The Adventures Of Bette Porter and Sissee Gardner After Yale (Part 6, Chapter 8)
PART SIX: TIJUANA, MEXICO

Chapter 8

Bette steadied herself on the table and drew herself up, tall. She seemed to get a second wind and be even more inspired as she looked out over the crowd. She raised her hands above her head and began clapping again with the spectators clapping right along with her.

As she stomped her feet on the table top she knocked down all of our drinks and an ashtray, spilling everything in our laps and breaking glass all over the floor. We tried to back our chairs up but there was such a crush of people around us by then, that the chairs would not move. I stood up just in case she needed someone to catch her or at least break her fall. I looked frantically at our friends, hoping they realized what could happen. They all got to their feet too.

April was standing next to me. I gave her the keys to my Vee Dub and told her to go get it and park it as close as she could to the courtyard in case we needed to get the hell out of there in a hurry. I just had a feeling this was going to get out of hand.

Bette continued to beat the top of the table with her red boots. She held on to the bottom of her jacket for a moment and some damn fool yelled, “Take it off!”

Fuck!

Others picked up on it too and shouted out the same request. She heard their requests and while she continued stomping, she slowly began unzipping the jacket. When it separated she pulled off one sleeve and then the other, encouraged by their cheers and whistles. She twirled the jacket around her head a few times and then threw it into the audience. Damn! It was a new jacket. Impulsively, I went in pursuit of it, pushing my way through the crowd until someone holding it above their head gave it up to me. Then I stood in that spot and watched her, like everyone else was doing.

My God! She was so hot it was unbelievable! She was weaving her hands above her head, up and down like a snake charmer. Her hair was totally wild over her eyes and face. Her breasts were jiggling through her sweater. The sweater crept up with her elevated arms so that her entire belly and back were exposed above her hip huggers. And Sweet Jesus! Those hips! She was getting so “jiggy wit it” with heavy metal thrusts that in spite of the continued music, she seemed to have suddenly forgotten all about the flamenco.