The Annihilation Fountain Issue #11 - Safe Sex is all in the Mind by Lilii I. Waring

Safe Sex Is All
In the Mind
Detroit 1992

Lucinda wanted to be a model, just like in the fashion magazines. In the little bit of time that I knew her, I watched her - every free moment - flip through the glossy pages. She'd sit cross legged on the floor of her room, spending every moment not working, dreaming of runways and spotlights and international allure. When she'd see a black woman dressed as a modern day queen, she'd carefully tear out the picture, placing it, with absolute care, into her scrap book of dreams. Once the page was carefully in place, she'd run to the bathroom with all of her cosmetics and transform herself into the image she had seen.

On the third day of work, I walked in while she was highlighting her hair; crisp wisps of blonde tingeing the edges in the mirror. "Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked my reflection.

"Of course you are." I answered with a smile. You could not be working here as a where, if you weren't."

She smiled. Other people can not say things like that, but when you re working together you can, sometimes... "Do you think I can be a model?" She was looking me in the eyes.

I did not know what to say, so I pretended not to really hear her. "Do you want some tea?" I asked her.

"I want to be a model." She said with an embarrassed smile. "I want to make real money."

Looking to my barefoot I said I didn't know anyone.

"You'll take one anyway. You may meet someone. You are artsy, I bet you do know those people."

I left the room to make my tea. I had a date (trick to turn) in an hour, and I could not deal with her delusions. My own problems were bad enough.

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Next morning Lucinda was crying by my bed. Her man had taken off, left the kids all alone, and had taken off with her cash which was hidden in a can in the kitchen. Strange that people still do that.

I brought my hand to her face, and it was like soft wax, but real damp. Too much crack cocaine with her clients. She got paid to stay for a week with rich white men who liked to get high and fuck black women.

"Lucinda! God Damn You! Get the fuck off of the floor. Get ready for your date. If you are late it will cost you half the session/. Get the fuck up, now! Stop bothering the other workers." Louise was in the doorway, her large frame taking up the whole space. I hated it all, but just had to be amiable to whatever was thrown my way. I hated the way that Louise yelled, and screamed, and the way that she threatened us ... No wonder Lucy got high with her tricks like she did.

I was going to get up, but I fell back asleep. Tall, statuesque black women with blonde tipped hair and skeletal limbs modeled an American trend: Death and delusion accessorized by faux gold earrings and stems. "Look how lovely!" An automatic voice echoed, "The dark side of the American Dream..."

The fashion ended when one women walked off of the runway into a powder pink bordello room. Behind the heavy satin curtains, burnt out buildings and urban decay were hidden from view.

A white man about 50 in a very expensive suit sat on a velvet chair of burnt rose, and in his hand was corporate American Express; in the other hand was a little black sack with his stem and his crack.

"Oh!" he purred, "you are so exotic! Has anyone ever told you that you should be a model? Like in a magazine? " he smiled with his lie, and his dick hard with anticipation. "Black women are so exotic. You should ............."

"........take my picture back to new York with you." Lucinda said sternly, "If you meet someone you can show it to them!" O looked to a snapshot of a thirty something year old women with two children in Detroit. "I've got to leave early. My ma's with my kids."

Her client was just leaving, hours later; hot, empty stem.

© All Rights Reserved 1993-99 Safe Sex is All In the Mind
Lilian I Waring - Thank you, have a nice day!