Caribbean Adventures of Yanel

by Lina Rodriguez

  

Yanel picked up her bag from the carousel and stepped out into the Caribbean heat for the first time in many years. The dry heat was tempered by a light breeze that came in from the ocean, not more than a quarter mile from the airport terminal.

A cabdriver approached her and said he would take her anywhere she wanted to go. Yanel gave him her grandmother's address and he claimed it was near his very own home. As they drove down the Las Americas highway, which runs along the coastline, Yanel tried to remember the last time she had been here, but nothing seemed to ring a bell.

Half an hour later, they pulled up to her grandmother's house. It was located in a poor neighborhood, but its modest architecture was complemented by an uncommon level of detail in furnishings. Yanel's mother prided herself on making grandma's home the prettiest in the barrio.

A week had gone by when Yanel decided to familiarize herself with the rest of the city. Walking to the busy intersection a half block from the house, she hailed a cab and asked the driver to take her on a nighttime tour of Santo Domingo. After driving by all the monuments and tourist sights, the driver took another route back home – via Maximo Gomez Avenue. As they stopped at a traffic light near an enormous cemetery, Yanel noticed a handful of transvestites standing near the entry gate, soliciting motorists.

Once home, all she could think about were those girls at the cemetery. Who were they? How much money did they make? Why weren't they in a gentleman's club, like every other Dominican prostitute?

The following night, Yanel told her grandmother she'd be late. She put on a tight-fitting rayon dress over her natural-looking C-cup breast forms and a pair of 5" stiletto heels, and took a cab to the cemetery, carefully approaching the four girls who were waiting to be picked up. Two looked very passable, the third was so-so and the fourth one was about six feet tall and had caked on makeup all over her face.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of them asked.

"Name's Yanel. I'm new in town and looking to survive," she answered.

"Where you from?" the tall one asked.

"No point in lying. New York. My family threw me out for being a faggot."

"Don't matter. We've all been there before. Here's the deal: You charge no more or no less than the rest of us, and there'll be plenty of customers to go around."

"Why are you on the street and not in a club?" Yanel asked.

"The clubs take half your fee, girl," the youngest one remarked. "Out here you keep it all, and the customer pays for the room."

Twenty minutes later, a dark blue Montero slowed down as the girls approached the street. The driver, a man in his forties, signaled towards Yanel and told her to get in.

Yanel was a bit apprehensive, but the girls claimed to know the guy and said he was harmless.

"You're new, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm from the south" Yanel answered. "Where are we going tonight?"

They drove to a nearby motel, and the man jumped into the shower while Yanel ordered a beer through room service. When he came out of the bathroom, he climbed into the bed and started undressing Yanel.

She let him take control, as he removed all her clothes and left her naked on the bed. Suddenly, he took her cock into his mouth and starting sucking gently. Yanel was shocked. It had been years since she had received a BJ and this was the last thing she expected to happen.

The man caressed her body as she lay there; trying to make sense of the last few days and wondering what the fuck she was doing in a motel in Santo Domingo. Within minutes she released a load into his mouth, which he swallowed with delight. He then got up, put on his clothes and handed her a thousand pesos, approximately $25 dollars.

Yanel's new friends couldn't believe he had given her a thousand pesos to suck her off. That was a new record among them, and at least two of them weren't to happy with the news. Yanel was picked up one more time, this time by an overweight, middle-aged man who came instantly once he was inside of her. Another thousand pesos and they were on their way back to the cemetery. The girls stayed out there until 3 AM, at which point they invited Yanel to join them at a local club where they would wrap up their "shift."

They spent the next 45 minutes trying to stop a cab, to no avail. Finally, one did stop and they all piled into the rotting carcass of what once was a Toyota Corolla. Ten minutes later they were on the Malecón, waiting in line to get into the club.

As she entered the club, Yanel was taken aback by the scene inside. Hundreds of young girls, hustlers, stood by as half drunken men singled them out, as if they were picking apples at the grocery store. Her new friends ushered her to the rear bar, where they introduced her to Marcelo, a handsome bartender who escorted them into a VIP lounge where they could get away from the meat market.

Marcelo took an immediate liking to Yanel. He told her that he worked here weeknights and then went on to a much better club, an upscale alternative club called Aire, on the weekends. Yanel was having a hard time staying awake when Marcelo offered her a ride home. It was nearly six in the morning and the sun was about to rise.

Yanel climbed into his car, an open-topped jeep, and barely whispered her grandmother's address into his ear before falling asleep.

Marcelo woke her up with a gentle tug on her arm. They were idling in front of grandma's house. Yanel scribbled her number in lipstick on his windshield, kissed him on the cheek and sleepwalked into the house.

  

  

  

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