a black g-string underneath as the song ended and the music paused. While she was removing her teddy and exposing her bosom, the new customer had abandoned his table in the back and taken a seat along the runway. The third song began to play. She moved to the spot onstage closest to her target, turned her back to him, and began undulating her pelvis in his direction while lightly caressing her torso, finally bending over to tell him peek-a-boo through her legs. Then getting down on all fours on the stage, she crawled to within inches of his face, looked him straight in the eyes, and began mouthing the words to the song, 'I Don't Get No Satisfaction.' She was not surprised when a ten-dollar bill materialized in his hand, which he gingerly inserted into her garter belt as she sat before him on the runway with her legs spread apart. As she came through the audience after her set and thanked everyone who had tipped her with a kiss on the cheek, he called her over and asked her for a table dance. She ran back to the dressing room, giddy over the invitation to dance from the stranger. Hardly any time passed while she retouched her face and slid back into her teddy. Though the stranger was different from all of the others, she still did not understand why he seemed so special. Perhaps it was his resemblance to her mentor, her cousin Antonio, a professor of anthropology. Salma enjoyed his discourses on the last years of the Aztec Empire and the fall of Montezuma, as well as about what might have happened in the Americas if the lords of the Valley of Mexico had studied the invaders and adopted their ways instead of worshipping them as gods and becoming their slaves. Shy and bookish, Antonio was in love with a history professor who had divorced a man who had been unfaithful to her. Her cousin was a devout Catholic, so Salma knew the two would never marry. Her cousin and the woman to whom he was devoted came together to family functions and they had been inseparable for ten years, but everyone who knew them doubted that they had ever even kissed. Her heart sunk as she wondered if either would be sent to El Norte. She returned to the dance floor and sat down at the table to which he had retreated, now feeling as awkward as he did even being in the bar. His eyes surveyed the curves of her body but for some reason she did not find his gaze uncomfortable. "Would you like a cigarette?" he asked. Eager to please her new acquaintance she nodded yes, even though she didn't smoke. The stranger opened up a new pack of cigarettes. She fumbled to get one out and just held it between her fingers, hoping that he would forget about the need to light it. But he took out a pack of matches, so she put the cigarette in her mouth and leaned forward for a light. El Norte Ch. 02 LONGING FOR HER NEW FRIEND A few minutes later Salma bade the man farewell and returned to her dressing room to prepare for her next set of dances. She removed her semen laden undergarments and held them to her nose, inhaling the scent of a man for the first time, imagining becoming pregnant and bearing the child of a loving husband. But when she returned to the stage her new friend was nowhere to be found. The bouncer came over to collect the money the man had paid for her company, and she transferred the twenty dollars from her hand reflexly to his as she surveyed the bar; the thought that their mutual pleasure was to the owner of the bar merely a commercial transaction not entering her mind. At first she was beset by panic over her friend's departure and wondered if he would be forever lost to her. But upon realizing if he could not afford her company for the rest of the evening that he would see her pass from man to man performing table dances, to best preserve what they had shared it was necessary that he leave. But where had he gone? To another strip bar; no, he was spent. To his wife; there was no wedding ring nor would any woman let her husband be seen in public dressed like that. Would he ever be back? She hadn't even found out his name. Worst of all, she ached to be taken into his arms for one last embrace and share a passionate goodnight kiss. But she hadn't even gotten that! Tomorrow, would he feel like a fool for having been intimate with a stripper? She hoped not. Maybe he had somehow sensed that this was not her bag. The magic of the evening was finally broken when the girls were chained together to be taken back to the barracks in which they dwelt, sequestered from the good people of California, only allowed to mingle among horny perverts whom the dancers would try to get to part with their money thus helping to retire their country's debt. The stranger failed to appear for the next two nights. None of the other dancers had ever seen him before. Salma was detached during her performances. The manager gave her a pep talk, warning her that there were less desirable places to which she could be sent if her dancing remained sub par. The other women told her to put her disappointment behind her, but she could not let go. Each night he didn't appear she would cry herself to sleep thinking of him and fantasizing about the life they could have had together. On the third night she was sitting alone at a table between dance sets, avoiding the company of the customers. Thoughts of sneaking out of the door into the night and throwing herself off in front of a car ran through her mind. She craved a glass of wine, but awash in a sea of liquor there was no way could she have a drink. Her mind drifted between thoughts of suicide and proudly showing off her new American friend to her family in Mexico. But he was nowhere to be found. She felt abandoned, but why? The man had no obligation to her. Would she feel the same about him if she were free? In her old life, the thought of a man obtaining sexual gratification in a place like this would have been repulsive. But he was different. She seemed to have taken advantage of him. He seemed painfully shy and vulnerable. Maybe he had just ended a relationship. After her three years of servitude in America were over, she would track him down. In the United States of America, if one had the money, anything was possible. Thinking how she would be a rich doctor someday and use her money to track down the man who had given her her first orgasm momentarily lifted her spirits during this, the darkest time of her enslavement. Such hopes would have to keep her going until she was set free. THE STAR DANCER GETS SOME COMPANY The movement of the chair next to her interrupted her brooding. Her mood was uplifted as a familiar voice asked if he could buy her a drink. Her face became aglow as she saw her new American friend sit down next to her. "You must have a lot of company on the nights you dance. So if anyone special comes in just say the word and I'll leave." Salma had already taken his hand into hers. She wondered how she looked tonight. Too sleazy might turn him off. After anticipating his arrival every night since she had first danced for him, she had been taken by surprise and was without a plan. Panic set in. Her heart pounded as she contemplated her next move, as if she were the queen and he the opposing king on a chess board. But this was not a man to be conquered or dominated. He was sincere. There would be no games or pretenses. The thought of throwing herself at his knees and begging him to take her away came into her mind, but such a man needed someone strong; someone who had both confidence in him and herself. Only when love was consummated with such a woman would he overcome the shyness that imprisoned him. Calmed by this realization, she set about to win the man's heart. "I've only been working here a few weeks and you've been my best customer. Didn't we have fun together the other night?" Her friend blushed. Embarrassed, he changed the subject. "Let's order our drinks now. Did you enjoy the tequila or would you prefer something else?" "The tequila was fine. But as much as I need a drink now I don't think you came here to buy me a drink, watch me dance, or even have me get you off again." Her friend looked stunned. Hoping that she would not frighten him away, she continued, "I know something special happened to me the other night and I sense that you feel the same. My only concern is how we can continue this." A long pause ensued as the two contemplated each other. The man then leaned over and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was long and passionate. When their lips parted Salma was dizzy. After a few seconds she began to giggle. "You make me feel like a teenager. And by the way, my name is Salma." He extended his hand and replied, "Richard." He then ordered their drinks. After the waitress left the table Salma seized her friend's glass and took a gulp of tequila. Emboldened by the fire water, she stood up and faced Richard, her crotch almost at his eye level, just a foot away from his face. Clad only in a black bra, matching panties, and black thigh high hose, her pelvis began to undulate to the slow beat of 'Only You.' The eyes of the man she now knew as Richard became fixated on her crotch. He felt her right index finger under his chin gently lift his head. She leaned over until his face was silhouetted by her hair and flashed him a smile to tell him everything was all right, that all she expected was that he should enjoy watching her dance, her gift to him for coming into her life. Her arms glided forward and she placed her hands on the back of his chair to steady herself. The undulations spread from her pelvis into her torso and then through the rest of her body. Her eyes were now closed and her facial muscles relaxed as if she were almost asleep, but the corners of her mouth were turned up and her lips slightly parted as if she were in the midst of an erotic dream. Her torso sunk slowly until her breasts were brushing against his chest as she swayed to the music. Her nose lightly touched his and after letting out a giggle, she planted a peck on his left cheek. Becoming more playful, she stuck her tongue in his ear and he let out a laugh. Suddenly becoming bashful before her red faced friend, she moved away, delicately stroking her torso as the rest of her body twisted and turned in rhythm with the music. When the song ended she collapsed on his lap and kissed him, extending her tongue deeply into his mouth. By this time the eyes of all the patrons were on them. The crowd broke into applause when they finished their kiss. Richard blushed as Salma gave thumbs up to their audience. When the noise died down and the men turned their attention to the next dancer, Richard asked Salma, "Are you working Saturday night?" "They occasionally give us days off and Saturday is mine. But if you are planning to be here it would please me to spend the night dancing for you." He hesitated before saying, "I think you have the wrong idea. I wanted to take you out on a date." Salma's expression turned downcast. "I thought you knew I'm not an American girl. I can't just leave my barracks and tell them I'm going on a date." She pointed to her slave collar. "Do you not know what this means?" Richard was perplexed and struggled to find the right thing to say. "Of course I know what it means. But if you're here to serve Americans there's no reason you shouldn't serve me." He was immediately embarrassed over what had emanated from his mouth. An expression of pain came over Salma's face. "I, like most Mexicans, am a mestizo, meaning I have Indian blood. That makes me a little bit more American than you." Richard's face turned red. His tactless remark had aroused her anger, but she had not wished to make him ashamed. She hoped he would not leave. "You're right. It's terrible that we had to find each other this way. But you're the most beautiful woman I have ever been with. You've made me feel good in a way that I've never felt before. I've just been on top of everything since I met you. It's like you've put me in control. I'm confident for the first time in my life. "You know and I know something wonderful is about to happen between us. You don't belong here. We need to be together. There has to be a way for us to be together alone." A tear came to his new friend's eye. "I can get away but it's going to cost you. They rent us out by the hour. I'd pay for it myself but I have only the few dollars of spending money they allow us each month. But if you rent me won't that make me a prostitute?" She then buried her head into his shoulder and began to weep. "These are extraordinary times. If two people can find love together, isn't it worth sacrificing a little dignity?" Salma looked at him awestruck. Did he just say he loved her? She wanted to ask him to repeat himself but was afraid that his words would come out differently. But then the DJ called her name. It was her turn to go on stage to dance. She stood up to take her leave, but first turned to Richard. "I'll be ready for you on Saturday night. But please don't think of me as a whore." "You've nothing to worry about in that regard." He planted a soft kiss her on the lips and got up to leave the bar, leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table to pay for her dance. "See you Saturday night!" he called to her as she strutted to the stage. THE DATE Enthused over her upcoming date, she danced with special enthusiasm the next two nights. The owner even took her picture for a billboard ad, making her wonder if her unwanted fame would follow her if she someday ended up practicing medicine in these parts. She dreamt that Richard would somehow take her away from her life in serfdom, but in her more realistic moments, it would satisfy her not to be stood up. As their date drew near Salma wondered what she would wear. Her wardrobe consisted of two prison smocks and the dancewear she shared with the other women at the club. Another practical concern was her hygiene. The women at the barracks were only permitted to shower before and after dancing, making bathing before her date on Saturday night problematic. Therefore Salma decided to use her meager finances for a bribe. Salma actually was relatively well off for a slave. The proprietor looked the other way, allowing the women to leave with a small portion of their tips, which at first many stashed in nooks and crannies around their encampment and later gave to the owner for safekeeping as they came to trust him. Salma had become an expert at teasing generous tips from the patrons. A weekly cigarette ration was given to the slave women and not being a smoker, she was able to barter her allotment for cash and favors. Her meager savings would now come in handy. She had befriended one of the Anglo guards by correctly diagnosing and suggesting treatment for her daughter's illness. The woman was happy over her charge's good fortune to meet a man and agreed to help her. Salma gave her the money she had saved to purchase clothes and cosmetics. To obtain a shower Salma would feign a headache and be removed from the barracks for an ersatz trip to sickbay that would instead lead to the shower house. On Saturday afternoon she received a package when the friendly guard arrived for duty. The woman had done well for Salma. Inside he package was a black sleeveless blouse, flowing white pants, a simple black belt, strappy black leather sandals, and a silver chain for outerwear. A black bra and matching bikini panties were for underneath. There was mousse and a fine shampoo for her hair. Her friend was also kind enough to supply dark red nail polish that would match her lipstick, foundation, blush, purple eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner. There was even a bottle of perfume and a tiny black purse for the cosmetics. Far from taking some of the slave woman's money for herself, the woman had clearly gone into her own pocket to make her young charge presentable. Salma smiled and began crying as she gazed at all the pretty things and gave her friend a hug. As she expressed her thanks, Roberta, the guard, interrupted, "Coming here day in and day out seeing you women who were taken away from your families, children, and country makes me feel like a monster. I am a poor woman who lacks the courage to fight against the system. Shopping for these few little things made me feel like a human being again." Salma then experienced the headache as scheduled and the two women went off to prepare her for her date. They felt like teenage girls getting ready for a dance as the young physician fixed her hair and put on makeup, hoping to be beautiful for her new friend. At five o'clock Salma was brought to the administration building. Her smile contrasted with the grim expression of the guard who escorted her, but her face soon matched his when she did not see her new friend. She was whisked into an empty room and locked inside. Rather than waste a few pennies by turning on the ceiling light for the slave woman, a guard opened the shade on the single window in the room. Light from the late afternoon sun shone in, but along with the illumination came heat, and the room quickly became stifling. Time passed slowly and she became convinced that her preparations had been for naught. Dozing as she sat in a metal chair, she dreamed of the first night they met, remembering the special feeling with which she had been overtaken upon first laying eyes on Richard. She heard garbled male voices from afar, and wondered to what form of abuse she would be subjected if she were found alone and abandoned. The sound of footsteps going up and down the hall increased her unease. As her wait grew longer, the warmth she felt for her friend turned into resentment. Her eager anticipation of a few hours of life in the normal world was turning into a tremendous letdown. As the sun went down and the room grew dark, she fought the urge to pound on the door and scream. Were the guards haggling with her friend over the price? How would her friend treat her outside the club? He would treat her wonderfully, she thought, if he showed up. Finally she heard a key enter the lock and the door opened, making her squint against the bright light from the hall. Her face broke into a smile and tears came into her eyes as a guard pointed for Richard to enter the room. Before he could cross the threshold, she ran out and threw her arms around him. The two kissed and Richard looked into her eyes. "I've never seen you in clothes before." His joke made her blush. "They're my only set." The two began laughing and kissed again. "I'm going to take you out of here now," he announced. The two left the room hand in hand. As they walked down the hall, Salma looked adoringly at her beau. Richard stopped at the front desk. "I'm sorry you have to see this but they wouldn't let me do it earlier." She turned her head as Richard took out his checkbook and paid her rent to the commander of the guard. So I'm on the rental program now, she thought. In a detached tone she inquired, "How much was I?" "Enough, I hope, to make you feel like a human being again." Salma leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and they walked through the chain link fence out of the encampment. She felt giddy experiencing freedom for the first time since being taken away from her home in Mexico. They walked arm in arm down the street, and she examined every parked car, wondering what make he would drive. He wore a sport shirt, tan pants, and sneakers. His hair needed to be trimmed, his beard was too long, and food from lunch was still visible on his teeth. His appearance from a distance would be quite stylish, but up close he just didn't quite fit in. She remembered the first time they laid eyes on each other at the strip club when she accepted his offer of a cigarette despite neither of them being smokers. Why was he there in the first place? To afford to take her away from the barracks he must have some financial means. But what did someone like this do for a living? Maybe his parents were wealthy but he was too maladroit to have a girlfriend. She had seen rich louts with too much money but he seemed too serious for that. Had he recently broken up with a woman? That thought pleased her but she hated that someone could be so cruel to him. Maybe he was a computer whiz. He was too straight looking for that. Was he a doctor like her? Could be, but would he tell her? And would she harm his reputation by being seen with her, an enslaved stripper from Mexico? She smelled his breath and it was a little strong. She laughed to herself as she considered that one explanation for her good fortune might be the distaste of Americans for the natural smell of a human being. She was very relaxed and had already made up her mind to let him do anything he wanted to her tonight. But when she looked at his face, she could see that he was still tense. It might be one thing for him to enjoy her company at the strip club but another to be seen walking arm in arm with a woman wearing a slave collar. Maybe they should have just continued their relationship at the club. But so exhilarated was Salma by her taste of freedom that they would have a good time together, whatever it took on her part. They finally reached a parking garage and headed toward the elevator. The facility was used by people commuting to day jobs and by now was mostly empty. They entered the elevator. The car was surrounded by glass on the outside giving a view of the city as one ascended. Salma saw the sun hanging just above the hills on the western horizon and then looked south. Somewhere beyond the mountains was her homeland. She remembered how happy her parents had been when she graduated from medical school. She had had no contact with them since coming to the United States. Telephone conversations between Mexicans and Americans were monitored. Cell phone links between the two countries were broken, preventing a prepaid phone from being surreptiously utilized by a slave. Internet links were monitored and mail was opened and censored to thwart any plans for an uprising. Her world was limited to televison, the barracks and the strip club. She could not bear to look upon the vastness of California to which she as a slave was denied access. She turned away and faced the door of the elevator. Tears came to her eyes. She watched the floor numbers increase as their car ascended and looked down at the control panel to see upon which floor they would alight. Her eyes stopped on the red button that was labeled "EMERGENCY." All that mattered now was how things went between her and the other passenger in the elevator. Despondency over the life she had lost in Mexico would get her nowhere. She knew what she had to do. El Norte Ch. 02 Her arm shot out and she smashed in the red button. The car jerked to a stop between floors and the buzzer sounded. She turned to Richard, who stood before her with his mouth agape. TO BE CONTINUED... El Norte For a moment she thought that if she could get the cigarette lit without coughing too much she might be able to feign being a smoker, but her ploy did not work. As the acrid smoke reached her lungs she coughed violently and the cigarette fell out of her mouth, landing first on the table, and then on her leg, causing her to jerk back and nearly fall out of her chair. She looked at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry but I don't smoke. I used to work with sick people and I know how bad it is." The man broke into a broad grin. "I don't smoke either. But I thought the girls here would all be smokers and that they'd be more comfortable if they thought they were with a guy who was a smoker too, but I didn't count on the most beautiful dancer not being one. "I'm sorry, but I never get off on the right foot with women. Forgive me for thinking you're not smart enough to know that people shouldn't smoke. I guess I have a long way to go to be cool. Can I buy you something to drink?" Now relaxed, Salma replied, "I'd like something but all you'll be able to get me for your ten dollars is a watery Coke. They don't let us have any alcohol." She eyed the shot of tequila that the waitress had placed in front of him. "Here, drink this. I can tell you want it." She looked around and not seeing the bartender's or the bouncers' eyes on her, she downed the shot and enjoyed the warm feeling the forbidden treat gave her as it went down. A sense of detachment that she had not known since reporting for transportation El Norte came over her. She eyed the man next to her and no longer feeling like a slave, fantasized that he would ask her out for dinner. Maybe he was a government official who could end her nightmare. But she was brought back to reality when he said, "I guess I should buy you that obligatory Coke now." The waitress brought the Coke and Salma wondered if the bartender had spat in it. She looked over to the bar and, seeing that he was busy, decided he probably had not even thought of it. It compounded her sense of worthlessness to realize that many of those who despised her people did not even feel they merited the time it took to torment them. Her new friend ordered another shot of tequila and she sensed that the drink was meant for her more than for him. She gulped down her soda leaving only the ice and found her friend discretely pouring liquor from his glass into hers. The buzz from the tequila made her amorous. She moved her chair next to his and laid her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up against him. As she felt herself begin to lubricate, she noticed a bulge in her companion's trousers. But where to sneak away to make love? Slaves could not leave the bar without permission; the consequences of an unauthorized departure would be severe. He could pay the bartender to take her out to his car but that would make her a prostitute, and the thought of her parents' reaction to their daughter losing her virginity to a customer in a stripper bar made her shudder. She put her hand on his pants and he discretely covered it with his coat. Her hand wandered until it located his erection and she began fondling his penis. He sat stiffly, as if this new level of intimacy was unwelcome. Realizing that he might not be intending to pay for sex, she whispered, "Don't worry. The only things that I charge for are the drinks and the dancing. This is on the house." Upon hearing her words, a smile came across his face. Imagining how his caresses would feel after he took her away from her life of involuntary servitude made her giddy, and the wetness emanating from between her legs embarrassed her. The man was still a stranger, so caution was needed. But she was inexperienced, having done little beyond exchanging kisses with her dates, and caution was far from her mind. Thoughts of intimacy filled her mind. The thing her hand was massaging wanted to penetrate her. Still a virgin who had never known the pleasure of orgasm, she had always feared the pain that having a man inside of her for the first time would bring. But this fear was now alien to her, for at this moment what she wanted to feel was the thrust of his organ in and out of her wet pussy, to watch his passion build, and then to obtain pleasure herself from the sight of his tension turning into contentment as his seed spilled into her. If his pleasure was great enough, he might rescue her from the misery in which she lived. Sensing it was time to perform for her new friend; she stood up and grabbed his empty shot glass, went to the bar, and held it before the bartender, who again filled it with tequila. She walked back to the table, brazenly downed her third shot of tequila, thrust the glass into the air for the bartender and bouncer to see, and loudly slammed it down on the table, drawing the eyes of the other customers. "If I have any more of this stuff, here's where I'll be dancing!" she proclaimed, pointing to the table top, and then demanded of her patron, "I need twenty dollars to do a dance for you." He obliged by pulling a crisp twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and then folded it lengthwise, in the style that strip club patrons used to proffer their tips. She lifted her foot onto his chair, placing her bare leg against his torso and her garter within easy reach. With a bit more confidence, he lifted the elastic band off her leg and placed against her naked flesh the perfectly folded bill that would ensure she would dance just for him. The tempo of the music picked up as 'Staying Alive' by the Bee Gees blared from the speakers. Salma knew that the dance she was about to do might change her life. Catching the tune, she began swaying to the music. Her movements became more vigorous as the beat quickened. Slithering next to him, she teased her new friend with her body, allowing him to feel only her warmth but not her touch. The song would last perhaps five minutes. Outwardly cool, she fretted that she would do something that would make her unworthy of him. When the music reached its crescendo she gracefully turned, showing off her backside. Placing her hands on her head, she began swiveling her pelvis, leaning back farther and farther. Upon making contact with his crotch, she planted herself on the lump in his pants and fitted it into the groove between her labia. She rocked back and forth, using his phallus as a tool to excite the tender flesh that was begging to be pleasured. Her most intimate parts began to tingle. Beneath her, the lump in his pants had grown into a little mountain. It became an instrument to make the tingling in her pelvis stronger. Her movements became quicker and more forceful as she lost control and was overtaken by lust. Her jaw dropped and her body stiffened. Rubbing her pubis against the mountain between his legs became the singular purpose of her existence. It mattered not what other people saw or thought. Now all her pleasure seemed to be emanating from the nubbin of flesh just above the point where her labia joined, the structure she knew to be her clitoris. She sat so the rigid mass beneath her pressed on the tiny spot that felt so good. Her rocking motion ceased, replaced by squirming that would send her to climax. Suddenly her pelvic muscles began contracting repeatedly. She could not stop herself, nor did she want to. The pelvic contractions slowed and her body relaxed. All tension had been flushed from her. He had given her her first orgasm. She began to undulate her pelvis against the rigid mass between his legs to the beat of the music, trying to act as if nothing had happened, not wanting him to know that he had pleasured her, embarrassed that she had had her first orgasm while doing a lap dance for a man in a bar. Soon she noticed that her bottom was wet and his penis was becoming limp. Surprised, she turned around and saw that the tension had now melted from her friend's face. That she had made him have an orgasm made her feel naughty. She smiled sweetly and sat down at his side. He put his arm behind her and she settled back, feeling safe nestled against him. A few minutes later Salma bade the man farewell and returned to her dressing room to prepare for her next set of dances. She removed her semen laden undergarments and held them to her nose, inhaling the scent of a man for the first time, imagining becoming pregnant and bearing the child of a loving husband. But when she returned to the stage her new friend was nowhere to be found. The bouncer came over to collect the money the man had paid for her company, and she transferred the twenty dollars from her hand to his reflexly as she surveyed the bar; the thought that their mutual pleasure was to the owner of the bar merely a commercial transaction not entering her mind. At first she was beset by panic over her friend's departure and wondered if he would be forever lost to her. But upon realizing if he could not afford her company for the rest of the evening that he would see her pass from man to man performing table dances, to best preserve what they had shared it was necessary that he leave. But where had he gone? To another strip bar; no, he was spent. To his wife; there was no wedding ring nor would any woman let her husband be seen in public dressed like that. Would he ever be back? To be continued...