August 5, 2016 |
As the sun was beginning to set over the favela of Dancin’ Days, Madame Somoche was preparing for the evening clients at Dez Bordel, the hottest brothel south of Rio. She had been particularly organised that day, remembering to triple shave her legs before her usual afternoon siesta. She didn’t usually shave her legs herself (a triple shave took forever, though it did ensure skin smooth as silk), but she hadn’t been able to find Verissima earlier.
Jaki had mentioned something about sending her out on an errand to buy more shaving cream, but that had been hours ago and she was certain she hadn’t heard her return. “Oh well, there’ll have to be words later, but now I have to tighten my pores so as not to scare the clientele,” she said to herself as she plunged her face into a bowl of ice.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at her door, followed by Jaki wailing Madame Somoche’s name. Startled, she knocked the bowl of ice to the ground. She quietly cursed Jaki under her breath. Didn’t that girl know never to disturb her between the hours of six and seven? She took a deep breath as she crossed herself to calm her nerves before opening the door.
“What is it, Jaki?” She asked. “What could really be so important that you have to drag me away from my facial bath?”
“Oh, Madame Somoche”’ Jaki wailed. “It’s Verissima. Something terrible has happened.”
“More terrible than the state of my pores, Jaki?”
“Yes! Verissima is in grave danger. A shady character from her past has come back to hurt her and reveal her secret to the world.”
“What do you mean? Who? Oh, honey child, have you been drinking while watching your telenovelas again?”
“No, no. Please, Madame Somoche, come upstairs. Verissima will explain everything. And I have the most favulous pore-tightening mask. Better than an ice bath. I can apply it while you listen. But please come quickly. There isn’t much time.”
Verissima heard a quiet tap on the door of her room.
“Angel, it’s me. Can we come in?”
“Oh, Jaki,” Verissima cried. “I was so worried. You were gone so long. What did Madame Somoche say? Can I stay? Or will I be kicked out on the streets like a rabid dog?”
“Well, angel, I thought it might be better if you told her yourself.”
“You didn’t tell her!” Verissima cried. “What will I do now? Affonso will be back in an hour.”
“Hush, hush, angel. Don’t cry. This is your story and you’re the one who has to tell it. If you don’t own it, he will and then what? You might as well pack your bags and get on the first bus outta here.”
“She’s right. And you know she’s right. Now, Verissima honey, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Madame Somoche?”
“Jaki told me you were in trouble and if I’m to help you I need to know everything. So start at the very beginning.”
Verisimma looked at Jaki and squeezed her hand before kissing the feet of her statue of the heavenly goddess Oxum, a symbol of love and fertility.
“The truth is, Madame Somoche, I am not who I claim to be.”
“So, what are you my child?”
Verissima took a dainty sip of whisky from the glass on the bedside table to steady her nerves and slowly rose to her feet, letting her dressing gown drop from her shoulders as she stood.
“You’re a he, not a she!” exclaimed Madame Somoche in horror. “But how? Is this the reason you’ll only clean for your money, child?”
“Yes,” said Verissima as she quietly wept in shame. “I want to be just like you and Jaki, but first I need the money for the operation. And I nearly have enough but… ”
“Oh child, I admit I may be the muse to all of our beautiful land’s she-males. The one woman they all want to be and so model themselves on, but I am not one myself. For I was born a she. Not a he. Look closely at my neck. Notice the lack of Adam’s apple.”
It was the second time that day Verissima had encountered the Adam’s apple. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? There are many things that distinguish hes from shes, not only genitals.
“But Madame Somoche, why then do you devote your life to fallen she-males?” asked Verissima.
“Because, my child, I can help them. That is my holy mission. What I was put on this earth to do. Now, child, start from the beginning.”
“Ever since I was born,” Verissima began, “all I have ever wanted to do was make my dear mama proud. She, too, worked in a classy bordel, and when I was little I spent all my days helping the ladies prepare for the homens. My mother was famous. Men would travel from the furthest reaches of the country just to spend an hour with her. She had long red hair, and every day I would brush it 100 times and then gently set it in rollers to create soft Veronica Lake curls that would cascade down her back and in gentle waves over her milky cleavage. We were happy together in the bordel. She was a wonderful mama. Like an angel. And then, one day, a man came to visit. From Rio. He had hair the colour of fire and evil eyes. His name was Affonso. He bought her time for a week. My mama was exhausted. She told me he was relentless. He made her dress up as the help. In pastel latex. My mama’s delicate skin was so chaffed. It peeled off in flakes. And then, one day, she just disappeared. They found her a week later. Tied to a palm tree. On the beach. Dressed in a peach latex maid’s outfit with matching cap. She was dead.”
Jaki and Madame Somoche screamed.
“Your mother was Maria Trevi de Albuquerque Castillo?” cried Madame Somoche. “The one they called Ravishing?”
“Yes.”
“But what happened? Did they ever find Affonso?”
“No,” said Verissima quietly. “But he found me. After my mama had been found brutally murdered, I decided to go away. I couldn’t be around the bordel my mama had loved so much. It was filled with too many memories of happier times. So I decided that I would start afresh. Begin a new life. Not as a he, but a she. So I packed my mama’s clothes into a small case, bought a wig and hitched a ride to Rio. I met a she-male at a roadside bar who took me under her wing and tutored me in the ways of trick turning. I worked hard, had a long line of regulars and, after two years, had saved up almost enough money to be able to bless myself with a flower. My legend, like my mama’s before me, was growing. But then, one day, Affonso showed up. At first he was just like all the other clients. But then he started making demands. Dressing me in latex. Beating me if I refused to do what he said. He took me to his bordel, where he promised I’d be well paid. I know it was stupid, but I only needed 1,000 more reals to make my dreams come true. It would take another year of hustling on street corners to make what I could make in a bordel in under a month. So I went. For the first week, I looked after many men. But then it all changed. Affonso wanted me all to himself. He told me that I reminded him of a beautiful red-headed temptress he once knew. I didn’t tell him about my mama, but then one day he bought in a peach latex maid’s outfit, and I knew that he knew that I was her son. That night he beat me unconscious and took away all my possessions. All the money I’d worked so hard for. And so, when he was gone, I ran away and somehow found my way to here.”
“And now he has found her again,” cried Jaki. “He was here today and he’ll be back in an hour. Madame Somoche, you made the appointment yourself!”
Madame Somoche gasped. “But how do you know it’s him?”
Jaki pushed the paper parcel on the bed towards her. “Open it.”
As Madmade Somoche gently tugged on the string holding it together, the brown paper fell away to reveal a latex peach maid’s outfit.
“Oh no,” she cried. “What have I done?”
“You weren’t to know,” Verissima consoled her. “He’s very smooth and charming when he wants to be. He charmed me despite having killed my dear mama.”
“Oh Verissima,” Madame Somoche cried. “I was only trying to do something nice. I know how much you’d like a client of your own. I swear I didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t matter now, angels.” It was Jaki. “He’s due back here in 20 minutes and we need to think of a plan to kill him and then dispose of his body.”
“But how?” cried Verissima. “He is a very strong man. How can one sensuous lady and two dainty she-males ever overpower him?”
“You are forgetting, angel, that we two dainty she-males used to be men, too. There’s some Viagra in my bedside drawer. You find that and I’ll go find the poppers.”
“But what do we need poppers for?” asked Verissima.
“We are going to kill him with an overdose.”
“Of poppers? Is that possible?”
“An overdose of poppers and Viagra my sweet angel. And a serving or two of whisky. His heart will be kaput in seconds.”
Will Jaki’s plan to save Verissima work? Can a man really be killed with an overdose of poppers and Viagra? Or is Affonso built like an ox, with a strong heart that cannot be stopped with mere pharmaceuticals? And will Verissima don the peach latex maid’s outfit to lure him into the carefully crafted honeytrap that Jaki has laid?
Taken from Issue 33 of 10 Men
