Faith in the Flesh

by Maira Isabel Pita

  “If what you mean by that is that I’m not a liar or a hypocrite and that I care about other people’s feelings then yes, I am a nice girl. I was honest with my boyfriend and now I’m being honest with you.”

  “No you’re not. You haven’t actually told me why you’re inviting me to this party.” Abruptly, he gripped the hair at the back of my neck, forcing my head up as he pressed his body against mine. “Tell me!”

  He was no longer exercising the careful restraint of a police officer and it turned me on so much I didn’t know what to say. “Because I want you…” My breath caught when something hard jabbed me in the hip as he brought his other hand around to squeeze my ass with painful force.

  “You want me, Ariana?”

  “Yes, I want you to come…to the party, I mean…”

  “I’m flattered.” He let go of my hair and ran the ball of his thumb over my mouth, parting my lips so that I had to resist the urge to suck on it. “Text-message me the address,” he commanded. “I’ll be there.” He left without kissing me.

  I closed the front door as he got into the squad car and reluctantly turned to face my mother as I heard her walk out of the kitchen. Her fists were planted firmly on her hips in a way that told me I was in for an interrogation.

  “John isn’t involved in anything illegal is he?” she demanded.

  “That was Eric and he has nothing to do with John.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure!” I replied testily because I didn’t enjoy lying to my mother but the truth would upset her even more.

  “You haven’t answered my question, Ariana.”

  “No, John isn’t involved in anything illegal unless being a talented artist is a crime!”

  “Then why was that policeman here?”

  “Remember I told you about the key to my rental car breaking in half? He’s the locksmith who made me a new one. He was working with his uncle or someone while he was temporarily suspended from active duty. He’s the man I met for drinks the other night. I’ve had sex with him a couple of times but I told him I was seeing someone else so I couldn’t see him again.” I concentrated on stirring the sauce simmering on the stove.

  “You had sex with him?” she asked faintly. “But when…?”

  “In the back of the locksmith’s shop and in a hotel phone booth. I don’t know why but I just couldn’t resist him. If I hadn’t met John, I’m sure I’d be dating him right now. Me dating a cop.” I was desperate to put an end to the conversation before I gave her a heart attack. “Imagine that!”

  She crossed herself as if even the thought was too much to bear.

  * * * * *

  That evening I opened the door leading into John’s building and nearly collided with a woman who had obviously run down the stairs. I only got a brief glimpse of her lovely face but it was all I needed to know that her headlong flight had been prompted by intense emotions, none of them good. By contrast I felt as lighthearted and deeply content as a feather drifted off my guardian angel’s wing as I ascended the steps to my lover’s door. I raised my fist to knock politely but a strange impulse made me test the knob first and it turned in my hand. The door was unlocked so I let myself in, asserting my right to do so by virtue of our sexual and spiritual intimacy.

  His back was to me as I entered. He was working on my clay body, wearing a full-length white apron tied over a short-sleeved black t-shirt and blue jeans.

  “Please leave,” he said coldly without looking over at me.

  The door slipped out of my suddenly nerveless grasp and clicked shut behind me. I took a few steps toward him in my high-heeled sandals, too stunned to speak.

  “It’s over. Can’t you understand that?” His voice was hard as he angrily wiped his hands on his apron.

  “John?” I felt as if I was about to faint and if he didn’t catch me I would not survive the fall.

  He looked over his shoulder. “Ariana!” He strode toward me, removing his dirty apron on the way. “I thought…I didn’t know it was you.” He dropped the clay-covered white cloth and took me in his arms.

  He pressed me so hard against him I was scarcely able to catch my breath. But at least my heart had started beating again. The dead universe I had caught a horrifying glimpse of was gone and I was back in the wonderful world created by the horizon of his loving arms.

  He let go of me and gazed down at my face with a look of concern.

  “I saw a woman running out of the building.” I finally found my voice. “Was she…?”

  “Yes. I thought she had come back.”

  “You only just now broke up with her?” I pitied her more than I could express but I was also profoundly hurt to think he had still been involved with someone after all we had said to each other, not to mention done together.

  “No. I told her it was over the day after I met you but I don’t think she believed me.” He stared steadily down into my eyes as he spoke so the truth of what he was saying penetrated directly into my soul and bypassed my suspicious brain. “She kept calling even though I had made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to see her again and today she just showed up. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, sorry for her. I can’t even imagine how terrible it must be to lose you.”

  He pressed my cheek against his chest, holding me tenderly against him now. “You’re so sweet.”

  “She was beautiful,” I remarked cattily, because mingled with my pity for her was also a fierce sense of triumph.

  “Nowhere near as beautiful as you, Ariana.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” He held me at arm’s length again. “You don’t believe me?”

  I thought of the girl’s long slender limbs and flowing reddish-blonde hair. “She’s beautiful too,” I pointed out jealously.

  “Yes but not all the way through like you. No woman will ever be as beautiful to me as you are, Ariana. Surely you realize that?”

  “Yes!” I sighed, wrapping my arms hungrily around his chest and closing my eyes as I rested my cheek against his warm strength. This is where I belong, I thought, listening to his heart beating. He’s all mine, all mine, all mine!

  “I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

  “I love you too,” I whispered back. “More than anything!”

  He stroked the hair away from my face and looked down into my eyes. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. Three of the men I had slept with were going to be in the same room together. I was both self-consciously anxious about what might happen and dreading nothing would happen. Other people would be there too, nothing could happen I told myself firmly but I sensed that wasn’t true and I was too excited for comfort.

  “I asked you a question, Ariana.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready or not,” I replied truthfully.

  “That’s all right. It’s natural to be nervous. The important thing is not to be afraid because there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m with you and I won’t ever let anyone hurt you. So let me phrase it differently. Don’t think about your answer, just be honest. Do you want to go?”

  “Oh yes!”

  He smiled. “Then let’s do it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Manuel did not live in a stone castle of course. He owned a modest little mansion in the Gables surrounded by lush tropical foliage. I revised my romantic image of him and enjoyed picturing him as a Mayan king carving out an island of civilization in the savage heart of the Amazon.

  I clung to John’s hand as I crossed the threshold beneath the darkly indifferent gaze of a fully uniformed maid, her short and solid figure reminiscent of ancient Mezzo-American sculptures. Her features were thick and heavy almost to the point of appearing crude and cruel until she smiled with all her big white teeth and her threatening aura vanished like a distorting mist.

  “Buenas Noches,” she declared in a low-pitched, husky voice. Then she closed the door and walked away without another word, vanish
ing into a dark corridor. The other side of the house was lit up and I heard the distant alluring music of soft male and female voices punctuated by an occasional burst of sophisticated laughter.

  I was suddenly so nervous I had to fight the urge to turn around and run home to Mami. The owner of this magnificent abode was a complete stranger to me and yet he had fucked my ass last night. It was so hard to believe it was easier for me to pretend it hadn’t happened than to deal with the thought.

  John led me confidently into a large room made even more spacious by the stone-walled patio opening off it.

  I wondered if Eric was on duty tonight because a quick glance told me he hadn’t arrived yet. I had text-messaged him the address but for all I knew he had decided not to come after all. I told myself I didn’t care and half managed to convince myself it would be better if he didn’t show up simply because I couldn’t quite imagine what would happen if he did.

  I immediately spotted Manuel standing out on the patio—the tall, dark center of a group of rather skimpily clad young women. The stab of jealousy I experienced took me completely by surprise and seriously unsettled me. I had come here with John. I was in love with John. I had no right to feel possessive of Manuel just because I had sucked his cock last night and then suffered the mysterious thrill of letting him come in my ass.

  “Why don’t you go and greet our host while I get us some drinks,” my handsome date suggested.

  I smiled at him. “Yes, sir.” I appreciated the fact that he was giving me the option to remain safely by his side.

  He squeezed my hand approvingly. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Just some Chardonnay, please.”

  “Are you sure? Manuel is famous for the fine aged mescal he kindly offers his guests, which I believe costs over two hundred dollars a bottle.”

  I was seriously tempted for a second but I didn’t want to get drunk. Whatever happened tonight I wanted to remember it clearly enough to savor for years to come. “No thanks, just some for wine for now,” I insisted and suddenly found myself uncomfortably alone.

  I headed in the general direction of the patio, pausing along the way to admire some of the works of art Manuel had collected. There were paintings, large and small, tabletop sculptures and a handful of larger pieces flanking doorways, vases of all shapes, sizes and colors filled with expensive bouquets of multi-colored flowers and even the blood-red terracotta floor tiles were softened by exquisitely woven rugs. He had very good taste, there was no denying that and this pleased me. When a man of such passionate artistic discernment said you were truly beautiful it was a compliment indeed.

  I half hoped John would return with our drinks before I reached the patio but a furtive glance over my shoulder told me he had been intercepted by a silver-haired gentleman with the promising aura of a wealthy potential buyer and his elegantly dressed young trophy wife. This party was for him, not me, I reminded myself and the thought made me feel a little less on edge. What might possibly happen when everybody left was something I didn’t need to think about yet.

  The whole time I was leisurely making my way outside I was aware of the fact that Manuel was watching me. He looked just as sexy as I remembered him in his black leather pants and boots, only tonight he was wearing a white shirt with full sleeves evocative of another century and only the top two buttons were undone. It annoyed and upset me more than I cared to admit that he didn’t approach me himself. Yet it was also strangely exciting the way he kept staring past the girls surrounding him to hold my eyes and smile, although whether he was amused by something they said or by my shy pace in his direction was impossible to tell.

  A small stone fountain adorned the center of the large patio dotted here and there with delicate black wrought iron chairs and tables. No one was sitting in them now. Everyone clearly preferred the comfort of the air-conditioned house even though their host was blatantly contributing to global warming by keeping the French doors wide open so some of the cool air wafted out onto the patio.

  “Ariana.”

  I loved the way he said my name, pronouncing it in perfect Spanish in a clear, ringing voice that brought out the rhythmic music in the syllables and made all the lovely heads surrounding him turn curiously in my direction.

  “Manuel.” I returned his smile with completely feigned composure.

  He looked at his three companions, holding the eyes of each girl for an instant. “Leave me,” he said in that quiet way of his that absolutely had to be obeyed.

  I watched in smug disbelief as the trite trio of blonde, brunette and redhead immediately walked away into the house.

  “Well you certainly have them well trained,” I remarked cattily.

  He grinned and turned to the small table behind him. “Have a shot of this. It will help you relax.”

  “What makes you think I’m not relaxed?” I said even as I accepted the small glass.

  “But first of course, a little salt and lime juice.” He ignored my question, quite rightly sensing it had been rhetorical.

  Holding the shot glass in my left hand, I held up my right hand with the palm facing sideways so he could dust the skin between my thumb and forefinger with salt.

  I smiled up into his eyes and bent my head to lick off the salt at the time he did. Our tongues met on the briny shore of my flesh and writhed together like beached dolphins for a wildly delicious instant.

  He laughed as I leapt back from the contact and glanced self-consciously into the house.

  “Drink,” he commanded.

  I gladly downed the shot.

  He thrust the lime wedge gently between my lips. “Mm…” His smile dimmed as he watched me suck on it. “Now tell me, wasn’t that good?”

  “Delicious!” I agreed, thoroughly enjoying the warmth spreading through my body and taking the edge off my nerves. “Is that your famous tequila?”

  “No, it’s pure mescal. The best. Have some more.”

  “John is getting me a glass of Chardonnay…”

  “You can handle two different drinks.” I knew he was teasing me but I didn’t resist as he repeated the ritual of salt, shot and lime juice.

  “My God!” I gasped. “That is powerful stuff.”

  “Yes it is, and you love it.”

  The euphoric cloud softening the edges of my thoughts exquisitely sharpened my senses. “What do you mean?” I stared up at his face in wonder. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Yet he wasn’t beautiful like a woman—his distinctive features were sharply masculine in a dangerous way I couldn’t seem to resist.

  “I mean you love power, Ariana. Most women do. The only difference is how deep some very special women need this power to be. Most of my slaves are happy with a big cock and an even bigger bank account but not you. Women like you require a real lasting power from a Dom, the kind of power that requires much higher levels of intelligence, creativity and spirituality.”

  “That’s fascinating, Manuel.” I was truly enthralled by his eloquence. It helped explain, and mysteriously justify, why I found him so intensely sexy. “But I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say your slaves?”

  He grinned again. “I think you need another shot.”

  I didn’t argue. It gave me time to think even as it impaired my ability to do so.

  “But how can you know so much about me so fast, Manuel?” I said as he cut up another lime for me.

  “Because of the way you sucked my cock last night, Ariana.” He filled a shot glass and handed it to me. “You didn’t just suck my cock—you worshipped it.” He gazed soberly into my eyes. “A man can tell the difference.”

  “A real man,” I pointed out in admiration, raising the shot glass to my lips.

  “John adores you,” he observed just as I was swallowing the smooth fire of fine, aged Mescal. I was rendered speechless for more than one reason as he cradled the back of my head with one hand and thrust the lime wedge between my lips with the other. “Now suck on it like a good girl. Mm, I
love watching you suck, Ariana.”

  “That’s what John said.” I hadn’t meant to tell him that but I was feeling so incredibly relaxed the words just slipped out of me.

  I could see all his teeth when he grinned and for some reason this gave his amusement a dangerously feral quality. “You look warm, Ariana. Come and sit with me by the fountain.” He turned away.

  I followed him.

  “You’re even more beautiful in white,” he complimented my dress as I sat down on the stone ledge. He propped one heavy black boot beside me, resting a hand on his knee as with the other he caressed the hair out of my eyes. “You look pure and luscious. John has found his muse. She has magically come alive in you. I believe in magic, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes,” I replied fervently, gazing up into his hypnotically dark eyes. Tipsy as I was it had not escaped my attention that we were now no longer visible to the people inside. Gas lamps hung from the long, gnarled limbs of live oaks, shedding a soft golden light over the patio which sparkled in the flowing water.

  “And I must say you are definitely his better half.” He caressed the smooth space between my breasts with two fingertips. “He’s been searching for you. He needed his other half to be fulfilled.”

  “Unlike you?”

  “Art is my better half.” He sat down beside me. “But I’m very glad, and honored, that he chose me to help fill the gaps in your sensual education.”

  His face was so close and we had been so intimate last night it seemed unreasonable that I should resist kissing him.

  He smiled, sensing my desire, but he too respected the fact that John hadn’t yet given him permission. “I understand,” he said as he looked away, “that you invited a personal friend of yours here tonight.”

  “He’s not a friend, exactly.”

  “Well whatever he is it will make the night three times as interesting for you.” He flashed me another teasing smile as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed up at a patch of sky visible between the trees.