A Baptist Girl’s Innocence Goes Down in a Blaze of Fire

The music from Santana’s Abraxas album filled the room while a tall black woman sauntered down the runway and looked at the customers through half closed eyelids. Ani had heard “Black Magic Woman” many times since it had first been played on the radio, but she had never thought of the words in this manner. She could feel the pull of the music and of the woman as it touched something deep inside her, and she almost felt sorry for the men in the room.

Black Magic was the epitome of haughtiness. Her long muscular legs bore her around the stage with such a regal bearing that Ani half suspected the woman had once worn a crown of some sort. Her silhouette was like an hourglass, yet each muscle was firm and defined.

Standing behind a pillar, Ani marvelled at the color of the woman’s skin as the lights reflected off of it, catching points and hollows as she turned and moved. Browns morphed into blacks and back into gold, making the men drool. If she had any blemishes, her color concealed them and gave her skin a smoothness of tone that the white women lacked. Every single movement was languorous and sexual, yet so full of remote disdain that Ani wondered what attracted and captivated the men.

Seeing a black woman naked was not something Ani had ever expected to see and she gathered that most of the men in the room had felt the same way. Thinking back, Ani knew she could count the number of black people she had seen in her entire life on one hand. For some in the room, their count was probably more like zero.

When the song switched to “Oye Como Va”, Ani came out of her reverie and glanced around her section to see if anyone needed a beer. She was astonished to discover that no-one was paying the slightest attention to their drinks unless they felt the need to wet a throat that had gone dry from panting.

Shrugging her shoulders, she spared a glance in the bar’s direction. Ed leaned nonchalantly against the beer coolers, while Syd hung over the swinging half-door that separated the stand-up bar from the serving area. She could see Pete leaning against a pillar on the upper section, and it took her a minute to find Hank leaning against the far wall. Every single eye in the house was fixed on the woman who glistened under the bright lights.

She had removed a long gold sheath during the first song to reveal a gold spangled bra and a matching g-string that glittered like fish scales as she moved. Gold metallic bracelets wound around each of her upper arms, while smaller gold bangles jingled against one another at her wrists. More gold was wrapped around her ankles and she had smeared gold makeup over her stomach and thighs. Her neck was encircled with layers of thin golden bands that made it look long and the overall effect was almost tribal. As the hot lights beat down on her, she shimmered.

A myriad of colors sparkled around the dark room as she reached behind her and undid the clasps of her bra, sending the palettes that covered it into a spasm of movement. As the material fell away and exposed her nipples, a collective gasp echoed throughout the room.

Ani felt her mouth fall open as the woman turned to face the audience and her nipples came into view. Ani almost took a step forward to improve her own view and stopped herself when she realized that someone might be looking at her. Instead, like everyone else in the room, she strove for a better look at the woman’s nipples and the surrounding areola.

Taking a deep breath she felt a twinge deep inside her which caused her to fumble slightly with her serving tray. On the stage the woman’s breasts were beautiful and globular, the nipples standing out tightly, their deep brown color almost shocking in the harsh glare of the spotlights. As she twisted and manipulated her body with supple ease, the room held its breath; waiting for the g-string to come off. Black Magic almost seemed to be dancing for herself, and Ani found her own lip clenched between her teeth as she waited with the rest of the room.

Again, the dancer bent and swayed her butt around in circle eights, tantalizing and teasing the crowd with the perfect orbs of her buttocks. Not only was it perfect, but it exemplified the buttocks of  black women to perfection. There was many a man in the room who might have been happy with that performance alone, but when, mysteriously, the g-string was no longer there – a raw roar went through the room and sprung back from the low-hanging ceiling. Each craned neck and bulging eye yearned for a closer look at the wiry hair that nestled between her legs. The woman was no fool and had shaved her pubic hair into an arrow that pointed directly between her legs. In the end, they all wanted the same thing – and she knew it.

In one smooth movement she lowered herself to the floor and crawled along the runway like a jungle cat. She flicked her tongue at the men who leered from the safety of their tables and pawed at them with shiny red fingernails. Drawing it out, she worked both sides of the stage until she finally reached the bed. With languorous ease, she slid onto her back and spread her legs into a wide V shape. Men almost lunged onto the stage when her labia came into view but she ignored them. Instead she took her time and showed them everything they had only imagined in the darkness of their rooms and dreams.

When the music ended and the speakers eked out the last notes, she slipped into her cover-up and held her head high as she retrieved her music and departed.

The room suddenly took on an emptiness and some of the customers stared into their beer glasses, obviously in another world, and some hurried for the bathrooms at the top of the stairs. Others boasted amongst themselves which soon developed into an argument. In moments the braggarts were pushing back their chairs and Ani was treated to her first bar fight.