“Nobody in the world has that amount of food! The way you, Charlie, and Caleb eat, we will be starving within three days!” said Camille.
We all started laughing, and, of course, the girls were laughing even louder.
We decided to chance it and stay in Acapulco and wait out the storm. We decided on a plan of action for the morning, which was to go to the hotels to pick up the girls’ suitcases and stop, on the way back, at the supermarket to buy food and household supplies.
Moving in
Given space limitations for both passengers and luggage, Charlie and Caleb stayed at the house while I played chauffeur for the ladies.
I drove for an hour and a half to Acapulco Dorado, where both hotels were located. We stopped first at Valentina’s hotel. She was in and out in a few minutes, telling me as I was putting her suitcase in the trunk that she had called her parents in Monterrey. They had been worried because of the storm, but she told them she was staying with some friends and gave them my telephone number. I said, “I hope the house phone keeps working in this weather!”
Juliette and Camille’s hotel was a couple of blocks away, so we were there inside of ten minutes. The girls took almost an hour to check out. As they came down to the CR-V with a bellboy carrying their luggage, Juliette said, “Sorry for the delay. Not only were we being overcharged, but we were talking to a very nice American guest we met a couple of days ago, and she invited us to an Independence Day party on her friend’s yacht. We would really like to go. We asked her if it would be OK for all of us to go together. She said no problem; the more the merrier. Can we go? Come on, let’s all go. We have never been to a yacht party before. Come on. Say yes.”
I looked straight at them and told them, “We are expecting extreme weather. Being on a yacht in these conditions is dangerous.”
Juliette answered, “We asked her that, and she told us not to worry. The yacht is a big one, suited for extreme weather conditions, including hurricanes. It is a super-yacht, seventy meters long, with a party room, seven suites, and twenty crew members.”
Well, I thought, a seventy-meter yacht should be safe, but I was still uncomfortable. I said, “Why don’t we wait until we get back and talk to Charlie and Caleb before deciding? However, if you two girls want to say yes to your friend right now, go ahead.”
“No,” said Camille. “Either we all go, or nobody goes.”
I liked her response, so I said, “Good. Then it is settled. Juliette, why don’t you go back to your friend and tell her that we will call her back in a couple of hours and let her know?”
“OK,” Juliette responded. She turned around and ran back into the hotel. A minute or two later, she was outside again and climbing into the CR-V.
Park and shop
I drove back in bumper-to-bumper traffic, with broken-down cars in the middle of the street, in six to eight inches of brownish water with all kinds of floating trash. It had taken us just over an hour to drive to the supermarket, a trip that would have normally taken only five minutes. When we arrived, all the parking slots were taken. After waiting for an interminable ten minutes, we made it to the head of the car line. As I waited for the woman in front of us to vacate the parking space, a car at the end of the line swerved left and sped up on the opposite side. The driver tried to cut in front of me and steal the space.
No, no, no. That was not going to happen.
I had already started moving forward into the slot, so he didn’t have enough room to maneuver into the space. We were both blocking the entrance.
I turned to look at the girls. I could see Valentina and Camille getting angry, but Juliette had a look of concern. She immediately said, “Let’s forget about the space and wait for another one.”
Camille turned and told her, “What if another car does the same thing? Should we keep on losing our turn until the store is closed?”
“No, no. That is not what I meant. What I meant is that we don’t want to get into a fight over a parking space.”
“Juliette, it is not a parking space that is the issue here,” I said. “It is about what is right and what is wrong. And it is wrong for this man to barge in ahead of us and take away the parking spot that is rightfully ours.”
As we were talking, a large man had come to my door shouting something we couldn’t hear because the windows were closed to keep out the rain. He slapped my window, and I rolled it down. “Pinche pendejo, move your fucking car so I can park, or I am going to beat the shit out of you, putito!”
I had lost valuable time talking to Juliette, which had given him the advantage. I was inside the car, and he could easily punch me through the window and kick my car door. To give myself an even chance, I needed to get out of the car, so I said, “Sure, I’m sorry. You’re right. Please let me clean my window because I can hardly see. Is that OK, sir?”
He took a few steps back and said, “Hurry up, pinche niño pendejo.”
As soon as I got out of the car, he saw my size, and I could see the beginnings of doubt on his face.
I walked toward him and said, “You only have one chance to move your car—only one.”
He was not a bright man. I guess he was accustomed to getting his way all of his life. He was large in a muscled, chunky kind of way. He had little beady eyes and a dark complexion. I guessed his weight to be about 210 pounds and his height to be about five feet eleven inches.
He went for my right forearm, trying to seize it and pull me toward him so he could reach me with a left hook. As soon as I felt his hand on my forearm, I put my left hand on top of his and grabbed his forearm in a parallel maneuver. I then put all my strength into my right hand, pressing down his forearm while taking a step back and pulling him toward me.
He involuntary cried out in pain. He had to compensate for the pressure on his arm by dropping down on his knees. As he was going down, I was raising my left knee. Just before his knees touched the ground, my knee made contact with his face with a loud, hollow crunching sound. There was a rapid exhalation and the splashing sound of a falling body. I released my hold of his arm and stood back. I didn’t want any blood on me. The bully was down on all fours, dropping blood and mucus in the water.
I squatted next to him and searched his pants for his wallet. I took it out and checked his voting ID card. I stood up, walked to my car, and asked Valentina to write down his name and address. I then went back to him. He had already stood up and was holding his nose with his head up.
I said, “You are a stupid, mean bully, and you have paid with a broken nose. Consider yourself lucky this time. I now know your name and where you live. Here, take your wallet.” As he reached for his wallet, I grabbed his wrist and added, “I want you now to move your car out of here, and if I see any scratches on my CR-V when I come out, I’m going to find you, and I won’t be so nice next time. Do we understand each other?”
He looked dumbly at me holding his wallet without uttering a word. I slapped his face and said, “Look at me!” He was already looking at me, but I wanted to make a point. “I want to hear that you understand and that I won’t have any further problems with you.”
He said in a twangy and resigned voice, “Yes, I understand, and no, you won’t have any problems with me anymore.” Saying that, he walked to his car, backed up, and drove out of the parking lot. I climbed back into the driver’s seat and parked the CR-V.
Despite the rain, a group of onlookers had formed around us. I signaled with my hand to the parking attendant to come close. The attendant was clad in a black garbage bag in which he had made three holes, one for his head and two for his arms. He also had a shopping bag wrapped around his hat. He looked like an apparition from hell.
I gave him a hundred-peso bill and told him to page me in the store if that man came back and did something to my car, or if he came back with company. The attendant said to me, as he was pocketing the money, “Señor, you did the right thing. I know that guy, and he always does the same thing. Sometimes he leaves his car blockin
g other cars, and when the drivers complain, he insults them and intimidates them into silence.”
“Well, I hope he will be better behaved from now on, although I doubt it,” I said. “Don’t forget to page me if he comes back.”
The four of us walked into the store and grabbed a shopping cart. The store was completely full. People, concerned about the hurricane, had gone into panic-shopping mode and were buying everything in sight. We had not spoken about the incident, and I wanted to keep it that way. I said, “Camille, Juliette, please grab another cart and buy whatever you think we need. You two go through aisles one to five, and Valentina and I will go through aisles six to ten. We will meet at cash register number four in twenty minutes to half an hour. We have to hurry, or there won’t be anything left to buy.” Valentina and I started moving through the store.
Half an hour later, Camille, Juliette, Valentina, and I were at the checkout paying for our purchases. We had twenty-two bags. Generally, I estimate an average of 200 pesos per bag, so I figured the total bill was going to be 4,400 pesos. I was close but a little under. The whole bill came to almost 5,000 pesos—storm inflation, I figured.
We packed the shopping bags wherever we could find space in the CR-V. The parking attendant was holding an umbrella and passing the bags to us. So I asked him, “Did he come back?”
“No, he probably went to another store. He lost face in a big way. I don’t think he’s going to show his sorry ass around here for a while. I should thank you for that. He never tips, and he is always getting me into trouble with other drivers. If I had been you, I would have hit him harder. You were actually very decent to that monster.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” I said while giving him 10 pesos as a tip. I don’t think anybody had ever given him a 110-peso gratuity. He was a happy and cheerful apparition-from-hell parking attendant.
The CR-V was full with all of the luggage and grocery bags. The girls were sitting next to the bags, with a couple on their laps. “We look like gypsies or a traveling circus,” I said, but my attempt at humor fell flat.
After twenty minutes of uncomfortable silence and driving at no more than five to ten kilometers per hour, Juliette said, “That was horrible what you did to that man!” I looked at her in the rearview mirror and kept quiet.
Valentina, who was sitting on my right in the front, turned around and asked Camille, “What would you have done?”
Camille responded, “Exactly what Santi did. I actually think he showed admirable restraint. That man was horrible, and he has probably been intimidating and hurting people all of his life. Yes, perhaps it was horrible. But that man was asking for it. What is your take on this, Valentina?”
“I agree that Santi did the right thing,” responded Valentina. “Bullies are by nature cowards. Under normal circumstances, perhaps I would have walked away to avoid the conflict. I think that the best fight is the one never fought. However, the storm warning and the panic of worried people make for circumstances out of the ordinary. If we lose our ability to act in a civilized manner, we lose our humanity. Santi here,” she said while holding my chin with her right hand, “just reminded that man to behave like a civilized human being.”
Juliette said, “I guess I am clearly outnumbered here. I just abhor violence and fighting. If it had been up to me, I would have given him the parking space and waited until I found another one. I know that sounds cowardly, but that is me. I’d rather flee than fight.”
I said, “I believe Charlie would have said that you would rather make love than war.” This time, the three of them laughed in a more relaxed manner. Good, I thought. The situation has been defused. Thank heavens we are back to normal.
“No rain or hurricane is going to get in the way of a wonderful 15 de septiembre!” I said.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Afternoon night
We arrived at Casa Azania at about five o’clock. The rain had not let up. It would only slow down to a drizzle and then, suddenly, it would again be torrential. Umbrellas were useless. They would easily turn inside out when hit by a sudden gust of wind.
I honked the horn, and Charlie and Caleb opened the garage doors for us. I drove in, and we took the bags down to the kitchen. We now had sufficient provisions for about two or three weeks if need be.
“How did it go?” asked Charlie.
“Boring, boring,” I responded, and then rapidly added, “We have been invited to an Independence Day party aboard a seventy-meter super luxury yacht!”
Even though I had been trying to avoid talking about the incident, Juliette jumped in and said, “It might have been boring for Santi, but certainly not for us, and especially not to the guy whose nose he broke!”
“Santi, what in the world did you do?” asked Caleb.
“Look, guys, I am soaking wet. Let me take a quick shower and change into dry clothes. I am sure Camille and Juliette will be happy to fill you in.” I opened the refrigerator and grabbed two beers. Then I took Valentina’s hand, and we climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
As soon as we were alone, Valentina grabbed my face between her hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “You did what you had to do. Thanks, baby!” She then proceeded to kiss me and undress me, which I let her do because I am a docile, dependable, and obedient boy.
When I was completely naked, she pushed me back onto the bed. Slowly she took off her clothes and climbed on top of me. Her legs straddled me, and she was already moist and ready for me. She moaned as she let me enter her, and soon she was fully sitting on top me.
The sweet-sour spike of pleasure shot through me, making me gasp as her vagina throbbed around my manhood. Her hips jerked convulsively. Her breathing was unsteady. She arched her back until her hands rested on my knees. She began moving back and forth. I was so hard and erect that it was pleasure bordering on pain. She began increasing the momentum. I could feel and hear her reaching an orgasm. When it came, it came in a sudden explosion, and she dropped on me, burying her head in the hollow of my shoulder. She was trembling.
I grabbed her head and wrapped my arm around her waist and flipped her over on her back in one smooth motion. I was still deep inside of her. One moment she had been on top of me, and the next moment she was spread out beneath me. I kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. She could only feel. She wrapped her arms around my muscular back, trying to get as close to me as she possibly could.
I needed this; I needed her. I slid my tongue along hers, wanting to crawl inside of her. Her hips shifted longingly against my groin, and she whimpered into my mouth when she felt the pulsing of my erection straining against her moist inner walls, pushing against her mound, making her wild to feel me so deep inside of her.
Pulling her mouth away from me, she gasped, “Santi, I need you to fuck me. Please.”
I grabbed a pillow, raised her lower back, and placed it under her lovely ass. She started moaning once again. I started kissing and sucking her lips without fully kissing her. She started responding; her hips began undulating once again. I started moving little by little, up, down, and around. I wanted it to last. I wanted to make it last as long as possible. But she came again and forced me to increase my pace. When I came, I came in a hard and copious explosion. I could feel my seed shooting into her. I couldn’t stop moving. I kept on going and going until I came again. I didn’t have anything left. I stopped and fell on top of her, exhausted.
As I was trying to roll off her, she held me, saying, “I want you to stay inside of me for as long as possible.” She held my face in her hands, looking at my eyes and kissing me. She put my head onto her shoulder and tenderly rubbed my head with her fingers. I think I fell asleep for a couple of minutes, because suddenly I was being forcefully awakened as Valentina shouted to me, “Get off. Get off me; I can’t breathe!”
Laughing, I moved off her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought you were tougher than that,” I said as I stood up. Walking to the bathroom, I turned around and said to her, “W
e better hurry and talk to the rest of the group and decide whether we’re going to go to the Independence Day yacht party or not. How do you feel? Do you want to go?” I asked her.
“Not really. I feel lazy. I’d rather stay here,” she said.
“I feel the same way,” I said. “Let’s shower, get dressed, and find out how the rest of them feel about it.”
We showered together. We tried to behave, but it was difficult, if not impossible. As I was helpfully soaping her body, my hands inadvertently spent more time on her breasts and nipples and between her legs, and suddenly I was hard again. She looked down onto my raging erection and said, “We cannot let that one go to waste.” She grabbed me with her arms around my neck. I cupped her ass to lift her as she enveloped her legs around my waist. I moved into her once again. The water was cascading over us. We were deep into each other. This time we climaxed together. I actually saw stars and electrical sparks as I came. It seemed to take forever before I regained my focus. My legs felt rubbery, and I had to bring her down gently before I fell down. I finished showering, and with a parting kiss, I got out of the shower, letting her continue with hers. I toweled myself dry. I put on white underwear, black trousers, black canvas shoes, and a white guayabera.
Valentina came out of the bathroom. She saw me and said, “You look very handsome, but please try this blue striped shirt. Blue suits you.”
“Whatever you say, mom,” I said, taking off the guayabera and putting on the blue shirt.
Once I was fully dressed, I combed my hair, strapped on my watch, grabbed my wallet, and walked to the door, saying to Valentina, “I’ll be downstairs with the others. Don’t take too long.”
Warriors in Paradise Page 6
