The next day I got up late and went straight to the retail store and bought a 4-pack of Montecristo No. 2 Cigars and sauntered out to the back patio for a drink. Down the sidewalk near the edge of the bluff, a booze cart was parked next to the cannon placements from yesteryear. The area was nicely groomed with tables and wooden benches to view the royal blue Gulf of Mexico across the street. Ivan the bartender stirred me up a Cuba Libre and I sat on the bench with a stogie and planned my next move.
Down on the Malecon, it appears that the regular means of transportation for the average Cuban these days is the bicycle. Ivan looking every inch a bartender from the 1950s in his starched white shirt, black pants, and burgundy vest told me the government bought a million bicycles from China and distributed them to the Cuban people to help them deal with the pressures of the “Special Period.” There are very few new cars on the streets. Mostly originals from the 1940s and 50s. The only new vehicles seem to be government-owned tourist taxis and buses with HabanaTour printed on the side.
For bar hopping around the city, there are bicycle rickshaws available that can peddle two people short distances. It amazes me that Cubans have been able to tolerate this dire situation for so long. When the country was supported by the Soviet Union it was livable for those who worked for the state and had access to pesos and monthly rations.
In the afternoon I made my way upstairs to the bar and billiard room. The bartender who worked the room was Israel. Neatly dressed in his starched white shirt, black pants and vest; he carried himself like a seasoned barkeep although he couldn’t have been a day over 25. He spoke perfect English and made delicious margaritas. I found it interesting that drinks were only three dollars in a five-star hotel and three dollars in dive bars around town, but I wasn’t complaining.
Considering I only brought about eight hundred dollars in cash, I went to the lobby to see if I could get money off my Gold credit card. It didn’t take long for me to realize that there was no way to get money off of credit cards if they were issued by a U.S. bank. The first glitch of the trip. I would need to call my brother David and convince him to wire me money.
The next day, I made the dreaded call. He agreed to send me one-thousand dollars but it turned into a fiasco. David had to send the money to an office in old Havana called the Assistir office. Sending money from California, it had to go first to an international bank in New York, where of course they took a fee, and then to Montreal Canada, another fee, etc.
After several days, the bank in Canada would send the money to Havana and once it arrived there, the Assister office would take their fee as well. Out of the $1,000 he sent, only $820 arrived in Havana for pickup. But I was thrilled to be solvent again. Havana quickly turns from paradise to hell when your money runs out.
I went down to the office on El Prado and picked up the money which offered me a lot of new opportunities. After a nap and shower, we went out to the backyard of the hotel and had a Cubano sandwich and billed it to my room. Then took a walk down to La Rampa to see what was what.
As soon as we got to the corner two girls approached me. One of the girls was a petite blonde who introduced herself as Marga and her friend was a cute coffee-colored Mulatta girl named Nelsie. I was immediately attracted to Nelsie with her stunning smile, bright eyes, and thick black hair tied back into a short ponytail.
I invited them back to the hotel. “imposible,” said Nelsie, reminding me that Cubans were not allowed into hotel rooms. They said they would come back at nine o’clock and they knew someone who worked at the hotel who could sneak them upstairs. We kissed and they said “hasta luego.”
Around 8:00 pm I went to the video room, had a couple of drinks then headed up and took a shower. After I shit, showered and shaved I walked down the driveway at exactly 9 o’clock to see two beautiful young girls standing before me. They were dressed up like they were going to a presidential ball, which kind of stunned me a bit. Nelsie was wearing a flowing red dress and oversized heels that I didn’t particularly like.
It was obvious Nelsie was trying to make herself look older for me but it negated her natural teenage beauty. It made her look like a hooker in her mid-20s. Nelsie told me to go to the front of the hotel and ask for Oscar. She knew him from her barrio in Old Havana and said he would escort her and her friend up to my room on the 7th floor.
Sure enough. I found the tall, Russian-looking Oscar and he told me to repeat the same routine as the night before. He said there are two rules, “I know,” I replied. “I have to pay $60 and the girls have to be out of the hotel by 5:45 am before his shift ends.” Then I decided I’d just spend the night with Nelsie. I could catch up with Blondie down the road sometime.
Well, it was déjà vu all over again. Like before, the room was dark and no sooner was Nelsie in the door that she sultrily removed their red dress, letting it drop to the floor, and slowly crawled onto the bed wearing only her underwear. Cuban girls don’t leave much to the imagination. She put her head on the pillow, took her bra off and lay there in her little white panties that almost glowed against her dark skin. I could see her large erect nipples standing up in the shallow light.
Her firm breasts stood up from her chest and her areola’s were swollen with erect nipples on top, long and hard, just as I like them. From the side, they looked like little chocolate ice cream cones with cherries on top. Considering I couldn’t have a conversation with her, I just leaned over and started sucking on them.
I slid my hand underneath the elastic band of her panties and brought my middle finger to rest in the crack of her pussy. As we kissed, I began to softly stroke her little twat in an up-and-down motion. With each stroke, I pushed my middle finger deeper into her cunt. She placed her right hand over mine and pressed down as she began to squirm, wiggle and hump. I had her just where I wanted her.
Before long, Nelsie had her legs spread and knees raised in an inviting posture. I pulled her under me and got on top like an Olympic wrestler and I pushed myself inside of her tight little pussy. When she wrapped her arms and legs around me our souls melted together in a rhythmic copulation of ecstasy.
I fell into a kind of euphoric dream world where pain and sorrow didn’t exist, only happiness and joy. We became one body, neither male nor female in a squirming motion of ecstasy and love. Our perfect union was shattered by the loud ringing of a phone. Moments later there was the echoing sound of knocking on the door. It was Oscar calling us home from Shangri-la.
I motioned to Nelsie to get dressed quickly and to buy a few more minutes, I opened the door a crack and handed Oscar three twenty-dollar bills. From my limp shirt pocket on the floor, I pulled another $20 and tucked it in Nelsie’s hand. We agreed to meet later in the evening and she slipped out the door. Another night in the city of sin I thought to myself. Alone again, I felt a kind of sadness. This place is like a giant bordello mixed with sadness and joy.
The following morning, I was up and at’em by nine. After a Cappuccino on the patio, I made my way up to the cigar store on the second floor to price out some sticks. It was a very small room but they had a large and varied selection of cigars. Montecristo No. 2., Partagas Serie D #2, Cohiba Robustos, Ramon Allones Specially Selected and they even had the hard-to-find Hoyo de Monterrey Double Corona’s.
The prices ranged from 160 dollars on up with Cohiba being the most expensive. Now that I had the price range, I knew I had to keep aside at least $400 for cigar buying. Cuban cigars would make a nice gift for certain friends and I’m sure that no one I know has ever tried an authentic Cuban cigar. After about an hour at the pool, I went up for a nap before dinner.
I started the evening at the video bar. My boy Ivan was working the night shift so I sat down and ordered a Cuba Libre. The room was dark with the only light coming from the TV mounted on the wall in the corner of the room. Oddly, a Cuban girl was sitting at the end of the bar chatting with Ivan.
After several glances in my direction, Ivan came down and asked if I wanted another drink and told me that the girl sitting in the dark asked if I would buy her a drink. “Sure, why not,” I said and lifted my glass in her direction. She smiled and waved.
The next thing I knew the mystery girl was sitting next to me. “Well, here I go again’” I whispered to myself. She offered me her hand and said “Angela.” “De donde eres?” she asked. “Estados Unidos,” I replied and her eyes lit up. “Wow!” For an instant, I bet this broad envisioned herself living in a big house in Florida with a pool and a new car in the garage.
She had an elegant beauty to her almost a classy look. Dark eyes with thick shoulder-length hair. Her skin was white, almost alabaster, with lips painted red to draw attention from a deep scar above her right eye. Maybe she worked in the food service business considering she was still attired in her white blouse, navy skirt, and black pumps.
After a few minutes of small, and I mean “small talk,” she took my hand and walked me to a booth in the dark corner of the room. We started softly kissing and I wrapped my arm around her neck and the other I slid into her blouse and began to massage her soft white breasts and hard nipples. After fondling them for a few minutes, she gradually worked her hands between my legs and started rubbing my rock-hard erection through my pants.
She unzipped my fly and my prick popped like it was on a hydraulic spring. Angela didn’t waste a second and grabbed ahold of “Junior” and began a nice, even, up-and-down stroke on him, with her tongue still buried deep in my mouth. The scene was indescribably graceful and erotic.
She continued to softly jerk me as I kept one eye on her and the other eye on our mutual friend, Ivan the bartender. I didn’t have to worry about her picking my pockets. I left my wallet in the room and my twenty spot was buried deep in my front pocket.
I leaned my head back on the booth and she just kept stroking it nice and easy. I slouched down a little so our impassioned kissing would not be interrupted. Suddenly I had to blast and I turned toward her in time to shoot my load over her bare legs and across the front of the naugahyde booth. Angela jumped up and went to the bar for napkins.
Since Cubans are not allowed into a hotel unaccompanied, this girl after all could very well be Ivan’s girlfriend or even his wife. Who the fuck knows? The putz could have brought her into the bar tonight to make a few extra bucks for the family. And if she’s just a friend, he gets a commission. Either way, he wins.
She cleaned up the mess and we made our way back to the bar in the same two seats where this whole thing started. Lucky for us, no other guests had come into the video room. But it was so fucking dark in there, they probably wouldn’t have noticed us anyway.
There was a rack of candy bars behind the bar and I called Ivan over and ordered us another round of drinks and a large candy bar for the senorita. After I paid the bill and tipped Ivan, all I had left was a sawbuck so I handed it to the dame. She immediately started whining about a hija at home and money for a taxi bla, bla bla. I told her I’d have to go upstairs to my room and grab more cash.
I finished my Cuba Libre, kissed Angela on the cheek and told her I’d be back in a few minutes. Her eyes followed me to the elevator directly across the hall. I went up to the seventh floor and walked into my air-conditioned room at the end of the long hall. “Fuck it,” I thought. I peeled off my clothes and lay on the bed with the soft humming of the air conditioner filling the room. “Another crazy night in Salsa town,” I said to myself and turned off the light.
My two weeks were winding down and I only had two days to figure out how to pay the hotel bill. And it wasn’t just the room bill that worried me, but the tab for all of the meals, drinks, and incidentals I charged to the room. I made my way to the front desk and asked for a subtotal of the bill.
When the printer finally stopped spitting out pages, they handed me the total in a manilla folder. I looked down at the invoice and immediately back at the front desk where the entire staff was standing and looking in my direction.
I went out to the patio, ordered a cappuccino and sat down to peruse the bill. My only hope was my unused Gold Mastercard I kept for emergencies. But it was a Mastercard and they don’t take American Mastercard but I had to try. The only other option was to call home for more money.
The following afternoon, I went to the front desk and told the girl I’d like to pay my bill for room 714 and nonchalantly handed her my Gold Mastercard. “I’m sorry senor,” she said, “but we don’t take credit cards drawn off of American banks because of your embargo”. She could see the fear and desperation in my eyes.
I stood there wishing I could be instantly transported to an island a million miles away or magically transform into one of the rich foreign tourists that were piling through the front door, flush with cash and useable credit cards psyched up for a week of fun in the sun.
I thought about calling my brother again but knew that he wouldn’t like it and the aggravation wouldn’t be worth the call. Probably easier to go to jail for five years in Cuba than deal with the drama. The front desk sensed that I was worried and kept their eyes on me as I paced back and forth across the lobby.
I thought about my options. I could make a mad dash to the airport and try to get out of the country before they knew I was missing, but that was a big risk. If I were caught, I’d be thrown in jail, for who knows how long.
With very few options available to me, I waited about thirty minutes and went back to the desk and asked for the manager. Several minutes later a beautifully manicured Latina woman walked up to me and asked if I needed help. I explained my dilemma. “My first time in Cuba and I did not know the hotel didn’t accept American credit cards. “I know it’s because of the stupid embargo that the United States has imposed on this poor country for so many years,” I said.
She miraculously asked for the Gold Card once again and told me to sit down in the lobby and wait. She disappeared into the back office. I sat there nervously for about thirty minutes until she returned… with a receipt for me to sign. Somehow, someway, she made it work. I grasped her hand and said, “Mucho, mucho gracias”! I gasped a sigh of relief. For the final two days of my trip, I could pay with the cash I had left from the money transfer
With only two days left on my trip, I needed to get serious the last few days and take care of my cigar business. Unfortunately, I had to cut Nelsie loose to get it done. I had plans to meet her and her friend at noon and it was already 1:15 when I made my way to the end of the long driveway to see if they were still waiting. As soon as we reached the street I saw them sitting on the steps of an apartment building.
They ran across the street and Nelsie and I embraced. I took her hand and the three of us walked down to the Malecon. We sat on the sea wall and I did my best to converse with them. Nelsie was a sweet girl and I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if I ever came back to Havana.
I handed Nelsie a $20 bill and reluctantly gave Blondie a 10 spot. As they took the money they kissed me on the cheek. Nelsie gave me her address written on a paper bag with a black eye brow pencil. Although I didn’t believe it, I said I would be back proxima mes (next month). We hugged a final time and they sadly walked away.
I watched as made their way down the Malecon, their fragile frames growing smaller and smaller until finally fading into dark specs on the horizon. The blue-black sea shot a burst of white mist high into the air as I crossed the street to the Hotel Nacional de Cuba sitting high upon the bluff.
The following day I left the country the same way I entered it, but the exit was a bit unusual. After clearing immigration, I had to clear customs. I had nothing to declare. My only purchases were two boxes Romeo Y Julieta cigars that I checked in my suitcase. After clearing, I went to the retail store and bought a bottle of Havana Club Reserva Rum and sat down at my gate thinking about Nelsie and her beautiful brown tits.
I knew that my life had changed forever and in so many ways, but I also knew I wouldn’t completely understand it I got home and had a chance to process it all. Havana Cuba was my new fantasy island and it offered everything a man could want. But it could ruin a man just as well. But maybe I needed a little ruining and there wasn’t a better to do it.
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