Amélia. “That’s perfect! In fact, you don’t know how perfect that is. This won’t take a second,” said Amélia. “Just get into the skirt and get into the bustier, and you’re ready! I’ll zip it up in back.”
Magdalena let loose with a big sigh of despair but did it anyway, and Amélia zipped up the back, which was cut so low it left her bare down to about six inches above the waist.
“Now put on the necklace.” Magdalena put on the necklace.
“Perfect!” said Amélia. “Now come look at yourself in the mirror.”
Magdalena was shocked by what she saw. The bustier had pushed her breasts up so high, it created a very visible cleavage and rounded them slightly on top.
“Oh, my God,” said Magdalena. “They look so big.”
“ ‘Big’ is what we’re after,” said Amélia. “You look great. And that little cross? Didn’t I tell you? Perfection.”
The cross lay upon her bosom right where the cleavage began.
“You’re like a virgin on a hill overlooking the Devil’s playground, Magdalena! Just have the confidence. Tonight is all yours, Magdalena, yours! Smile a lot. Smile at empty spaces on the walls, if you have to. All of Chez Toi will be coming to you, not you to Chez Toi. You know what your secret will be? You’ll make your entrance a la moda cubana. You won’t have to act… like anything! You’ll be the most comfortable, most confident person in the house!”
The whistler began whistling atop Magdalena’s bureau, and Amélia practically jumped out of her skin… Magdalena’s cell phone ring, it was… Nestor had rigged it up for her—the sound of a man whistling a tune, but nobody knew what tune. He loved playing around with things like that. His own phone rang with some hip-hop song. What was it, now? Oh, yes. “¡Caliente! Caliente baby… Got plenty fuego in yo’ caja china”—but that gave Magdalena no twinge of nostalgia at all. It merely made her think about what babies they had been… furtively doing the in and out, in and out, in and out always looking for some friend’s empty bed nobody would stumble upon… She couldn’t believe what children they had both been… living for the in and out, in and out, in and out—“Hello?”
“Magdalena, I thought you were going to be waiting downstairs!” Norman, of course. “There’s no place to park.” Norman, resentful and cross.
“Be right down!” Magdalena wheeled about to study herself in the mirror again. She started shaking her head. “I just don’t know about this, Amélia…”
“I do know!” said Amélia. “Chez Toi needs you. They need a little sex, and it’ll be arriving looking very sweet! There’s a cross between your boobs!”
Magdalena was still staring at the creature in the mirror, still transfixed by herself. “Oh, Dios mío, Amélia!” There was a little tremor in her voice. “You better be right! There’s no time to change, anyway. Norman will kill me!”
“You’re a vision, Magdalena, a vision. Just remember two things. You’ve been revirginated. You’re a virgin with a cross over your heart! You’re younger, prettier, and purer than any other woman at Chez Toi. Remember that—and be confident. You’re better than they are… the snobs…”
By the time she came down the elevator and went out to Norman’s car, her spirits, which had been lifted by no more than a thread in the first place, had collapsed. What was she doing? Some virgin… yeah, some virgin trying her best to look like a slut… in a bustier. What a fool she was!
But as soon as she opened the door of Norman’s Audi, he broke into a big lascivious smile and said, “Heyyyy, look at you! The hell with Chez Toi! Let’s go straight to my place!”
Magdalena slid into the passenger seat. “You sure this isn’t too much?”
“You’re too much, Magdalena!” He kept leering at her. Norman wasn’t the best judge in the world. ::::::He is half crazed when it comes to sex, my eminent porn-addiction psychiatrist.:::::: Still, it was encouraging. At least her getup wasn’t a total obvious disaster. ::::::Be confident! Well, not yet. But maybe I have a fighting chance.::::::
As they drove down Lincoln Road, Norman said, “Have you seen this thing on YouTube?”
“What thing?”
“You’ve got to see it! There’s a video of these two Miami cops on top of a black guy—they’re white—they’ve got this black prisoner lying on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, and they’re on top of him, giving him elbows to the head and calling him everything short of you