LEELA: The Series
A story about a woman who, like many of us, knows how to give love to everyone but herself.
New Episodes every Saturday @10am EST
Start at the Beginning…
Episode Three: Lucy’s
Thursday night.
The Tavern is alive.
Salsa on the jukebox.
Beer bottles clinking.
Sweat in the air.
It’s the night before Barry’s birthday party, and she’s got the evening free.
Leela lines up her shot. Black tank top. Stylish wide leg, blue jeans. High ponytail. Gold hoops.
She moves easily—like the cue’s an extension of her body.
Three men watch, dread in their eyes.
They’ve already lost.
“Top corner…” she points
The eight ball banks once, then rolls towards its destiny.
Leela flashes a smile.
The room ignites with a mixture of cheers and groans.
A patron at the end of the bar throws his words in Sal’s direction, astonished—
“This place is always this lively on a Thursday night?”
Sal shakes his head in admiration and nods in Leela’s direction as he sets down a drink in front of him.
“Only when Leelita is here…”
He holds up his hands in the shape of a card, “…you starting a tab?”
The stranger hands Sal a credit card. He looks at it, memorizing the name—Steven Wexler.
“You go by Steven or Steve?” He asks.
“Sir, as long as the drinks are stiff enough, you can call me whatever you want.” He says with a wink.
Behind him, Leela scoops a pile of cash off the table without flinching.
Walks to the bar like she’s wearing a badge and cowboy boots and slams the wad down on the bar.
“Salvador—drinks on me.”
The place cheers.
Salvador gives Steven back his credit card with a shrug, then slides her a Heineken.
No words. Just respect and a smile.
Leela drinks. Her eyes are sparkling as she watches the rush of traffic to the bar.
Steven grabs his drink and makes his approach.
“That was unreal. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“I come from a long line of pool sharks…” she says, chomping her jaws playfully.
He struggles to think of a response. She tosses him a rope.
“My Abuela used to own this place. I practically spent my entire childhood here— helping out and shooting pool.”
“Wait, your grandmother is Lucy? As in thee Lucy?”
He nods towards the picture over the bar.
She looks at him as if for the first time, searching his eyes— a smile spreading across her face.
“She’s a fucking legend…”
She raises her beer—A la mujer de tu vida
“You don’t even know the half of it.” She says.
Her mind taking her back.
Two decades prior.
She can almost feel the weight of the years dissipating…
The room is still familiar, shifting as she travels back through time.
***
She’s eight years old.
Sitting at the same bar with the same jukebox.
Fresh paint. New hopes. Same soul.
She’s sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, back straight.
Her books are stacked. Notepad open.
She can feel the weight of the pen in her hand.
A tiny soldier of discipline and brilliance.
She’s not Leela, whoever that person has become…
She’s Liliana Santana, or as Abuela used to call her—Leelita.
She’s supposed to be doing schoolwork.
Instead, she’s doing what everyone else in the tavern is doing.
Watching a tiny Cuban woman in heeled sandals and tight curls glide across the floor.
Red collared shirt tied at her midriff. Denim bell bottoms swaying.
When the early two thousands brought back 70’s fashion—Lucy’s closet had been ready, with every item fitting better than ever.
An unlit cigarrette in her lips, she moved like the music was her personal soundtrack.
Lining up a shot, she looks over at Leelita, and raises her eyebrows.
Crack. Snap.
Leela’s chest fills with a mixture of pride, love, and grief—like she’s seeing a missing piece of her heart.
To everyone else, this lady was larger than life…
To her, she was just life.
She continues watching silently and still, suspended between eras—unwilling to spook the ghost.
Amazed at how beautiful Lucy is. How vivid. How Alive.
Like someone turned the color on while the rest of the world stayed gray.
From the corner, a man calls out—
“Lucy, what do you do with all this money you rob from us?”
Lucy doesn’t even look up.
“You see my little Leelita over there?”
Everyone knew Leelita.
“That niña una geniecita, for real. She’s gonna make us all rich.”
She sinks the shot, scoops the cash, and deposits it straight into her bra.
“Well, maybe not you…” She winks.
Laughter rolls across the room.
“Private school with the gringos isn’t cheap.”
She glances over at Leelita, flashing a smile meant for only one person in the world.
Leelita beams, pen still in hand.
Trying not to smile but failing miserably.
La Vida Es un Carnaval by Celia Cruz starts playing over the speakers, and the tavern erupts.
“Wepa, Leelita!” Lucy whoops.
Leelita jumps out of her bar stool and closes the distance between them in an instant— stepping in skips and sways the entire way— until they are dancing together, in spins and twirls like the only two people in the world.
As the song comes to an end and the room starts to quiet down, Leelita looks at her Abuela with sparkling eyes.
“Abuela, how do you make the room feel so alive?”
Abuela looks at her with a smile, two of her gold teeth flashing.
“Mijita, we are Santanas— we don’t seek attention, we give it. And if you can do that right, from the place the music flows, todo el corazón—your presence alone will make the people dance.”
***
A shadow crosses her smile.
The music changes.
Something slower.
And just like that—Leela is pulled out of the past.
She turns to find a boy standing in front of her.
Barely legal.
Broad shoulders still soft at the edges.
Hair slicked with too much product. A clean button-down.
He’s trying not to fidget. Failing just enough to be endearing.
She doesn’t have to guess—he was dared.
One sweep across the room and she spots them: his friends at the bar, watching, grinning, whispering.
She looks back down at him—this proud little peacock—and smiles.
“What’s your name, niño?”
“Antonio,” he says quickly.
“And I assure you, señorita, I’m no niño—I’m a man.”
She laughs. A quiet, amused sound that melts into the music.
Steven just watches quietly. Transfixed.
“Ah, yes. Of course… a man.”
She leans in just a little, eyes twinkling.
“And does your mother know her man is out here charming old ladies at this hour?”
Antonio erupts in laughter, “Old ladies!?!”
He laughs again, “Ma’am, if you are an old lady, then heaven is a nursing home.”
Leela’s eyes widen in shock, and she turns to the stranger, hitting him on the arm.
“This one here!” pointing to Antonio, “Take notes…”
Antonio gathers his composure and says with a dramatic flair.
“Nothing would make my mother prouder than knowing that her son won the heart of the great Leelita—even if only for one song.”
She freezes—just for a beat.
The name lands like a spell.
A smile spreads slowly across her face, blooming into joy.
She grabs his hand with both of hers, then turns to the stranger, bowing her head gracefully…
“You are going to have to excuse me for a moment.”
Then, she offers her hand to Antonio.
“Antonio, you’d better take me out on that floor right now before I sweep you out of here and drag you straight to the courthouse to marry me. And you are much too young to be settling down… even with Leelita.”
She winks.
He beams.
And just like that, he leads her into the music.
***
Addy and Maya walk down the sidewalk in the Miami night holding hands.
Addy—wearing a poppy red summer dress, w/ multi-colored rhinestone-covered stilettos.
Maya with her matte black pointed boots, straight-legged jeans cuffed at the bottom, and ribbed white tank top draped by a black collared shirt.
”You always take me to the shadiest parts of the city,” Addy says whimsically.
Maya laughs, “It’s all a scam—like when a guy takes a girl to a scary movie on a first date—the more nervous you are, the more it drives you into my arms.”
Addy stops right there in the middle of the sidewalk, looks at Maya with sparkling eyes, and rewards her whit with a kiss.
“You’re perfect.” She says.
Maya puts her hands on her waist and pulls her close, her mouth moving to Addy’s neck.
“Dina…” Addy says in affectionate shock, calling Maya by the nickname she playfully assigned on their first date because her fashion tended to lean towards James Dean.
Addy melts into the kiss, then freezes suddenly—putting her hand on Maya’s chest.
“Wait…do you hear that?”
Maya stops, looking around.
All she hears is the faint sound of music.
“Is that Ray Barretto?”
In a moment, Maya found herself led by the hand on a treasure hunt for the source, which led them to a run-down brick building with a light-purple neon sign…
“I knew it! Indestructible.”
She peeks her head inside.
The dance floor is packed.
“Well, hello Lucy’s…” Addy says in wonder.
Then she jumps in excitement, “Let’s dance!”
Maya looks around, clearly out of her element.
“Wait.” She smiles, taking a breath.
“Drinks first!”
***
Leela steps to the music as if she and Antonio are two spirits.
He lifts his hand, leading her into a spin, and answers it with a turn of his own.
She laughs, drinking in the freedom hidden between the rhythm of the beat.
***
Maya grabs Salvador’s attention with a polite wave.
“Two Bacardi and diets,” she calls out over the music.
She looks over at Addy, taking in the mayhem on the dance floor like a little girl watching the Nutcracker for the first time.
“Make mine a double.”
Maya feels a strong tug on her arm.
“Oh, my god…” Addy whispers in her ear, “That’s my boss!”
Addy’s eyes are big.
She doesn’t know if she should feel awkward, excited, or terrified.
Maya’s heart melts, “Which one?”
“The one who looks like a fucking goddess?”
Now Maya’s eyes get big, and they both look at each other and instantly turn away towards the bar.
Salvador slides their drinks to them, and they both drink side-eyeing each other like co-conspirators.
The song ends.
In what seems like an instant, a warm accent speaks in a low voice right next to their ears.
“I thought I noticed the most breathtaking couple in Miami…”
They jump and turn around like they’re busted.
Leela greets them like family she hasn’t seen in years, then kisses them both on the cheek.
“Maya, I presume…” she says, extending her hand.
Maya smiles.
Addy looks shocked that she knows Maya’s name.
“Why are you both hiding out here like undercover cops? Why aren’t you dancing?”
Maya looks embarrassed and raises her glass, “I’m getting my courage up?”
Leela studies her for a moment.
Straight-faced.
“Give me that drink.”
Maya hands it over without protest.
Leela slams it back, emptying it in a single go, grabs Maya’s hand, and leads her on the dance floor.
“Don’t worry. Drinks are on me tonight anyway.”
She runs back to grab Addy, then hands her off to Maya.
Addy is over the moon, sweeping Maya into a beginner’s Salsa step.
Leela heads back to finish her drink and watch them like a proud titi.
She turns to the guy at the bar.
“So I never caught your name…”
“Steven he says over the music.”
“Nice to meet you, Steven.”
She tries to listen, but something about the night is calling her towards nostalgia.
She watches the girls smiling and dancing.
Addy slides Maya’s hand to her waist.
Confident. Claiming.
And Leela drifts back into her memories again.
***
This time, she’s eighteen.
Already a third-year student at Cornell University.
In the only place where she didn’t feel like a complete outsider—the dance floor.
She felt the presence first, then heard the voice.
“I’ve seen you on campus,” Olivia said as she danced into her space.
“Why don’t I ever see you out?”
Liliana looked up: light honey-brown hair, dimples, and green eyes that caught the emerald of her dress, gleaming like they were built for mischief.
For a white girl, she moved surprisingly well.
Liliana didn’t answer right away. She calculated first.
She was younger than her peers—having graduated high school early—and Cornell wasn’t cruel; it just felt like a party she hadn’t been invited to.
Her age, her background, her skin…all screamed outsider.
“I’ve got a lot riding on my academics,” she said finally.
Olivia smiled like she had done her homework and understood the suspicion.
She placed her hand assertively on Liliana’s waist.
“I heard you’re fucking brilliant.”
The touch made Liliana’s head spin, just a little.
She hid behind her best mask—but the chemistry was undeniable.
As one song blended into another, their eyes and movements communicated without words.
And when the music slowed, Olivia drew her in even tighter and more intimately.
Liliana didn’t resist.
Even now, Leela could smell the blend of lavender and eucalyptus and feel the warmth and pressure of their closeness.
She inhaled deeply.
Olivia leaned in, her breath warm at Liliana’s ear.
“I think it’s great how studious you are…”
Her tone was casual before taking a sharp turn toward danger.
“Just don’t forget to live.”
Liliana felt her hand drift lower than it should have.
Olivia pulled back and stared into her eyes.
Hips grinding and swaying like a Turkish dancer.
Liliana blushed.
“I love this song,” Liliana blurted out.
Olivia flashed a smile and demonstrated a willingness to play along.
“Flor Pálida,” she said confidently.
Olivia’s voice melted into Liliana’s heart like it was part of the melody—her pronunciation flawless.
“I love Marc Anthony,” Olivia added.
Liliana’s eyes widened.
“Are you a bruja?”
Her tone was half-joke, half-accusation.
“How do you know this music? How do you move… and sound like one of us?”
Liliana’s eyes dropped to Olivia’s lips.
Olivia caught it and all but called her out.
“If I’m a witch…”
Olivia bit the corner of her lip, eyes glinting.
“The real question is—are you already under my spell?”
The floor vanished.
Time, irrelevant.
Liliana didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Olivia’s hand was tracing the path her thoughts had been dancing all night—up the hem of her deep red dress, traveling the inside of her thigh, to the heat between her legs.
Liliana froze.
In the middle of everything.
Olivia stared into her eyes, unashamed.
Daring.
“If I were you—I’d take what you want before it wilts and fades away.”
Liliana couldn’t stand it any longer.
She grabbed Olivia’s smug, perfect face in both of her hands and kissed her like she was tasting the world for the first time.
Liliana pulled back, breathless.
Olivia looked different now.
Satisfied with herself.
Like she had finally attained what she had came for.
“Come on,” Olivia said, taking her hand.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Liliana followed.
She would have followed anywhere.
***
Leela returns, not really certain how much time has passed or how long she’s been on autopilot.
She looks at Steven.
Startled at how much she knows about him despite the fact that she’s been totally absent.
He’s widowed, he owns a landscaping design company, he says it’s doing well—but based on the microexpression he made when he said that, she has her doubts.
He seems really nice, and she does find him attractive.
“Listen, I’d really love to take you out sometime. In fact, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight if you don’t say yes.”
Leela purses her lips, studying him.
“Are you a Dolphins fan, Steve?” she asks casually.
He wasn’t expecting that.
“Ma’am, I grew up in Fort Lauderdale…I’m a Dolphins fan born and bred.” He is grinning from ear to ear.
“I once had a client that I worked with who played for them. Don’t ask me his name, it’s not important. He was the most fun guy six months out of the year—but he became a monk during the season…”
She lets him struggle, studying the light in his eyes as he tries to figure out where she is going with this…
Her clue to his intelligence wasn’t in the fact that he had any chance of guessing; it was simply his delight in taking up the challenge.
She gathers up her discreet but knockout Prada clutch and unzips it fluidly.
“I’m in season right now, but…” she reaches inside and pulls out a blood-red metallic card.
“If you can figure out this riddle, maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”
She slides it toward him across the bar top.
Kisses him on the cheek.
Then moves toward the exit.
He picks it up, feeling the weight.
“Wait!” he says, grabbing her arm to stop her.
She looks down at his hand on her arm, then at him without turning around—her look flashing cold in an instant.
Maya catches it from across the room.
Her hand tightens on Addy’s waist as she twirls.
Steven gently lets go, immediately holding his hands up as if to say he meant no harm.
“I don’t even know your actual name,” he offers.
His voice was gentle and apologetic.
She looks at him for a moment.
Deciding.
Then softening.
“You can call me Leela,” she says.
And just like that, she’s out of reach.
He watches, stunned, as she says her goodbyes and disappears.
He turns the card over again and again in his hands.
No writing, no engraving, no chip, nothing.
“You’re something else, Leela…” he says to himself under his breath.
“…good thing I like riddles.”
(The End)
***
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Leela follows a brilliant high-end escort in Miami who treats intimacy like art, therapy, and a little bit of trouble. It’s erotic, funny, emotional, dangerous, and not the story you think it is.
Well.. having a somewhat personal interest in this scene, I'm happy ..(but not surprised)..to see that it turned out way better than I could have expected.
Just one quick question.. is the Wednesday 'Audible Series' for paid subscribers only?..
Why do I feel like this series is sneaking in through the back door? No turning back now