My client list was growing and I needed more product. Getting cigars out of Cuba was the problem. There was a $1000 limit on the total amount of cigars you could take out of the country. I guess I could purchase a few boxes in the Duty-Free store after clearing customs but retail prices were crazy expensive. Another solution would be to bring a travel companion from LA but the upfront costs would double.
I finally made it back to Havana in late spring and Enrique, who preferred to be called “Harry,” was there to greet me. When I arrived at Manny’s I was taken aback when I found my room occupied again but this time his guest wasn’t checking out until the following day. Manny was willing to inconvenience me again rather than lose a day’s rent. It’s a recurring theme in Cuba. Greed always “Kills the Golden Goose.”
It’s whatever they can get today and to hell with tomorrow. But maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I asked Harry to find me another casa particular. He said his friend Ronny had a private house in Miramar I could have for $25 a day. It sounded perfect so I told Manny I’d be at another location for a few days and we left.
Casa Ronny was in a small apartment complex but his place was fully furnished and very private. I was alone there with no interference from family or the prying eyes of neighbors. Every time you entered or exited Manny’s building all of the neighbors were watching. If they see anything suspicious, they are expected to report it to the local CDR. (Committees for the Defense of the Revolution).
It took me a couple of days to get acclimated to my new digs. I was glad Harry had a car because the area was mostly residential and there were no bars or restaurants within walking distance. On the corner of 42 y 45, the locals sold espresso and “chicharrones” in the morning along with some pastries. It usually held me over until Harry arrived.
One morning I woke to the sound of pouring rain. I opened my front door and low and behold there was a cute young girl with shoulder-length brown hair sweeping rain into a drain. Her soaking wet, see-through blouse revealed pert little titties with quarter-sized areolas. I stood there transfixed staring at this beautiful young woman in the courtyard.
I waved her over and she shyly stood in front of me holding her broom with the loud rush of falling rain surrounding us. I smiled and said “como se llama.” “Ida,” she replies with an affectionate smile. I asked her if she liked ice cream. Te gusta helado?”
“Si,” she replied.
“Vamos!, tu y yo con Enrique en treinta minutos.” I said. She laughed and said “Si” to the total stranger standing in front of her. Another surreal experience was about to unfold.
Harry returned as scheduled and parked in front of the house. When he beeped his horn, Ida bounded out of her house shaking her little ass and gave me a wave. She jumped in the backseat of Harry’s car and we were off to Bim-Bom ice cream parlor on 5th Avenue. I couldn’t take my eyes off this sweet little piece of ass.
Harry and I ordered chocolate cones and little Ida ordered a hot fudge sundae with nuts. Watching her eat it was a treat in itself. She had whipped cream on her upper lip several times and several times I tried to lick it off but she shyly pulled away. Harry had known Ida since she was a little girl and agreed she developed into a beautiful young lady.
When we finished our little ice cream charade, Harry dropped us back at the apartment. As we were walking through the yard, I asked Ida if she’d like to visit my house later and she nodded yes. Sure enough, later that day there was a soft knock on my door and little Ida was standing there barefoot, in a tight tee shirt and short jean skirt.
I turned on the TV and we nervously watched an early evening Spanish soap opera. Well, she was watching TV and I was watching her. Not able to communicate, I thought, what the fuck and took her by the hand and walked her into the bedroom. I took off my clothes and climbed into bed.
Without missing a beat, Ida went into the bathroom and a few minutes later emerged wearing only a towel wrapped around her petite frame. She laid down next to me and with a coy smile reached out her hand. I tugged softly on the towel and it opened like the blossoming petals of a spring flower.
We gently kissed and as expected, her lips were velvety soft. I tried not to rush the moment but I couldn’t wait to get my tongue between her milky thighs. When I licked her nipple and it stood erect. I trapped it between my teeth and held it there as I flicked my tongue over the blood-red tip. As her eyes slowly closed, I gently kissed her soft tummy and followed a thin line of dark hair that ran below her waist.
I rolled over and opened her legs. I wrapped my left arm around her right thigh and with my left finger and right thumb I opened the gates of heaven. Her swollen clit was exposed to the world now and I licked the outer lips of her pussy in an up-and-down motion until she unconsciously, wantonly, spread her legs wider. “Orgasmo?” I whispered.
“No,” Ida whispered back.
“Si Ida, Ahora!” I said.
My long warm tongue squirmed inside her pussy. I trapped her rosy clit between my upper and lower lips and licked it up and down and back and forth as fast as my probing tongue would move. When her hips began to writhe up and down, I knew I had her where I wanted her. I buried my face deeper into her sex and wrapped my arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape the volcanic explosion that was about to follow.
It was the continuous, rhythmic, up-and-down licking on her little pea of pleasure that soon had the little nymph moaning with desire. Her hips started to hump my face, up and down as she held the back of my head with both hands. Faster and faster and then it happened… She arched her back and tried to pull my head inside her pussy as she let out a shriek of delight and filled my mouth with her warm love juice.
She was spent and I felt somehow satisfied although I hadn’t released my sexual tension. All the same, we lay there in silence, her head on my chest. I looked at her lying there, eyes closed and felt a kind of sadness wondering where she would be in a year, or five years. If she would ever get out of this country and experience all that life had to offer.
When she left, I watched her walk across the courtyard and into the front door of her apartment. I knew we would never be together again. I guess she would just become another amazing experience that would be strung together with the other experiences of my life. I had to constantly remind myself I was on fantasy island to do a job and the job had to be done. If I was to survive myself, I had to streamline this business and maximize the opportunity at hand. I had to control whatever was in my power and not worry about things that weren’t like politics.
Tensions between Havana and Washington were heating up after an international incident earlier in the year. Cuban fighter jets shot down two US airplanes over Cuban territory. They were private pilots flying for the Miami-based dissident group, “Brothers to the Rescue.” They were conducting missions dropping anti-Castro leaflets over Havana. They had made several previous trips violating Cuban airspace until they were finally intercepted.
A third plane in the group managed to escape into US territory. The Cubans in my circle didn’t seem to care. Most hadn’t even heard about the incident. They were focused on survival, not international affairs. Cubans get all of their news from state-run media so they only hear what Castro wants them to hear.
Yeah, Cubans are being fucked again by the United States,” Harry said. “Clinton signed the Helms-Burton Act which tightened the U.S. Embargo.” This came several weeks after the “Brothers to the Rescue” incident. The Helms-Burton even penalizes foreign entities doing business with Cuba.
There were even some U.S. allies denouncing the Helms-Burton Act as a violation of human rights. But the United States does whatever it wants. The US embargo was put in place by the Kennedy administration and will only be lifted if Fidel Castro and his brother Raul step down from power and Cuba moves toward free elections. Meanwhile, the Cuban people continue to suffer, not the Cuban government.
Brains storming with Harry on viable alternatives to getting product out of Cuba, I came up with a great idea. On my first trip to Cuba, I sent two boxes of cigars by DHL to Ernestina, my travel agent in Tijuana. A week later I drove down to TJ and picked them up. I figured why not ship my boxes to Tijuana and bypass Cuban and Mexican Customs? Then I could drive them over the US border at Tijuana.
The following day, I had George pick up five large shipping boxes from DHL. I spent the day packing 25 boxes of cigars I got from Juan Carlos. George and I took a taxi to the DHL office in Miramar. On the shipping forms, I printed “libros” (books) as the contents. It only cost me $100 to ship the five boxes, but of course, it never goes according to plan.
The following morning, I got a phone call from the United States. It’s my brother James calling from Los Angeles to tell me I had received a call from the Customs Agency in Mexico City. They left a message that they have 25 boxes of Cuban cigars held at their office at Mexico City Airport. To retrieve the boxes, I would have to pay the Mexican import taxes. Now I’m fucked!
Some of those boxes were prepaid by clients and now have to either refund them or make it good on my next trip. There is only one thing to do. The cost of returning to L.A. and coming back will make this venture a wash so my only choice is to ask James to wire me the money to fill my order and return with the stash.
Now I have added risk and a lot more pressure. I have to return successfully with everything plus a few added boxes to make up for the Mexico City loss. James already has skin in the game so he reluctantly agreed to send me $800 via DHL. They are the only international shipper that works with Cuba. I’d have to wait a few days with the few dollars I had left. How was I going to get out of this one?
George and I went to Barrio Chino (Chinatown) to think this over. We had dinner at Dos Dragones, a joint that’s been around since the 40s. Authentic Chinese food from one of the last great Chinatown restaurants. We started with the best oyster cocktail in the world. They dump about 12 oysters in a tall glass of tomato juice with a splash of Tabasco. As George likes to say, “It puts lead in your pencil, Chico.”
Out of curiosity, I asked George a question. “Do you remember the Superman show at the Shanghai Theater George?”
“Of course, Danny,” George said. “That’s where I used to take my customers to see the live show.”
“I remember the Superman scene in Godfather II,” I said. “During the scene, Superman appears on stage wearing a large red cape. Just as he pulls the cape open to reveal himself, the camera cuts to the gasping audience. Senator Geary: “I don’t believe it, that thing’s gotta be a fake.” Fredo: “That ain’t no fake. That’s real. That’s why they call him Superman.”
Supposedly, Superman boasted an 18-inch cock. He could place 12 silver dollars on his erect shaft. Each show started with a group striptease, and then one of the girls would be tied to a pole in the center of the stage. For the finale, Superman would come out clad in only in his famous black cape and remove it to the shock and awe of the audience.
A chick would suck him until he was hard and then, to the delight of the audience, he’d fuck the girl tied to the pole. There was audience participation allowed and the show got kinkier from there. George said he used to go backstage and see Superman stroking his dick, trying to get it up. He told George he used it too much and there was nothing left. In the days before Viagra, you had to rely on amphetamines or coke to stimulate yourself. George had seen it all in Havana’s glory days. C’est la vie!
The next morning, I was awakened from a deep sleep by knocking on my bedroom door. George was a little early but what the fuck…I didn’t want a full night’s sleep anyway. We grabbed a couple of cigars and went out on the balcony to enjoy the sunny morning and watch the street activity below.
It was after 2 p.m. when Malagra came out to tell me I had a delivery at the door. I signed for the DHL envelope and I excitedly told George we were going to the Nacional for a nice lunch. I threw the envelope on the bed and jumped into the shower.Now I had enough money to finish the cigar deal and enjoy my last few days.
George came in and said, “You better check the envelope, Danny, make sure the money’s there.”
“Sure George,” I assured him. “The envelope is still sealed and I’m sure the money is inside.” To appease him, I opened the envelope.
Inside the DHL envelope was another sealed white business-size envelope with my name scribbled on the front. I ripped open the envelope and there was a sheet of typing paper folded inside that read “In for a penny, in for a pound.” A saying James and I threw back and forth. But there was one problem…NO MONEY!!!
WHAT THE FUCK? The inside envelope was still sealed… how the fuck did they get the money out of the envelope and reseal it? I picked up the phone and called James. “Did you put the money inside?” I asked. “Of course, I put the money inside.” He replied, in an angry tone.
“I thought so,” I said. But there’s no money in the envelope.”
Now I was really in a difficult situation. I had already borrowed several hundred dollars from Manny and I still had an order to fill. James called back and told me to stay in Havana. He’ll bring the money down personally the following week and check out Havana for himself. I agreed it was the best plan at this point. I survived by borrowing more money from Manny and by the time James arrived, I owed him over $600.
For his first night in Havana, James wanted to stay at the Hotel Nacional and I reserved a room from Manny for the rest of the week. On the morning of James’ arrival, I called my friend Angel and told him I needed some chicks to bring to the airport to greet my brother. “No problema,” Angel said. He said he could drive me and he’d have some hot chicks that would love to greet James.
Later that day, we drove over to Centro Havana in Angel’s dark blue Russian Moskvitch and parked in front of a tall apartment building. He said he would be right back and disappeared into the shadow of the entrance. I’m sitting there watching people walk by when suddenly Angel emerges with two girls in tow.
“Estas chicas son buenas?” Angel asks. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This motherfucker is standing there with two identical twin beauties. “WOW. Si, Si. perfecto,” I said excitedly. These two will blow his mind. I instructed Angel to tell the girls to be ready at six sharp and to be waiting in front of their building.
On game day, Angel met me at a little bar on the Malecón. We had a couple of beers while we waited to grab the girls. The anticipation was killing me. Twins! I’ve never done twins before. Shortly before six, we headed over to Centro Havana and pulled up in front of the twin’s building, and beeped the horn.
Angel toots again but the girls are nowhere to be found. I’m thinking, this isn’t good. Angel and I walk up to their door and the apartment looks dark inside. We knocked on the door a few times but nothing. Now what the fuck are we going to do? It’s almost time to head to the airport.
Angel grabs my arm. “No problema! Vamos! We spin around the corner from the twin’s joint and Angel toots the horn again. I look up at the balcony and two girls are standing there smoking cigarettes. Angel goes up and has a little chat with them and I can see them nodding their heads “yes.”.
When he comes back, he has a smile on his face. “Si,” he says. “Chicas en airporto.” Okay, maybe we can get out of this jam yet. We sat there, smoking our cigars and waited. About fifteen minutes later, two stunning chicas saunter out of the building. One of them introduces herself as Sara.
We spin around the corner and stop abruptly. Angel bangs his horn again and another petite beauty comes out of a dark hallway. A little blonde about 5 feet tall. She slips into the back seat with the other two girls and we head to Jose Marti Airport.
We arrived around 7:30. On the tote board it said James’ plane had just landed from Cancun. It would take him a good 45 minutes to get through Immigration and Customs so I go over to the outdoor bar and grab some beers. There were police everywhere, so the girls have to stay in the car.
When James finally came out of the airport, he had to maneuver his way through the usual crowd gathered at the exit door. Angel grabbed his bag and I handed him a shot of Havana Club rum and a beer and he jumped in the backseat with the three hotties. It didn’t take him long to get acclimated. I looked over the seat and he’s deep kissing Sara with his arm behind her neck and down the blouse of the petite little blonde.
Angel had found some ringers. Sara didn’t look Cuban. She said her last name is Simon, so maybe that explains it. Before the revolution, there was a large Jewish population in Havana she may have descended from them. As they all kissed and intertwined in the back seat, we drove through the blacked-out Rancho Boyeros on our way to the Hotel Nacional.
As we passed Manny’s building, George was standing in front. I yelled out the window to meet us across the street to the hotel. He didn’t hesitate. He was high-stepping it and almost got to the front door before we did. George didn’t want to miss out on anything, especially free food or drinks.
James checked into the hotel and before I could invite him to the Gulfo Bar, he was up the elevator with the three girls. How he managed that one is a mystery to me. Cuban girls are not permitted upstairs into guest rooms. Maybe he paid off the elevator operator. Not bad for his first night in Havana.
Israel was working the back bar so I took George and Angel for a nightcap. After a few rounds, Angel and George said goodnight and I walked down the Nacional’s long driveway in the direction of the Monseigneur. I didn’t feel like a taxi ride so I crashed at Manny’s. I lay in bed and watched the ceiling fan turning overhead. The sound of salsa music was wafting through the window from somewhere in the night. After all, this was Havana.
