Challenge 04 - Monica at Carnival

It was time for their third set dance. She easily recalled the moves and still was careful to concentrate. Marva ran a tight ship and this was the tent's big day, not repeated for another twelve months. She was determined not to let them down

As the tune hit a certain beat each of the dancers launched into their routine with perfect synchronicity. Colourful head-dresses waving and sequined costumes flashing in the strong sun. The art lay in maintaining perfect control and accuracy while seeming to dance freely and without thought. Each dancer mysteriously finding the same movements at the same time - no doubt powered by the unique musical talents of the Ugly Man.

Marching along you could talk to your fellow dancers, exchange jokes and comments. She knew the tent were feeling good. They had seen many of the other costumes and they had seen none to match their own. Marva was famous for her choreography, crafting routines that looked deceptively simple. As a dancer she could testify that it had been a hard day of practice for her. Learning all of the moves and then running through them, again and again, until Marva had finally been satisfied. Had finally approved her to join the tent for the big day.

On the march you could chat and joke and laugh. Here at the staging posts it was serious business. There were judges out there. Official judges who were watching their every step, their every movement, their performance to the rhythms of the Ugly Man's songs.

There were other judges too. All the way along the route. Unofficial but obviously there none the less. Judges of the female form. You didn't have to wait for the final gathering to get their results. You heard the shouts and the whistles. You saw the smiling mouths and the hungry eyes. Hungry to see all of you - something that your costume very nearly made possible. She couldn't even hide in the crowd. When they shouted for the 'white girl' there was only one person in this part of the parade that they could be meaning.

As Heather she could never have done this. As Monica it was much easier but still something new. She had performed for a horny crowd of men before - but only through the lens of a camera. She had posed nude outside before but only with a look-out to ensure no-one was coming her way. Here there were no such filters. The crowds were right there. The ogling noisy crowds of men. The rope and security were there but this was still a much more visceral experience. More real. The thoughts raced through her mind even as she smiled and danced, hearing the cheers as the dancers moved their hips and thrust out their rear ends.

The crowds grew denser as they neared the end of the parade route but one man particularly caught her attention. He was about thirty, easily six-feet tall with a solid muscular physique. He walked alongside the Old Man's dancers, beyond the rope. However, he was unlike the rest of the crowds. He did not dance or shout or watch the dancers. Instead his eyes were mostly on the rest of the crowd, he would pause only to talk to some of the security.

You could not keep your mind on such things however. The dancing was expressive and creative but it was also, in a real sense, a test of endurance. She was glad that she had taken the advice of more experienced participants. Wearing comfortable footwear, preparing for a long day of dancing and carrying a small bottle of drink. Enough to stay hydrated under the hot sun but certainly nothing alcoholic.

Her calves were starting to ache as they finally reached the end of the parade and the Ugly Man's truck joined the line of others parked along the wide street. In front of the final stage there was a huge crowd of tourists and locals. All dancing as the latest performer to arrive sang for them. Monica could see the bright feathers of dancers, in singles and groups, scattered among the crowds of locals and tourists.

"Fuck - you see the butt on that one. I'm getting me some of that!"

"Hey you whack bro - you can't be doing that. Hey - come back bro!"

Frat boys. She knew the sort - though they had been the last thing she had expected - or hoped - to see here. The irresistible lure of alcohol and barely-clad dancers had obviously summoned them all the way from the States.

She turned and saw him heading straight for her. He was obviously pretty far-gone but not so drunk that he hadn't picked a space half-way down an unusually long gap between two of the very obvious security guys. Maybe the booze had dulled his judgement but the frat boy decided to try to hurdle the neon yellow rope. As he leapt Monica saw the big man who had been following their truck almost nonchalantly lift the rope where he stood. It could only have been a couple of inches but it was enough. Frat-boy's foot caught the rope and he was pitched forward to face-plant onto the ground.

She was glad of the music because it drowned out the sound of his body hitting the hard soil and his subsequent howls of pain. Maybe the alcohol had helped by relaxing him as he hit the ground. Anyway he didn't seem too badly hurt - bar an obviously broken nose that was busily gushing blood onto his shirt. His friends arrived, not quite as drunk as he was.

The big man took a quick look at the injured young man. "He be OK. Tek him to First Aid. Over there," he pointed to a big Red Cross flag flying over a tent. As they pushed their friend away the big man took a moment to look at the dancers watching him. He winked and then gave them a salute by raising the fore-finger of his right hand.

Now Monica understood. The man had obviously been detailed to look after them and she was pretty sure who had arranged it. It was always said that Harley looked after his people and this seemed to prove the fact.

***

"Now ladies and gennulmen de final three announcements of the Kadooment prizes. First up - the dancer of the day. Dat goin to Bernice of the 'Young Prince' tent." There was a huge roar from the crowd as a tall athletic Black girl decked in feathers and very little else had gone to the stage to collect her award.

Monica risked a glance at Marva - the woman did not look pleased. Monica had heard from the others that Marva's 'tent' had taken at least one prize from the last twenty years of parades. It was a record that the older woman was immensely proud of and it was a record that was not going to last out the day.

They had been robbed - there was no doubt about that. There were no costumes to match theirs - certainly not those of the supposed winners. The choreography prize had gone to the dancers of 'Lord Flea'. Opinion was that his and the Ugly Man's dancers had been way clear of everyone else, pretty much impossible to separate. However, the judges had managed it - and not to their advantage. Six prizes had been awarded so far and none had gone to them.

That left only two and the 'Prince of the Road' wouldn't be going to them. The Ugly Man had won it ten times and then stood himself down almost twenty years ago. Instead he presented that biggest of all Kadooment honours each year.

"Yeah baby you lookin' fine." The island's Minister of Culture, doubling as Awards MC for today, just about managed to drag his eyes away from Bernice's amazing figure. "OK - so before the big event lets crown our visiting dancer of they year. Dat one going to Monica out of the Ugly Man tent. Get on up here girl."

There was not quite such a big roar from the crowd for Monica but that wasn't for want of trying by the Ugly Man's dancers. They screamed and hollered and cheered - with Marva out front and making more noise than the rest combined. A couple of her tent's male dancers escorted Monica through to the base of the stage and she climbed up to receive her prize and the regulation peck on the cheek from His Excellency the Minister of Culture. It all went by in a bit of a daze and she found herself standing next to Bernice who had a good five inches height on her and perhaps two cup sizes. Still, she had won her prize.

Last up to the mic was the Ugly man himself, a broad smile on his wrinkled face. He'd been going all day too but, despite his age, he still seemed full of vim and vigour. Monica guessed that this was his day of the year - the day he lived all the others for. He knew his business - unlike these politicians - the crowd were not here to hear him talk. So he cut straight to the chase. Just as well since Monica couldn't understand much of his pretty broad accent.

"'Prince on de Road'? You been here and you been hearing - you all kenning who dat is dis year. De Prince be Shang High!"

The old man held up the mic to capture and accentuate the roar of noise from the crowd. He finally pointed at the truck belonging to the winner. "Now young man - you de Prince and time to start de party!"

As his last word echoed away Shang High's sound system burst into ear-splitting action. The crowd turned its attention from the stage to the truck and indeed that was it for the Kadooment and it was time to party. His Excellency showed the way off stage for the two dancers but it was the Ugly Man who took the matter in hand.

Well, to be more accurate, he took a butt cheek of each of the dancers in hand as he escorted them off the stage. Monica shot him a glance but only got a wink in response. That and a firm pat on the butt cheek as she reached the bottom of the steps and they parted ways.

It seemed incredible. The Ugly Man had to be pushing eighty! However, when she told the others they had just laughed.

"Oh girl - back in the day..."

"Ugly Man old but he not dead girl."

"Back then he had some parties, one every year, woooohhhh." That was Marva - probably in her dancing prime back then. "You got invited there girl and you could really get yourself in trouble. Maybe not the bad kind tho." The big woman laughed. "Now lets put the feathers safe. We got a prize to celebrate!"

It was quite a night. Despite all the exertions of the day they found they could dance and drink and sing until the sun was rising in the East.

A succession of bars and dancehalls - always with the rest of the dancers. The men of the 'tent' looking out for the girls. A couple of times Monica saw the man that had been shadowing them on the parade. Both times seated at a bar - just keeping an eye on the proceedings. Pretty soon she stopped noticing that or much else. She just enjoyed the moment - being with her new friends in a wonderful place. Until the moment they delivered her to her hotel and got her to her bed.

***

She woke just before two in the afternoon. A mouth full of cotton wool and a head full of hangover. She stumbled about trying to get washed and make herself presentable.

A short while later there was a knock on the connecting door. She called and Harley appeared.

"Have a good night?" he spoke in a thankfully low voice.

She made a face. "Maybe too good."

"Make you up my sovereign remedy."

He left and reappeared fifteen minutes later. It seemed to be an extraordinary mixture and it tasted like nothing she had ever drunk before, or much wanted to drink again, but it also seemed to do the trick. After another twenty minutes her head was clearing and she felt much more herself.

"Last day of the trip," said Harley, "want to rest up or want to see the rest of the sites."

"Are the parades over?" She asked cautiously. Just the thought of one of those sound-systems would set her head pounding again,

"Over for another year," smiled Harley. "But in about a week's time they'll start preparing for the next one."

He'd be back here next year she realised. Back with another young woman. She felt an automatic annoyance at that - even as she realised it was ridiculous to do so. She had no claim on this man. They were spending time together, enjoying each other, but that was it. There was no pretence to anything deeper, more meaningful.

She felt the need to say something - to suppress that little green devil within her. "How did this year match up - was it a good one?"

That hadn't come out quite the way she had wanted it to. Not in quite the tone either.

Harley's eyes were very dark but very intelligent. She had noticed that the very first time she had met him, back there in H-Town. Those eyes took everything in, analysed everything, seemed to understand everything. Now he gave her the look that she had come to love. The little crinkles at his eyes, the smile playing on his lips. Those beautiful eyes meeting hers.

"Every Kadooment is different but they are all really variations on a theme. That's why we love them so much. What makes a trip special is the company you are with. This one has been right up there with the best."

The old cautious Heather side of her was still with her. The thoughts ran through her mind. Harley was a smooth son of a bitch. He should have been an actor or perhaps a con-man. When he said things like that he said them with simple, but obvious, sincerity. While she knew there were no hints to pretence it was just so easy to believe him sincere.

Which was where the Monica side of her could take over. It was very easy to believe Harley and she chose to do so. To enjoy the warm pleasure of his little compliment. Harley had never done her wrong so far and until he did she was inclined to believe that his 'act' was in fact reality.

The island wasn't large, only fifty miles by twenty, but she had really only seen this corner of it. Another time she would see the rest. She spent the rest of the afternoon down on the beach, relaxing. Covered in high-factor sun cream, at Harley's insistence. He hadn't really had to remind her. One result of her heritage was the fact that she could never really keep a tan. She went from fair to burned and then back to fair again. At one time she had experimented with fake tan but life really was too short. It was lucky that Harley and her fans seemed not to mind, quite the reverse in fact.

Harley hadn't stayed with her long. She knew that he had a lot of business to conclude. However, he hadn't left until she had noticed him look over to one of the beach bars and nod. She had hardly needed to glance there to understand what she would see. A familiar large figure seated with a long cool drink in front of him. A somewhat unlikely looking 'guardian angel' but she understood that he was playing that role. What had Harley said to her once? That the world was a wonderful place but that it had its dangers. He was looking after her - or protecting his investment - probably both.

Even in the shade the sun was still wonderfully warm on her. She felt any tension and fatigue flow out of her. Tonight was their last night on the island and she was looking forward to it. That one night with Harley had been something else, something she had never experienced before. She was eager to find whether that had been a one-off, whether only the novelty had given it that intensity and power. She wanted to find out, she wanted to know.

***

Monica most have dozed off in the sunshine. She awoke to the deep tones of Harley's voice.

"Ready to eat?"

She acknowledged the fact and the saw Harley turn and make a beckoning gesture. It could only be to the man still keeping his vigil over at the bar. The man rose and came over to join them.

"Girl this is Carl - late of the Barbados Police Service. I asked him to look out for you. Maybe you noticed him."

She saw the glint of amusement in his eye. Of course she had noticed Carl - he was kind of difficult to miss. A solid muscular six feet-plus of man, honed in the gym. His trimmed beard was virtually invisible against a skin-tone almost as dark as Harley's. He gave Monica a ready smile and held out his hand.

She shook the offered hand. "I noticed - thanks Carl." She felt the gently-wielded strength in his fingers. For a moment she saw again that frat boy tourist hitting the ground face first and then being led away streaming blood. Carl clearly was a capable man who knew what he was doing. She looked at him again. His face was strong, powerful, handsome. She returned his smile.

"Carl looks after my interests here." There was that little hint of amusement in Harley's voice again but she didn't really understand until much later. "Now, as real thanks for all his hard work, we owe him dinner at least."

Carl looked magnificent and he was clearly a very efficient man but it had to be said that he was not the world's greatest conversationalist. Fortunately, during the course of the meal, his eyes did most of the communication. He didn't have to be upfront in words when his eyes were devouring her like that. It was very blatant and Monica began to wonder how Harley wasn't noticing. After all she was here with him.

Just as they were finished eating there was a buzzing noise and Harley reached for his pocket. He answered the call and gave an affirmative response into the device. Then he returned it to his pocket. "A little inconvenience - I had better deal with it now. My apologies Carl. Its tedious business but it is business. You can come along Monica or perhaps go back to the room. Perhaps take Carl and let him see the finest view in the island?"

She remembered and realised what he was saying. Harley hadn't been blind to what was going on. He had most certainly noticed Carl's interest in her. Now he was letting her make the call. She looked back to Carl and the decision wasn't difficult.

***

She had partaken of a couple of drinks but she definitely was not drunk. Just enough to take the edge off her remaining nervousness, just enough to let the Monica side of her reign unchallenged over Heather. It felt good walking back to the hotel with Carl's strong arm around her. It felt natural. The only moment of hesitation came back at the hotel. The desk man knew who she was staying here with.

The man had just looked up from his bookings screen. "Evening Miss. Evening Carl."

"How's it going Luke?" Carl had replied, clearly talking to an old acquaintance. "Here as a guest of Harley."

"Naturally", replied the desk clerk. "You both enjoy your evening"

There was no inflection to the words, let alone any sort of a comment. However, Monica had no doubt whatsoever that the desk clerk knew what was happening and what would be happening up in the room. Harley knew, Carl knew and the desk clerk knew. Most of the people, locals and tourists, who had noticed them headed for the hotel had surely known. It registered with her that she was supposed to be embarrassed by that fact. Instead she felt a wonderful sense of freedom. This was Harley's world. Old assumptions and presumptions did not necessarily apply here. What need to worry about what people thought if what they thought was only the truth.

So they thought the white girl was horny for the big Black guy. Well they were right weren't they? The elevator was the first private place they had occupied, the first time out of view. She reached forward and cupped the bulge in his pants with her hand while looking up into his face with a wicked grin. Now she got an open smile in response and a nod of his head. If there had been any doubt in his mind she had just removed it.

All was proper by the time the elevator door's opened but Monica felt the gentle pressure of his hand on her back. Carl didn't want to waste any more time. He wanted them down the corridor and beyond the hotel door. His obvious enthusiasm drew a response from her body.

The door clicked closed behind them and she turned toward him, felt his hands hold her as their mouths met. Her hand moved between their bodies and found that impressive bulge again. It reminded her that they hadn't come up here just to kiss. That she wanted much more.

She broke their kiss and moved both hands to the base of his top, pulling it up and over his head with his assistance. Carl certainly worked out. There was no spare fat, no flab, on him. Just solid, sculpted, muscle beneath that smooth dark skin. He was magnificent and she giggled as she ran her pale fingers over his chest.