“You have no idea,” I said. For the second time in one day I was bordering on hysterical, and when I went to get out of the chair, he held me down by the hips and kept me there.
“Calm down, please.” He was firm but way too in control of himself, which made me even angrier. I had every right to be upset, and I had to make him understand that. I considered telling him about my son, just so he’d make sure it never came up again.
“I will not calm down! I can’t talk about children. I don’t want to hear that kind of thing anymore.” I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. It was the one subject that could tear me down to nothing in an instant, and here it was again. Rafa pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, but at that moment all I wanted was to make my mind go blank.
“Can you please make me a drink?” I asked. My eyes fixed on the minibar across the room. I couldn’t think about these things anymore, and I’d do anything to make them all go away.
“Baby, no” he whispered, kissing my tears. “Look at me, that’s not the best way.” He held the back of my neck with his left hand, and without any of the customary preamble, met my gaze as he licked two fingers and skillfully inserted them inside me. It wasn’t something I was expecting, yet it didn’t startle me, either, and in spite of my deteriorating emotional state, his touch had the intended effect. A flood of relief washed over me as my mind gave way to my body.
“Sh,” he said, his lips on mine. Rafa caressed my face and continued massaging me for a minute or two, but he didn’t bring me anywhere near an orgasm, and because it wasn’t his usual caress, I don’t think he was trying. He did, however, get me back in to a frame of mind in which it was possible to communicate.
“Better?” he asked. I didn’t answer, but satisfied that my mood had improved, Rafa slipped out of me and kissed me again, this time on the cheek. Normally at this point I’d be halfway through a double vodka, but I had to give him credit. He’d known how to diminish my stress level faster and more efficiently with something far simpler. I was thinking so clearly, in fact, that it occurred to me to hand him a tissue from the box beside me on the end table. He took it, wiped his hand discreetly, then put the tissue in his pocket.
“Do you want me to take off your dress?” He undid the ankle straps on my shoes and slid them off my feet. I moaned when he pressed his thumbs into my arches, a sensation so intensely pleasurable that it reverberated deep in my sex.
“You certainly know how to handle a woman,” I complimented, purring as he rubbed my soles. There are the kind of people who make a bad situation worse, and the kind who make it better, and he was obviously the latter. I couldn’t imagine what it would take for him to lose his temper, and I never wanted to find out.
“My woman, yes,” he said.
“Do you use your hands to fix every problem?” Oh, that felt good. His grip was so strong, and I’d always preferred a firm touch.
“Well, you’d be surprised how much of our mental state can be transformed simply through physical manipulation. Massage is one way, but did you know there are painkillers in the chemicals released during orgasm? Some people say they can effectively treat their migraines by having sex.” He smiled and glanced up quickly to make sure I hadn’t lost interest, but I was listening.
“And it works the other way around, too. When you’re suffering physically, it takes a tremendous toll on the mind. You really can drive yourself crazy by wallowing in negative thoughts.” He continued to rub, putting more pressure on my feet than I had ever experienced. I closed my eyes and started to melt in to the chair.
“You’re smart,” I said, but he just laughed.
“It’s not like I invented it, mamita. I learned from books like everyone else.”
“It’s not just books. You’re clever.” This reminded of something, and I peered at him through heavy lids. “Rafa, how did you know I could have a vaginal orgasm? I didn’t think I could.”
“That actually comes from a book, too,” he said, still rubbing my feet. “There’s published research dating back to the 1920s that suggests a woman’s C-V distance determines whether or not it’s possible for her to have an orgasm from intercourse alone.”
“What’s that?”
“Clitoral-vaginal distance. If it’s less than two and a half centimeters, scientists think you can have one.”
“And I fall in that category?” I asked, sitting up.
“Lucky us,” he said with a smile.
“When did you pull out the yard stick and check?”
“The first night. Even though it was annoyingly dark, I managed.”
“What if my C-V distance had been more than that?”
“Then I would have changed my strategy. One way or the other, you know I take care of business.” He gave me a little wink and started to rub my calves, which was surprisingly wonderful.
“Strategy, huh? Now I remember everything,” I said. “You went straight to oral sex because you wanted a good look, then you felt around for an IUD string, and that’s why you were so confident about not needing a condom with me. That’s really kind of sneaky! It’s like having the answers to a test ahead of time!”
“Don’t be mad,” he said, dissolving into laughter. “It wasn’t as calculated as you just made it sound. Anyway, sometimes STDs are visible and sometimes they’re not. You need blood work to be sure. The condom—I have no excuse. We took a chance and trusted each other.”
“I’m not mad,” I sighed, still complete putty in his hands. “It’s actually fascinating.”
“Believe me, all I could think about was kissing and touching you all over. I was delirious with lust.”
“What else did you notice?”
“Nothing,” he said after a pause. “You have a right to your privacy, no matter how intimate we are.”
“Rafa,” I said, sitting forward with interest, “how did you know it was my first vaginal orgasm?”
“Because you were so afraid of it,” he said, kissing my knee. “You still are.”
“Why do you think it’s never happened before?”
“Your anatomy makes it possible, but it’s all about whether you’re in the moment. The mind is the greatest erogenous zone. Without that part, nothing’s going to happen.”
“That makes sense,” I said, considering everything he’d said. “You know, I really do enjoy talking to you. Even if we’d met under other circumstances, I’m sure we would have at least been good friends.”
“What do you mean by other circumstances?” he asked, glancing up.
“I don’t know. In school. Or if one of us were already married to someone else.” He gave me a funny look that I couldn’t decipher.
“Well,” he said, putting aside whatever he was thinking, “if you think I’m so smart, then listen to me when I make suggestions. Let’s start exercising together.”
“Sorry, handsome,” I quipped. “I never work out.”
“I think you should start running. You’ll see.” He stopped rubbing and then gave my thighs a squeeze. “I also want you to stop drinking for a while, if you can. Give your body a break. If you can’t, we’ll deal with it.”
“Of course I can. I don’t know why I overdo it. It’s a bad habit.” I hoped he would believe me, because it was true. If it were more serious than that, I would have told him.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have a problem. I think you drink because you’re lonely and preoccupied with the past, but you’re not going to be any of those things now that I’m around.” He pulled playfully on my pinkie toe. “So, can we try it?”
I put my foot on his groin and found that he was already erect. I traced his impressive length up one side and down the other, enjoying the feeling of his firm shaft through the fabric. “Sure, but you’ll have to keep me entertained.”
He watched my painted toes dance over his erection with obvious delight. “My pleasure,” he said.
After he finished in the bathroom, I washed my face and put on a satin
nightie. I thought about leaving the makeup on, but I didn’t feel the need to hide behind anything with Rafa, so I came out of the bathroom barefaced. He wore nothing but his glasses and a pair of boxers, looking sexier than ever as he read a local magazine. I curled around his body, reveling in our closeness and in how good his skin felt on mine. He opened his arms and pulled me toward him, effortlessly rolling me on my back.
“Nice glasses,” I said.
Rafa pulled down the straps of my chemise and checked the pink skin on my chest and on my legs. “It’s peeling now. Don’t ever do that again, mamita. It’s so bad for you.”
I heard everything he said, yet all I could do was touch his lips with my fingertips. I adored his face, probably for the same superficial reasons every other woman did, yet the more I knew him, the more meaningful his features became. I noticed little things now, like the barely discernible chicken pox scar between his eyebrows, and it made me wonder how old he’d been when he was sick and who took care of him, if anyone. It was nice that he let me stare at him as long as I wanted, and he liked doing it, too. It was never awkward between us when we took the time to really contemplate each other.
“You are so sweet,” he whispered, kissing my lips. “And there it is again.”
“What?” I kissed him back and flicked my tongue in the little groove between his lip and chin. He took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand.
“The look that tells me it’s time.” He climbed on top of me, slithered out of his boxers and put both knees between my legs. Spreading me open with ease, he reached down and positioned himself so that it would only take one thrust to fully seat himself inside me.
He tasted me deeply as always, our tongues moving together in a cadence unique to us. I’d never enjoyed kissing as much as I did now with Rafa, probably because it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and he never tired of putting his lips on me in a million different ways, whether it was to kiss me or lick me all over. He caressed me for a long while, eventually making his way down to my sex, where he used a feather light touch that drove me wild. Of course, it didn’t take long before I was close to the edge, but then he stopped. Somehow he always knew exactly when to hold back, and though he might not always be able to read my thoughts, he certainly could read my body.
“I am going to teach you how to wait.” he said. “It’s even better that way.” I looked into those endless blue eyes for reassurance. “It’s a gift, not a punishment,” he promised.
He brought his mouth down on mine again, tongues resuming the same tempo. As lovely as it was when took me from behind, this was far more intimate. I adored seeing his face, feeling his weight on top of me, and being able to touch him all over with ease.
I reached down between us and began to caress his penis. I stroked him with my fingertips at first, feeling the suppleness of his skin and then the hard valleys and ridges created by the pattern of the vein underneath. I enjoyed learning about him this way, virtually blind, relying only on my sense of touch. Enticed by the texture of his skin, I couldn’t stop stroking it, the way you can’t stop petting soft fur or cashmere.
Cradling his testicles in my hand, he moaned as I gently handled one and then the other. I pressed between them, feeling the base of his erection underneath his skin where it joined his body and enjoying his soft sighs as I massaged him there and then in the space behind his scrotum. I had no idea what I was doing other than slowly exploring his beautiful body, but it no doubt felt very good to him, because he’d stopped kissing me and for the first time gave me absolute control.
“Amada,” he sighed, letting his head drop in the bend of my neck. He tightened up, and guessing it had something to do with imminent ejaculation, I gave his testicles a very gentle tug to see if I could help him last longer. I waited for a complaint, but Rafa said nothing and let me continue to stroke him in the same spot while he moaned and licked my collarbone like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever had in his mouth. It was amazing to see him so aroused and uninhibited, and for the first time I understood why he liked pleasing me so much.
I thought of the chapter in Moby Dick titled “The Whiteness of the Whale,” a lengthy discourse on the symbolism of color. If Melville’s great opus could be so preoccupied with a single color, I wondered how it was possible that in all of Western literature no one had ever written an ode to the male form. Perhaps they had, and it was hidden somewhere among the Greek classics or in the banned books of French erotic literature. The glory of a man’s body, especially his phallus, was just as profound as female beauty in its own way, fully deserving of contemplation and admiration. Lost in my own peculiar mix of thoughts, I wondered what Rafa was thinking about, and while I wouldn’t have asked any other man, the rules were different with him. I was glad to know, because it was in marked contrast to my own erudite meditations.
“You’re velvet, Rafa.” I whispered, still caressing him. “What does it feel like?” He looked up regarded me with a combination of need and exhilaration, and after taking a moment to think about my question, he put his hand on mine to still it.
“Like pure joy.”
“Jouissance,” I smiled. “So let me keep going.”
“I’m too close. I have to finish inside you tonight.”
“Why?”
“I just do.” Porque sí.
We switched positions, but instead of straddling him I hovered above his swollen penis. I lingered there to build his anticipation, then slid down his erection like melting caramel, relishing every inch. He was hot and thick, and he filled all of my empty space to the hilt. I sighed with contentment when he was completely inside me, knowing instinctively that our connection went beyond our bodies to the metaphysical. There was no question that we were one, and although we might not be able say how or why, I saw it in his eyes too. Wanting nothing between us, he found the hem of my nightgown and pulled it off, watching with fascination as my nipples tightened in the cool air of the room. He used his hands to support and weigh each of my breasts as if trying to commit everything in his sight to memory.
I couldn’t hold still any longer, so he let me experiment until I found the perfect angle on my own, and seeing that I wanted to be somewhere between flat and upright, helped by propping himself up on a pillow. With that small adjustment, we hit the perfect spot. I kissed him deeply as I rode him, delighting in the incomparable pleasure of every thrust. For the first time, he let me lead our dance, and I finally knew what it was like for him when he became possessed. The more I took from him, the more I wanted, and as we embraced, he let me feast on him, my carnivore pelvis wanting nothing less than to eat him alive. The room filled with our grunts and whimpers, but as we both neared our climax we became blind and mute, each of us aware of nothing but the freefall of our own body into the other’s as Rafa satisfied his instinct to fill me up.
CHAPTER SIX
I held my Amada in my arms, and having just experienced the most intense orgasm of my life, I was overcome by a sense of serenity and happiness unlike any other. I couldn’t kid myself, I did feel love for her in and out of bed, but more so at this moment than ever. I knew very well that my body had released oxytocin during my orgasm, and as the supposed love chemical, my mind was under the influence of a powerful drug. But deep down I knew it was more than that. I’d had a lot of sex in my life, but never like this. When she asked why I wanted to be inside her, I should have told her then, but I couldn’t bring myself to confess that after thirty-six years of bachelorhood, I’d fallen in love so fast. I’d barely accepted it myself.
When we were done making love, I stayed inside her for as long as possible and didn’t let go until our bodies came undone. We ended up on our sides, facing each other in silence, and she looked peaceful, so unlike her mood when we got to the hotel. I looked in her green eyes and noticed gold flecks in a starburst pattern, a little universe right there, just for me. My brave lover had been so giving and uninhibited tonight that I was delighted to let her ha
ve me any way she liked. I would have given her anything, allowed anything, just to see what her preferences revealed about her.
I took her palm and kissed it, loving her taste and her bare skin. Hypnotized by her scent, my lips traveled to her nipple, and she let out a gasp when I drew it in my mouth and sucked it like a piece of hard candy.
“Oh, I love when you do that,” she purred, running her fingers through my hair.
“I haven’t tasted you nearly enough tonight.” I moved to the other nipple and made a mental note to wake her in the morning with a nice long kiss between her legs.
“Hold that thought,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
While she was in the bathroom, I turned on my back and stretched out, feeling happy. I realized I’d worked up a little appetite, so I went to the table where we’d set down our belongings and found a bottle of Evian, and to my delight, the forgotten box of pastries.
“Jesus, Rafa. How do you have such a fantastic body? You look like someone who spends all day in the gym.” On her way back, she gave me a little kiss between my shoulder blades, but before I could return the favor she was back in the bed, reclining seductively just like the courtesan in Manet’s Olympia. God, she was beautiful.
“I’m glad you like it, because I certainly can’t keep it off you.”
“Seriously. Tell me.”
I peeked inside the box and let her have another good look. The pastries smelled delicious. “I just try to exercise when I can and eat healthy,” I said absentmindedly, poking around all the sweets. I turned around and held up the box triumphantly. “But not tonight!”
After I washed my hands, I pulled a chair up, placed the box between us and showed her everything I’d bought earlier.
“Here,” I said, handing her a glass of spring water. “Have you ever tried Cuban pastries before?”
“Never.”
“Oh, then this is going to be fun. You’re taking a bite of every single one.”
“No way,” she said, “I won’t be able fit into those tight little dresses you like.”
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