Carmen--with thanks to Bizet & Prosper Merimee

[Kate]

Copyright©Kate/martykate August 1999


“When will you love us, Carmencita?”
“Maybe tomorrow, maybe never, but surely not today!”


The soldiers loved to watch the gypsy girls bathing in the fountain. The girls would strip down to their shifts and laugh and splash in the water. The modest ones would turn their heads so they would not meet the soldier’s eyes, but the bolder girls would laugh at the soldiers, taunting and jeering them.

The boldest one was Carmen. She wore her shift cut so low that the globes of her breasts threatened to escape its confines. She would meet the soldiers’ eyes and laugh, pointing at them to her friends. Her linen shift was transparent when wet and molded the curves of her body. Even her delta of dark hair between her legs was visible, but she would laugh with contempt at the “gadjo” soldiers as they watched her, hungry for that body they knew she would not let them have.

The soldiers were forbidden to consort with the gypsy girls, but the commander of the garrison often chose to look the other way. The girls would dance in the taverns at night for the coins that would be thrown at them. A few of them made their living as prostitutes, but most did not. They had to make a living somehow, and if they did not work in the cigarette factories, dancing was the best way to earn badly needed money.

Carmen loved to tease the soldiers in the tavern. She was the wildest of the dancers—and the soldiers’ favorite. She would dance without inhibitions, lifting her skirts to reveal her shapely legs. She would dance on the floors, on the tables, just out of the reach of the soldiers’ hands. Her eyes would boldly meet theirs and she would smile with her red lips, and flash her black eyes. All of the soldiers wanted her, but she held herself aloof from them, preferring to tease them, seeming to promise something that she had no intention of delivering.

Don Jose was a young man who had left his village to join the army. He thought it would be hard to leave home and all he knew behind, but he discovered that he liked the army, and intended to become a career soldier. He was young, but advancing quickly, and had achieved the rank of lieutenant through hard work. Though he seemed serious, even grave at times to his comrades, the truth was that he was thoughtful and conscientious. He would drink and carouse with his comrades—but only enough to enjoy himself, and never lost control.

Carmen took great pleasure in mocking him, calling him virgin, dull, telling him that wine was wasted on him, and why did he come to the tavern if he did not wish to enjoy himself? He would say nothing, but would look at her in a way that would make her uncomfortable, as if telling her she was nothing, and she would quickly turn her attention to someone else. Then she felt that he could see through her, that he knew things about her that she could keep secret from the others. She resented him for it, hating the feelings he aroused in her.

Don Jose wondered if Carmen had another source of money besides dancing in the tavern. He knew it would not be enough for her to live as she did, and deduced that she was involved in some other activity—an illegal one most likely. She was not a prostitute—though definitely not a virgin. She never let a soldier touch her. Teasing them out of their money was her style, and she would come away with more coins than any other girl who danced in the tavern, but not enough for the way she seemed to live.

The soldiers only considered themselves with serious. Smuggling, thievery, fighting that resulted in bloodshed, and murder. Fighting was tolerated as long as no knives were drawn, and this applied to the women as well as to the men. More than one gypsy girl had been hauled off to jail when she pulled a knife on her opponent, especially if she wounded he opponent. But for the most part they had learned to contain their fighting to hitting, pulling hair, scratching faces, because if it was only this the soldiers would leave them alone.

Carmen would tolerate only so much from the soldiers. She prided herself on the fact that she kept even the most intoxicated from forcing unwanted attention on her. She came to the taverns to dance and enjoy herself—because she liked to have a good time. She’d allow the soldiers to buy her drinks, paying them only with her dancing, never her body. But she had been in more than one scrape, and even had to admit that she had extricated herself with difficulty. Then she would warn herself to not be so careless, and Carmen knew she had to take great care.

She would disappear from time to time, and no one knew where she went. But unknown to them there was a gang of smugglers she was running errands for. She was aware of the activities of the soldiers and would inform the thieves of the safest times to move their goods. For this she would receive a share of the profits, and therefore had no need to engage in honest work. Carmen did not like even the thought of work—dancing was the only work she cared to do.

She came back into the town after one of her absences. The soldiers cheered loudly when she came to dance at the tavern that night, for they had missed her. She jumped onto a table and began to dance in bare feet, teasing them by lifting her skirt high but not so high that they could catch a glimpse of her tawny buttocks, or the dark hair on her pussy. They clapped as she danced, throwing coins, offering to pay more if only she would lift her petticoats a little higher. She pretended to and they roared with approval.

When she finished her dance someone bought her a glass of manzanilla, and she wandered around the tavern, laughing and flirting. She was thoroughly enjoying herself when the trouble came.

Sometimes the entertainment in the tavern would turn violent. A drunk would harass a girl who had come only to dance, trying to pull her, unwilling, on his lap, fondling her, trying to plant drunken kisses on her mouth. The proprietor would have him removed for rioting and destruction meant loss of valuable business.