Two Cuban Sisters, Part Three

In Cuba if the cops take an interest in you then they are not looking for a bribe, unlike the rest of their Latin-American brethren. Cuba's police not only look as if they know the value of soap and water, but they carry themselves with a dignity and pride that does their country proud in the abstract, but doesn't actually help people from the rest of the region sort out their little problems in the time honoured way. This encounter was going to need careful handling, I decided.

Choosing the most senior looking officer I shook his hand as one always does and introduced myself, making damn sure that I also told him that I was from Mexico, just in case my funny sounding name led him to believe that I was a wicked American.

"Tell me, comrade officer, how may I be of service to you?" I enquired in my plummiest tones. I tell you, when it comes to large black Cuban men with big Russian guns I can grovel with the best of 'em.

"The matter does not concern you, comrade, er, whatever your name is," said the head cop, as he tried to make out the name on the Mexican driving license that I had thought politic to show him as identification.

"I am pleased to hear that," I said with real feeling. "But tell me what the problem is and maybe we can resolve it." No fool me, I know that the Cubans use the verb To Resolve whenever they plan to do something not exactly legal.

The cop pursed his lips and I could see his mind working overtime. How far could he trust me? In his mind I was Mexican so that meant I was used to paying off the police, but could I be some kind of undercover operative brought in to keep his crew on their toes? All this and more went through that man's mind in an instant. His eyes narrowed and he stared at me intently.

We then began a sophisticated linguistic dance where neither of us gave anything away, and form which both of us could deny the reality of the conversation if we had to. Eventually we both dried up, becasue neither of us could find the exact words to get to the bottom of the matter.

What exactly do you want, comrade? asked the cop, eventually.

I threw caution to the wind. Why bother anymore? Time to tell the truth:

"I have paid these two whores to attend to my cock," told the assembled throng. "And the cock badly needs the attention!"

The cops just burst out laughing. I couldn't believe it but all the tension went out of the air and we were just a group of men stood around killing time with our talk.

"What do you want with these two?" I asked the cops.

"That one," said the head man, indicating Elena, "is out without her identity card."

I knew enough about Cuba to know that this is a serious matter. I looked around at my new friends and decided that the Mexican approach just might work.

"If you let her go then your wives will be pleased at the presents you can afford to buy them," I said, before getting the next surprise of the night when the cops refused point blank to take a penny off me. Not only that, but they decided to take Elena to her house where she would show them her document and then they would return her to me!

Maria was gently pushed over in my direction and the cops started to leave with Elena in hand. Turning around just before he got into his patrol car the head man put his cigarette in his mouth, and considered both me an Marina in turn

"She has a big mouth," he told me with a grin. Then, incredibly, he held his right arm outstretched with the paln held facing up. He wasn't after a handout; No, he waved the hand from side to side in a time-honoured Latin way. For the benefit of my Saxon readers the gesture is an invitation to spank, something which Maria understood only too well.

"Noooooo," she wailed, and made to take off. I grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her into the house, with the raucous laughter of the cops ringing in my ears.

"Thank you, officers," I said, as I pulled Maria into the house and closed the door behind us.

"Right young lady," I told her. "You are now in more trouble than you know!"