Buenas Madrugada by Judge Santiago Burdon

Judge Santiago Burdon, Punk Noir Magazine, Short Stories

PhotoFunia-1591088957Buenas Madrugada 

She just looks at me with these big charcoal eyes and doesn’t say a fucking word. She’s got a beer in one hand and a joint in the other and she’s sweating like a whore in church. The motel room has the AC cranked . It’s so cold you could hang meat. She stands there naked and paralyzed with fear. There’s another “Angel of the Night” passed out naked on the bed. The knocking at the door continues. It’s not the typical Cop knock . In the United States, Colombia and Mexico the Policia golpea con fuerza (knock with force).  But I’m in Perez Zeledon, San Isidro, Costa Rica and the knock is soft and unassuming. I begin to laugh at the bizarre spectacle taking place.

The knock is now accompanied by a male voice. ” Hello, it’s the Hotel Security please answer.” He orders. Just the security guard, I got this I tell myself. “Voy” I yell. The panic stricken girl takes refuge in the bathroom locking the door. I answer the uninvited visitor with a cheerful “buenas” after opening the door. ” Señor, I had a complaint about noise coming from this room.”  Who would complain about too much noise. I hear music loud talking and laughing leaking out from other rooms flooding the predawn darkness with sounds of precipitation. I make a sincere effort to handle the situation without causing a confrontation. “Yes no problem. I’m sorry for the disturbance.” I say in Spanish. “And a question. Is it possible you could give me a beer?” He asks. “Of course no problem.” I grab a cold cerveza and hand it to him. “Anything else sir?” I say. “If you have a cigarette I would like that very much.” He begs. I give him a couple of smokes, he shakes my hand and nods his head in a grateful manner. “Good night or morning.” I say while laughing. So the reason for his visit wasn’t about the noise. It was purely a search to satisfy his vices. Gotta love the Ticos constant quest for immediate self gratification and without ever saying “porfavor or gracias”.

I knock on the bathroom door. “Andrea todo bien mi amor. It was just the Security Guard asking for a beer. Everything is ok. Open the door Diosa.” I whisper. I hear the lock click and I turn the knob trying to open the door but she has blocked it with wet towels. I push with force and it gives way. I see her cowering in the shower shaking with a terrified expression. “Baby what’s going on with you? No more coca porti. Come’on Diosa get outta there. Take an oxaforte, it’ll make you feel better.” I offer “Bigotes soy muy high!” She informs me.

“I know baby, come on now. Who takes care of you?”

I have known Andrea for 5 years. She stole my heart the first time I spent a night and 50 dollars with her. It was Quepos Costa Rica on the Pacific coast when her cousin Diana introduced us. Sometimes there’s this connection, a fire, electricity between two souls. And there was truth in her flame no doubt in her spark. Unfortunately it always becomes convoluted and gets messy. The sheets , the libretto, the emotions and living. “I had her trapped between my skin and my soul”. Mana, Rayando el Sol.

She stands still holding the beer and joint then hugs me not with affection but with the emotion of a child seeking security. “You’re safe baby. You trust me , right” I say.

 “Si papi siempre contigo ( yes always with you).” She answers. I carry her to the bed and take the unlit joint from her hand but she refuses to relinquish the warm half can of beer. Yaneth, my other companion and friend of Andrea, wakes then heads to the bathroom. “Que hora es Bigotes? Es madrugada?” She yells from the bathroom. “Si yo creo. I believe so. And please keep it down. The Security Guard was just here complaining we are making too much noise.” And just as I ask her to be quiet and not play the music loudly she cranks up the volume on the TV and the music screams. She begins dancing and it’s difficult to stop the sexual display. Naked , with a body that would make men beg for just one chance to touch her gossamer skin. She’s fucking gorgeous and every move defines sensuality with refinement . I give Andrea an Oxaforte and Ambien to take the edge off. She swallows the pills with a hit of beer and gives me a tender kiss. ” Go ahead, I know you want her. I will watch.” She says. “It’s ok? Just me and Yaneth without you?” I ask.

 You must understand that there’s an etiquette or code of conduct when dealing with prostitutes, especially Ticas. A special client or boyfriend such as I am to Andrea is considered property or a possession. It’s a depraved twisted relationship where the doctrine only applies to my actions and not hers. She is a working girl and can fuck anyone she chooses for of course a price. Which is on a sliding scale depending how much she likes the client. Although if I fuck someone else especially a friend of hers, that’s a violation of the terms of the supposed agreement .

I was involved with a Tica off and on in a liaison de amor for a couple of years sometime ago. Vanessa was a working girl that considered my involvement with another woman as a betrayal . “If I fuck other women you say I am cheating on you. But it’s ok for you to fuck other men and I am suppose to accept your behavior. If you fuck other people then I fuck others.” I stated.

 “NO ! You fuck other women to have pleasure. To have an orgasm and pay her for that. Sex with others for me is work and not for pleasure.” She refuted. Of course I never believed for a moment that she didn’t at times enjoy her work. I just don’t subscribe to that type of logic. And so ended that relationship. However I discovered that school of thought was a widely practiced rule by many.

Yaneth continues to dance rubbing her tits against my face placing my hand between her legs. “VENGA BIGOTES FUCK ME! ” She implores. Andrea pushes me toward Yaneth. She buries my face in her breasts and sways gracefully to the music. “Un Chino porfa BEBE!” Yaneth demands.

Now a Chino for you rookies is yes the word for a Chinese person in Spanish but in street lingo it also identifies a cigarette minus some tobacco with cocaine added in and smoked. It’s a pleasant high which I prefer over smoking crack. Crack instantly takes me to a level of euphoria that makes it impossible to function socially.

I comply with her request and twist up a monster removing the filter and inserting a small piece back in its place. I look at Andrea and she appears relaxed having opened another beer. I can’t believe she’s still awake. She smiles and extends her hand for me to pass her the Chino. “I don’t think so baby. A half-hour ago you were freaking out. Wait a while and pass on this one ok?” Then it happens! A Tica pissed off for being told what she can and cannot do by a man is considered disrespectful. She objects with a display of anger that would make a weaker man tremble in terror. “Who are you to tell me no! You’re not my husband or my father. You can’t tell me what to do.” She screams. I immediately hand her the Chino and strike a flame with the lighter and she inhales then passes it to Yaneth. She takes a hit and passes back to Andrea completely by-passing me. “Hey what’s going on here? What about the Gringo? Are ya gonna share?” I protest. They both start laughing and hand the chino to me. Yaneth starts kissing Andrea and pulls down the sheet uncovering her Goddess like naked body. Now we’re back to the original game plan I say to myself. I take a short hit and pass it back to Andrea who blows me a kiss. “Te amo Bigotes.” Andrea sings. Just at this moment in time, it can all change in the flutter of a Butterfly’s wings. “Yo tengo tu amor. I got your love. Yo tengo tu amor. Yo tengo tu love.” The song serenades from the music video on the TV. Who said the darkest hour is always just before the dawn? They were so far off course. “Buenas madrugada.” I say.  Hope there are no interruptions.