Sensuality (5 page)

Marisela arrived at the massive electric, black iron gates that surrounded the Dominguez estate. After speaking to the silver intercom box located outside the perimeter, the gates opened. She drove up the cobblestone driveway and let out a low whistle as she admired the large, five-story, yellow stucco mansion. Javier stood outside on the veranda, watching her slow approach.

He appeared taller and more defined than he did in his picture. His pictures were an insult. He was downright gorgeous in person. He wore a white linen outfit. Too bad he wore boxer briefs underneath. Marisela really wanted to know what she would later be working with…not that it mattered, of course. Vengeance was vengeance. Big or small, he was hers.

“Buenos días, Señor Dominguez.”
Marisela extended her hand in greeting. He accepted.
“Soy Marisela.”

“¡No! ¡Por favor, Javier!”
His voice was deep. She had been around Spanish speakers all her life, but his sounded different. His was the only one to set her body aflame. His cologne emanated the scents of sandalwood and musk. It only added to her already blossoming attraction. He oozed sex with every word. She would call him Javier as he requested, and later, when he begged, she would call him
“Papi Chulo.”

“Aquí.”
She shoved the résumé in his face. She knew the job was guaranteed because Carmen gave her a rave recommendation, but it never hurt to be extra-prepared.

Javier stood there flipping through the papers, not really seeing what was on the page. He needed something to distract him from staring at the new cook. She was tall, about five feet eight inches, and thick in all the right places—hips, legs, and breasts. A gentle breeze passed, carrying the sweet smell of her perfume. Her smooth, flawless honey-brown skin enticed him. He wondered if she tasted like honey. Her hazel eyes held secrets, ones he wanted to explore intimately. His dick leapt at the thought.
“¡Está muy caliente afuera!”
Though he was accustomed to the stifling Panama heat, he needed to explain the sudden perspiration on his forehead. He turned to go toward the house, shielding his growing erection. He peered over his shoulder.
“¡Vamos!”
She followed him inside.

Hot outside, my ass!
She saw the slight bulge in his pants. She knew it was more than humidity that had him hot. She was sweltering for the exact same reasons. That, and she wasn’t used to the sultry weather. She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle on his veranda.

As she entered his home, a cool breeze welcomed her. Her nipples automatically tightened. From the hooded look in Javier’s eyes, she knew he noticed. He showed her to her room, which was on a different floor than his. It didn’t matter. She would be sure to be caught by Javier with a towel around her dripping wet, naked body while she was roaming the halls.

The first time she pulled that trick, he had appeared flushed and quickly pointed her in the right direction. The second time, he had been understanding. He had even relayed tales
of his getting turned around when he had first moved there. The third time, Marisela noticed, he had simply stared. His pupils dilated and he had definitely noticed she was an attractive woman, naked in his home while his wife was away.

Trouble!
This new cook was nothing but trouble with a capital
T.
He didn’t have the heart to fire her. Her rice and peas rivaled his mother’s. He would lick his lips, imagining it was Marisela he was eating. She made no move to leave now, but just watched him watch her.

Damn, he’s fine!
He was definitely interested in her. Marisela realized that it was now time to make her move. She pretended to leave, by partially turning her body toward the staircase. She “accidentally” dropped her plush red terry-cloth towel on the white marble floor in the process. She gasped and tried to look mortified. Javier closed the distance between them and bent down. He picked up the towel and slowly rose to give it to her.

“¡Gracias!”
she mumbled and turned around to leave, only partially covering her body with the towel. Javier had no way of knowing, because her back was now to him, but Marisela had a huge grin on her face.

Danger
better described Marisela. Danger with a capital
D.
Javier didn’t know what he was thinking. He was a recently married man who should only desire his wife. But Marisela was an attractive woman who always managed to be naked or half naked around him. He knew he should have turned away in modesty, but he couldn’t turn down the chance to see her up close. He grabbed his opportunity when the towel fell. It was like a gift from heaven. He took
his time returning it. He bent down, only a breath away from her naked skin, to pick up the fallen covering. As he slowly rose, he took his time perusing her body, admiring everything about it. Her perfectly manicured feet, sexy long legs, ripe pussy, slightly rounded belly, and large coconut breasts. He caught the scent of her desire. His cock got harder. He knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He was married and she was the help. He returned the towel and watched her walk away. He decided to scurry away to his office.

The smell of vanilla and honey brought him out of the confines of his office. He knew he should stay away, let her fix his plate, and come down to get it when she left the kitchen. But he couldn’t. The sweet scents beckoned to him. He followed his nose. He walked into the kitchen and froze.

She was reaching for a jar from the upper shelf, humming a soca tune, swaying her hips to the beat. She was wearing a short blue shirt and nothing else. Her luscious folds were on full display, yet again. She seemed oblivious to his presence, humming and reaching for dinnerware. She then bent down to check on the food in the oven. Javier couldn’t help it. The view, the sensuous smell of vanilla made him excited. He began to rub his hardening manhood. He massaged it through his khaki linen pants. He wore no underwear. He rubbed his manhood, imagining he was deep inside Marisela. He could almost feel her tightness. He moaned. She jumped up and turned around to face him. He snatched his hand away and nervously cleared his throat.

“Smells good. What are you cooking?” he inquired in his heavy Caribbean accent.

She peered down at his blatant erection, visible through the pants. She looked back up at him with passion-laden eyes.

“Tentación.” Temptation.

Time stood still. The air around them crackled and heated with their mutual desires.

“¡Venga!”
One simple command and she followed, slowly and seductively crossing the short distance to him.

He didn’t need to give any more instruction. Once she reached him, she dropped to her knees and released his steel rod from its khaki prison. Before he could utter another command, she took all of him into her mouth.

“¡Ah mierda!”
he grumbled.
Oh Shit!

After a few slurps, she withdrew. She then licked his crown. She wanted to take time to enjoy the taste and feel of his penis. Her tongue massaged the slit, licking his pre-cum. She tasted salt and traces of vanilla. Knowing that vanilla increased lust, Marisela added the aphrodisiac in all of his meals. Now she tasted it in his essence. She gently traced the length of his penis with the tip of her tongue, before bending down further to suckle his sac.

As she sucked his balls, she rubbed his dick with her right hand. She moaned. His responsive tremor excited her.

Her tongue was magic. The vibrations of her moan caused tickling sensations that traveled from the base of his feet to the top of his head. Javier felt like he was going to explode. He refused to do so before finding out if she tasted like honey. He stopped, grabbing her thick curly hair. His hands moved to her shoulders and yanked her up off her knees. She stood before him. He grabbed her ample bottom and groaned at the soft supple feel of it. He lifted and carried her to the kitchen island. He placed her on the edge in a sit
ting position. He then moved between her thighs and buried his face in between her legs.

“Oh, my God!” she couldn’t contain her shout. Her English came out loud and clear. He didn’t seem to notice. She had expected to have him shouting and begging, not the other way around. He teased the outline of her labia with his tongue. He alternately sucked and licked her clit until she was bucking on the counter, begging for mercy. He didn’t give her any; instead, he inserted two fingers inside her vagina and bent them in a come-hither motion. She fell against the counter and rubbed her pussy deeper into his face.

She tasted like honey. He couldn’t get enough of it. He could feel her muscles clenching around his fingers, and he knew she was on the edge of cumming. He thought he would come from merely tasting her. He continued his oral assault of her clit until her body shook and the last of her tremors subsided. He lifted himself from her and licked his glistening lips.

“Estoy listo para la cena ahora.” I’m ready for dinner now!

Two weeks later

Javier was one disciplined man. After the incident two weeks prior in the kitchen, he had avoided Marisela like the plague. She could tell that he wanted her. The lust was still in his eyes, but his control had come back with a vengeance.

Marisela watched as the handymen finished the last installations of the new huge chandelier in the foyer. She stared in amazement and with a bit of fear.

When the last of the men descended the ladder, she voiced her fear. “I hope that doesn’t fall,” she said in Spanish.

“Don’t worry,” the handyman replied. “It has a steel sup
port beam and extra support. The house would have to collapse before it fell. Plus, the chandelier is made of iron. You could get three people on that chandelier and it wouldn’t even splinter.” He pointed to the ladder. “Go up there and sit on it. See for yourself.”

At first, Marisela looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but then decided what the heck. The man followed close behind her. She knew he was getting a nice look at her bare derriere, underneath her floral skirt. She wore no panties in her ongoing attempt to entice Javier. But with this man looking, it was just creepy. She hurried up the steps until she reached the chandelier.

“See!”

He joined her up on one of the chandelier posts. The clearing of someone’s throat made them both look down. It was Javier. The handyman got nervous, descended the steps, and Javier escorted him out of the house.

After shutting the double doors, Javier looked up at Marisela perched on the chandelier. He could not stand to see her huddled next to another man in
his
house. Her short, low-cut floral dress sent him over the edge. The predator in him was released. He knew she wore no panties; she never did. She looked so small, fragile, and fuckable.
To hell with it.
He could no longer take it. He had to have her more than his next breath. He stalked up the long ladder like a jaguar seeking his prey. His gaze never wavered from hers. When he reached the final step, he joined her on the chandelier. He said nothing, simply pulled his steel rod out of his pants, grabbed her waist, and settled her on top of him. They both let out a contented sigh.

Damn, she was tight. He held his arm around her waist,
supporting her on his lap. He pumped into her three times before deciding to take full advantage of their surroundings and change positions. He turned and straddled her body on the chandelier posts, face toward the floor, which was very far below. It was a large, hanging chandelier that spread out, so there was plenty of room to lie. He then adjusted his position, so he could easily grab her ass and smack it into his pulsing member. Once comfortable, the journey began. He leaned his body over her, supporting most of his weight on the chandelier stems, and lifted both of their midsections for deeper penetration. He had to touch her. He took one hand and massaged her breasts. Her head rolled back toward him. He bent to suckle her ear. His balls smacked against her sex, coating them with her wetness.

“Ooh, right there! Don’t stop!”

Her command took him over the edge. He dove into her hard and fast, trying to keep balance and not look down.

He was huge. She already knew it from when she had taken him into her mouth. From his back-entry penetration, she could feel all of him deep inside her. There was no beginning or end. They were one. His rigid shaft moved in and out of her, massaging her inner walls, touching her pleasure spots. The chandelier began to sway gently with the force of their copulation. Marisela held on to the chandelier bars for support. Her head rolled down. She noticed how far up they were. Her heartbeat sped up. The fear of falling only intensified the sweet torture Javier created in her body. The air brushed her clit, tickled her pussy, and plumped her already swollen lips. All of her senses were alive. The dick that massaged her insides gave her the most explosive orgasm she had ever experienced. She screamed, “Oh God!”
and her cum slid down her leg, and journeyed toward the floor.

What the fuck was that?
Francine wondered as something wet hit her smack in the face. She wiped the drop of moisture from her cheek and bent her head upward to see from where the noise and the moisture originated. What she saw brought bile to her throat, tears to her eyes, and caused her heart to ache. Her husband was swinging on a chandelier, banging into Marisela, and grunting, “I’m coming.”

Francine yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

Javier came, Marisela laughed, and Francine cried. Vengeance had been served.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Alvarez. Our school district is too small. We’re simply not prepared to take on a student that doesn’t speak English.” Donald Altari rubbed the side of his temple with one aching hand. “It’s not that we don’t want to. Christian would be more than welcome. It’s that we can’t provide the education that the state says we must.”

Luisa smiled. “But you must understand my position, Mr. Altari. Christian must go to school somewhere. If he cannot go here, and he can’t go to Willsboro, and he can’t go to Lake Placid, where can he go?” She shook her head, her short black curls fanning over her shoulders. “Plattsburgh is over an hour and a half away by bus. That is unacceptable.”

“That is a long ride.” Donald tapped a few computer keys. “Maybe we could find a Spanish-speaking tutor who could homeschool Christian.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He is a very social boy, and I think a year of being isolated from all the other children would not be in his best interests.” Luisa leaned forward.
“Maybe if the tutor could come with him to the classroom, and translate—”

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Altari?” Glenn Rabideau, a short, stocky man leaned into the office. He handled language arts for the campus—largely French.

“Yes,” Donald replied. “Glenn, this is Mrs. Alvarez. Mrs. Alvarez, Glenn Rabideau. He turned toward the teacher, thankful for once that the man was not reeking of aftershave. “Mrs. Alvarez’s son doesn’t speak English, and we’re trying to come up with some way to teach him.”

Glenn smiled. It was a thin, narrow grimace, the type you see on well-fed weasels. “Well, maybe she should have him swim back to wherever they came from. I bet they speak plenty of good Spanish there.”

Donald’s jaw dropped so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Mr. Rabideau,” Luisa said, whirling to face Glenn in one fluid motion. “Let me assure you that while my son speaks no English, my command of the language is more than adequate. Your presence at this meeting is no longer required.”

Face flaming, Glenn looked to Donald. Hurriedly, Donald shut his gaping mouth, and nodded.

He’d barely left when Luisa continued. “Is this the attitude I am to expect from your school? Is this the environment I should send my child into? I think not!” She grabbed her purse from the floor and headed to the door.

Donald scrambled after her. “Mrs. Alvarez! Please, stop!” He caught her above the elbow, and found himself facing furious black eyes. “I apologize from the bottom of my heart. Mr. Rabideau will be reprimanded. I do not allow, nor do I tolerate, that kind of behavior on my campus.”

Time froze for a moment. Luisa held perfectly still, not moving for the space of a dozen heartbeats. Her eyes never left Donald’s. And then she smiled.

“Well, then, Mr. Altari, perhaps we can discuss how we will arrange Christian’s class schedule.”

Two hours had elapsed since Luisa Alvarez had left Donald’s office. A thin folder of neatly completed paperwork sat before him, filled with Christian’s health and educational records. He’d only skimmed them. It didn’t take much to see the boy’s grades were excellent.

A tutor had been hired to accompany Christian throughout the day and provide English instruction. It wasn’t easy to find a qualified teacher on such short notice, but Donald’s mortification had been a powerful motivator. And when Luisa had suggested that it would be a good gesture for the school district to pick up the tab for the special tutor, he couldn’t help agreeing.

There were almost four months of the school year left. That was almost three thousand dollars of tutoring he had to pay for, three thousand dollars that were nowhere in his budget.

Donald Altari was not a happy man.

“Shirley?” he said, barking into his intercom. “I want Glenn in here. Yesterday.”

A few minutes later, Glenn entered his office. “Don, I—”

“Just stop.” Donald cut him off. “I really don’t want to hear it.” He picked up his pen, sprawled on the notepad in front of him. “Just tell me what you were thinking.”

“How was I supposed to know she spoke English?” Glenn
exploded. “You bring me in here, tell me her kid
no habla anglais
. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“I’m not sure where I led you to believe it was the time to make inappropriate racist comments.” Don’s eyes screamed
asshole!
But too many years of dealing with the teachers union kept his mouth from following suit.

“So, once again, some athlete moves up here from some banana republic, and we’re supposed to jump through hoops providing services for their family?”

“Well, Glenn, we are not only jumping through hoops. Because of your smooth talking, we’re paying to provide tutoring for Christian. Full-time, five days a week, for the rest of the school year.”

Glenn sputtered.

“Do you know how much that costs, Glenn?” Don glared at his subordinate. “Three grand. Do you know how much it costs to insure the hockey team, Glenn? Three grand. That’s a telling coincidence. Don’t you think?”

Glenn’s face turned purple. He coached the hockey team, the same team his son had played on, that his grandson played on now.

“You…you can’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” Don roared, planting both hands on his desk and jumping to his feet. “You’re in no position to do that.”

He clenched his teeth together. When his tongue finally stopped dancing against his incisors, he spoke.

“I haven’t made any decisions, yet. But you should know I’m not happy. Not happy at all. Is that understood?”

Glenn’s shoulders collapsed into his collarbone. “Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

The Candyman Chocolate Shop was not on Donald’s way home, not by any stretch of the imagination. Yet he found himself there anyway, picking out a box of mixed truffles.

“!Mamá!”
the dark-haired sprite yelled from the doorway, staring suspiciously up into Donald’s eyes.
“!Mamá!”

“¿Qué?”
Luisa came from the back of the apartment. “Oh! Mr. Altari.” She murmured something to Christian, who took off running. “This is a surprise.”

“I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He looked around the empty apartment, and noticed the skate bag lying on the couch. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She smiled. “No, no, this is fine. Won’t you please come in?” She led the way to the kitchen. “I’ve just now got the dinner on, but maybe you would like some coffee?”

“Coffee would be fine.”

There were three chairs at the kitchen table. Donald sat down and deposited the chocolates carefully onto the table. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Glenn Rabideau.”

Luisa set a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. “You are not the one who needs to be sorry, Mr. Altari—”

“Donald.”

She smiled. “You’re not the one who needs to be sorry, Donald. It is Glenn Rabideau who needs to be sorry.”

“I’m sure he is, too.” Don gave her an edited version of his conversation with the teacher.

Luisa frowned. “And now these hockey players will be after my Christian?”

“No,” he assured her. “They won’t even know Christian exists. They’re in the high school now. More important, they’ll never know this conversation happened.”

“They’ll know,” Luisa said blackly. “And they will have brothers.”

“I promise it will be o—” He rose from his chair.

Standing before him was the smallest woman he’d ever seen, with perfect mocha skin and twinkling eyes. “Hello, I’m Donald Altari.”

Giggling aloud, she held out her hand and said, “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Altari.”

Luisa beamed. “
Mi hermana,
María.” She nodded toward the younger woman. “She is practicing her English when she is not skating.”

“Mi hermana,”
Donald repeated. “I should be practicing my Spanish. She is your daughter?” He looked at both women. “Can’t be.” They looked the same age.

“Well, it could be, but it’s not,” Luisa replied. “She is my sister, come here to skate in the World Championships next month.”

“That’s why you wound up in our neck of the woods,” Donald said, recalling Glenn’s words about banana republic athletes. “I was wondering.”

“We were told the New York training facilities were the best,” Luisa said. “But we did not know that Lake Placid was so…remote.” She looked out the window. A red squirrel was hanging precariously from the bird feeder, snatching sunflower seeds even as it fell.

“We are that,” Donald agreed.

“It is too bad our mother did not come,” Luisa said. “This, she would have enjoyed. She stayed home because she was afraid of the city, with the taxis everywhere and the subway and the gangs…”

María rattled off something, talking faster than Donald could think, much less comprehend. Luisa burst out laughing, only to catch herself a moment later, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What’s so funny?” Donald asked.

“My sister said our mother stayed home because she was afraid of leaving her boyfriend alone. He will be visiting all the other ladies in the village if she’s not there to keep an eye on him.” Her eyes were flashing. Donald felt himself drawn to their light, to the deep well of joy he sensed inside Luisa. “And she is probably right.”

“What about your husband?” Donald blurted out, reddening at his own boldness, but compelled to ask. “Won’t he be visiting all the other ladies as well?”

A look passed between Luisa and María, one that spoke volumes of which Donald wasn’t equipped to read.

“We are from El Salvador, Mr. Altari. Wherever my husband may be, I am sure women are not one of his problems.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid,
Donald thought, resting his head against the steering wheel.
So much for making a good impression with this family.

Christian’s first day of classes went well. The tutor blended seamlessly into the school’s routine, allowing the boy to try his own hand at the unfamiliar language when appropriate, stepping in when necessary.

He made friends easily, which helped. Donald watched through his office window as Christian slid effortlessly into a recess pickup soccer game, passing and kicking and laughing in the universal language of competition.

Maybe things were going to turn out well after all.

It must have been coincidence that brought Donald to the Olympic oval that Saturday—the same time María just happened to be practicing with the other Championship hopefuls.

Donald eased into the stands beside Luisa.

“Hi!” he said. “I come bearing hot chocolate.”

“You are a big one for chocolate, aren’t you?” Luisa asked, taking the steaming cup. Their fingers touched for one split second, long enough to send her black eyes flickering to meet his blue ones.

“Guilty as charged,” Donald replied. “I’ve an incurable sweet tooth.”

They stood side by side, watching María work through her routine. Triple axels were followed by sit spins, alternating with dizzying footwork.

“So how did a girl from El Salvador decide she wants to become an ice skater?” Donald asked, resting his arms on the thick barrier wall separating spectators from the ice. “It doesn’t seem the most natural choice.”

Luisa laughed. “There’s not much natural about María.” She nodded her head toward the giant screen centered over the rink. Black and silent now, it provided close-up coverage during hockey games and high-profile skating events. “I blame the television. Too much
Wide World of Sports,
and here we are.”

“She must be incredibly determined.”

“All of the women in my family are,” Luisa replied. She eyed Donald sideways. “We decide we want something; we don’t stop until we get it.”

Donald smiled. “I’ll consider myself warned.”

Friday afternoon, half past two. Donald had the Alvarez phone number written on a Post-it note on his desk. Maybe it would be alright to call Luisa, invite her to dinner.

His office door flew open. His unflappable secretary, Shirley, with two dozen years’ experience, was in a panic.

“Mr. Altari! You’ve got to come quick! There’s big trouble!”

The hockey players did have brothers. Six of them, in fact. Six tall, chunky fifth-grade boys, nearly the size of men. They surrounded Christian in the boys’ bathroom and beat the living hell out of him.

It was over by the time Donald arrived. Two teachers had wrestled the boys out into the hallway and had them sitting against the wall. They stood over the culprits—two puffing, red-faced, oversized banty hens.

Christian lay on the bathroom floor. He looked very small, very red, and very still.

This can’t be happening,
Donald thought, as he knelt to feel for a pulse. At the same time he was barking orders—for the nurse, for an ambulance, for the police.

His arm bent at a particularly ugly angle. Donald felt a slight pulse, faintly thudding in the boy’s thin wrist.

“How could this happen?” Luisa raged. She glared at Donald. “You told me he’d be safe in your school!”

Through the hospital window, they could see Christian
sleeping. Doctors had set the multiple broken bones, stitched close the four-inch gash above his eye. No internal organs had been damaged, but the doctors still wanted to keep the boy for observation.

“He took quite a beating,” the doctor said to Donald and Luisa. “Luckily, it didn’t go much longer or he wouldn’t be here now.”

“I am going to find out what happened.”

“He could have died!” Luisa’s reply shot back like a rocket through Donald’s head.

“I know,” he said softly. Luisa fell into his arms sobbing. He held her tight, rocking back and forth. “I know,” he said, lips soft against her black hair. “I will make this better.”

Easier said than done. Christian’s recovery was slow, but not nearly as slow as the investigation into the school beating. The half-dozen boys had come from five of the town’s most prominent families, with fathers in law enforcement, medicine, and the media. And, of course, on the school board.

“What happened was unfortunate,” one of the fathers said at a meeting. “It shouldn’t have happened. But boys will be boys. Things got out of hand so fast they didn’t realize what was happening.”