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Then she saw Bobbie's face. The disgust she saw there cut her to the quick. Reluctantly she danced on, letting the men watch her bare ass as it moved below the short black coat, unaware that she seemed to the excited men to be teasing them - inviting their attack- with the way the tiny star of her sphincter appeared and disappeared as she moved. Desperately Val threw herself into the music, moving her body to the hypnotic rock beat of the music, willing her sweaty, muscular body to send the crudest, most primitive sexual signals to the men around her, to brazenly offer herself up to these men to please Arkan- and save Bobbie. Val danced through the first, the second, and into a third song- danced through a fog of the Spice Girls' hypnotic lyrics - "What I want... what I really, really want"- into a brassier woman's voice appropriately singing about "waiting for a hero". Even the music mocked her! The leering Serbs crowded around her in an ever shrinking circle, forcing her. It was phenomenally intoxicating, enticing, thinking during the week I finally won’t vicariously dream of what can never be. Ha! My actions of not turning in an assignment had led to such a moment of triumph and epiphany . When I attempted to knock on the door, the teacher uttered, ‘Come in.’ Then: ‘Lyric, you are five minutes late. You have failed once again to turn in your assignment this Monday, you are not a punctual person either?’ His voice was so serene, so caring, yet stern. I was only five minutes late since my other class was 15 minutes away from his office. His t-shirt of the day was a face of ‘Che Guevara,’ wearing his sandals, his starched khakis embraced his skin, bronze skin, beautiful with a slight bulge being enveloped in the groin area.‘Forgive me, I was walking in these shoes to get here as soon as possible, Mr. Diaz.’While attempting to explain why I was merely five minutes late, he slowly placed his finger on my lip. HMMMMMMMMMMM… the smell of clove cigar so.
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