"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." - Humphrey Bogart as "Rick Blaine" in Casablanca (1942)
"Several night clubs in the Robtown Central Business District have been raided by the new ethical crimes police unit codenamed: Cockblockers. The unit was formed less than a month ago after the Sexual Entertainment and Indecent Conduct Bill was passed into law. In its base form, the bill outlaws pornography and goes on to ban exotic dancers while strengthening penalties on prostitution. However, critics of the law have said that it can lead to the incarceration of an individual for infidelity or promiscuity.
"Last night's raid affected well known clubs such as Leonida's, Honey's Angels and The O (Orlando 3000). The raid targeted mostly patrons and exotic performers as the owners and staff were left to go about their business. No property was damaged although the owners cried foul and claimed damages.
"Neither the spokesperson for the unit nor the police could be reached for comment. However, there were mixed reactions from the public with sharp lines being drawn…"
It was another 30 minutes before she was done with the news report. By the time she was alone in her office, Jamia the popular television news anchor felt weighed down. She was young, beautiful, successful and married. She had everything that a woman could want. She wasn't greedy, she knew she was lucky, but she just wasn't happy; not at that moment. Recently that feeling had been returning more often. She dreaded it. Dreaded to face the truth. Had she married too early? Was she with the right person?
There was a sharp knock on the door and almost immediately it was thrown open. Even before she turned she knew who it was… Sophia.
"Hi girl. Whatchu doin'? Why the long face? Are you okay? You look terrible."
"I'm-"
"I know just how you feel. Imagine I got benched again. That skinny bitch Judy..." She was talking a mile a minute and Jamia knew better than to interrupt. So she put on a worried face and listened to her friend lament her misfortunes because though exaggerated, they were legitimate. Several times she wanted to say, "I know a whole nation of girls dying to be in your shoes. You should be thankful just to be here." But she didn't believe that.
Sophia was saying, "…and you're coming with me, right?"
"Coming where?"
"I don't know where. Anywhere."
"I can't. I have to go home to-"
"So you're going to let me go out alone. You're going to leave me hanging in my time of need. Abandoned and rejected by everyone. After all I've done for you. My heart bleeds. I thought I was your best friend."
"Fine drama queen, we'll go. But only for a short while. I really need to be home and besides," she looked at her outfit, "I'm not dressed for wherever it is we're going. Have you decided?"
"No, but lemme make a call and find out."
She picked up Jamia's phone dialed a number and waited as it rang. The second it was picked up she said, "This is Sophia. What's the plan?"
***
He walked straight over to them and without as much as a greeting said, "The first thing we gotta do is get rid of these girly drinks." He picked up their Martinis and was gone as quick as he came.
He returned with three tumblers looking like they had Clint Eastwood's urine in them.
"What's that?" Jamia asked.
"I'll tell you if you drink it."
"No way am I drinking that if I don't know what's in it. Besides, I'm not looking to get drunk tonight. Thank you."
"I'll make a deal with you. We play a drinking game and if I win, you drink up. If you win, I drink yours and mine."
"Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me. What kind of drinking game?"
"It's called questions. I ask you a question, you ask me a question. Simple yes or no answers only. Doesn't have to be the truth. You have five seconds to ask a question and five seconds to answer. If you can't do that, you lose. If you repeat a question you lose. One fall. You can go first, Sophia will be the judge."
"I don't..." She was going to decline, but he looked into her eyes flashed a smile and for a split second she thought she saw something there. Contentment. An inner peace where there should have been youthful ambition or filthy lust. For the first time in months she did not feel threatened. Suddenly there were questions in her head. Questions she had to ask.
"Are you always this forward?"
"Yes. Has the game started?"
"Yes. Do you have a job?"
"Yes. Do you know it's six o'clock in the morning?"
"Um...No. Are you trying to trick me?"
"Yes. Have you asked me that before?"
"No. Are you retarded?"
"No. Are your breasts real?"
"Yes. Do you live with your mother?"
"No. Are you a virgin?"
"No. Do you know that you're a loser?"
"No. You wanna sleep with me?"
"Never. Were you abused as a child?"
"No. Do you know what you want?"
***
Despite herself she was starting to have fun. Suddenly every song that was playing became "her" song. She was all over the dance floor sliding and screaming like she was alone in the shower. She sang along to the lyrics of songs she'd never heard before. Carried away, she rubbed herself against every guy within reach and taunted them seductively.
By now she'd drawn plenty of attention to herself and a ring of spectators - all men - had formed around her. She didn't notice. She decided it was time to lose the clothing and proceeded to take off her coat while swinging her hips in huge circles. Her "fans" had stopped dancing and were now completely focused on her; cheering so loud it drowned out the music.
She touched her shirt buttons suggestively and they responded with a loud roar, now screaming "Haki yetu! Haki yetu! Give us our rights!"
She unbuttoned the first one, moved to the second one and hesitated, staring at it and appearing to reconsider.
"Haki yetu! Haki yetu!" They continued to chant frantically. As if they might convince her not to change her mind. "Haki yetu! Haki yetu!"
She reached up with both hands as if to cover her chest but instead grabbed the lapels of her shirt and ripped it clean off. Her arms and legs were stretched out so that her whole body formed the shape of a star and her head was thrown back. Her breasts strained against the lace bra and her stomach contracted as she took a deep breath and screamed, "I'M KING OF THE WORLD!"
No one heard her . They were all cheering, clapping and high-fiving. Each had fantasized about the "goodies" that lay underneath that conservative buibui many times. Each had pictured himself undressing her and now each was beginning to hope that his wildest dreams would come true. Every single male in that room was beginning to hatch a scheme to beba Jamia. To take her home.
She was oblivious and unsatisfied. She needed a pedestal. Looking around she spotted a table, but because of her long skirt, she struggled to get on top of it . They cheered. Obviously annoyed with the skirt, she reached behind her back and undid the button and the zip. It was still tight so she wormed her way out of it slowly holding it down at the thighs. This action made her body sway and her breasts juggle with every movement. They cheered even more. Anxious to get a good look, they inched closer to the table. Some were instinctively reaching into their pockets for cash.
The skirt was at her ankles now and she was all legs and lace and breast. She stepped out of it and held it up like a trophy and was applauded like a champion. "Haki yetu! Haki yetu!" She swung it round her head gathering momentum to throw it deep into the crowd. She swung it faster and faster and as she did the room began to spin. Faster and faster. "Haki yetu! Haki yetu!" Everything was blurry and the noise seemed to have died down. She felt extremely light as if she was floating and then… darkness.
