Ameera, Unveiled (23 page)

Kelly feigned looking around in panic.

“Let me give you a little direction about tomorrow,” Sybil said. Everyone turned and stopped chatting. “Management’s set up a meeting with the entertainment manager at 8:00 a.m. in the dining room. It’s mandatory for everyone to be there . . . on time. We’re staff, not guests. Treat all guests like you represent GrandResorts.”

“I gotta behave?” Jennifer asked. “But I just got divorced!”

We chuckled and Sybil resumed, “We need to get a time and location for our class. I’m not sure how or if they’ve promoted it. I didn’t see it on the activities board. If not, we’ll brainstorm a marketing strategy. We need to practice every morning. So we’ve gotta find somewhere to meet and run through our dances.” She’d provided us a lot of information in one breath.

“Why don’t we explore the resort tonight and see what’s here?” Ruth suggested.

“Good idea. There’s a disco somewhere,” Sybil said. “I’m making reservations for us at the Japanese restaurant tomorrow night. Is six fifteen okay? That way, if you wanna see the seven o’clock show in the main dining room, we should be done eating.”

“As staff, are we still participating in theme nights?” Jennifer asked. “I brought hot lingerie for pajama night.”

“Whatever you’d like to do,” Sybil answered. “Monday night’s pajama night. Dress for dinner, watch the show. Then if you want, change for theme night.”

I watched as band members rearranged instruments. Before Sybil could continue, an emcee walked onstage at the front of the dining room. His English held only a hint of a Jamaican accent.

“Welcome to all our first-time guests and those who are returning,” he said. “A special welcome to The Velvet Rabbit Club and The Dick and Jane Club guests.” He swooped his arm, acknowledging guests from left to right. Cheers and applause were scattered. “We have a Welcome Show planned for you. Remember to check out our piano bar with Devon on the keyboard. The disco opens at ten. Rockas will be your DJ. Let your hair down, keep it up! We dare you to be wicked for a week!” The guests’ applause was rewarded with a big smile from the emcee. “Without delay, here is the talented Jamaican Dance Troupe.”

The band blasted lively Jamaican music as seven girls dressed in red-and-yellow ruffled dresses hit the stage. Baskets of fruit balanced on their turbaned heads while they executed a synchronized folkloric dance. Their midriff tops revealed well-toned abs. Their hips gyrated as fast as the percussion invited.

Half the audience drifted out of the dining room before the second dance started. Maybe they’d already seen the show? Or they had swinger business on their mind? I looked around to gauge how many had stayed. Maybe a hundred . . . more likely less?

What looms in the future when we perform?

Forty minutes later, the lead male dancer grabbed a microphone.

“The band wants to offer the remainder of our time on stage to you. Come join us and dance,” he said. He walked up to a naughty schoolgirl . . . well, to a middle-aged guest. She grinned and joined in with his Caribbean carnival grinding. What little her too-short Catholic girl’s school skirt covered of her butt went out the window as she rooted on the dancer’s crotch.

“Let’s go,” Kelly said, kicking off her flip-flops. Denise popped up and they scooted to the dance floor. Jennifer and Polly grinned as they joined them.

“Come on, Kat,” Jennifer waved me on. “Try out the dance floor.” I shook my head and showed her my camera. I’d take pictures. Sybil and Ruth watched and chatted. I gave them privacy and watched my new friends enjoy the last three songs before the band started breaking down.

The foursome returned to our table. Kelly put her shoes back on and announced, “I’m gonna get a beer. Anyone wanna come?”

“Ruth and I are gonna look around,” Sybil said. “Have fun, but remember eight sharp tomorrow morning in the dining room.” We nodded and went in opposite directions.

Kelly ordered drinks for everyone, passing each to its rightful owner. “It’s strange not buying, let alone not tipping,” she said. “I wanna look around and see the pools. Maybe the disco’ll let us dance early.”

As we left the bar, the brightly lit main pool sparkled. Four people occupied the hot tub. Naughty costumes milled along paths over the concrete deck. At the end of the pool was an opening with storefronts. A wooden tower and bridgeway caught my eye to the left. As I looked around, I saw someone body painting.

“Hey, guys, look,” I said, pointing toward stairs in the corner that held a bright-orange Hedo lifesaver. “A body painter.”

We wound our way around the pool and lounges. As we drew closer, we saw a guest standing still while the artist worked on a Hedo “Wicked” flame tramp stamp. The artist was good. I looked up the sidewalk and observed a man sitting with someone’s palm and speaking intensely. A palm reader too! He looked like Indiana Jones. His client wore thigh highs, hooker shoes, and a see-through white corset. He seemed undistracted as he focused on his reading.

“How much does it cost to have something painted?” Kelly asked the body painter.

“Nothing. It’s part of your package,” she said, glancing up from her work. She was a pretty blonde American dressed in funky hippy wear. Her box of paints and brushes were covered with drips and spills from jars. “I’ve got one more person if you wanna get something.”

“What do y’all think?” Kelly asked, turning her back to us. She’d worn a blue halter that exposed her back. “I love butterflies. Can you do a blue butterfly to match my outfit?”

“Sure. It’ll probably be about ten minutes till I can do it.” She handed her patron a mirror to check out the flame while she held another mirror from the back. The woman looked pleased.

“Kelly, I’m gonna walk around a little. I’ll check back in a while,” I said. The palm reader drew me, and I wanted another beer. “I’m getting a drink. Anyone want one? I’m buying.”

“Beer!” Denise said. She looked cute in her cotton sundress and sandals, wild blonde frizzy hair pulled back tightly with a gold barrette. “I’ll wait with Kelly.”

“I’m switching to vodka—with tonic and lime,” Kelly replied.

Jennifer shook her head. The moon peeked out from a cloud behind her head. Moonlight enhanced her goddess-like glow. Perhaps Jamaica agreed with her need to put her divorce behind her.

“I’ll come with you,” Polly volunteered. I could use help carrying the drinks but knew the real reason she’d offered was because she was getting antsy. I also suspected that Polly knew she looked hot and wanted to flaunt it.

I turned from the palm reader. I’d leave Jamaica without body paint, but I put palm reading on my list of things to do. Maybe tomorrow night. It was one of those forbidden zones that the authority figures in my former faith had put a big fat taboo over.

“I’ll do that before we leave,” I said to Polly.

“Why?” Polly asked.

“Since my divorce, I’ve spent time on the Internet researching numerology, magnetic fields, and the zodiacs,” I said, opening a side of me I’d shown to very few. “The science of it convinces me I’m part of a larger organism: Mother Earth. I’d like to test the waters.”

As we passed the palm reader, I reminded myself that all my life I’d battled a male-dominated world and church. As Polly and I mingled with guests in naughty costumes, I asked myself whether they were even interested in why our troupe was here.

“Kat?” Polly asked, shoving me with her shoulder. “Where’d you go?”

I refocused as we approached a tall wooden platform above us. Colorful lights wrapped the posts. It looked like a ramp or bridge that led toward the beach. I heard piano music to my right. The mood of the groups that passed us was silly and light.

“Sorry. Hedo’s a sensory overload for me.” I said. A couple dressed as naughty geeks headed to the colorfully lit bridge. “I love the daring but I prefer my domestic monogamy.” My mind was spinning as I tried to digest this people-watching experience. “I don’t want anyone to think I disapprove of their liberalness.”

“Geez, Kat. You think too hard,” Polly said. “Look, there’s the Japanese restaurant. And an Italian one.”

One was open air and the other was inside a storefront. I felt as though we were getting the lay of the land. Looking left, I saw a sign with an arrow pointing to a descending staircase and “Disco Hurricane.” We looked at each other.

“What do you think?” Polly asked, standing on tiptoe as she strained to see the entrance around the corner.

“We could ask if we could peek inside and see how big it is,” I suggested.

Our heels clicked on the wooden stairs as we approached a bouncer on a stool.

“Hey, I’m Polly. We’re part of the belly dancing group that’s teaching this week. Do you mind if we peek inside and see if there’s enough space for us to practice our show?” She raised one eyebrow with a foxy smile.

He looked us over from head to toe. “No problem, mon,” he said with a smile and ushered us through the door.

We were greeted by a disco bar on the left and an open doorway to the right. Two rectangular, aqua-blue windows revealed the underground location. The windows were located over the bartenders’ heads. Chlorine had marred the clarity of the glass, but the well-lit blue pool waters glowed. I felt as if I were in a submerged cave, staring through a grotto.

Colored lights flashed through the right arch. We waved at a bartender preparing for the disco crowd and walked toward a reasonably large dance floor. Across the room was a three-foot raised stage punctuated by a dance pole. If we practiced there, I’d name that pole Distraction. “Let’s Get Physical” played over the sound system. Each side of the room had bleachers. It seemed an odd choice of seating to me, but it was functional.

“This’d work,” Polly said. She walked to the center of the dance floor, scuffing the floor with her shoe. “Kinda sticky. Definitely wanna practice in shoes.”

I scanned the room. As I looked up, I saw another window peeking into the pool. Feet were kicking and walking around on the glass. “Polly, what the . . . ?” I asked.

She looked up. “Oh, I forgot about that! Remember the pamphlet mentioned the Jacuzzi floor could be seen from the disco?”

Three windows to observe swimmers, swingers, or nudes. I turned toward a large bay window revealing a tropical landscape. As we looked out and up, we noticed a bridge above us. People were walking across it. A group stopped and looked down at us through the window. They waved, breasts abundantly visible. We smiled and waved back.

“This could be interesting,” I said. As we turned to leave, we observed a young Jamaican arranging music in a DJ booth. “All the staff are so buff. That must be Rockas.”

“Hmmmm. We’ll have to come back to try our new DJ out,” Polly said, looking him up and down. When he glanced out the plate-glass window, she waved at him and blew a kiss. “Let’s get the girls their drinks and check on Kelly.”

We grabbed four drinks, thanked the doorman for letting us in, and climbed the stairs to the pool deck.

“I’ve learned something very important tonight,” I said.

“What’s that?” Polly asked.

“Assume nothing. Look right, left, up, and down,” I said. “Windows into a pool and Jacuzzi overhead? Who knows what goes on after a very Happy Hour?”

As Polly and I retraced our steps, energy flared from all corners of the sidewalk.

“I feel like I’m on the set of
CSI
in one of its weird sex-murder episodes. Y’know, the one with people in animal costumes or dressed as avatars?” I said quietly to avoid offending the guests. A tall man, wearing a blond wig and a cheerleading outfit, passed us. “See?” I said, staring deliberately ahead.

The ice in Kelly’s vodka was melting before I spotted her straight across the pool. The body painter had nearly finished her blue butterfly. The paint matched the robin-egg blue of her halter. Flourishes sweeping up to her shoulders resembled peacock feathers.

“Wow!” I said. “That’s beautiful.” I handed her the drink and pulled out my camera. “I’m gonna get a picture.”

“Thanks, y’all,” Kelly said, taking a big swig and poking her butt out for the picture. “This may go down way too fast.” The body painter handed her a hand mirror and held another behind the butterfly. “That’s beautiful!” she echoed. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome. We’re out here every night until ten,” the body painter said, pointing at the palm reader. “He’s my husband.”

“I plan to get him to read my palm one night,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “Be sure to let management know if you like us. It helps us get invited back.” She stooped to clean her brushes, motioning to the next person waiting for body art.

“Y’all find anything?” Denise asked. Our group drifted toward the bridge that went somewhere.

“A disco. We checked it out,” Polly said. “Guess where it is?” Everyone shrugged. “Under the pool. You can look up into the pool and Jacuzzi floor.”

“No way,” Jennifer said.

“We’ll show you later,” Polly promised.

“I need a drink. Let’s check out the piano bar,” Jennifer said. “Sounds like it’s that way.”

“By the way, you look really nice, Jennifer. But you always do,” I said.

“Thanks, Kat,” she said. Her eyes sparkled behind exotic makeup. “I feel like I match Kelly.” She pointed at her blue halter top. “We could be the Roxbury brothers.” She and Kelly twitched their heads to their right shoulders. We entered the piano bar laughing.