The Blue Cantina

Part One: Anna’s Surrender

ISBN 13: 978-1-936173-75-4

ISBN 10: 1-936173-75-1

by Paul Blades

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2009, All rights reserved

Prelude

In a subterranean lounge in a large, converted mansion on the outskirts of a major, metropolitan, American city, three men sat around a small table, their glasses filled with top shelf booze. They were relaxed, enjoying the show. The men were all either approaching middle age, or had just crossed that amorphous, ill defined border. They were all dressed in sleek, well tailored suits, seemingly, in the dark light of the nightclub, all cut from the same cloth. On their wrists were expensive, elegant wristwatches. Their hair was clean cut and well trimmed as befitted men of substance, with a tinge of grey here and there. They were in a celebratory mood.

On the stage in front of them, highlighted by several strong, small spotlights, about four feet off of the floor, a pretty, young girl, outfitted only in a pair of glittering, sapphire earrings and a pair of bright red high heels, had just begun her routine. A slow, rhythmic beat was being emitted at high volume from the club’s sound system playing one of those forgettable tunes that combine a dulsatory vocal track accompanied by an underlay of unidentifiable instruments. The beat was, however, appropriately languorous for the slow, enticing movements that the girl was making on stage. She stood with her legs spread, her hips undulating and her hands wandering her body as if on a voyage of discovery.

She was obviously aroused, as the glistening of the gaping slit between her hairless love lips indicated. From time to time, she would point a dainty finger at her stiffened clit and give it a loving massage. Each time she did, her eyelids fluttered and her face slackened. She had the men’s full attention.

The nightclub was small, with seven round tables covered by light blue tablecloths and with seats for four or five around each one. The floors and wall were colored a dark navy blue. The short service bar, behind which a heavy set, bearded man dispensed drinks dressed in a crisp, light blue sports shirt and a matching tie, was also blue. Even the small, round paper coasters under the men’s drinks were colored a shade of blue. It was as if, when the below ground level establishment had been constructed, there had been a sale on blue somewhere and the designers had taken full advantage of it. Above the bar, in script, were the words, ‘The Blue Cantina’ in, of course, bold, blue neon lights.

The lighting in the club was low, just bright enough for the men to be able to make out the features of the other men at their table. It was early yet, and only two of the other tables were inhabited, one by a trio of men attired and of similar aspect to the first four. At the other table sat a lone man nursing a neat brandy in a cavernous, elegant snifter. He was tall, a little older than the rest, and seemed put off by the loud, insistent music. A waitress, wearing only a frilly blue thong and matching blue high heels, stood nearby waiting for a signal from any of the men to fulfill their desires.

The stage itself was small, maybe about seven or eight feet all around. It had a runway that led back to a large, steel door from which the girl had first appeared. Sitting on a stool next to the door, his presence obscured by the low lighting, was a tall, well built man in his early to mid thirties. He was clean shaven and wore a dark blue t-shirt, jeans and work boots. His demeanor was harsh and observant as if he were waiting for some faltering in the young girl’s efforts for the opportunity to spring forth and correct her.

The girl on the stage looked about 22. She had ample, but not oversized breasts, clearly all natural by their easy sway and graceful arc. Her head was adorned with mid-length, curly brown hair done up in ringlets. Her lips, painted a deep red to match the shiny polish on her finger and toe nails, were thick and moist. During her routine, she kept them pursed as if inviting their use. On her belly, three or four inches above the top of her excited puss, was tattooed in bright blue ink an ornate, cursive ‘D’.

The song slowed to a finish and the girl paused momentarily until