Authors: Daniel Chavarria
Adios Muchachos (5 page)
Without even slowing the car down, Victor zapped the remote at the long chainlink gate that opened with surprising speed. The Chevrolet cruised by a garden-cum-terrace, a raised lanai, tropical trees, a manicured lawn, and planters full of expertly tended flowers. They followed a paved driveway for another fifty yards.
As they approached the garage, Victor again pointed the remote.
“Open, Sesame,” Alicia commented.
Inside the garage, while the door descended, they had another long kiss.
At Victor’s request, Alicia had not changed her pedaling shorts, and during the trip out to the country house, she had left her torso completely bare. As they navigated the rotunda with the statues that the locals called
Las Muñecas
, she got up on her knees and began stroking his forearm with her erect nipples.
He could feel his hair standing on end and pressed his fingers to her lips.
She knew what he wanted and began to lick his fingertips.
When his fingers were well moistened, he began sliding them over her nipples. Amid these games, they arrived at the house.
“You see,” Victor said as they crossed the little hall leading from the garage to the kitchen, “no one saw us come in and no one will see us leave.”
When they entered the living room, they were met by a green shining that seemed to be emanating from the floor. Victor pressed a button and the blinds opened, revealing, to Alicia’s wonderment, that the shine did in fact come from the floor, from a miniature pond with three steps leading into it, right in the middle of a great room sumptuously decorated with modern furniture. In one corner of the pond there was a fountain that sprang from natural rocks lining the pond. The overflow drained into a sinuous rill that cut diagonally across the living room. The limpid green water ran under transparent floor tiles through a row of bonsai trees growing in wells of light and finally disappeared out the opposite end of the room.
Alicia was transfixed. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
The bottom six feet of a very high wall were covered with mirrors. The opposing wall was all bookcase, crammed with volumes from floor to ceiling. The room was also adorned with abstract paintings, a couple of asymmetrical vases, an enormous black and white photograph, a large jade sculpture, and a smaller marble statue.
Other than the vases, everything was abstract. The photograph and the statues did not have any figurative content, although they suggested the shapes and tribulations of active love-making.
“Come, let me show you the house.”
There were three bedrooms on the second floor, each with its own bath and sauna, plus a small salon and terrace. Downstairs, in addition to the room with the pond, there was a dining room adjoining the vast kitchen (with every conceivable appliance), a studio off to the right, and another bedroom—all with separate bathrooms.
“Wow! You could give a party for fifty here!”
When they returned to the living room, Victor opened an array of windows looking out onto another manicured lawn, dotted with ancient trees and with a swimming pool at the far end. As Alicia leaned out of the windows to take in the beauty of the garden, Victor adjusted something on one of the upper shelves of the bookcase, and the music started.
A
guaracha
filled the room.
Alicia stood before the mirror and started to perform a provocative interpretation of the music. Victor came up behind her, taking her by the waist.
She turned and forced him to dance with her, which he did with a lot more fluidity than most people born in the frozen north.
“Well,” she said, “you’ve got the rhythm down pretty well, but you’re still a little stiff and you haven’t the faintest idea of how to dance a
guaracha
. Watch me.”
Five minutes later he dragged her, urgently, to a broad couch in one of the corners. She preferred the rug-covered floor. She insisted on riding him, to teach him how to dance the
guaracha
.
Flat on his back, driven by an expert rider, Victor immediately lost his rigidity and began to sway his hips.
By the time he reached his first orgasm of the evening, Victor had assimilated the soul and the folklore of the
guaracha
as if he had been born in one of the
barrios
of Old Havana.
To Alicia’s great surprise, Victor projected a video he had filmed with a hidden camera. The tape captured the very essence of the rhythmic dressage in the corner of the great room.
“No, you don’t, you bastard! I won’t allow it!” Alicia protested.
“Take it easy. If my intentions were anything but straight-up, I wouldn’t have shown you the tape. The thing is that seeing sex is almost as important to me as having sex, and I really want to make love to you again while I drink in your dancing ass on top of me quaking to the beat of the music.”
She could understand that. She was not quite convinced, but yeah, that sounded logical.
He promised to give her the cassette or destroy it as soon as they were finished with it.
Soon, as he was enjoying the
Kiss of the Boa
(written and directed by Alicia), Victor began to gently dilate her posterior channel with expert digital manipulations.
Knowing what was coming, Alicia stopped what she was doing and worked her mouth into a childish pout. “You assivorous animal, you!”
When she was sufficiently dilated, he slipped on a ribbed condom and did, in fact, take the narrow route (as the Romans used to say), with his eyes fixed on the video.
Thanks to his expert ministrations, she felt no pain at all, and watching the video of her own ass and waist in action, she felt a hot river flowing in her vagina. She was more excited than ever before, and for the first time in her life, she had an orgasm in that position, which she normally shied away from and only complied with as a last resort.
Narcissism? Maybe. But it was definitely a new experience for her!
Perversity? Possibly! But an exquisite kind of perversity.
She had finally found a man who had something to teach her instead of just showing off.
And when Victor whipped off the condom and thrust home in her vagina without missing a beat or changing positions, Alicia burst into a sustained, convulsive orgasm with soft broken screams. Then as he flowed, oh so warmly, into her uterus, she let go completely and synchronized with him in a crescendo of thrusts and groans in perfect unison with the dancing flesh on the video screen.
When Alicia recovered her wits, Victor was lying on his back smoking a cigarette. He reached out to the VCR, ejected the cassette, and handed it over to her.
She smiled languidly, satisfied. “You know, with your natural sense of rhythm and a couple more lessons, you’re going to drive a lot of Cuban women crazy.”
“I’m not interested in rhythm or in driving Cuban women crazy. I’m interested in you.”
She looked at him, flattered.
She was on the verge of flying into his arms, though she forced herself to contain that unprecedented impulse. She felt afraid.
But she did have enough good sense to take the cassette and put it safely away in her purse.
“You mean right now? Nothing! Except talking to you and cutting my nails. No, my toenails. Shit, Mother, will you stop asking dumb questions? Yes! It’s a goddamn mansion. Everything. Even a pond in the living room. How should I know? No way! Everything is ultramodern. Just buttons and switches. Yes, it’s all his. No, the other house is a duplex with two independent living areas—one for Victor’s boss and the other company guests. Victor also moves in when his wife comes. Yes, he did mention her, but only in passing, as if it were completely natural. No problem, Mom; you know I’m not the jealous type. No, she’s in Europe now, but she’ll be coming back soon. Uhum, a maid comes around a couple of times a week to keep both the houses clean. Victor? Well, he either eats out or cooks for himself. He’s a real first-class gourmet. Yep, he speaks it perfectly, but with a strange accent. What do I know? He says that’s the way they talk in Quebec. Yeah, he spent about five years in Montreal. No, I haven’t been to the other house, but Victor’s told me that it has its own squash court and a family sauna. Alberto? Oh shit, I completely forgot that he was coming … No, wait, if he calls again, tell him I’m in the middle of exams at the university and that I’m at a friend’s house in the country and I can’t see him until Saturday … No, no, no, all my friends know that I get furious when people interrupt my studies. That’s it, have him over for dinner on Saturday. And you can tell Otto the same thing, and have him call me on Sunday, in the afternoon. Don’t be silly, Mom; you have nothing to worry about; I know how to handle these guys. The less time you give them the hotter they get … This one? Well, as long as I’m with him I don’t want to see anyone else. Of course, Mother, he’s the best one I’ve ever had, and the best lover, powerful, creative. Yes, by a mile. He’s good-looking, he’s nice, and he cooks marvelously … No, he just went over to the other house … What? Mother! Ha, ha, ha. Now, what’s that to you? Well, OK, normal, ha, ha, ha. Damn, Mother, you’re worse than I am. Yes, he loves my dancing classes and he says he wants to take me to the
Palacio de la Salsa
tonight. No! No one is going to recognize me. Besides, Alberto and Otto don’t go to those places. No way! His wife has a whole collection of wigs here. Victor? I told you he went next door to get some firewood for a roast he wants to make out in the barbecue pit. Oh, Mother, how many times do you want me to repeat it? No! I have never had anyone better. But there is one thing that worries me. Well, the problem is I like him too much. What do I mean? What I mean is that I like him too much. That I’ve always dreamed of spending my life with a man like him and I’m panic stricken that I might fall in love. I would be completely defenseless.”
Victor walked in rapid strides into the double mansion in Siboney, not through the house with the pond, where he had taken Alicia, but through the front door of the adjoining house.
“Yoo-hoo, Elizabeth! Where are you?”
He took off his jacket and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He opened a door and stepped into the shadows of a large, heavily curtained room. The only source of light was the bluish reflection coming from one corner of the room where a TV set was hissing at a non-existent audience.
There was a large lump on the bed under a bundle of silk sheets and comforters. Only the long blond hair indicated that the lump had its back turned to the door.
Beside the bed rested an ashtray overflowing with half-smoked butts, and on the floor stood a half bottle of vodka with the top off. Victor sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook the shoulder of the sleeping woman.
“Elizabeth?”
No answer.
Victor probed the bundle of bedclothes to try to find the remote control. The screen displayed a still announcing the end of a skin film.
Victor turned the TV off, put the remote back in the bundle, and ran one of the curtains to flood the room with daylight. He approached the lump and murmured into its ear, “Good news, Eli: I think I’ve found the broad we were looking for.”
More asleep than awake, Elizabeth rolled over. Blinded by the light, she covered her eyes with the sheet and sank her face between Victor’s legs.
A hoarse and pasty voice asked, “Are you certain?”
“I’m certain. She’s the one we need. In a few days you’ll be seeing her in action.”