“I’d fuck you in every corner of this place, but I think we have to get back and hang out with the rest of the group.”
I’m happy to do that. I grab my hose and panties from the desk and quickly put them on after Eric pulls open a drawer and hands me some paper napkins so we can clean up.
“I see . . . Mr. Zimmerman,” I say in jest, “that apparently you know your way around this room. It’s not the first time you’ve come here to satisfy your needs.”
Eric grins, and, after wiping himself and throwing the napkin in the trash, he adjusts his black pants.
“Of course, Miss Flores. This is Björn’s father’s place, and we’ve visited this room many times to have fun and share in certain female company.”
I’m entertained by his response, but that Spanish jealousy, so typical of me, pushes forward.
“I hope, from now on, that you’ll come here only with me,” I say, squinting.
“Have no doubt about that, sweetheart. You know you’re the very center of my desire.”
To speak so bluntly about sex with Eric drives me crazy. Well aware of it, he takes me by the waist and pulls me closer.
“Soon, I’ll spread your legs so another man can fuck you in front of me as I kiss your lips and listen to your enjoyment. Simply thinking about it makes me hard.”
I’m blushing. Merely imagining it thrills me.
“Do you want what I just described to happen?”
Without the slightest bit of shame, I nod. Eric grins and kisses me.
“We’ll do it, I promise. But get dressed now, gorgeous. There’s a table full of people waiting for us only a few steps from here, and if we’re much later, they’ll get suspicious.”
Dazed by what has happened and by his last proposal, I finish putting on my hose. Eric helps me buckle my boots.
“Am I decent again?” I ask once I’m fully dressed.
Eric looks me up and down.
“Yes, love, but once we get home, I want you totally indecent,” he whispers as he opens the door. That makes me laugh. “Let’s get out of here or I won’t be able to contain myself, and I will rip your precious hose and new panties.”
That night, when we get home and after Eric puts Flyn to bed, we close the door of our room and give ourselves over to what we love the most.
12
On the Saturday before New Year’s Eve, Eric asks me if we can dedicate the entire day to his nephew. I can see he’s uneasy about this, but I’m convinced it’s the best thing to do, especially for Flyn. The boy, however, will not miss an opportunity to let me know three’s a crowd. I pretend I don’t notice. He’s just a kid. We spend most of the day on Wii and PlayStation, the only things that seem to motivate him, and I show him that girls can do more than he thinks.
I get a kick out of how he looks at me when I beat Eric on Moto GP or him at Mario Brothers. I let him win on Mortal Kombat so he doesn’t feel too bad and won’t hate me so much. Flyn is one tough little cookie, and it’s no surprise he’s my Iceman’s nephew.
All day long, Eric and I focus completely on him. At night, I feel like my head is going to explode from so much video game music and noise. And then at dinnertime, I’m surprised when Flyn asks me if I want salad and refills my Coke without my asking. It’s a beginning, and Eric and I exchange complicit glances.
When we finally manage to exhaust Flyn and get him to bed, Eric is mine again in the privacy of our room. Only mine. I get to enjoy him, his mouth, his way of making love to me, and I know he’s enjoying me and being with me too.
As he enters me, we look each other in the eye and say all kinds of hot and kinky things. His game is my game, and together we go crazy playing.
On Sunday when I wake up, I’m alone in bed like always. Eric and his sleeplessness. I glance at the clock. It’s 10:08 a.m. I’m exhausted. After such an active night with Eric, all I want to do is sleep and sleep, but I’m well aware they’re early risers and I should get up.
Suddenly, the door opens, and the object of my most sinful and darkest desires appears before me with a breakfast tray. He looks incredibly handsome in jeans and a maroon jersey.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Eric sits on the bed and gives me a good-morning kiss.
“How is my girlfriend today?” he lovingly asks.
“Exhausted but happy,” I say, delighted with my life and the love I feel for him. I move a lock of hair from my face.
He likes my answer, but before he can say anything, I peek at the tray, and I’m astounded.
“Churros? Those are churros?”
He nods and smiles with satisfaction as I select one, dunk it in sugar, and take a bite. “Mmm, that’s so good!” I look at my fingers. “A little greasy and everything.”
Eric’s laughter fills the room.
“Oh God, this is awesome! Where did you get these?” I ask, still surprised.
With a megasmile, Eric chomps down on another churro.
“I told Simona churros were a typical Spanish treat and that you like them for breakfast. And, I don’t know, she figured out how to make them for you.”
“Wow, that’s incredible!” I exclaim, delighted. “When I tell my father I had churros for breakfast in Germany, he’s going to be floored.”
Eric and I eat our churros, and when I go to grab a napkin, the ring I gave back to Eric appears before me.
“You’re my girlfriend again, and I want you to wear it.”
He smiles, and my crazy lover picks up the ring and puts it on my finger. Then he kisses my hand.
“You’re all mine,” he whispers in a husky voice.
My body is hot all over. I adore him. I kiss him on the mouth.
“Listen, lover of mine,” I say, and he grins. “Can I ask you something about Flyn?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your nephew’s Eurasian?”
Eric laughs. “He’s not Eurasian. He’s German. And don’t tell him he’s Eurasian, or he’ll get very angry. I don’t know why he hates that so much. My sister Hannah went to live in Korea for two years. It was there she met Lee Wan. When she got pregnant, she decided to come back to Germany and have Flyn here. So, he’s German!”
“What about Flyn’s father?”
Eric grimaces. “He’s a married man who never wanted anything to do with him. My sister was going out with a guy named Leo for two years. The boy adored him, but, when my sister died, that imbecile didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and what I always suspected became clear: he was with my sister for her money.”
I decide not to ask anything else. I shouldn’t. I’m still chewing when Eric kisses me on the forehead. We look at each other, and I know the moment has come to talk about what’s really on my mind. I take a sip of my coffee.
“Eric, tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and I . . .” He stops me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he says, putting a finger to my mouth. “You want to go back to Spain to spend New Year’s Eve with your family, right?”
“Yes,” I say. Eric nods. “I think I should leave today. Tomorrow is the big celebration, and, well . . . you understand.”
“I want you to know that, while I would love it if you stayed here with me, I understand. But I can’t go with you this time. I really need to stay with Flyn. My mother and sister have plans, and I want to spend the evening at home with him. You understand, don’t you?”
And that breaks my heart. They’re going to be all alone?
“My family fell apart the day Hannah died,” he says. “I don’t really blame them. The one who disappeared on the first New Year’s Eve after Hannah died was me. Anyway . . . I don’t really want to talk about this, Jude. You go to Spain and have a good time. Flyn and I will be fine here.”
I see the pain in his eyes and touch his cheek. I want to talk more about this with him, but my Iceman doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him.
“I’ll call the airport so they’ll get the jet read
y.”
“No . . . you don’t need to do that. I can take a commercial flight.”
“Jude, I insist.”
“Please, Eric, don’t make it hard,” I say, cutting him off. “I think it’s better if I go on a commercial flight, please.”
“Fine,” he says after a meaningful silence. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He blinks. “Will you come back after New Year’s Eve?” he asks, resigned.
I’m a little taken aback. How could he ask me that? Doesn’t he realize I love him like mad? I practically want to scream that of course I’ll be back, and then he takes my hands.
“I just want you to know,” he adds, “that if you come back to be with me, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t miss anything you have in Spain. I know you’re very close to your family and that keeping you from them is the worst, but I’ll take very good care of you, protect you, and, above all, love you very much. I want you to be happy with me in Munich and feel at home. As far as Flyn is concerned, give it time. I’m sure that before long, that kid will adore you as much or more than he adores me. I already told you he’s special and—”
“Eric,” I say, interrupting him and full of emotion, “I love you.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me shudder.
“I love you so much, sweetheart, that being away from you drives me insane.”
There’s a real frankness in our eyes and even more so in our words. We love each other wildly, and, just as he’s leaning over to kiss me, the door pops open and there’s Flyn.
“Uncle! Why are you taking so long?”
We quickly get ourselves together, and, when I see Eric isn’t responding, I grab a churro from the breakfast tray.
“Do you want one, Flyn?” I ask in Spanish.
The boy makes a face.
“Uncle, I’ll wait for you to play downstairs,” he says, unhappy someone’s taking even a second of his uncle’s time away from him.
Before anyone can say another word, he closes the door and leaves.
Once we’re alone, I can’t help but giggle.
“I have no doubt Flyn will be very happy I’m leaving.”
Eric doesn’t respond. He gives me a kiss on the lips, gets up, and goes. For a while, I just stare at the door, unable to understand how Sonia and Marta can leave those two by themselves on a day like this. I feel so bad for them.
At six thirty on Sunday evening, Eric, Flyn, and I arrive at the airport. I don’t have to check my baggage. I’m only taking my backpack with a few things. Saying goodbye to them, especially Eric, breaks my heart. But I have to be with my family.
In spite of the discomfort I see in his eyes, Eric tries to joke around. It’s a defense mechanism. When the moment comes to say goodbye, I lean down and kiss Flyn’s cheek.
“Young man, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, and, when I get back, I will take my revenge on Mortal Kombat.”
The boy nods, and, for just a second, I think I see some warmth in his eyes, but he shakes his head, and, when he looks at me again, it’s no longer there.
He steps away and sits down to wait as Eric and I say goodbye. “Eric, I . . .”
But I don’t get to finish. Eric kisses me with such devotion, and, when he pulls away, he focuses those powerful blue eyes on me. “Have a good time, sweetheart. Say hello to your family for me, and don’t forget you can come back anytime you want. I’ll be waiting for your call to pick you up at the airport. Whenever and whatever hour that is.”
I want to cry so badly, but I contain myself. I smile instead, give my love another kiss, and, after winking at Flyn, I go through security. Once I’m on the other side and have my purse and backpack, I turn around to say goodbye to them again, but Eric and the boy have left, and my heart breaks. I walk through the airport, look on the screen listing flights and gates, and, locating mine, head that way. I still have about an hour before boarding and decide to stroll through the shops to pass the time. But my heart isn’t in it because all I can do is think about Eric. My love. And about the pain I saw in his eyes when I left him, and that touches my soul.
Tired, exhausted from the sadness I feel, I sit and people watch for a while. Happy people, sad people. Families and people who are alone. I do that until my cell rings. It’s my father.
“Hi, sweetheart. Where are you, my dear?”
“At the airport. Waiting to board.”
“When do you get to Madrid?”
I look at my ticket.
“In theory, we touch down at eleven, and I’ll catch the last train to Jerez at eleven thirty.”
“Perfect! I’ll be waiting for you.” For a while, we chat about fairly banal things.
“Are you OK, sweetheart?” he asks suddenly. “You seem a little down.”
I can’t hide my feelings from the man who gave me life and loves me so. “Papá, everything is so complicated, and . . . and . . . it’s exhausting.”
“Complicated?”
“Yes, Papá . . . very.”
“You’ve had another argument with Eric?” my father asks, not quite understanding.
“No, Papá, no. Nothing like that.”
“Then, what’s the problem, love?”
I need to talk to him about what’s going on. “Papá, I want to be with you on New Year’s Eve; I want to see you and Luz and my crazy sister, but . . . but . . .”
My father’s warm laugh makes me smile even when I don’t want to.
“But you’re in love with Eric, and you also want to be with him. Is that right, my dear?”
“Yes, Papá, and I feel terrible about it,” I whisper as I see two flight attendants taking their positions at the gate I need to go through to board my plane.
“Well, sweetheart, when I met your mother, she lived in Barcelona, and, as you well know, I was in Jerez, and I can assure you I am well acquainted with what you’re feeling. The only advice I can give you is to follow your heart.”
“But, Papá, I . . .”
“Listen to me, my dear. Luz and your sister and I know you love us. You will have us and we will love you for the rest of our lives, but you need to start making your way like I made mine and your sister made hers after she got married. Be a little selfish, sweetie. Think about what you want. And if your heart is telling you to stay in Germany with Eric, do it and enjoy it. I’ll be happier that way than having you here, puffy eyed and sad.”
“Papá . . . you’re such a romantic,” I say, crying, moved by his words.
“You’re my girl, and I know you better than anyone in the world, and I only want you to be happy. And if your happiness lies with that German who drives you out of your mind, then praise be! Be happy and enjoy your life. I know you love me, and you know I love you. What’s the problem? It doesn’t make any difference if you’re in Germany or by my side to know we have each other for the rest of our lives.” I’m crying. “C’mon . . . don’t cry, because that raises my blood pressure. And you don’t want that, do you?”
That makes me laugh right through my tears. My father is so great!
“Little one, why don’t you stay in Germany and have a happy New Year’s Eve? This is the beginning of the life you recently planned, and I think to have begun it during the holidays will always be a beautiful memory for you, don’t you agree?”
“Papá . . . it’s really OK?”
“Of course, sweetheart. So, go find Eric. Tell him hello, and, please, just be happy so I can be happy too, OK?”
“OK, Papá. I’ll call you tomorrow night. I love you, Papá. I love you very much.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
Moved by my father’s words, I turn off my cell and wipe my tears. I stay seated and think about what I need to do. Papá or Eric? Papá or Eric? Finally, when the other passengers on my flight begin to board, I grab my backpack, and it becomes very clear: I leave to go find my love.
13
When the taxi pulls up to
the front gate of Eric’s huge mansion, I pay with my Visa and climb out. As might be expected, it’s snowing and my boots sink in the snow, but it doesn’t matter: I’m frozen but happy. When the taxi leaves me alone in front of the imposing gate, I hear noises nearby. I see the trash cans to my left and clamber up to jump over. A pair of big bright eyes startles me.
“Goddamn it! That scared me!”
My shriek makes the poor terrified dog run away. I think he’s more frightened than I am. Alone again, I climb down and look for the doorbell, and then I see the light go on at Simona and Norbert’s little house. The curtains on a small window move, and soon the door next to the gate opens.
“Miss Judith? Oh my Lord, you’re going to freeze!”
I see Norbert, Simona’s husband, running toward me, dressed in a dark coat that goes all the way down to his shoes.
“But what are you doing here in the cold? Weren’t you on your way to Spain?”
“I changed my plans at the last minute,” I say, my teeth chattering through my smile.
Norbert returns my smile and hurries me along to the side door.
“I heard a car at the gate, and that got my attention. Come in. I’ll take you straight to the house.”
We hurry through the garden as I shiver. He offers me his coat, but I refuse. I’m not going to do that. At the house, we head toward the kitchen door. Norbert takes out a key, opens the door, and invites me in.
“Let me make something warm for you. You need it!”
“No . . . no, please,” I say, taking his cold hands. “Go back to your home. It’s late, and you should rest.”
“But, miss, I . . .”
“Norbert, it’s OK. I’ll make it myself. Now, please, go home.”
He agrees reluctantly and tells me Eric is usually in his office at this hour and Flyn is asleep. I thank him for the information, and he finally leaves.
I’m alone in the vast, dark kitchen. The house is quiet and gives me goose bumps, but I’m back! I’m still shivering, but thinking about Eric and how close he is starts to warm me up. I’m nervous, anxious to see his face when he sees me.
Now and Forever Page 8
