Warriors in Paradise (9 page)

“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, “We 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.”

She responded, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I knew she would be down in five minutes. Valentina was that kind of a person who, just like my mother, did what she said she would do. She was a woman of her word. And she was all mine. I smiled. The relationship was moving fast, very fast. I had never experienced anything like it. Perhaps the storm had something to do with it. The primal sense that the world was coming to an end could be triggering a pressing need to reproduce. Whatever the reason, Valentina was for keeps.

“Hello there, y’all!” I said, imitating a Southern drawl. Without waiting for a response, I asked, “Have the girls told you about the incident in the store’s parking lot?”

“Yes,” said Charlie. “And Caleb and I agree with you. We would have done exactly the same.”

Juliette said, “I am beginning to see your point of view, but I still don’t like fighting, and I pray I will never see you fighting, ever again.”

“I will try very hard to oblige you in that department,” I said with a smile in my face.

I would soon find out that I could not keep that promise.

I heard Valentina coming down the stairs.

As she entered the room, she said, “Have you discussed the invitation to celebrate Independence Day on the yacht?”

“Yes, we have,” said Charlie, “and we would like to go.”

“Well,” I said, “let us call your friend and let her know that we are coming.”

“I have already called her,” said Juliette. “A boat is coming for us at eight p.m. at your jetty.”

“Good. That takes care of the transportation. It is almost eight o’clock. Would anybody care for a drink before we leave?”

Everybody except Caleb said yes.

I went to the kitchen and sliced two limes into four pieces each. I put the pieces in the blender, skin and all, and then poured in half a bottle of white tequila and some triple sec. I put in three tablespoons of sugar and a teaspoon of salt. After blending the mixture at high speed, I sifted it and ended up with a greenish liquid and the remains of the lime skin in the sieve. I poured the filtered liquid back into the blender. I tasted it, and it tasted good, with the right balance of flavors. I opened the freezer and took out a bag of frozen mango pulp—which Sandra had made from all the ripe mangoes harvested from our trees during mango season. I put the pulp into the blender, turned it on, and ran it until the pulp and liquid had blended together.

I squeezed lime juice on one plate and put salt with a pinch of sugar on another. I slid the ring of each glass on the lime juice and then twisted it in the salt-and-sugar mixture. Then I poured my mango margaritas into the glasses. I set the five glasses on a tray and took them into the living room.

Each of us took a glass, and when we were about to drink, Caleb said, “I think I would like to have one too.”

“Oh, you fucker, make up your bloody mind!” I said as I put my glass down and went back to the kitchen to prepare another. When I had finished, I came back with his drink to find out they had already finished theirs, and Caleb had drunk mine. I said, “Thank you very much for waiting for me. Next time, you can prepare your own fucking drinks.”

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” said Charlie.

Valentina came to me and said while holding my face in her hands, “Give us a kiss.”

They all started saying at once, “The margaritas were terrific. I have never tasted anything like it. You need to tell us the recipe.” And so on and so forth.

Even though I wanted to stay mad, it was impossible to do so with this fucking bunch. I said, “OK, let’s grab an umbrella each, and then let’s start walking down to the jetty.”

“Should we take our passports?” asked Juliet.

I answered, “No, we are going to be on the water the whole time, and something might happen. They might get wet and ruined. We are getting picked up and brought back here. We don’t need our documents. All we need is a little cash for tips, and I am taking enough for all of us.”

Independence Day party

The incessant rain was our ever-present companion. Fortunately, there was not much wind, and we made it down the 250 steps—the equivalent of fifteen flights of stairs—to the jetty in only six minutes. When we arrived, it was almost eight o’clock, and we could hear the speedboat that was coming to collect us long before we could see it.

There were two men in the boat. The driver was dressed in a gray outfit. The companion, who appeared to be in charge, was dressed in white. The sea was rough and choppy. “Hello there,” said the man in white. “Ms. Juliette and Ms. Camille?”

“That’s us,” said Juliette, pointing to herself and Camille.

I said, “Let me pass you a plank, and we will use it to board your boat. If you get too close, the cement jetty will scratch the hull.”

The same man who had spoken earlier said, “Thanks. That’s a great idea.”

I grabbed the plank, and Caleb and I extended it to him. He took hold of it and hooked it to the side of the boat. I stepped on the plank and grabbed Camille’s left hand as she started walking toward the boat. As soon as the man in white grabbed her right hand, I let go, and she crossed the rest of the way without difficulty. As this procedure minimized the risk of falling, we repeated it with Camille and Valentina. Charlie, Caleb, and I just walked the plank without assistance. When we were all aboard, I brought the plank onto the boat so we could reverse the operation when they brought us back.