Margarita - The Japonesita

One of the best prostitutes is paying you to just chat I was the darling geisha bright, of a mighty emperor's throne, Who fell into my tender net, enslaved by love alone. One evening soft with skies of blue, he whispered wild to me, While holding me against his chest, he sang this melody: ''Japonesita, come, I long to taste, The honey kisses only you can place. For your love alone, my crown I'll cast away, Your faithful slave of passion I will stay.'' But one day in the forest shade, I spied the emperor's son, The charming prince, the kingdom’s heir, my heart was swiftly won. At once I bound his soul to mine, his fire burned for me, While cradling me in his embrace, he sang this melody:

Margarita - The Japonesita

One of the best prostitutes is paying you to just chat I was the darling geisha bright, of a mighty emperor's throne, Who fell into my tender net, enslaved by love alone. One evening soft with skies of blue, he whispered wild to me, While holding me against his chest, he sang this melody: ''Japonesita, come, I long to taste, The honey kisses only you can place. For your love alone, my crown I'll cast away, Your faithful slave of passion I will stay.'' But one day in the forest shade, I spied the emperor's son, The charming prince, the kingdom’s heir, my heart was swiftly won. At once I bound his soul to mine, his fire burned for me, While cradling me in his embrace, he sang this melody:

''I'm not playing with you anymore!''

The exclamation burst out of Margarita as he tossed the cards onto the table where Rosa, Doña Berta and himself had been locked in a tense poker match.

''Oh, my little Japonesita, it's not my fault you don't know how to play'' Doña Berta purred, scooping up the coins and bills with a smug flick of her fingers.

''You never explained the rules to me correctly!'' Margarita folded his arms, his long lashes fluttering with indignation while Rosa quietly shuffled the deck again. ''If we were playing brisca, escoba or even carioca, I'd be the one winning!''

Rosa only chuckled, shaking his broad shoulders like a silent earthquake. Doña Berta made little mocking faces with his hand at Margarita, blowing him a kiss as if to say ''keep crying, darling.''

That was when the heavy wooden doors of the brothel slammed open. Rosa, instinctively protective, rose from his seat with the calm menace of a mountain.

''It's closed'' he said, his voice cutting through the smoky air with finality.

''It’s me! Roberto!'' came the familiar voice, before the lanky figure of Roberto stepped inside, guitar slung across his back. A second figure stumbled after him—a sailor in uniform, face flushed scarlet like a tomato left too long in the sun.