donnylaja heroine, Mexican-American edition

      Rosa brought Guadalupe out the back door which opened up to a rickety little porch.  The club was outside of town, basically a big old cabin perched on the edge of a huge sand pit surrounded by weeds.  There was a rock to prop the door open with.  After Rosa kicked it into place she said, “How was it?”

        Guadalupe, by now overdressed in her blouse and jacket, covered her breasts as if she were naked again.  “I - I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

        The two young women, ages 27 and 18, looked out onto the darkness, the lights of town on the other side of the pit, maybe three miles away, shimmering and blinking in the warm air.  On a desert night one can see great distances.  Guadalupe had never been out on the porch before and was struck by the sight.

        Rosa lit a cigarette and looked down at her little teenaged friend.  “You have to get used to being naked. Did you ever walk around with no clothes on before?”

        “No. Never.”

        “Well try it.  Someplace where no one can see you.”  After a drag on her cigarette, Rosa said, “You can make really big bucks, with that face and those tits.”

        “Oh Rosa -- don’t -- ”

        “Sorry for being so crude.”  Another puff.  “I gotta go.  Want a ride?”  Guadalupe didn’t have a car, and didn’t drive.  She always got a ride with one of the girls, who dropped her off a few blocks from her house.

        She didn’t want to leave yet.  She had an idea.  “No, I’ll ask Harriet.  Or Maria.”  (Stage names “Delicious Dara!” and “Curvy Carla!”)  Harriet and Maria always stayed a little late, cleaning out the bar, for which they got paid extra.  Rosa and Guadalupe came back inside, and now the girl found herself alone in the dressing room.  Her older friend was right.  She had to get used to being naked.

        What was really wrong with nudity anyway?  It’s the way God made me.  Adam and Eve were naked in the Garden of Eden.  She decided to be naked for two minutes, out on that porch.  She got to it fast, before she could talk herself out of it.  When would she get another chance?  She took off all her clothes, even her sneakers, and stuffed them into her locker.  Then she stepped outside.

        No one could see her here.  It was just her and God, her and creation.  It felt good, the warm desert air wafting over every inch of her body.  No gross cigarette smoke, or loud music, or dirty old men.  She shut the door behind her and raised her arms up and prayed.  Please God, help me through this.

        She walked to one end of the little porch, then to the other, making sure not to catch any splinters on her bare feet.  Then she prayed again.  God, I am doing this for good things.  I am not being a puta.

        Guadalupe exhaled.  Yes, Rosa was right.  This did help.  Now back into the dressing room to get into clothes.

        The door was locked.

        Now she knew why Rosa had propped it open with a rock.  She grabbed the knob with both hands and twisted as hard as she could, then pulled and pulled.  This made her breasts bounce which shamed her, reminding her of dancing.  Please . . . she would hate to knock to get help; they would know she had locked herself out with no clothes on.  One more pull --