2.18 - Ci-Ci: The Baron

2.18 - Ci-Ci: The Baron

Tituba sent me away to gather some offerings. She suggested a lot of rum and cigars, I was going to make a big offering, when I returned, she led me into the basement. This is more what I expected a voodoo place to look like, but still far off. A small alter at the back of the room was spotless despite the dust elsewhere. In front of it was a golden sword jammed into the concrete.  

“What’s with the sword I ask.”

“The sword in front of the alter is the symbol of Ogoun,” she explains. “Even if we are not summoning him, I have been pledged to him. I must still show him the proper respect for rescuing me, and changing my life. Go place the offering on the alter.”

I do as I’m told and stand where she points. Soon she begins chanting in a language, I don’t understand. Nothing happens and I’m suddenly feeling skeptical about the entire process. Still, I’ve come too far to back out now. I made this woman lunch; I’m going to see this through to the end. I remain still and watching on the alter, yet nothing comes.

I turned to question Tituba and the world stops, I feel sick to my stomach as if I had been spun around over and over again. Next to me stood Tituba, unsure of when she moved. Flower petals fell gracefully from the ceiling and burned as they touched the ground, filling the room with the scent of burning corpses, and cigar smoke. A large black door opened on the alter from nowhere. I stood unable to move, waiting for the door to open.

When it finally did a tall ebony complected man stepped from it before the door vanished. He stood there in a beautiful suit that changed from black to purple and back as he paced the alter as if it was a stage. The top half of his face painted like a skull hid his face but I could tell he was attractive beneath it. He knelt down and opened a bottle of rum before tossing his head back and drinking. Somehow the top hat remained fixed to his bald head.

“You call this an offering,” he tosses the empty bottle against the will. “It’s expensive but it has no taste, no flavor.” He takes one of the cigars and lights it, inhaling deeply “Okay, this is a cigar,” at least he liked something. “What did you call me here for,” he asks and we’re finally free to move.

“I’d like you to resurrect mu husband.”

“Tituba, you brought me a married whore,” he asks getting close to her.

“I’m not a whore,” I respond instinctively.

“Human women are all whores. I’ll whip out my cock right now and you’d worship it if it meant getting Justin back,” he flicks his wrist dismissively. “Look at Tituba, summoning me as if she isn’t there by second nature.  

“I didn’t say his name.”

“Whore, I am the master of the dead. Do not assume I am some funeral director who needs to be explained things. You do not die, without passing through my realm, and I haven’t seen any signs of him coming through.”

“Will you revive him,” I ask.

“Hell no,” he laughs at me and the room shakes slightly.

“Why not,” Tituba nudges me, questioning a Loa isn’t smart.

“Because you ain’t got nothing I want,” he shrugs.

“I’ve got me.”

“Get naked, let me see you,” he licks his lips before lighting a cigar.

I kick my shoes off, and unbutton my jeans. Slowly I roll them down revealing my legs to Baron Samedi and Tituba. Next I quickly discard the T-shirt I’m wearing. Soon I’m standing barefoot on the concrete basement in nothing but my bra and panties. He motions for me to do a spin, and I do. Soon he’s left the alter and stands near me. He strokes my face, his hand neither hot nor cold. Slowly he grips my hips from behind and moves them with him beginning to dance. I only hope it’s a rather large cigar in his pocket. He releases me and takes a seat on the alter.

I feel dirty, assaulted and insulted as I look into his eyes. No man outside of Justin has ever touched me like that, and he’s smiling as if it were a sport to him. Tituba’s eyes meet mine, and they say it all. She warned me of this. Still I’m willing to go as far as I need to, as long as it gets Justin back. The Baron motions for me to lose the bra and panties. I reach behind and unfasten my bra, hesitating before removing it.

“Stop,” he yells out, he doesn’t need to tell me twice. “Tituba, not only did you bring me a whore, she’s a stripper and an idiot.”  

“I’m sorry Baron,” Tituba finally speaks, just to throw me under the bus.

“Stripper, put your clothes on. I told you I wasn’t doing anything for you.”

“Why,” I ask grabbing at my clothes.

“Because you’re an idiot. You’re selfish. You’ve got no rhythm and you were about to willingly give yourself over to a man you don’t even know, supposedly to save your husband.”

“I...,” is all I get before he cuts me off.

“You don’t love the man; you love the idea of him. You’re sad, you’re lonely. I can tell when I touched you that his was the only cock you’d ever touched. I wouldn’t want you as one of my brides. Your taste in rum is trash and you only managed to get a good cigar by chance. You got friends? You need to make some and I don’t mean old witch doctors,” the Baron placed one leg over the other and waited on a response.  

“What can I give you to bring him back,” I ask.

“Not a damn thing,” he responded now twirling his top hat on one finger.


“Do you want my advice,” he asks. “Free of charge, the offering is enough for that.”

“If that’s all you’ll give me.”

“It is,” he laughs. “You need three things. First, you need to find yourself because you’ve been too wrapped up in who you are with this man, to learn who you are without him. There’s nothing wrong with loving a good sausage, but it don’t make the world go round. Two, you need to get revenge, that’s what you really want right? Well the opportunity has knocked at your door repeatedly and you haven’t taken it. Take it next time. Three, you need to stop trying to do everything for yourself. Nobody likes a lazy broad, but nobody likes a busy broad either.”

“Is that all,” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s all. What the fuck you want from me? The key to life?”

“I don’t know.”

“I gave you what you needed,” he stands as the doorway appears again. Two women walk out and take the rum and cigars. “Can you believe her? Wanting to resurrect a man and she doesn’t even know why,” he speaks to the women. “Orevwa,” he waves as he walks through the door. 


Post a Comment