An idyllic afternoon in the Carribean.
Slavers by A Broadsword
The warm breeze barely made the flag flutter on classic 36 foot yacht the "Empress." as she swung at anchor fifty yards or so off the quayside of the only town on a tiny Carribean Island while two vacationing university students, blonde haired blue eyed Lynnie and dark haired brown eyed Jo lay sun bathing in their swimsuits on the sun drenched polished pine foredeck.
They lazed and idly watched as a speed boat burbled past and slowly approached the islands only slipway, "I guess there's a storm coming?" Lynnie surmised as she looked around and out to sea where another of the tourist speedboats was approaching and storm clouds could be seen creeping over the far horizon
"I guess," Jo agreed as she looked across at the shore and waited for Pablo and Anton to return with supplies for their voyage.
"Why didn't they stock up in Key West," Lynnie sighed, "We could be stuck here if the storm comes in.
Jo wondered if agreeing to act as crew on the yacht was such a good idea, she told her folks she was working at Disney but she they sneaked a weeks vacation to go sailing with two guys they barely knew. But who wouldn't? "Empress," was beautiful, a vision in glossy black with red lead below the waterline and a full set of pure white sails.
"Maybe we should go look for them? Lynnie suggested but they were moored fifty yards off shore and the boys had taken the dinghy.
"Yes, lets go look," Jo agreed, "Swim?" she suggested.
"Yes lets," Lynnie agreed and they dived gracefully into the crystal clear water and swam ashore.
They swam past the speedboat and climbed the narrow iron ladder to the quayside.
The speedboat was tied it up to a stout mooring post and it's 'Captain' spoke into his radio phone and then waved at someone on the quay and almost immediately a team of sleek tanned muscular young women appeared dragging a boat trailer, eight naked young white women barely out of their teens or even younger, naked that is except for a leather collar and a leather hood with holes for their eyes ears, mouth and nostrils as they worked with sweat glistening on their evenly sun -tanned torsos.
"Oh gosh!" Lynnie exclaimed as the girls dragged the trailer along the quay and then reversed it gently down the slipway, while a man in leather jacket and trousers with a Black Sabbath tee shirt shouted instructions, an occasionally cracked a long leather whip.
Lynnie and Jo watched as two of the women dived into the crystal clear water and started to manhandle the speed boat towards the slipway to guide it between the trailers guides.
"How can they Lynnie?" Jo asked as the girls began to heave the sleek speedboat up the slipway on its trailer, the boat was heavy ,the girls struggled and suddenly the whip cracked,
"Hola!" the man shouted
"I don't know Jo," Lynnie replied, "Maybe they like it?" she added, "Maybe slavery is still legal in the Cuban zone."
"Well just be glad it isn't us," Lynnie sighed as she watched the girls drag the boat up the slip ad along the quayside, "Lets find Anton and Pablo."
Lynnie followed Jo as she walked along the quayside looking for a food store or somewhere Anton and Pablo might be, they retraced their steps after a few minutes and saw another group of naked 'slave' girls were walking back with a boat trailer as another speedboat glided up to the quay.
Lynnie and Jo watched the girls struggling as the Latin American guy with them warned "Silence!" in American if they spoke and cracked his whip menacingly.
"How could anyone let themselves be treated like that?" Lynnie asked.
"Beats me?" Jo agreed, "Shall we try this side street? it looks like a Shipwrights or Chandlers or something down there."
They had barely gone fifty yards before a policeman stopped them, "Papers por favor?" he asked, "Americanos?"
"We are from the "Empress," Jo pointed, "The boat."
"This is Cuban territory," the policeman said, "Americanos need permit, you have permit?"
"Back on the boat," Jo lied.
"Tourist visa?" he asked.
"Yes," Jo lied.
"We not issue them since 1948," he said, "Work permit?"
"Yes," Jo agreed, "That's it, work permit."
"You work on "Empress?" he asked.
"Yes," Jo agreed.
"What as prostitute?" he asked.
"No, deck hand!" Jo said forcibly.
"Sorry I thought you were prostitutes," he said, "You dress like prostitutes."
"It's a swim suit!" Jo protested, "It's wet," she said but she wasn't as she had already dried off in the afternoon sun.
"Not allowed under Cuban Law, you come to the Police Station I think," he insisted.
"We have to get back to the "Empress," Lynnie explained.
"No, you must come with me, it won't take long," he explained and with an eye on his colt 45 revolver tucked into his belt Lynnie and Jo didn't argue.
The police station was down a side street leading from the quayside street, a non nondescript building which would pass for a book store or drug store in America, and even inside it was not much different to a fast food joint with chrome and plastic chairs and tables and a high wooden counter.
Two police officers sat at tables reading, a sergeant and a female officer, "Dos Americanos," the first policeman explained as they walked in, "No papers,"
"Prostitutes?" the older policeman asked as he turned showing his sergeant's stripes.
"No boat girls," the first policeman explained.
"Why do they think we are prostitutes?" Lynnie asked.
"You flaunt your bodies in your underwear." the policewoman replied.
"What about the slaves?" Jo asked, "They are naked!"
"Naked is natural," the policewoman explained, "Is beautiful, you dress like prostitutes, like cheap tarts."
"Look, we need to get back to the "Empress," Lynnie explained, "Can't you let us go?"
"No, prostitution is illegal." the policewoman insisted.
"But we are boat girls!" Lynnie protested.
"Ah boat girls," the policewoman said, "Why did you not say?"
"You didn't, like. ask?" Lynnie explained.
"Americano boat girls," the policewoman nodded, "Then we will send word to the "Empress for them to collect you."
"So what do we do?" Lynnie asked.
"You can wait, sit in the sun," the Sergeant said, "By the window, or in the shade."
Jo and Lynnie sat by the counter and were surprised when Pablo and Anton walked in after a few minutes, "What the hell are you doing here?" Anton asked
"We came looking for you." Lynnie explained.
"You fools, you're American citizens, you shouldn't be here!" Anton explained, "I said stay on the boat!"
"We never thought," Jo explained.
"Obviously," Pablo added, "We have dual citizenship you see, Mexican American so we're fine."
"Can you get us out of here?" Jo asked.
"Yes, but you said you're not prostitutes," Anton explained, "American whores can get work permits but have to agree to sex with anyone with $20 American."
"No way!" Jo insisted.
"Or you can be registered as boat girls," Pablo explained, "That's right officer isn't it?"
"Yes, if these gentlemen will sign for you as boat girls then that will be in order," the first policeman explained, "Just as long as you countersign and give your finger prints."
Jo looked at Lynnie, "I guess that's ok?" she said hopefully, "Will you sign for us?"
"Sure," Anton agreed, "Where's the forms?"
"Twenty Dollars American," The sergeant demanded, "Each."
"Gee," Anton complained, "That's steep."
"Pay the man," Pablo insisted and Anton handed over four crisp ten dollar bills.
"Sign here," the policewoman demanded,
"It's in Spanish," Lynnie protested.
"But of course, this is Cuba," the policewoman explained.
"It's just a regular form," Anton said reassuringly, and he signed his name with a flourish.
Pablo took Anton's pen and signed and Jo shrugged and added her signature finally Lynnie signed and then they took Lynnie and Jo's fingerprints and added them to the forms.
"Can we go now?" Lynnie asked.
"Dress code," the policewoman explained, "You still can't dress like a whore."
"But we don't have anything else!" Jo protested.
"No," the policeman agreed, "but you need a haircut."
