Here’s the rest of my account of my experiences with Xiomara. I’ve inserted
into the original text file that includes my first e-mail to you, but I can’t
get the margins for the new part to line up with what was already there. I’ve
never worked much with TXT. Please let me know if this works or if you need me
to send it to you some other format (RTF?) or directly as a (very long) e-mail.
This is the final complete version and I have double-checked to make sure I
changed the names of all the people and some of the locations to preserve
anonymity. So I think you can now safely post it.
Finding the rest of those old e-mails was a real blessing as otherwise there is
no way I would have been able to remember so many details on my own. As a
result though, it has gotten really long. I hope that’s not a problem.
Please note that these e-mails were mostly written in Spanglish, so I have
translated quite a bit. Where I left in words in Spanish, I’ve added the
English translation in parenthesis. I have also inserted a few explanatory
notes in the middle of some of these old e-mails. These are clearly marked NOTE
and were not part of the original e-mail.
I’ve clearly taken considerable literary license in recreating the other
incidents I describe outside of the old e-mails, particularly conversations. My
memory isn’t that good after more than 8 years. But for whatever its worth,
they are all based on real incidents (not that I expect anyone to necessarily
take my word for it).
I’ll probably eventually try to get around to writing you about Liliana if you
are still interested, but the timing depends on how busy things get at work.
This week was really light and I got caught up in all my memories from that
time.
Saludos,
Rob
********************************************************************************
Sent: Wednesday, January 23, 2008 3:44:58 PM
Kelly:
Thanks for getting back to me.
I guess I did get kind of carried away yesterday.. What happened was that Lili
and I had a long talk about her experiences this weekend while at the beach,
after a few years of not really talking about it. This was sparked by reading
your essay on escorting and the fact that she surprised me by actually sounding
fond about those days, I guess in comparison to her recent more routine life of
studying at the University and taking care of our small daughter. She even
asked what I thought about her dipping her toe in those waters again,
particularly as she’s trying to get together some start-up capital to start a
business (she finishes a business degree this year). Needless to say this kind
of shook me up a bit.
As it was a really slow day at work yesterday, while I was waiting to be sent a
document from one of our other offices I just started typing out the letter, I
guess more as a way of organizing my own thoughts (I find writing things out
helps me do this). The next thing I knew I had written over 2 pages and I
started to wonder if you would even be all that interested. So instead of
writing more, I just proofread what I had typed and sent you what I had last
night.
Anyway today I do have a lot more work, so I better get back to it. I guess if
you are interested I could write more when I free up some time and if its OK
with Lili. Otherwise, please keep up the diary as I do enjoy reading it. You
have a great way of writing sex scenes while providing enough context to make it
real..
Regards,
Rob
********************************************************************************
Sent: Saturday, January 26, 2008 10:26:47 PM
Hi Kelly:
Ever wonder how a successful businessman ends up getting married to a former
escort and prostitute? It is a bit hard to explain. To do this, I think I
first need to write about the woman I was dating before Liliana.
When Liliana and I first met towards the end of 1999, I had been living here for
almost two years, having taken an assignment abroad shortly after the definitive
break-up of my first marriage to my college girlfriend. During my first year
here I basically played the field, just getting used to dating; a major
adjustment after having been with the same woman for most of the time going all
the way back to my sophomore year in college.
At first, this seemed to be the perfect country for getting into the dating
scene. There certainly seemed to plenty of available single professional women
in their mid to late 20’s, who were interested in a 30 year old guy with a good
job. It helped that I spoke good Spanish and tended to me more culturally
sensitive than many Americans men down here. And I did meet some really nice
attractive women. But the timing was all wrong. Most of these women were
looking for something long-term and the last thing I wanted coming out of a
divorce was a serious relationship.
So during my second year in country, I spent most of the year in and out of a
relationship with a woman with whom it seemed there would be little danger that
things would get too serious.
Xiomara was a 28 year old Nicaraguan graduate student who was financing her
education by being the mistress of a middle-aged married Italian business-man.
He had her set up in an apartment, and was paying her tuition and a $2000 a
month stipend in exchange for her being available to him the one week each month
that he flew in from Milan to oversee his investments in the country. This kind
of arrangement is really not all that unusual in Southern Europe and parts of
Latin America (though not so much here).
Xiomara was a pretty fascinating woman. While not what you would call a
classical beauty, she radiated a certain elegance, natural intelligence and
inner strength that most men found very attractive. She was always perfectly
groomed and quite stylish, in an artsy European sort of way. For example,
Xiomara is the only woman I’ve ever known who could smoke using a longish
cigarette holder (which she only did very occasionally at parties), and not look
utterly ridiculous doing so. It didn’t hurt that she was tall for a Nicaraguan
(about 5′8″), had a fantastic body and was incredibly good in bed.
I was a bit of a jock in college and am not a bad looking guy, but quite
honestly, Xiomara would have been way out of my league back in New York (or in
Milan for that matter).
We originally met in January 1999 at a soccer game of all places, when she and
the Italian guy ended up sitting next to me and a friend. I then ran into her
in a bar one evening and after she blatantly flirted with me for about an hour,
managed to work the nerve to ask her out.
Instead of writing what happened next from scratch, I’m inserting an extract
from an e-mail I sent at the time to my best friend from high school. For years
he used to write me about all his misadventures with the opposite sex (and if
there ever was a guy with incredibly bad luck when it came to women, it was
him), but after my divorce we sort of reversed our roles as he had finally met
his future wife and I was the one trying to figure things out.
From e-mail dated May 13, 1999:
“The other good friend is Xiomara, this spectacularly good looking Nicaraguan
woman in her late 20’s. When we first met, we actually dated for about a month
until I broke it off as it started getting too weird for me. She’s the mistress
of a 40 something Italian businessman …. She never really opened up to me, was
completely undependable about showing up for dates, and was always paranoid
about being seen by some friend of the Italian – a real stereotype “femme
fatale”.
Funny how things turn out though because when I ran into her a couple of months
later downtown, we went into a soda (like a café) and ended up spending 5 hours
just talking. It was like being with a totally different person. We ended up
getting together as friends several times a week after work (when the Italian
was away), sometimes just the two of us to drink beers and talk in “total
confianza” and other times with her rather wide circle of friends, mostly from
the local arts scene. She turned out to be totally different that the image she
gave when we were sleeping together. When not, in her words, “jugando el papel
de la querida” (playing the role of mistress), her real personality comes out.
She is extremely well read and very perceptive, with a very strong loyalty to
her friends.
This woman has a really fascinating past, some of which she told me and the rest
I learned from old friends of hers. She had been a leading dancer with the
Nicaraguan National Dance Company as a teen-ager, before blowing out a knee at
the tender age of 18 just as she was accepted in an advanced dance program in
Cuba . She had also undertaken military training while in the dance company -
they had been incorporated into the Sandinista Militia back in the 80’s. So
with her dance career over, she was called into active service in an
administrative position, eventually becoming the mistress of the head of the
Sandinista Police.
That lasted until she figured out he was never going to leave his wife for her,
at which point she used her political contacts to finagle a scholarship to study
in Italy, where she also taught classes in salsa and merengue for expense money
and fell in and out of a drug problem while living with a young rich coke-head.
She returned to Nicaragua after finishing an undergraduate degree to find that
the only job she could get given the disastrous economic situation in that
country was as the financial manager of a chain of motels (ie. the fancy by-the-
hour kind that you find on the outskirts of most Latin American cities). She
got bored with being broke, did not like the proposal of the now ex-police chief
to manage a high class whorehouse he was opening up (his solution to the new
“capitalist” Nicaragua), and was looking into going abroad again to study. So
when she ran into the Italian guy (who had actually taught a business course at
her University in Italy), she agreed to his proposed that she move here where
he had business interests that would require him to visit regularly and the
Universities have a decent reputation.
All the above left her with an abysmal attitude towards men (as well as a rabid
hatred of drugs), and as I am not a masochist, I’ve been resisting the
temptation to resume any kind of romantic relationship with her. In fact, she
gotten into a “matchmaking mode” trying to hook me up with some of her friends.
She has some pretty amazingly attractive friends, but I kind of leery about the
whole situation.”
Kelly, I think I’ll have to stop here for now as Liliana is finally ready so we
can go out with some friends. Will try to continue this account about the days
before I met my wife in another e-mail; maybe tomorrow if I have time.
Take care,
Rob
********************************************************************************
Hi Kelly:
Here’s the rest of my account of my experiences with Xiomara and how that seemed
to set things up so that I was open to beginning a relationship with Liliana.
This is the final complete version and I have double-checked to make sure I
changed the names of all the people and some of the locations to preserve
anonymity. So I think you can now safely post it.
Finding the rest of those old e-mails was a real blessing as otherwise there is
no way I would have been able to remember so many details on my own. As a
result though, it has gotten really long. I hope that’s not a problem.
Please note that these e-mails were mostly written in Spanglish, so I have
translated quite a bit. Where I left in words in Spanish, I’ve added the
English translation in parenthesis. I have also inserted a few explanatory
notes in the middle of some of these old e-mails. These are clearly marked NOTE
and were not part of the original e-mail.
I’ve clearly taken considerable literary license in recreating the other
incidents I describe outside of the old e-mails, particularly conversations. My
memory isn’t that good after more than 8 years. But for whatever its worth,
they are all based on real incidents (not that I expect anyone to necessarily
take my word for it).
I’ll probably eventually try to get around to writing you about Liliana if you
are still interested, but the timing depends on how busy things get at work.
This week was really light and I got caught up in all my memories from that
time.
Saludos,
Rob
PART 2: XIOMARA AND FRIENDS
Things did get kind of weird, as you can see in this next much longer extract
from another subsequent e-mail to my old high school friend, “Chicho”. (Chicho
is originally from South America but did high school & college in the US before
moving to Europe). Reading it again now, it does give a pretty good idea of
where my head was at during the summer of ‘99 (not that it was summer down here,
but anyway…)
Extracted from e-mail sent July 11, 1999:
Oye Chichote:
So you want to know all the juicy details about Xiomara & her friends? Que
pasa? Is your inner voyeur coming out now that you’ve finally settled down with
Katia? Well I guess it’s only fair given all the stuff you used to write me
when I was the “poor married fool” (to use your own words). So you’re in luck
because it’s a lazy Saturday afternoon and for once I have no dates or other
compromisos. A certain balding Italian guy is in town and my other main squeeze
(See, I really can sound like you!) has some activity with her kids. Oh right,
I haven’t told you about her yet. Well get comfy because this is going to be a
long one.
I already wrote you a bit about Xiomara, and its true, her story would make a
good novel. The Police Chief I mentioned (or the “Comandante” as she calls him)
was actually in charge of one of the regions near Managua and not the entire
country. He kept that position through the early Chamorro years when the
Sandinistas still controlled the police and military. He sounds like a real pig
as he took advantage of an emotional time for her (her mother had a first minor
stroke and she had left the National Dance Company) to swoop down and steel her
away from her long-time high-school novio (boyfriend), who had wanted to marry
her. Then being his lover made her “unmarriageable”.
According to an old friend of hers, Zayda (whom I’ll write more about later), it
turns out that she actually had quite a high profile in Managua at one time as
the “amante del comandante” (lover of the commander), even appearing in gossip
columns. This notoriety came about in part because she already had some public
recognition after an incident that happened when she was about 17. Along with
some of the other dancers, she was doing a USO type tour performing for the
troops in the northern part of the country when their truck broke down forcing
them to spend the night in a small encampment instead of one of the larger more
secure bases. Their encampment came under fire from a Contra raiding party late
that night. When the guy who was watching over the dancers got hit, she picked
up his AK-47 and helped hold that section of the perimeter. While Zayda is prone
to exaggeration and Xiomara doesn’t like talking about the incident, there’s
probably at least some basis for the story.
((NOTE: I found out later that Xiomara’s father had been pulled out of his
office, tortured and killed by Somoza’s goons in the early days of the
revolution, when she was just a kid, for daring to sign a petition that asked
that the Dictator call for elections as a way of avoiding further insurrection,
which he saw as bad for business. He underestimated how desperate Somoza had
become that he would start killing small businessmen from respectable families.
This explains her early affinity with the Sandinistas and absolute hatred of the
Contra. This is also why she didn’t hesitate to volunteer for the tours for the
troops or to become a reservist as soon as she was old enough)).
Anyway, because of all the gossip, the Comandante had to arrange for a discharge
for Xiomara, though he did then use his influence to get her a teaching position
in an elementary school and set her up in an apartment. He now owns the most
exclusive escort agency in town (the one he tried to get Xiomara to manage).
Actually, you can hardly recognize her from her photos from that period because
the guy was obviously predisposed in that direction and already liked his women
to dress in slutty outfits, with lots of glossy make-up, hooker heels, the
works; something that Xiomara now does only on rather rare unpredictable
occasions that drive me crazy. I never know how to dress when we’re going to
see each other since she normally wears more comfortable, though stylish,
outfits, with understated make-up.
Unfortunately, even the teaching job turned out to be only temporary as the
Comandante wanted her as dependent on him as possible. She eventually feared
she was becoming an alcoholic from sitting alone in her apartment or the Italian
Restaurant downstairs, drinking and waiting for his increasingly infrequent
visits. Fortunately she became good friends with the older Italian couple who
ran the restaurant and they started looking out for her. They got her
interested in taking Italian lessons and were the ones who introduced her to the
right people in the Embassy so that she could arrange for her scholarship. She
was quite willing to do her thing for the Revolution, but not on her back, so
she fled the country.
Her problems came after she had been back in Nicaragua for a couple of years
when her mother lost what remained of the family business (a couple of
boutiques) due to the ailing economy and promptly had a second more serious
stroke. Her measly salary of less than $150 a month from the motel chain (which
believe it or not is actually pretty good money in Nicaragua) was not even close
to being enough to cover the costs of caring for her mother. Fortunately she
avoided having to become a Madam by the surprising appearance of one of her
former professors from Italy in the restaurant below her old apartment; which
she still frequented even though she was now living with her mother. The guy
wined and dined her all week, before finally convincing her to move here.
Personally I think the Italian guy must be really nuts, because he’s paying her
a lot of money just to see her a few times a month when he’s in town, despite
the fact that she accepts no limits on going out with friends whenever she feels
like it; having leaned from her experience with the Comandante (though she does
make a point of being very discrete).
The guy usually doesn’t even stay at her place, but rather gets a hotel suite he
can work out of and then just has her stay over there part of the time.
For him it must be some kind of macho thing. Also, while Xiomara is bright and
attractive, she is much more the artsy intellectual type than the glamorous
empty-headed model you tend to think of as a mistress. Actually, the way she
describes it is kind of funny. I can just see her lazing about on top of the
bed dressed in fancy lingerie and full make-up, with her reading glasses on and
her head buried in a book, while he’s off in the other room meeting with all his
co-investors and other business contacts.
For her, I think it helps that he is relatively young (about 40), and in her
words, “muy guapo, muy respetuoso y muy elegante” (very handsome, very
respectful, and very elegant). He reminds her a bit of the singer Eros
Ramazotti, and I have to admit there is a resemblance, right down to the shaved
head to cover up his premature baldness. But she talks about all this as if it
were just an added bonus as what’s most important is that he gives her the money
she needs. She insists that she never talks to him about anything serious and
she still doesn’t understand his motivation since his wife is very nice, quite
gorgeous and is elegant in that high fashion way that Xiomara will never be (not
surprising since the wife is a former model who works in the fashion industry in
Milan). Her only conclusion after much personal experience is that “los hombres
italianos son todos unos perros.” (All Italian men are dogs)
Xiomara’s problem now is that while she genuinely did love the Comandante (at
least initially), she only “likes” the Italian and being dependent on him is
eating away at her. But to go to school and keep supporting her family back
home, her only alternatives are even worse. Xiomara is now not only paying for
full time personal care for her incapacitated mother, but also for her sister to
go to secretarial school and for her nieces to go to a private bilingual school,
as she talked her sister into leaving an abusive alcoholic husband.
One disconcerting thing about Xiomara is that she does have a temper. So far
she’s never gotten angry with me, but the most extreme example is what she did
to another Nicaraguan woman a few weeks ago. Of course, she did have a good
reason for getting very angry.
The entire incident started with Zayda, a 16 year old girl and former student of
Xiomara’s from her teaching days, who Xiomara at various times calls “hijita” or
“hermanita” (little daughter or little sister). Xiomara actually took Zayda in
upon returning from Italy, when the girl was kicked out of her house by her
well-to-do father, after being caught sneaking a boy into her bedroom. I
strongly suspect from some things Zayda and Xiomara have said that her father
had been molesting her from the time her mother died when she was 12 and that he
acted more out of jealousy than outrage over his daughter’s misbehavior.
Xiomara had left Zayda with the elderly Italian couple from the restaurant, but
there was no way in hell they could control the girl. It seems that as soon as
Xiomara left to come here last year, the girl went wild – dropping out of school
and getting herself knocked up. So Xiomara flew back home earlier this year,
got Zayda an abortion and brought her back here to finish school in the nocturno
(night school). But the silly fool took advantage of the fact that Xiomara was
busy all the time and the excuse that she was supposed to go to school in the
evenings to fall into the company of another woman from back home who got her
into prostitution.
This other woman is a rather stuck up and pretentious bitch from another well
off family, who is now working here as a high class prostitute after her
family’s business also tanked along with the rest of the Nicaraguan economy.
While it was clear to me that Xiomara never really liked her much, she did
tolerate this other woman under the theory that people from the same place
should try to stick together when far from home. But she certainly didn’t want
Zayda hanging around her and told the girl as much.
As I understand it, Zayda had snuck out with the woman to see Titanic for the
umpteenth time as one of the cinemas here brought it back. Zayda looks a lot
like a slightly darker version of Kate Winslet and identified with the actress.
Coming out of the cinema, they ran into a regular client of the woman’s and a
friend, who took them out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and back to their
hotel. The friend gave Zayda a generous $200 and she promptly romanticized the
whole thing skipped school the entire following week to be with him for the rest
of his business trip. After that, I guess she started begging the other woman
to take her to the Casablanca (a pick-up bar for foreigners) so she could meet
other similar men. The other women agreed figuring she could make some money of
this eager young girl and helped her get a fake ID.
I got involved when Xiomara and I met to go to a movie and she promptly told me
there was a change in plans. Someone had gotten word to her about what was
going on and she dragged me along to look for Zayda at the Casablanca. Sure
enough, there she was, and to make matters worse, Xiomara caught her in the
women’s room in the act of snorting up a line she had been given by their
compatriot. We got Zayda out of there fast (to the protests of an angry Texan
she was in the process of picking up, who quieted up real fast when I told him
her real age). Fortunately Zayda had only been at it for a couple of weeks so
hopefully we got her out in time.
Unfortunately, we ran into the other Nicaraguan woman a few days later as we
were about to enter a dance club. Xiomara completely lost it when the stupid
whore made the mistake of taunting her. 2 or 3 quick moves later and Xiomara
had the other woman face down on the ground in an arm lock, with her knee
pressing into her lower back, while telling her in the coldest tone of voice
I’ve ever heard, “If I so much as ever see you again, you will not survive.” It
took Beatriz and I working together to finally pull Xiomara away from the other
woman, but only after she got in one last lick by stepping on the back of the
other woman’s hand with one of her spike heels. No real damage was done as
Xiomara seemed to know exactly how far she wanted to go, but sure scared the
hell out of the other woman. After seeing Xiomara fight, I certainly wouldn’t
want to have it out with her and it kind of scared me as well.
What was particularly surprising is that Xiomara normally comes across as quite
level-headed. But I do know she feels a particular affinity for Zayda, dislikes
prostitution, and really hates drugs. Xiomara ended up flying Zayda back to
Managua, but not before getting into a huge fight and slapping her when the girl
admitted that she had not used a condom with her first client because he was so
“nice”. I guess that was the last straw as safe sex is another one of her pet
causes ever since she had a real bad scare in Italy and she had certainly
lectured Zayda often enough about it.
One thing that was strange about the entire incident is that Zayda obviously
worships Xiomara and it doesn’t make sense she would do something so much
against the older women’s wishes. The girl even keeps as a prize possession an
old scrapbook with newspaper cutouts from Xiomara’s dancing days that she
rescued when Xiomara was going to throw it out back in Managua. Maybe Zayda’s
acting up was just a bid for attention after feeling abandoned, first by her
real mother when she died, and then by her substitute adopted mother/elder
sister when Xiomara left Nicaragua.
It’s clear that Xiomara feels a lot of guilt about the whole thing, particularly
as she now realizes that she may have overlooked some hints that there might be
a problem. First came an incident that happened right after Zayda got here when
they had dropped by the Casablanca with the Italian to look for some of his
friends. Though Zayda stayed outside because she’s underage, she did watch
through the window and expressed wide-eyed interest in the goings-on, Xiomara
then sarcastically told her that since in Nicaragua she had started sleeping
around with everyone for free she might as well try it for money; never
imagining that the silly girl would take it literally.
The other bit of warning came about because of Xiomara’s neighbors; a youngish
looking Belgian widow in her mid to late 30’s and her 15 year old daughter. I
was certainly surprised to find out that this pretty but rather conventional
looking and cultured former upper class housewife was providing escort services
once or twice a month to older wealthier tourists and a few businessmen. It’s
all arranged over the internet and she tends to spend anywhere from 2 days to a
week with each client, serving as combination companion, hostess, tour guide and
often, bedmate (for an extra fee). She fell into it almost accidently when her
husband (a local guy) left her with a bankrupt company and a lot of debt.
As Xiomara explained it to me, the widow’s new career started when a foreign guy
who had done business with her husband contacted her because he needed to host a
series of social events here in town and thought she made a great hostess. She
ended up falling into bed with the guy on her own accord, but when he went to
pay her, he added a big tip for the “extra” services. He then recommended her
to someone else and suddenly she had found a niche in the market that wasn’t
being filled by the traditional escort agencies with all their young beauties.
Xiomara says the widow was kind of resigned and down about the whole thing at
first. But one time she came over all excited and cheerfully went into great
detail about her latest client. The guy had flown her around the country with
him in a chartered plane to see the sights and had given her a $5000 tip on top
of her regular fee. The tip alone was enough to cover her daughter’s tuition
for an entire semester at (an American School) – this from just four days worth
of work. I guess Zayda was in the other room and overheard the whole thing
because Xiomara says that afterwards she was very curious about their neighbor’s
activities.
The Belgian woman had a fit when it turned out that Zayda had been confiding in
her daughter all along and was now claiming that after she raved about her first
night at the Casablanca, the other girl had asked Zayda to get her a fake ID so
that she could see what it was all about. It didn’t help when I reported on
hearing this, that one time when I stopped by to drop off a book, I found both
girls wearing what only could be described as outrageous outfits and makeup,
while Zayda taught her new friend how to walk in very high heels (I actually
didn’t recognize the Belgian girl at fist because she usually looks kind of
girlish). As they didn’t seem at all nervous about being discovered, I didn’t
think anything of it at the time. In any case, I didn’t have a chance to say
anything because I was heading off on a business trip and didn’t see Xiomara
again until it was too late. But you should have seen the look of panic on the
Belgian woman’s face when I brought up the incident the morning after we pulled
Zayda out of the Casanova.
Fortunately, the Belgian girl, though a year younger than Zayda, seems a lot
more level headed and mature (pretty amazing considering), as well as a good
student who is very serious about making it to college. So I think once people
calmed down, they tended to believe her when she explained that she actually
tried to talk Zayda out of it, but didn’t tell on her because Zayda threatened
to reveal that she had been steeling her mother’s cigarettes. Her credibility
was helped by the fact that she had started dropping hints to her mother that
something was up with Zayda, but had been ignored.
Needless to say, all this created a great deal of tension between Xiomara and
her neighbor, only exacerbated by Xiomara’s insistence that what she’s doing
with the Italian is totally different than what the other woman is doing.
Fortunately, the last time I went over there, I found the two talking to each
other like nothing had happened.
What I’ve written about Zayda makes her sound like an obnoxious rebellious
teenager, which is not completely accurate. In fact, she came across as being
generally good natured, but rather silly, immature, naïve, and not too smart;
just basically screwed up and badly in need of counseling. Unfortunately, that
kind of counseling is not readily available in Nicaragua as sexual abuse of
children is only now becoming a recognized issue (what with Ortega’s daughter
accusing him of raping her when she was in her early teens). I did mention to
Xiomara that she might consider bringing Zayda back here where she could get the
kind of counseling she needs, but it sounds like things are still too hot
between the two of them for that to happen anytime soon.
A few days after the incident in front of the dance club, once things had cooled
down a bit, I had a long talk with Xiomara about the danger of what she had done
both because she didn’t know what kind of ‘friends’ the other woman might have;
as well as the fact that she was in a foreign country and no longer under the
protection of her former lover, the Comandante. At Ziomara’s initial stubborn
refusal to accept that she had done anything wrong, I got kind of angry and told
her, “Don’t count on me if you start something like that again because unlike
you, I neither have militia or martial arts training nor have I learned how to
handle these situations in the bed of the former Chief of Police of a repressive
– Sorry, I mean ‘revolutionary’ – regime.”
I think Xiomara regrets losing her temper and attacking the other women, but I
still see her get very angry sometimes when she feels that her friends or family
are being put down or betrayed. Don’t get me wrong though, unlike my ex, she
doesn’t get angry at little inconveniences, and she just laughs off slights from
strangers or people she doesn’t care about. I think she developed a pretty thick
skin during those years with the Comandante when it comes to herself. But
Xiomara does feel extremely protective about those she considers, “hers”.
In fact, one of her problems is that she seems to feel the need sacrifice
herself for people she considers family. Given her mother’s condition and the
general lack of economic opportunities back home, she sees herself as inheriting
the role of matriarchal leader who is responsible for supporting any other women
in her family (or close friends) who has been done wrong by men (ie. about all
of them). I keep telling her that she needs to think about herself and her own
future at least a little bit, as it sounds like she’s supporting half of Managua
and is at the same time creating a dependency on her that traps her into her own
current financial dependency on the Italian.
Despite all the problems and crisis I’ve mentioned, Xiomara tends to be
surprisingly upbeat most of the time. She’s always looking to me for advice and
to be honest, I’m often not sure what to say. Also, I feel guilty because from
my point of view it’s like having a real live telenovela around to keep my mind
off my own problems. But it seems like she doesn’t want much from me except
company (and an occasional friendly bout of sex), so I guess I shouldn’t worry.
It helps that she’s also a good listener. Though I admire her, I don’t think I
could ever fall in love with her. Fortunately, she shows every indication of
wanting to keep our relationship exactly the way it is. She says that if she
let herself fall in love with me, I could no longer be her confident. This
concept of hers that sex and friendship can go together but that love and
friendship cannot seems pretty strange to me, but is rather convenient.
In any case, she’s certainly backing up what she’s saying with her actions by
hooking me up with, of all people, her best friend Beatriz.
Beatriz is divorced from an abusive wealthy Dutch guy who left her behind when
he fled the country a couple of years ago after a messy land speculation deal.
It seems he swept her off her feet and took her home to Holland when she was
only 17 and pregnant by her first boyfriend, who had promptly dumped her.
Fortunately for her, the Dutch guy left behind several assets including an
estate in (a wealthy neighborhood) which ended up not getting confiscated in the
aftermath of the busted land deal. She was able to sell the property and is
basically living off the interest. She is also running a small art gallery in
town of which she is part owner, though I doubt she gets much income from that.
Beatriz is absolutely gorgeous at about 5′4 with olive Mediterranean colored
skin, a round face with big dark eyes, and plush very kissable lips, both of
which she manages to emphasize quite effectively with make-up. Yes, I know.
I’ve always agreed with you that when in comes to make-up, less is more. Even
the impeccably groomed Xiomara tends to live by this rule (though in her case,
it would be: ‘less obvious is more’ since she sure takes her time about getting
ready to go out – even if I can’t tell what the hell she’s done). But Beatriz is
a walking advertisement for the wonders of heavy mascara, eye-liner and glossy
red lipstick. She was clearly genetically blessed as she also has the body of a
1950’s centerfold and you can barely tell that she’s had two kids.
((NOTE: If you want to know what Beatriz looked like, google Cristina Kirchner,
the current president of Argentina, then take off 25 years and triple the
sexuality. But there is remarkable resemblance.))
Besides her great looks, Beatriz is also a very nice person. Of course she
isn’t perfect. For one, she is not even close to being as sharp or intellectual
as Xiomara. More importantly, she does have her own sordid past because of some
of the things the Dutch guy got her to do in Amsterdam strictly for his
amusement (the guy sounds like a total monster). And then finally, there is the
fact that will probably make you fall right out of your chair when you read it:
Beatirz smokes. Yes, the guy who made your life miserable back in High School
is now actually dating a smoker. But I have to admit, it isn’t as bad as a I
thought it would be. She’s not a heavy smoker (never in her house with her
kids), and somehow it just seems natural with her. Maybe its also that I’ve
gotten used to it a little with Xiomara, who is one of these people who’s
constantly insisting she quit, but ends up bumming cigs off her friends when she
just can’t resist the temptation.
Xiomara’s smoking does seem a bit more incongruous to me because she’s a bit of
a health nut. She never misses a day at the gym, unless it’s to go to her
martial arts classes, and is always lecturing the rest of us on the need to have
a healthy diet. At first I thought it might be something she picked up when
young and stupid like most smokers do (sound familiar Chicho?), but she recently
told me she only smoked her first cigarette last year when the Italian pressured
her into at least “trying” it after he got fed up with her hassling him over his
own habit. It turned out that she actually liked the damn things.
In any case, I’ve already been on several solo dates with Beatriz beginning in
early June and she sure surprised me the first time by asking me straight out to
take her to my place, though she did rush home relatively quickly. Beatriz is a
lot of fun and certainly enjoys herself, but her two kids come first at all
times and she makes a point of always being there when they wake up in the
morning. She’s definitely scared of commitment and, not surprisingly, seems to
have a strong desire never to be dependent on a man again, so I don’t know if
much will come out of our dating.
Now you’d think that my dating Beatriz would make it awkward when I’m doing
things with them both, but it hasn’t turned out that way at all.
In late June I even took a trip to (the beach) with the self-described “Las Tres
Mosqueteras” (Xiomara, Beatriz and their friend Sandra – and its just so
typically Xiomara to pick a masculine warrior name instead of something more
feminine that I had to laugh when I first heard them use it).
It was certainly an experience being the only guy among a group of really hot
women. Now while this may sound like the ultimate male fantasy, the reality was
a bit different. All three of them are going through one kind of crisis or
another so it became rather intense. Unfortunately it turned out to be a lot
more like group therapy than group sex, but I can’t complain too much as we did
have at least a little fun, if you know what I mean. But mostly I gave them
plenty of time for girl talk and actually finished a really good novel while I
was down there. I certainly needed a relaxing break from work, so all in all
I’m glad I went along.
The beach trip was originally conceived a couple of months ago as a celebration
of the good results after Xiomara had dragged the other two down to take the HIV
test (about which both were incredibly nervous). The trip was then postponed to
coincide with both Xiomara’s and Beatriz’s birthdays (29th and 27th
respectively) which coincidently are only 2 days apart.
I was actually kind of surprised to be invited along as I had assumed it would
be an all-girls outing. The reasons behind my invitation became quickly
apparent when I realized that Xiomara and Beatriz were basically using me so as
not to be hit on by every guy in sight. In fact, one of the fun parts was that
they both intentionally showed me a lot of affection in public (extremely out of
character for Xiomara), which drove people crazy trying to figure out which one
I was with. It certainly did no harm to my ego.
It was also a chance to get to know Sandra a little bit. I had met her and
certainly heard a lot about her from the other two, but had never spent much
time around her. It turns out that Sandra had a somewhat successful career as a
professional dancer and is now in Grad School with Xiomara. She’s a tiny little
woman with the body of a ballet dancer (which is to say, not many curves), but
does have this cute pixie thing going for her. Though she is a little older
than her two fiends (maybe 31 or 32), she’s by far the least experienced having
been only with her husband since they started dating in High School; up until
recently anyway. She is now in the process of getting a divorce because her
husband turned out to be gay. She only found this out when Xiomara started
suspecting something after Sandra admitted that he hadn’t really made love to
her in years. One evening a few months ago Xiomara used her extensive contacts
to track the guy down in a gay club, and found him making out with another guy.
So that was that.
Sandra’s problem is economic as her husband works as a lowly accountant by day
and is an actor in one of the local theatres at night; neither of which bring in
much income. So though Sandra’s keeping their small house, she can’t expect any
alimony.
((NOTE: Sandra’s ex actually co-starred with my wife Liliana in a comedy several
years later and turned out to be a really nice guy. He just got caught living
in a society where he couldn’t come out of the closet, and Sandra suffered the
consequences. But things are changing here and now he’s quite open about his
sexual preferences without really getting hassled about it.)).
Even then, we were quite stunned at the beach when Sandra announced that she was
seriously considering picking up guys for money at one of the bars downtown.
She’s become quite the little slut since breaking up with her husband – making
up for lost time I guess – and started figuring that she might as well charge
money for it.
Sandra was actively discouraged by the rest of us, with Beatriz going into
gruesome detail on some of her worst experiences in Amsterdam . Hearing
Beatriz’s stories made me want to puke and Xiomara was shocked speechless. It
certainly had the right effect on Sandra.
Actually, a few days ago Beatriz admitted to me that she had greatly exaggerated
and emphasized the bad things to discourage Sandra, more because she felt that
her friend would not be able to handle being in that business than because of
any objections in principal to prostitution. She pointed out that Sandra is not
young or physically attractive enough to be very successful at the highest
levels and has no street smarts or money sense. She would inevitably get
herself into trouble.
Beatriz went on to admit that at the beginning she went along willingly with her
husband as it was not very frequent. She was so young and had gotten bored and
frustrated during the pregnancy and later being shut up in a house in a strange
country taking care of a small baby. It was a way of doing something exciting
that made her feel sexy again; as well as to please the guy she was dependent
on. Besides, in exchange, he finally agreed to pay for her to go to art school.
It was only later that he started pushing her more and more until he finally
actually arranged for her to stay in a bordello for a week while he went on a
business trip.
That woke her up fast enough and she grabbed her kid and ran home. He soon
followed her back here begging for her forgiveness; and in fact he did improve
quite a bit in his treatment of her at first, particularly when she got pregnant
with his son. But he also started getting heavily into drugs as his business
problems increased and then by the end he had actually started hitting her.
Finally she fled to her mother’s house in (a provincial town) until her husband
went back to Holland . Even worse, she confirmed something I thought I had
overheard in a discussion between Xiomara and her. She admitted that she had
worked as a whore for a time after returning to (the capital) once her husband
had fled. She explained that she had done it mainly for the money, as it took
some time to clear up the legal situation with her husband’s assets, but also
just to have sex with guys who she wouldn’t have to deal with afterwards.
Beatriz does joke that she made a pretty lousy prostitute as she kept turning
guys down if she didn’t find them attractive. Otherwise, she found the local
scene to be pretty tame compared to some of the stuff she had seen in Holland
and insisted it wasn’t all that bad.
There’s an interesting contrast between Xiomara and Beatriz on the subject of
prostitution, something that came up once again when the three of us met for
lunch earlier this week. The former abhors the very concept and
intellectualizes that it’s the ultimate exploitation of women. (for all that
some of her best friends have been or are prostitutes of one sort or another).
She sees it as this big trap that once you fall into soils you for life.
Perhaps this comes from the fact that she’s been so close to falling into it
herself. Beatriz, for all that she blushes so charmingly when she talks about
the subject, has a much more practical point of view. She’d rather not, but if
she needs the money and cute guys are willing to pay her under her terms, then
what’s the problem? She’s certainly seen and done much worse and clearly can
take it or leave it as she wishes. As for Xiomara’s intellectual arguments,
that’s just so much BLA-BLA-BLA to her. As Beatriz argued back, “How can I be
the one who’s being exploited if I’m the one in charge? The one who decides
what, when, with whom and for how much? Exploited is having a husband who
forces you to fuck strangers in front of a crowd when you don’t want to.”
This has all been somewhat eye-opening for me as I’d never really thought much
about the subject before. If you’d asked, I would have probably given you the
usual American view of prostitutes as dirty slimy junkie streetwalkers getting
beat up by their pimps. Clearly the situation is very different here where it’s
a legal (albeit less than reputable) profession. Certainly I have trouble
reconciling Beatriz or the Belgian woman for that matter, with anyone’s image of
the downtrodden prostitute. Perhaps they’ve had some bad luck and made a poor
choice of husbands, but they’ve both certainly made the best of circumstances
and on their own terms. Yeah, I know what Katia would say – that they are all
victims of a patriarchal society, etc, etc. etc. But as you well know, there
are certain realities in this part of the world and people just have to get by
while trying to hold on to their values the best they can (and BTW, I still
can’t get over the fact that you of all people are engaged to a Green Party
radical feminist. (WTF???) After that lecture she gave us in that beer hall a
couple of years ago I was surprised enough to hear you were still dating each
other, let alone living together and getting married. But don’t get me wrong, I
totally approve – probably exactly what you both needed.)
In any case, its certainly true that despite all of her experiences, Beatriz
definitely still does very much enjoy sex, as long as she picks the person and
the time. But still, it sounds pretty screwed up, right? The funny thing
though is that Beatriz now comes across as relatively level-headed and
emotionally stable. Maybe it’s because she does have a good support structure
in her friends and her mother, who she finally brought to the city to live with
her once she settled things. Though Beatriz comes from a more working class
background than the rest, her mother sounds like by far the most progressive and
positively supportive parent of the bunch and Xiomara thinks this is what really
settled Beatriz down. There’s also the fact that she is so dedicated to her
kids.
I can tell you though, that after talking to these three women, it can sure make
you pretty disgusted with a lot of men and I start understanding where Katia is
coming from. I have to admit that some of their stories sounded so incredible
that I was pretty skeptical at first, but the problem is that I keep getting
little bits of confirmation when talking to the women separately. For instance
almost all the main points in Xiomara’s story were repeated to me in
conversations with Zayda who was in a position to know.
I guess this e-mail has gone on long enough by now and it’s already Sunday
afternoon as I finish this up. I spent most of the weekend on this damn thing.
You probably didn’t expect to receive this “novel” when you asked for more
details, did you? Obviously I find Xiomara and her friends to be quite
interesting and ended up using this letter as a way of getting down their
stories and organizing my own impressions.
(end of extract)
PART 3: SOME FUN AT THE BEACH
Of course some pretty interesting stuff did happen on that beach trip that I
didn’t write Chicho about.
Xiomara had reserved a bungalow with two double-beds in the bedroom, which was
shared by the women, and a sofa-bed in the living room, which I took. We also
shared the cost of the room 3 ways (with me paying what was originally to have
been Sandra’s share since she clearly couldn’t afford it). They took turns
preparing meals to save money and were surprised when I insisted on being
included in the rotation. Not that I actually cooked anything, as instead I
used my “turns” as an excuse to take them all out to eat. They certainly didn’t
complain about that.
I was surprised at first about the way Xiomara and Beatriz would make a point of
each taking one of my arms as I escorted them in and out of restaurants and
bars, until I figured out why they were doing that. Then I worried that Sandra
would start feeling left out, until it became apparent that she very much wanted
to get hit on (and in fact let herself get picked up a couple of times).
We were at the beach for something like 5 nights, and there really was no sex
during most of that period. They teased me often enough and some pretty risqué
sexual jokes flew back and forth at times, but I knew both Xiomara and Beatriz
well enough by then to realize that they weren’t really serious. I think that
at least initially there was an unstated recognition that it would have been too
awkward had one of them decided to take me off into the bedroom.
The first exception occurred one day when we hiked down the coast and found a
little cove with no other people around. The 3 women promptly stripped off
their bikini tops and made a huge production of applying sun tan lotion to their
breasts. I did get some great photos of the three of them playing topless in
the waves, though unfortunately Liliana later threw them out when she found them
shortly after moving in with me.
Inevitably I got hard, and they had a wonderful time teasing me about the bulge
in my swimming suit. But it did come as a big surprise when I woke up after
dozing off following our picnic lunch to suddenly find Xiomara and Beatriz
pressed up against me, one on each side, while they lightly ran their fingers
through my chest hair. After laughing at my startled expression, they started
commenting to each other about how it really wasn’t fair the way they had been
teasing me without giving me any relief. Of course, feeling their naked breasts
up against my side and having them touch me was worse than any previous teasing
they had put me through.
Then to my surprise, Xiomara reached down and handled my cock through my bathing
suit, while noting, “It really is big and hard now.”
Beatriz followed her lead and ran one of her long red fingernails up the other
side of my cock, while agreeing with her friend.
By this point, I was about to come right there in my trunks, but they seemed to
realize this and stopped stroking my cock. As I moaned in protest, Xiomara
noted, “Bea, I think we’ve really have been unfair to poor Roberto, don’t you
think?” When Beatriz simply nodded in agreement, Xiomara continued by asking
me, “Rob, do you have a coin?”
“What…?” I couldn’t figure out what she wanted a coin for, but I nodded towards
my backpack. The two women then proceeded to flip for the right to give me some
relief. Beatriz won the coin toss and the next thing I knew, she was leading me
off behind some bushes. She promptly got down on her knees, pulled down my
trunks and gobbled me up. I have to admit that I didn’t last too long, not
surprising given the state I was in. But it was great the way she took my first
spurt in her mouth and then had me cover her tits in my cum.
When we walked back to join the others, I was kind of worried about Xiomara’s
reaction. But as we stood above them I could see that she seemed to think the
whole thing was funny. This was confirmed when Beatriz then ran a finger up the
top of one breast gathering up my cum and tasted it, while noting teasingly,
“Que rico!” (how delicious). Xiomara promptly jumped up and chased her as they
both ran laughing into the waves.
The blowjob had been pretty nice, but there was still more to come. A while
later, Bea and I started feeling the effects of the sun and moved our towels
over to sit by Sandra (who always stayed in the shade because her lily white
skin tended to burn too easily). Sandra started tentatively asking Beatriz some
questions about what she had done for me. It turned out that our smaller friend
had never really given a blow job, afraid that she would choke if she took a
cock all the way. And admittedly her mouth was really small, so I could see
where she was coming from.
Beatriz thought that was a real pity and tried to describe methods Sandra could
use to control things. The next thing I knew, without so much as asking my
permission, Bea pulled down my trunks and started to give our friend a practical
demonstration. Not that I was complaining too much, particularly when Sandra
moved over and started following her more experienced friends instructions. Now
they weren’t really trying to make it particularly good for me. I just had a
handy instrument that they could practice on, with the advantage according to
Bea that if Sandra could learn to handle mine, she would have little trouble
with most others. Now my cock isn’t really much longer than average, but it is
rather thick, so I guess she had a point. In any case, I was hardly complaining
and fortunately Sandra was a quick learner.
Once she gained confidence that she could control how far I penetrated into her
mouth by holding my cock with her hand, she decided she wanted to see if she
could swallow a load of cum. So it was at that point that she really went to
work focusing much more on my pleasure. Well, it certainly worked as I
eventually ejaculated my second load of cum of the afternoon into the mouth of a
second Mosquetera. Sandra wasn’t able to take it all on that first try, but she
did make a valiant effort to take some of it down and was quite proud of
herself. For my part, the image of my thick cock next to her cute little pixie
face became a recurring part of my masturbatory fantasies for awhile.
But that was to be the first and last time I ever had any real sexual contact
with Sandra, which was probably for the better as I already had by hands full
with the other two.
After that little day trip, I kind of figured that was about as far as things
would go sexually, especially since none of the women made a move towards doing
something with me that night. Of course, it turned out I was wrong.
The last day of our vacation was quite eventful as the Mosketeras got identical
smallish tattoos of three crossed swords and a red rose on the outside of their
upper thighs (in a location where it would not be visible except when wearing
the shortest of skirts or a bikini). Beatriz had sketched out the design over
the previous few days and I was completely ignored when I pointed out that she
had drawn broadswords, and not the kind used by the three musketeers.
Only Beatriz had a previous tattoo, a nicely done not too large flowery design
on her lower back which she got in Holland. But they were beginning to come
into fashion over here at the time, along with belly button rings (Beatriz
already had one of those as well) and the other two allowed themselves to be
talked into getting this symbol of their friendship. Where Xiomara and Sandra
did hold the line was on getting the tattoo on the back of a shoulder where it
would be more visible. Now I wasn’t so sure the tattoos were such a great idea.
But no one was asking my opinion. It was clearly some kind of feminine bonding
thing and I quickly decided it was better to keep my mouth shut. At least the
tattoo artist did a pretty nice job. Certainly the women were excited enough,
and properly primed for a fun evening.
That night we ended up dancing on the beach to a live reggae/socca band that had
set up in a large thatched hut. Up until this point on our vacation, the women
had tended to be rather careful about not drinking too much, but since it was
the last night, they completely let go. Sandra even came up with a couple of
joints that she had procured somewhere, which she proceeded to share with
Xiomara later on in the evening when we were resting by a bonfire someone had
lit on the beach. Xiomara’s strong opposition to hard drugs didn’t extend to
very occasionally indulging in pot. For my part, I had never really liked pot
much when I tried it in college (more out of a rebellion against my super
straight strict catholic future wife, then because I had really wanted to). So
I was happy to keep Beatriz company in abstaining. Besides, I was driving and
had limited myself to alternating beers and cokes all evening.
Things really started getting interesting when Sandra got around to her second
joint. After Xiomara waved it off, she immediately crossed over to the other
side of the bonfire to sit with two young university students she had been
flirting and dancing with all evening. Once she had shared it with them, we
overheard her ask through a sudden break in the music, “Quieren cogerme?” (Do
you want to fuck me?)
The two boys looked surprised at being asked so directly, but seemed to have no
problems with the idea, only asking, “Where?”
Sandra motioned into the darkness down the beach and soon the trio was on there
feet rather unsteadily moving away from us. They actually looked kind of funny,
tiny little Sandra sandwiched between two well built young guys, either one of
whom probably weighed twice as much as she did.
But given how blasted Sandra was, I wondered if Xiomara would interfere and was
kind of relieved when she called out, “San” But all she did was toss her one of
our towels and the beach bag the three women had brought between them to hold
their cigarettes, make-up and such. When I gave her a questioning look, she
explained, “Condoms.”
I had to ask, “Are you sure she’ll be fine? She seems pretty drunk”.
Xiomara smiled in response before explaining, “You worried that those boys might
take advantage of her? I think that’s exactly what she wants. Besides, would
you stop a friend of yours from helping himself to two sexy willing 20 year old
girls?”
Well, when she put it that way…
Xiomara continued, “Sandra is just making up for 10 years of drought.”
It was at this point that Beatriz returned from having danced with someone and
started looking around for her cigs. When Xiomara explained why Sandra had
walked off with them, Beatriz looked rather envious.
The three of us ended up lying back and looking up at the stars while we waited
for our friend to return with her boy toys. Soon I had both women scrunched up
against me with their heads on my shoulders. I was already turned on having
watched them dance all evening wearing only their bikini tops and short wrap-
around skirts, and I’m afraid my shorts started bulging again. This didn’t go
unnoticed, but this time when they didn’t comment on it directly.
Beatriz finally noted out loud, “Lucky Sandra.”
Xiomara sighed and responded, “I know what you mean”
Beatriz continued, “I could really use a man right now.”
There was a long pause during which I considered whether I should point out the
obvious. Fortunately I didn’t have to as Beatriz spoke up rather tentatively,
“Well we do have a perfectly serviceable man right here…”
Xiomara responded carefully, “It’s not like we both haven’t been with him
before. But there are two of us…”
As they both fell silent, I decided to say nothing. My best shot was clearly to
let them talk themselves into something. But nothing more was said at the time,
though both women did scrunch up even closer to me.
Soon enough, Sandra came stumbling back propped up between her two boys, looking
very drunk but also quite satisfied. They dropped her off and quickly excused
themselves acting somewhat embarrassed. Noticing that we were all staring at
her in curiosity, Sandra simply shrugged and noted, “I really need a cigarette.
Where are they?”
Beatriz answered sounding a bit peeved, “You walked off with them.”
“Oh right.” She then pulled out a cigarette and lit up before tossing the pack
to Beatriz. Watching her inhale deeply, it was clear that sex wasn’t the only
thing Sandra had taken to lately. She had only started smoking occasionally a
few weeks earlier, but had gone full out during this vacation, preferring to
ignore Xiomara’s repeated warnings about how easy it was to get hooked. Of
course our Nicaraguan friend’s message was somewhat weakened by the fact that
she was also constantly bumming cigarettes off of Beatriz (and sure enough,
after that beach trip Xiomara gave up any pretentions of trying to quit and went
back to buying her own cigarettes. Perhaps it was never a realistic goal anyway
as long as she was with the Italian. They soon even had me lighting up
occasionally, though fortunately I never became more than a social smoker).
We left shortly after Sandra’s return, and she was soon snoring away during the
short drive back to our hotel. We had trouble getting her into the room, where
she promptly collapsed on my bed by the entrance. I was standing there trying
to figure out what to do while the other two women rushed into the bathroom.
Then Sandra rolled over on to her back and her skirt fell open giving me a
perfect view of her closely trimmed pussy. She’d obviously lost her bikini
bottom or panties somewhere along the way. It was immediately apparent that
Sandra hadn’t gotten around to using the condoms, as her crotch and upper thighs
were covered in cum. I could see some still leaking out of her pussy, and
immediately started getting hard again, almost despite myself. It really was
like something straight out of porno movie. Sandra might not have had much in
the way of breasts or hips, but her pussy looked incredibly beautiful and I
stated musing that if there was such a thing as a pussy model, she could make a
bundle.
It was at that point that Xiomara came back in the room and caught me staring at
her friend. She teased, “pervertido” (pervert).
I tried to cover for myself by noting, “I don’t think she used protection.
Maybe you should have been more concerned about her.”
Xiomara looked closely and after cursing, went on to note quite seriously.
“I’ll definitely need to have a talk with our Sandrita in the morning. And to
think how much she agonized over those blood tests. At least she took my advice
and went on the pill.”
Beatriz came back in and after noticing what we were staring at, quickly moved
to cover up Sandra with a sheet, blushing charmingly in that way she had in
these types of situations. Of course that didn’t keep her from teasing, “I
don’t think we will be moving her anytime soon. Too bad. I guess Rob will just
have to share a bed with one of us. But which one of us?”
I of course was not about to point out that the obvious solution was for the two
of them to share a bed and instead quipped, “You could always toss a coin
again.”
Xiomara, a girl that i consider to be my girlfriend, just gave me a knowing look and then pushed me towards the bathroom
while responding, “We’ll figure something out.”
When I came out of the bathroom I could hear the two women whispering to each
other in the living area, so I turned off the overhead light, leaving just the
bedside lamp on and plopped down on one of the beds. I had decided to leave on
my boxers so as not to seem too presumptuous.
I must have dozed off a bit, because the next thing I knew, a naked Beatriz was
climbing into bed with me. I started to mumble something about it being her
lucky week, but was interrupted by a naked Xiomara kneeling on the bed on my
other side.
When I looked over at her, I saw that she was holding a box of condoms and as I
reached for her, she waved me away and announced the “rules” for our upcoming
encounter. I was way too excited by then at the prospect of fulfilling one of
my top fantasies to pay much attention, which actually was probably for the
better since the whole thing started out just as I might have imagined and I
could let myself go without thinking about some of the limitations Xiomara had
come up with.
To be honest, I can’t remember all the details of everything we did that night,
but I know that they started by kissing me all over. Beatriz began with my
feet, while Xiomara started kissing my face and neck. They both moved gradually
towards the middle, leaving a trail of red lipstick marks in their wakes, and by
the time they got to my cock I was pretty much ready to explode. Fortunately,
Xiomara used her trick of squeezing my cock in a certain way to keep me from
coming too soon.
While they had been working on me, I had been lightly stroking Xiomara, since
she was the one within reach. I first concentrated on her breasts, before
eventually moving down between her legs until she was quite juicy. But when I
tried to pull her over so that she could straddle my head, she moved away and
the women switched places. Suddenly I had an already aroused Xiomara settling
on to my cock, while Beatriz’s shaved pussy descended towards my hungry mouth.
I remember thinking rather vaguely that I was kind of glad they switched, since
Xiomara only trimmed her bush enough to fit into her bathing suit. Her Italian
actually preferred some hair down there. Personally, I’d rather not have a
mouth full of hair. What is it about these Italian guys anyway?
Of course, they didn’t arrange things this way just to please me. I had already
learned that while Beatriz could come rather easily when being eaten out, she
had a much harder time during regular intercourse. On the other hand, of all
the women I’ve ever been with, no one could match the speed with which Xiomara
could come from straight out fucking, particularly in the cowgirl or missionary
positions (she didn’t like the doggy position – probably too submissive for her
tastes). As a result, the first round was a complete success, with everyone
getting off rather handedly within seconds of each other (Beatriz, Xiomara and
me, in that order if I remember properly).
Now if this had been my fantasy threesome, we would have spent the rest of the
night in various wonderful combinations, including the one that always got me
off when masturbating (one girl lying atop the other with me thrusting back and
forth between their pussies).
But of course reality did set in. For one, I was no longer 18 and could not
just recover my hard on instantaneously. Now this would have been OK if the
women had been willing to entertain each other while I recharged my batteries.
But neither one was bisexual and they almost went out of their way not to touch
each other even by accident (which I should have expected since lesbian sex
seems much more of a taboo in Latin America than in the US). And finally, there
were those pesky rules that I had not really paid attention to. It turned out
that they were really serious about the fact that I couldn’t go from one to the
other without changing condoms.
At least we did manage a second round in which I first fucked Xiomara in the
missionary position until she came, and then mounted Beatriz from behind until I
came. The encounter finished with me eating out Beatriz until she finally had
her second orgasm (which turned out to be one of the few times she had ever come
more than once in a night).
All in all, it was a pretty great experience even if it didn’t go exactly the
way I had imagined it might. At least this way, it left part of my fantasy
alive to be fulfilled in the future. I remember thinking at the time that maybe
someday I’d get two women into bed with me who were also into each other and in
a situation where we didn’t have to worry about safe sex.
It is worth noting that once we were done, Xiomara moved to the other bed,
leaving Beatriz to spend the night in my arms. Furthermore, on the drive back
to the airport the next day, Xiomara made a point of giving Beatriz the copilot
chair, which had been hers during the entire vacation. I didn’t really make
much of it at the time, but when it turned out that the threesome was the last
time I was to have sex with Xiomara that summer, even I realized this
significance of her actions.
As for the Poor Sandra, she woke up with the worst hangover of her life and, as
people will do, promised she’d never drink again. In her case, she actually did
really take it easy with booze after that. At least the car rental guys didn’t
notice the stain on the backseat upholstery where Sandra had been sitting the
night before. Those boys sure must have pumped her full of a lot of cum.
PART 4: THE MOSQUETERAS RULE
I think this is about the right place to insert the following extract from my
next e-mail to Chicho, after he responded to the previous really long one:
Extracted from e-mail dated July 21, 1999:
Personally I’m beginning to feel kind of guilty because I’m having a pretty good
time going out with these various women while I certainly wouldn’t want to get
seriously romantically involved with any of them. They simply carry too much
baggage. I still think its weird that I’m dating two best friends and they seem
to have no problem with it at all. There certainly hasn’t been any pressure to
choose between them, either because they don’t see me worth fighting for or
because they’re well aware that the decision is basically theirs and not mine.
It is true I haven’t seen much of Xiomara recently, but her Italian was in town
for longer than usual this time; for what seemed like most of the first half of
this month. She did call me this morning and it sounds like she’ll be joining
us at their favorite dance club this Friday night. This time I might not be the
only guy in our group (not that they’ve ever had any trouble finding men to
dance with once we get there). It sounds like Sandra has a new guy she’s been
seeing and Xiomara suggested I make one more attempt to get Diego to come along.
I think I mentioned him before, but he’s this Argentine guy out of MIT and the
only foreigner at the office who’s about my age. The problem is that he’s
really crazy about his girlfriend back in the States, so he’s been reluctant to
do more than go to soccer games with me. But we’ll see. In any case, it will
be nice to watch Las Tres Mosqueteras ride again (figuratively anyway).
To tell you the truth, I don’t know why they keep hanging around me (they tend
to call me more often than not), except that maybe its because I listen with
genuine interest, am careful not to be judgmental and am not in the least
possessive or jealous around them.
Also, its true that I do tend to pick up the check if I’m out with just the
Mosqueteras (or any combination of the three), though not if we’re with a larger
group. But we are in Latin America after all and its to be expected. I also
think it helps that I don’t have the kind of money or personality that makes me
a potential long-term provider (by their standards), so its all kind of relaxed
for them as well. They treat me primarily as a friend, but one who they can
sleep with if they feel like it, which is fine by me at this point. One key
aspect from my point of view is that they all have very strong reasons for
staying away from drugs (Beatriz once ended up in the hospital from a bad
reaction to some coke she finally accepted from her husband late in her
marriage).
I am beginning to start wondering where I want things to go from here. My
original connection was with Ziomara and I still feel the strongest about her.
But Beatriz is impossible not to like because she’s just so damn nice and so
amazingly unpretentious despite how gorgeous she is. Its also cute the way she
still blushes when talking about the wilder things she’s done in her past. But
she is very definitely not looking for anything serious with any man, period.
Even though I have been seeing a lot more of her lately, I still don’t get the
impression that she sees me as anything long-term.
Xiomara can be more “chocante” (brusque/harder edged), but she’s also more
interesting and exciting to be around. We can talk for hours with perfect
understanding even when we disagree, which to be honest I think scares us both
so much that one or the other ends up backing off from the relationship every
once and awhile. As long as she’s dependent on her Italian (and I certainly
don’t have the money or inclination to take his place), I don’t think that’s
going anywhere either.
I guess you can tell from all these long e-mails that it has been kind of
intense. Amazing to think I met Xiomara for the first time only 6 months ago.
One thing’s for sure though, eventually I’m going to need to move on to other
types of women. While I have continued to go out on a few dates over the months
with more “normal” women, nothing really clicks. I still don’t like all the
games you have to go through when dating (particularly down here) and in the end
many of these women seem even more mercenary than Xiomara and her friends. In
some cases, like the last one a couple of months ago, you can almost see them
thinking: “rich professional gringo!” I guess at some point I’ll be ready to
meet young single professional woman that I might have more in common with.
In your latest e-mail you ask me what kind of woman I was looking for; “my
perfect woman”. Well, she doesn’t have to be quite as openly sexual as Xiomara
and Beatriz. As long she’s intelligent enough so that you can carry on a
reasonable conversation about a variety of things and cute enough so that I find
her attractive, I would be quite happy.
It would certainly be an interesting change to be around a woman who hasn’t been
completely screwed in the most sordid ways (both literally and figuratively) by
the men in her past – that is if such a women exists over the age of 25.
(end of extract)
Well, that’s the end of the relevant parts of that particular e-mail to Chicho
and as you have probably figured out by now, I didn’t quite end up with the type
of woman I thought I was looking for as described at the end there. I also
didn’t quite manage keeping from getting romantically involved with at least one
of the Mosqueteras.
What did happen over the next couple of months or so was that Beatriz and I kept
seeing each other quite frequently, but this didn’t mean that we neglected our
friends.
The Mosqueteras as a group decided to take on the town. Pretty much every
Friday night they would descend on one of their favorite dance clubs. Things
got really interesting when they adopted the custom of always dressing in such a
way as to show off or at least be able to flash their matching tattoos, without
getting kicked out for indecent exposure. This usually meant wearing skirts
with a slit up the one side, though they did get inventive at times, like one
night where Beatriz wore skin tight jeans torn strategically in just the right
place. Given that the fashion at the time seemed to be long black stretch pants
(at least I think that’s what they’re called), this made the Mosqueteras stand
out even more than they normally would have. They certainly made an impression.
Probably their favorite club was an old disco called Galaxia. The place had
been around since the late-70’s when it had been the most fashionable disco in
town, somehow survived the lean years and was reborn in the mid-90’s catering to
a more eclectic crowd looking for a much wider variety of music compared to most
of the other clubs. They usually alternated three 20 minute sets: European
electronic dance music, Latin music (Merengue, Salsa and Cumbia) and finally an
assorted set that included Hip Hop, Reggae and Rock in both English and Spanish.
One of the nice things about the place is that it did not cater specifically ot
the 18 to 25 crowd the way so many clubs in town did, though of course you would
get plenty of college kids (both local and foreign). But you also got the local
Goths, the marijuanos (hippie throwbacks), married couples of varying ages,
tourists and pretty much any other group you can imagine. It was even a
favorite place for the whores from the upscale pick-up places like the
Casablanca and the hotel bar Liliana worked out of to take any dates who wanted
to go dancing. On any given night, you could find people from almost any
ethnicity and at least a dozen different nationalities. A final important
consideration was that the Italian guy and his friends didn’t like the place so
he never took Xiomara there. All in all, it was perfect for the Mosqueteras.
The dynamic when I was along with them, which was most of the time, was quite
interesting. When Beatriz was alone with me, she would act like the typical
girlfriend, holding my hand, walking arm in arm, even the odd kiss. But when we
were with the others at the club, she would generally keep her distance, though
at least she always sat by my side. I would take turns dancing with all three
women (and any others they had roped in to joining our group for the night), but
it was clear I was not to play favorites. Besides, I’m really not the best
dancer, so they spent most of their time dancing with other guys or even each
other – spreading the wealth around a bit. All three were spectacularly good
dancers, not surprising given their training, and that only added to the impact
they made on the scene.
This naturally meant that there was a lot of speculation about where I fit in.
While a lot of guys were quite envious, kidding me about my “harem”, I think
most quickly realized that the girls were the ones in charge and that I was
along for the ride. I didn’t mind that, but wasn’t happy at all when someone
let me know that people were wondering if I was a gay friend of theirs. When
the Mosqueteras caught on, they resolved the situation in typical fashion by
taking turns giving me the occasional open mouthed passionate kiss out on the
dance-floor. Even Sandra got in on the action when not accompanied by date of
her own (and she was no slouch as a kisser). This of course amped up the
speculation by several degrees as no one could figure out how this rather normal
looking Gringo in his levis and t-shirts, who couldn’t even dance all that well,
could possibly have such an in with the three queens of the club. The
Mosqueteras certainly didn’t mind adding another layer of mystery to their
mystique, and I certainly didn’t mind all the attention I suddenly started
getting from other women.
At least at the end of the evening, Beatriz would invariably leave with me.
Unless accompanied by a date, Sandra would almost always take someone home with
her, though after one bad experience she learned to first consult with Xiomara &
Beatriz about her intended target as they had better instincts about such
things. The interesting thing about Sandra was that she seemed to have two sets
of lovers; guys (usually younger) whom she picked up at the club for a one-night
stand, and a small roster of more serious men in their 30’s and 40’s (several of
them married) who she would regularly date for a period of time, without ever
letting it get exclusive. It was funny the way she was always surrounded by men
and not just at the club. I mean she really did have no tits or ass to speak
of, something particularly important in a Latin country, and though she was
acting like a slut, she certainly didn’t dress like one, at least not outside of
the club. It did probably help a lot when Beatriz took her on as a makeover
project, finding her a style that maximized her natural delicate elegance and
cute face. She got Sandra’s long light brown hair bobbed and lightened, taught
her to use more make-up, something she had really never bothered with before,
and helped her pick out a few new outfits she could afford. But more important,
Sandra absolutely exuded sexuality. Guys can tell when a woman is interested in
sex and Sandra clearly was. I guess a way to sum it up is that she became
something of an elegant slut.
As for Xiomara, she almost never let herself get picked up, though it hilarious
the way she weeded through her prospects. She would treat any guy who hit on
her with utter contempt and only when one of them proved study enough to
withstand her most withering best, would she deign to consider letting him
escort her out of the club. It did make me realize how out of character it had
been when she had flirted with me so blatantly at that bar when we met back in
January. No wonder Sandra (who had been with her at the time) had looked so
surprised.
PART 5: DATING BEATRIZ
As I’ve mentioned above, beginning at about the time we returned from the beach
trip, Beatriz and I started dating on a regular basis. But what did this
actually mean?
I quickly learned that she had two very different facets to her personality.
First, there was Beatriz the mom and caring friend, the picture of a responsible
mature single mother, running her home and her business with remarkable
efficiency, while always being there for her friends when they needed her.
And then, there was Bea, the playful inventive sex fiend. Of all the 20 odd
women I’ve had sex with in my life; Bea was the one who most closely resembles a
character in an erotic story. For one, this girl really loved cum and not just
deep inside her pussy. She loved it in her mouth, down her throat, all over her
face, on her tits, or anywhere else I wanted to shoot it. I’ve been with (a
few) women who didn’t mind swallowing or taking it on their tits every once and
awhile, but Bea would have been perfectly happy to bathe in the stuff. She
detested condoms and it’s no coincidence that soon after we really started
dating, she rushed us both down to get tested. She hadn’t had a guy bareback in
over a year (not coincidently, since becoming friends with Xiomara), and was
quite desperate.
The other thing that stands out in my memory is that she also really liked anal
sex, something I hadn’t even brought up with a woman since my first wife once
kicked me out of the bedroom for even suggesting that we might consider trying
it. Though it didn’t become my favorite thing to do, it was at least something
new and different.
But our relationship wasn’t all day in and day out sex. Dating a single mom
always has its complications, even when you have Grandma around to babysit.
Beatriz always insisted on dedicating most weekends during the day to doing
things with her kids, though she did start inviting me along on occasion after
the first few weeks.
Given that Friday nights were invariably dedicated to hitting the clubs with the
other Mosqueteras, this left Saturday nights as our big date night. Of course
we would see each other during the week as well, but again Beatriz strongly
preferred to be home to give her kids dinner and put them to bed.
As a result, we ended up starting to meet for lunch a couple of times a week,
when we could both break away from work at about the same time. It turned out
that both my office and her gallery were within walking distance of one of the
main plazas, though in opposite directions, so it quickly became our custom to
meet under a particular statue and then hit one of the nearby restaurants.
Occasionally we would be joined by Xiomara, Sandra or my co-worker Diego, but
usually it was just the two of us and it was when we did most of our talking.
I did get a kick out of the fact that no one watching us would ever imagine that
the beautiful classy looking young women in the conservative dress elegantly
smoking a cigarette over her after-lunch coffee was telling the rather staid
looking young businessmen next to her about how much fun it had been to dress up
in black leather and whip some naked slobbering fool in an Amsterdam B&D club;
or the time at a party where her husband had her lie naked on the dinner table
covered in food while 9 other people ate right off her body; or the time in a
swing club where he insisted they get together with a couple composed of a hot
young blonde and a pudgy middle-aged guy and it turned out that while the blonde
just lay there like a slab of meat, the guy had a huge cock and fucked her like
a pro. Whether the stories were 100% true or not, who’s to say, but they sure
spiced up a boring workday.
Of course, I wasn’t the only one getting worked up over lunch. One night about
2 or 3 weeks after we returned from the beach, I was surprised to hear someone
knocking on my apartment door sometime after 10 pm. I opened up to find a
vision standing there leaning against the wall wearing a jet black pageboy
haircut, heavy glossy make-up, a corset, garter belt, stockings and platform
fuck-me heels. As I stood there open-mouthed, the vision took a drag from a
long white cigarette, exhaled into my face and said in a sultry voice, “I
understand that someone here needs my help.”
“Help? Uh, with what”
At which point she reached down and gently cupped my cock between her long blood
red fingernails before replying, “With this”
She proceeded to gently pushed me ahead of her back into the apartment and up
against a wall, shut the door behind her, threw a purse and what turned out
later to be a long raincoat on my couch. She then got down on her knees in
front of me and pulled down the Dockers shorts I was wearing. A second later my
rock hard cock was in her warm mouth. She proceeded to play my cock as if it
were an instrument, driving me repeatedly almost to completion, before backing
off just in time to slowly take another drag from her cigarette while waiting
for me to calm down a bit and then repeating the process. This went on until I
couldn’t take it any longer and I finally just grabbed her head and fucked her
face until I filled her mouth with cum.
As soon as I came down from my high, I saw that she had fallen back on the floor
and was lying there panting loudly with her eyes closed. I immediately
regretted having treated her so roughly. But as I dropped to my knees to
apologize, it was her turn to grab my head and thrust it up between her legs on
to her hot wet cunt. It seemed like I had barely started lapping away when she
went into spasms and yelled out her own climax.
Afterwards, we both just collapsed there on my rug breathing heavily. After a
few minutes, she finally stirred and picking herself up off the floor, took her
purse and went into my bathroom without saying a word.
I managed to pull myself up on to the couch, wondering what the hell had just
happened; to the background noise of Jay Leno beginning his monologue on the TV
I had been watching in the bedroom.
Several minutes later, Bea came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and
carrying a wet washcloth. She proceeded to kneel down in front of me and gently
wash all the red lipstick marks off my cock, while nervously avoiding me eyes.
She had taken off what must have been a wig and most of her make-up. In fact
the only sign that this was the same woman was her blood red fingernails.
I finally lifted up her chin and simply said, “Thank you.”
She blushed and asked, “You liked?”
I answered by giving her a long soft kiss and we ended up cuddling and making
out on the couch. Being a weeknight, she couldn’t stay too long and eventually
I walked her out to her car, after loaning her a T-shirt and some sweatpants
that she had to roll up. It was only after she left that I stumbled across her
cigarette which had fallen at some point in the proceeding. Liliana always did
wonder where that cigarette burn mark on the rug had come from.
That was certainly not the first time Beatriz surprised me with a late night
midweek surprise visit, but it was the most memorable. It was also when I
discovered just how much Beatriz liked to role-play.
Of course our relationship wasn’t always quite that erotic. Most of our
Saturday date nights involved simply going out to eat or if we were really
tired, picking up take-out on the way over to my apartment. Usually after a
long Friday night partying at the club, we weren’t up to too much excitement the
next evening anyway. Besides, what she was clearly much more interested in
leaving as much time for sex as possible.
Of course there were exceptions when we did take our games elsewhere. Probably
the most memorable took place maybe a month after that first late night visit to
my apartment and it also involved some role-playing and a wig.
Ever since Beatriz had told me about whoring herself out while waiting to get
her hands on her husband’s assets, I had been curious about the subject. I had
certainly never considered paying a whore before coming to this country. And
though I no longer assumed all prostitutes were beaten down streetwalkers, the
way Bea made fun of her former clients, calling them “cocks with wallets”, made
paying for sex seem even more unimaginable. But that didn’t keep me from being
curious, and at various times I asked Beatriz questions about where she had
picked up guys and how the whole thing worked.
So I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when one Saturday afternoon in early
September, I got a phone call from Beatriz in which she started out by asking,
“You know the Excelsiior Hotel downtown?”
“Yes of course.” It was a nice looking 4-star establishment smack in the middle
of the hotel district known for having a ground floor bar that was primarily a
place for men to pick up high class hookers. It also happened to be the place
that Beatriz had worked out of when she dabbled in the business (and where my
future wife Liliana was to whore herself out beginning a month or so later,
though of course I didn’t know that at the time).
“Good. Be there at the bar tonight at 9:00 pm and the “puta” of your dreams
will be there for you.”
I immediately felt a quiver of excitement. Beatriz was clearly up to one of her
role-plays and this one sounded like a doozy.
I heard her ask, “”Esta bien?” and realized I hadn’t yet said anything so I
quickly agreed to be at the designated spot.
I got to the place a little early and after looking around and not seeing
Beatriz, took a stool at the bar and ordered a beer. The place was crowded with
what must have been about 30 to 40 women and at least half that number of men.
Most of the women were sitting around against the walls chatting with each other
while looking appraisingly at the men, particularly those who were
unaccompanied. The rest were sitting with guys either at the bar or at tables
off to the side.
The women came in all ages, shapes and sizes from cute young girls who were
probably not yet 20 to a few well preserved women who looked like they could
easily be closer to 40. There was also a considerable range in attractiveness,
from the spectacularly good looking to the relatively ordinary, though there
were none that one would consider outright unattractive.
I was interested to note that though most of the women were dressed nicely, even
the most daring were not wearing anything beyond the pale of what you would
normally see in any bar or club on a Saturday night. In fact, if I hadn’t known
so ahead of time, it would not have been obvious that they were prostitutes.
As for the men, they were mostly foreigners dressed rather informally; a lot of
Khaki pants or jeans and polo shirts, which made sense given that it was a
Saturday. Perhaps the most surprising thing about them was how many looked to
be about my age or younger. Somehow I had expected all the clients to be in
their 40’s and 50’s, but this was clearly not the case.
Though several girls tried to catch my eyes, it was at least 10 minutes before a
dark haired girl came up to me and asked if I wanted some company. She was
clearly either drunk or stoned, and I could see several of the other women
giving her a disapproving look. Clearly this was not a place where the whores
were expected to be aggressive. In any case, as soon as I told her I was
waiting for someone, she simply backed off with a smile.
After I had been there a full 20 minutes with no sign of Beatriz, I really
needed to use the restroom, so I asked the guy next to me, who seemed to be
absorbed in an NBA game on the big screen TV, if he could watch my drink. As I
came out of the restroom into the lobby of the hotel I noticed a girl sitting
over on a couch seemingly underlining something in a book. Since she had the
same body type as Beatriz and as I couldn’t see her face, I decided to walk over
and make sure it wasn’t my date, though I couldn’t imagine why Bea would be
reading out in the lobby.
She must have sensed me coming, because she looked up at me and after giving me
an appraising look, burst out with a really beautiful smile. She was dressed
quite attractively in a classy short dress and suede pumps, but was clearly
someone I had never seen before.
We both started to talk at the same time and then went silent waiting for the
other one to speak. I finally managed to explain that I had mistaken her for
someone else. She smiled regretfully and noted, “And I’m waiting for someone.
But maybe another time?” As I turned around to leave, I noticed that it what she
had been reading was a Psychology textbook. I could remember people grabbing
moments to study in some pretty strange places when I was in college, but this
was a new one.
I had only been back in the bar for a couple of minutes, when I noticed a
stirring off to my right. A spectacularly good looking woman wearing a short
tight spandex dress had walked in; clearly one of the daring outfits in the
place, without being beyond the pale. It was only when she sat at the bar
across from me that I realized that this time it really was Beatriz. The reason
why I hadn’t recognized her right off had been that she had almost white hair in
a cut that reminded me of the pop singer Blondie. She had obviously paid
another visit to her friend who ran the wig and costume shop in the building
across the street from her gallery.
Bea was almost immediately approached by a rather well dressed Latino guy and
ended up letting him lead her to the bar across from me. She caught my eye and
motioned for me to stay put. He bought her a drink and then I watched as she
began to flirt quite outrageously with him. It was clear that she had fully
reeled him in when he leaned down and whispered something in her ear to which
she laughed while running a fingernail up his chest. Just as I started to
wonder if she was actually going to let herself get picked up, she started
shaking her head with a regretful smile on her face while motioning towards me.
The guy gave me an envious glance and then reached into his jacket and gave her
a business card. She responded by planting a quick full lipped kiss on his
cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that was visible from where I was sitting.
She stood up and gradually made her away around the bar to my side. Everyone’s
eyes followed her as she approached me and after giving me a similar kiss on the
cheek sat down on the stool right next to me.
She then smiled seductively and asked, “Do you want some company?”
I laughed, “Sure, but it looks like that guy over there is not too happy about
you leaving him.”
Breaking out of her role momentarily, she noted, “I got his card and you can bet
I would have had him later if I had wanted to. I had forgotten how much fun
that could be.”
I bought her a drink and we continued to flirt for awhile as she demonstrated
her skills, very effectively I must say. Beatriz could certainly be the
seductress when she wanted to.
I think we were both getting turned on and after a while I decided that it was
my turn to surprise her. I asked, “Do you think you might want to come to my
room with me.”
Looking confused, she asked, “Your room?”
When I showed her my key card, she smiled in appreciation and answered, “Perhaps
I could accompany you to your room, if there were a little gift involved.”
“How much of a gift?”
“For you, $100 would be sufficient.”
I immediately reached for my wallet, but she stopped me, saying “Not here,
silly.”
“I know that, but I do have to pay for our drinks.”
After paying my bill at the bar, I moved to escort her towards the elevators,
but she stopped me once we entered the lobby and let me over to a nearby
counter. She then handed over her ID to a hotel guy standing there and he asked
me for my room number. It was only as he started writing down her name, that he
suddenly looked up in surprise, at which Bea burst out into laughter while
saying, “Manuel, has it been that long that you don’t recognize me.”
He burst into a big smile while rounding the counter to give her a hug, while
saying, “Mi Palomita, I never expected to see you here again. Didn’t you come
into some money from that “hijo de puta” (SOB) husband of yours?”
Bea explained that she was just there for fun, “for old times sake” and they
went on to ask each other about their respective kids.
I was still pretty aroused and I guess my impatience was noticeable, as Manuel
finally suggested that Bea go take care of her “client” and drop by later to
chat some more.
As soon as the elevator door’s closed, Bea turned to me and gave me a long
passionate kiss that practically had me coming in my pants. I literally dragged
her behind me in my rush down the hallway to my room.
As soon as the door was closed behind us, I practically threw her on the bed.
After Bea fell on her back laughing, she pulled up her short dress over her
hips, and then spread her knees so that I could see her moist shaved cunt though
her lacey transparent panties. But as I started to follow her on to the bed,
she suddenly covered herself with one hand and asked, “Aren’t you forgetting
something?”
When I looked at her in confusion, Bea held out her other hand palm up and I got
the message. I fumbled to get my wallet out of my jeans and managed to pull out
and give her five 20’s. She slipped these in her purse, quickly pulled off her
dress and then lay back down with her legs spread again, clearly open for
business. She had never looked more like a real centerfold than in that moment.
Meanwhile, I had been rapidly taking off my own clothes. As soon I was naked, I
crawled up between her legs desperate to start licking that juicy cunt. But
once again she stopped me, saying, “Just fuck me; treat me like your puta.”
Well, if that’s what she wanted, who was I to refuse? I climbed up between her
invitingly open legs and buried myself inside her in one hard thrust. God was
she tight and hot. As she urged me on I started pounding away much harder than
I ever had before. This seemed to send her right over the edge, as she started
shaking her head back and forth while chanting, “cojeme como una puta” (fuck me
like a whore) and “así, así, así” (like that). Her hips were moving back and
forth with incredible speed as she thrust back at me just as hard as I was
pounding into her, to point where I was actually a bit sore the next day. But
at the time, it felt incredible and I literally lost track of everything else
until I finally exploded into the back of her cunt.
Afterwards I felt like I had been run over by a freight train as I collapsed on
the bed beside her. I finally looked over and noticed she still had her legs
open with her knees up and was slowly playing with the cum leaking out of her
pussy. She had this dreamy look on her face as she explained, “It feels so
strange to be full of a guy’s milk in one of these rooms. I never dared when I
was working here.” She then turned over and gave me a big kiss, before
continuing, “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to experience this.”
She had just given me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life and she was
thanking me?
Later, after we showered together and I ordered a snack from room service, I set
out to show her just how grateful I was by leisurely lapping up my desert from
between her legs. I think I practically drove her crazy by keeping her on edge
for a good 30 to 45 minutes before finally letting her cum. Going down on a
girl as visibly responsive as Bea, is always a delight. Later, when it was
finally time for me to drive her home before her kids woke up; she spent an
inordinate amount of time with her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror. She
usually tended not to care so much once our fun and games were over, given that
she would just have to take it all back off as soon as she got home. When I
asked her about it, Bea explained that she couldn’t very well walk through the
lobby looking any less spectacular than she had when she arrived. After all,
“Paloma” had an image to keep up. She also never did offer to give me my money
back, so I guess I had broken my rule of never paying for sex. But it had been
more than worth it.
Though I’ve only described in detail a couple of our encounters, there were
several others that were equally as hot as Bea led me through a smorgasbord of
sexual experiences. This is how I learned, among other things, that while I
enjoyed taking her up the ass, it wasn’t my favorite; that light bondage only
did something for me when she was the one being tied up; and that spanking her
until her ass glowed red turned me on more because of her explosive reaction
than from the actual act itself. My take is that she got a kick out of guiding
me, much the way her ex had guided her through opening her sexual horizons; with
the key difference being that she never pushed me into something I didn’t want
to do.
Given all this, you’d think that I’d have been incredibly happy with Beatriz.
But as the weeks went by, I started feeling vaguely dissatisfied. In
retrospect, though Beatriz was keeping my cock happier than it had ever been, I
found that I started getting bored with her when we were not having sex.
Hearing her go on endlessly about her kids and the art scene started getting
more than a bit repetitive. Even incredible sex can get a bit old if it’s not
accompanied by something more. It might have been different if we had been
falling in love, but neither of us had any illusions about that. In many ways,
1999 for me was all about discovering the limits of fantasy.
PART 6: THE LAW OF ENTROPY
Despite the fact that I was beginning to have some misgivings, things seemed to
be moving along smoothly until one Saturday night in what must have been late
September, when Beatriz switched things up at the club. We had gone on Saturday
that weekend because of a Ricardo Arjona concert (at least I think it was
Arjona) that the women had wanted to go to that Friday.
Bea let herself be monopolized on the dance floor by this muscular black guy
(who admittedly was also a fantastic dancer). I don’t know if it was an
unconscious response to this or what, but I in turn started paying particular
attention to this cute little college aged bottle blonde, whose spectacular
tight little ass was almost irresistible. The girl had been around on previous
nights and had been quite blatant about showing her interest in me. I had
danced with her a few times, but had not let it go farther than that. This
night was to be different and without really realizing how I got there, I
suddenly found myself in a corner making out with her. Having regained my
sanity, I gently excused myself and returned to our table where Xiomara and
Sandra gave me amused looks as the former gently wiped some of the blonde’s
lipstick off the corner of my mouth. Bea on the other hand, looked so wrapped
up in her dance partner that it gave me hope that she might not have noticed.
No such luck. As we were getting ready to leave, Beatriz suddenly walked over
to the table where the girl was sitting with her friends and talked to her for a
bit. The girl had looked real apprehensive at first, but was all smiles by the
time Bea came back over to join us and I had to ask her what was up.
Of course I don’t remember the exact words we used, but I’ll never forget the
conversation, so the following is a pretty good approximation.
I asked, “What did you tell her?”
Beatriz smiled and answered, “I told her that she could go home with you
tonight, but it was only for this one time.”
When I started to protest, she interrupted, “I know you want to fuck her. I
would if I were a guy. Anyone can see that she’s ripe, ready for the taking”.
“But what about you?”
She responded as if were the most natural thing in the world, “Don’t worry about
me. I’m going home with him,” as she nodded towards where the black guy was
waiting discreetly by the entranceway.
I tried to protest, as for all the games we had played, we had never involved
others. But she cut in to say, “It’s only for this one night. I’m not breaking
up with you.”
I’m sure I looked totally shocked as I watcher her walk away. Then when she
hesitated and turned back towards me I hoped for a moment that it had all been a
joke. But all she asked was, “What time are you picking us up tomorrow?”
I must have looked confused, because she clarified, “You know, to take the kids
to the amusement park”
I responded rather automatically, “At about noon?”
She nodded in pleasant agreement, gave me a nice longish kiss and headed off to
get fucked.
I must have stood there looking stunned for some time, until Xiomara nudged me
and said, “We’re leaving now. Are you coming or are you staying?”
When I looked at her blankly, she nodded towards the bottle blonde who had
clearly been following the action and had a hopeful look on her face.
Suddenly feeling a bit angry, I decided on the spot, “I think I’ll stay.”
Clearly approving of my decision, Xiomara simply said, “Mejor así” (better that
way). And then of course, being Xiomara, she had to add, “You do still have
condoms?”
I only nodded in the affirmative. I knew I still had a box in my bathroom
cabinet somewhere.
Xiomara then gave me a pretty hot kiss of her own, before whispering, “Don’t
worry about Bea, she’s just feeling hemmed in a little, but she’ll come around.”
And of course, given a little time to take in what was happening, I began to
understand why Beatriz had pulled her little switch. I decided to shelve the
matter for future consideration as I had an eager young blonde to fuck; which is
exactly what I did that night. It was pretty good too, except for the part
where I burst into laughter when I first saw the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on to
that tight little ass.
By the next day when I picked up Beatriz and her kids, I was feeling a little
more put out again. After all, she could have talked it over with me ahead of
time. At least she looked a bit apprehensive.
It was a couple of hours before we finally had a chance to talk when her 10 year
old daughter took her little boy on a ride for smaller kids. As we sat on a
bench waiting for them, she asked rather timidly, “Are you really angry with
me?”
“A little bit. Though we never said we wouldn’t be with others, at least we
could have talked it over ahead of time.”
“I know, I’m really sorry about that. It was kind of impulsive. It’s just that
I had to find out if the stereotypes are true.”
“Which sterotypes?”
“That black guys have larger cocks and that guys who are good dancers are also
good at sex.”
“So, what did you find out?”
Looking gloomy, she responded, “No and No.”
I mused, “It probably wasn’t a fair test. He looked like the type who probably
takes steroids.”
That got an ironic laugh out of her.
Thinking back over her stories about her past experiences, I had to ask, “Didn’t
you fuck black guys in Amesterdam?”
She blushed while replying, “Once, a big African guy. But that was on a stage.
Of course he was big.”
By this time we were both in much better spirits so when she asked about the
blonde, I responded truthfully, “A lot of enthusiasm, but no finesse.”
It suddenly felt like we were back to normal. That impression seemed to be
confirmed when she actually accepted dropping her kids off with her mother and
coming back to my apartment (unusual for a Sunday afternoon). The sex that
afternoon was really good as I surprised myself by getting off on the idea that
her pussy had just been fucked by another cock a few hours earlier. I had
always been kind of turned on by the fact that Beatriz kept wanting me to fuck
her even after having been with so many other guys in her past, and I guess it
carried over to guys in her present as well.
Over the next few days I gradually realized that things were definitely not back
to normal. Sure, the next weekend at the club we returned to our routine, to
the disappointment of the young blonde. But clearly I wasn’t the only one
having misgivings as Beatriz was looking increasingly troubled.
I think it was the following weekend that Beatriz and Xiomara seemed to get into
an intense conversation at the club. After a while they both excused themselves
and walked outside, clearly needing to talk without having to shout over the
music. When they didn’t come back relatively soon, I finally went and peaked
out the door. They were both pacing back and forth in front of each other
smoking with intense nervous motions. From the body language, Beatriz seemed to
be insisting on something, while Xiomara was shaking her head in denial, though
clearly without much conviction.
After awhile they came back in arm in arm and I was glad to see that they seemed
to have resolved their disagreement. But neither one was much in the partying
mood that night. Beatriz looked kind of sad but determined, while Xiomara kept
giving me these rather uncertain thoughtful glances.
The mystery was resolved later that night after Beatriz and I had enjoyed a
relatively low key fuck. She suddenly sat up cross-legged and announced with
tearful eyes that this would have to be out last time as she didn’t think it was
right for us to continue sleeping with each other. Seeing my confusion, she
explained quite succinctly, “I like you, but Xiomara could really love you.”
Naturally I protested that it was Xiomara whom had gotten us together in the
first place, and in fact she had stopped having sex with me again once it was
clear that Beatriz and I were trying to make a go of it. But Beatriz insisted
that she had finally realized that Xiomara had only done that because she felt
she wasn’t available to give herself completely to me. In Xiomara’s strange
mind, since she couldn’t have me and she thought I deserved a good woman and
that Beatriz, especially after her experience with her ex, needed a good man,
the logical thing to do was to hook us up with each other. Of course the real
world doesn’t work like that as we were all discovering to our regret. Though I
might not have noticed anything, Beatriz insisted that seeing us together was
hurting our friend, which is why she seemed to be avoiding us outside of the
nights at the club. “Besides,” she concluded, “the two of you are much more
suited to each other.”
I have to admit that I wasn’t as surprised as I could have been at Beatriz
wanting to break things off. She had never disguised the fact that she was not
interesting in tying herself to any one man. But I was stunned to hear that
Xiomara might feel more for me than just good friendship.
PART 7: XIOMARA
After mulling it over for a few days, I finally tired to pin Xiomara down on the
subject one evening at my apartment when I invited her to come over to pick up a
book she had been asking to borrow. Of course, I didn’t come right out and ask
her if she was falling in love with me. Instead I started out by just noting
that I had missed our talks and wondered how she was doing.
One thing led to another, and a few beers later she broke down and ended up
sobbing on my shoulder (the only time I ever saw her cry). I won’t try to
repeat here the details of what we discussed – it was way too personal even
given the anonymity of the internet – but for the first time she really opened
up and I realized that perhaps she wasn’t so tough after all. Maybe it was the
fact that she was approaching 30, but she was clearly depressed to still be
doing the mistress thing. It wasn’t that she minded the Italian so much, but
what was getting to her was that it also meant that even when she met a nice guy
with whom she could see settling down with, she had to let him go. Though
Xiomara never tied this directly to me, it was pretty clear that I was one of
those nice guys she was referring to. The whole evening was quite a revelation
– this was not a woman who normally moped around feeling sorry for herself.
Xiomara ended up on my bed curled into fetal position, clearly completely wrung
out. So after pulling off my own clothes except for my underwear, I curled up
behind her, pulled the bedspread on top of us and held her as she fell asleep.
I woke in the morning to find that I was still spooning her from behind, but
that she was now stark naked. Furthermore I had a boner poking between her
legs. When I tried to pull away, she immediately turned over and hugged me up
against her body face to face. That morning was the first time I actually made
love to Xiomara. Sure we had fucked plenty of times, but this was different and
I think we both knew it. It was also the first time we didn’t use a condom (not
intentionally on my part – it’s just that I had gotten used to not needing one
with Bea) and the fact that she didn’t ask me to get one is quite telling in its
own way. Certainly, I felt something special about finally filling her up with
my cum.
Therefore, I was quite upset when she seemed to go out of her way to avoid me
over the following week, even to the point where she called off club night. In
retrospect it makes complete sense. She was not a woman used to showing any
vulnerability and probably didn’t know how to handle what had happened. But at
the time I was quite upset. Finally in desperation I called Sandra and gave her
an abbreviated account.
A couple of days later, Xiomara suddenly called me at the office and after
asking if I could break away early that afternoon, suggested I go pick her up
when she got out of her Tae Kwan Do class at 5:00. I was quite surprised for
many reasons, but one of them was that she had never wanted me to come by her
gym or martial arts school because the Italian had signed her up for both and
they knew him as her boyfriend.
Because I was curious to see her in class, I made a point of getting there a
half hour early. When I walked in, there were about a half dozen women in the
room wearing white uniforms, chest pads with a large circle on them and green or
blue belts. Their Korean instructor was standing off to the side watching.
Looking around, I spotted Xiomara warming up against a wall at about the same
time she saw me. She frowned momentarily, but then gave me a little nod towards
where another guy was standing near the door watching. I guess she wasn’t too
upset at the fact that I had arrived early.
The instructed started by pairing off the women and each duo took turns sparing
with each other. Xiomara was wearing a blue belt, which I figured was probably
pretty advanced since she had been studying the discipline off and on for a few
years going back to Italy. She was matched up against a slightly shorter, but
clearly more muscular woman wearing the same color belt.
I didn’t know much about the sport, but it was actually kind of interesting to
watch, seeming to involve a lot of fast footwork and sudden kicks aimed at the
opponents chest. When it was her turn, Xiomara came out extremely aggressive
seeming to overwhelm her opponent. The other girl had her hands full just
trying to block these attacks and never managed to counter during the minute or
so the fight seemed to last, before another pair rotated in to take their place.
With her black hair in a pony tail poking out the back of her helmet, and a cool
determined look in her eyes; Xiomara looked like some kind of Mayan warrior
princess. It took me a moment to make the connection and realize that the last
time I had seen her look like that was in a parking lot in front of Galaxia
several months earlier. I somehow doubted that her instructor would have
approved at that particular use of her training. Not that she had done much
kicking that night, what with the 3-inch spike heeled pumps she had been
wearing.
In Xiomara’s next fight, she was up against the same opponent, who this time
tried to attack from the beginning. Xiomara easily blocked a flurry of kicks,
and then with an fast spinning move managed to smack the other woman right in
this middle of the target on her chest, sending her flying on to her back.
The instructor took Xiomara aside and gave her a long talk. I wondered if she
wasn’t supposed to kick the other girl so hard in practice, but she didn’t seem
all that upset. I also heard a neutral sounding grunt from right next to me and
turned to see that another young woman had come in, this one wearing a black
belt.
The instructor seemed to see the woman standing next to me and called her over.
A little time later, Xiomara was out on the floor again, but this time facing
the black belt.
The guy who had been standing next to me finally spoke up, “This one should be
good.” When I asked him why, he explained that the black belt was actually the
national champion and had competed internationally, while Xiomara was a natural
who never gave up.
This time they both came out aggressively and it was a wonder to watch. It was
obvious where Xiomara’s dance training helped with her footwork, but the other
woman was simply too good and seemed to get a kick through to her chest pad 2 or
3 times. This didn’t seem to faze Xiomara at all, as she just looked more
determined and right before the end, she managed to sneak a kick through her
opponent’s defenses and hit her chest pad with a loud smack.
As soon as the instructor stepped in to end the round, Xiomara bowed to her
opponent and then after ripping off her helmet, walked over towards me with
satisfied smile on her face. I suddenly realized that she had never looked
sexier than she did right then in that bulky uniform with sweat running down her
face and that glow of triumph in her eyes. Maybe it was the sharp contrast to
the last time I had seen her, curled up on my bed in abject misery. Whatever
the reason, I hardly resisted when she came up and grabbed me, pulled my head
down within reach and gave me a long passionate open mouthed kiss to the hoots
of her classmates.
After that, there wasn’t much more to say. Oh, I did take her over to a café
once she had showered and dressed. She came out looking like a million dollars
in high heeled boots, skin tight jeans, a skimpy army green tank top and more
make-up than usual for her. Once we had settled down and got served, she did
get around to explaining that she was finally tired of holding back and that I’d
better watch out because now I was hers. But it really wasn’t necessary; the
kiss had said it all.
So for the first time, Xiomara and I actually started acting like a real couple,
or at least we did during the three weeks each month the Italian guy wasn’t
around. It was difficult of course, particularly since Xiomara had no idea how
to be a girlfriend. But I kept putting my foot down at the slightest sign that
she was reverting to her bad habits from the first time we had dated, and she at
least tried. For my part, I tried to adjust to the existence of the Italian.
It helped that she no longer seemed so paranoid about being seen with me. When
I asked her about this, she explained that the Italian already knew that I was
her friend and didn’t consider me a threat (Great – just what you want to here
from your girl!). She went on to explain that he wouldn’t think anything of it
if word got back to him that she had been seen around town with me.
We began to toss about ideas on how she could break off with him and still meet
her obligations. While she had over a year of grad school to go, I figured I
could afford the relatively inexpensive tuition they charge here, particularly
if she got a job to cover her expenses. The real problem was her family back
home. Though dollars went a long way in Nicaragua back in those days (when the
dollar was actually worth something), her mother’s care alone was beyond my
financial capability given the salary I was earning at that relatively early
point in my career. So we never did come up with a solution.
Up to this point in our friendship, Xiomara had usually preferred to visit my
apartment rather than have me hang out at hers. She certainly avoided having
other men in the bed “paid for” by the Italian. Of course, I knew were she
lived since it was not too far from my own and I had dropped by on occasion,
usually to pick her up or drop her off, but rarely had been invited in to spend
any amount of time. Xiomara was quite rigorous in keeping to her own (rather
unusual) code of behavior. She considered that since the Italian was paying for
her apartment and for her time when he was in town, she would do nothing to
disrespect him by violating either condition.
As I’ve also noted, Xiomara had tended to keep her social life separated into
two. I was in the part reserved for her true friends, along with the other
Mosqueteras. But she also had an entire set of other contacts and friends in
the local arts, business and expat communities, who knew her as the Italian’s
woman.
Now that our relationship was out in the open, Xiomara did start relaxing her
rules by integrating me much more into the rest of her social life.
As I explained in another e-mail to Chicho:
(Extracted from e-mail dated Nov 19, 1999)
One of the nice things about being back with Xiomara, this time as more than
just a friend, is that I now get invited to some pretty interesting parties.
Given that she’s only been in (this country) for about a year and a half, she
knows an amazingly wide variety of people through her involvement in the
cultural scene, even if she only has a few really close friends (primarily
Beatriz and Sandra).
Perhaps the most notable was also the smallest. About a month ago Xiomara
hosted a dinner party involving a really unusual mix of guests, including a
visiting older Canadian former missionary couple whom she’d met years ago while
hitchhiking in Nicaragua; a laid back German guy about my age who runs a car
rental agency and turned out to be an avowed atheist; the Belgian mother and
daughter who live next door, whom I wrote you about last summer; and finally
Sandra and her latest sex partner, a well known former national team soccer
player who now works as an engineer.
The Canadian missionary guy cracked jokes all evening, getting into a good
natured needling contest with the German, mostly over religion, before moving on
to soccer so as to include Sandra’s date; who fortunately turned out to also
have a good sense of humor.
But the surprise of the evening were the Belgians, as the mother didn’t hesitate
to explain what she was doing for a living despite the fact that her daughter
was sitting right there. Initially she brought in up in response to a question
from the Canadian woman and just tossed it out there almost daring someone to
criticize her choices, while sending Xiomara a challenging glance. Clearly our
host had started preaching at her once again about the evils of prostitution.
The Canadian woman on the other hand sounded surprisingly non-judgmental, and at
her prompting, the Belgian mother continued in a much friendlier tone to explain
the in and outs of her business and exactly why she was working as an escort. I
guess the Canadians were the right kind of liberal Anglicans.
Though all of this, many of us were glancing in curiosity over at the girl. But
she didn’t react much at all, beyond stealing a cigarette out of her mother’s
pack and lighting it up while continuing to look rather bored. Clearly some
things had changed in that household in the aftermath of Zayda’s visit, not the
least of which was the fact that the girl was practically unrecognizable wearing
the latest in current skimpy teen fashion and a rather garish belly button ring.
But interestingly enough, when the soccer player finally expressed some mild
disapproval, it was the daughter who jumped in to defend her mother.
Fortunately the conversation moved on to the less sensitive topic of the girl’s
upcoming PSATs and college plans. It was almost a relief to see that contrary
to outward appearances, the girl hadn’t lost her aspirations for the future.
Meanwhile, the Canadian woman had taken the mother off to one side they were in
a deep conversation that had both of them on the verge of tears.
Don’t ask me how, but this weird combination of people seemed to work and the
conversation was pretty fascinating for the rest of the evening.
One result of that dinner is that I ended up hanging out quite a bit with the
German guy. Everyone here calls him Jorge because no one can pronounce his real
name. He’s a laid back intellectual with a quirky sense of humor and a kind of
quiet charisma that seems to attract women. He’s quite definitely not your
stereotypical German, having initially come over to Nicaragua to “help” with the
recovery effort after the revolution. Becoming disenchanted with the
Sandinistas, he bummed around Latin America for a couple of years painting
pictures until he finally ran out of money and settled down here with the car
rental job.
Jorge is currently separated from an old friend of Xiomara’s going back to when
they overlapped with the National Dance Company. The two originally met and
dated when he was living in Nicaragua and once he nailed down the car rental
job, he went back to marry her and bring her here.
The reason for the separation is that he’s pissed off because she lied to him
about having danced in a night club back in Managua during the couple of years
he was bumming around the hemisphere. He assumes, probably correctly, that she
had whored herself out to some of the clients.
((NOTE: In parts of Latin America, the term “night-club” refers to anything
from a strip bar to a cabaret – with the common denominator being that someone
(whether male or female) is taking off their clothes for the audience. Most of
them are basically strip-bars – and whorehouses in some cases – though there are
a few that actually put on real floor shows)).
To compound the problem, Felicia is currently the headline act at the ritziest
night club in town. She went out for the job after the separation when she got
pissed off about his attitude (a miscalculation of major proportions on her
part).
Xiomara insists that Felicia wants him back and had only started dancing again
after they separated as she stubbornly refused to take any of his money. In
fact, the main reason she invited him to that dinner is that she promised
Felicia to try to bring him around and it was at her suggestion that I called
him a few days later to see if he wanted to get together to watch a soccer game
and have a few beers. My instructions were to convince him to go see his wife
perform, both so that he could see how good she was, but also that the club was
not nearly as slimy as he imagined.
The problem for me is that I’m not very sympathetic to Jorge’s point of view.
Whatever Felicia did to survive, I’m not sure where he comes off criticizing
her. Was she supposed to get by for two years off the odd postcard from Cuzco
or the Iguazú Falls?
Despite my encouragement, Jorge kept agonizing over whether to go see Felicia
perform without really coming to a decision. Finally, Xiomara got fed up and
offered to go along with us if he wanted. This was actually a major concession
on Xiomara’s part because she really loathes night clubs. She had always
refused to dance in one even though at times it could have been a solution to
her economic problems. It’s not that Xiomara is inhibited about showing off her
body; because that’s the one thing she is not. Rather its that she takes
dancing very seriously, talking about it almost as if it were something sacred.
To her, a night club is a perversion of what it means to be a dancer. This all
goes back to the Comandante who used to take her along with him to the various
night clubs in Managua. The first time, Xiomara got so upset she ended up
vomiting in the bathroom.
But of course, Xiomara’s loyalty to her friends comes before her personal
discomfort, so a couple of weeks ago the three of us went to see Felicia
perform. Right from the beginning it was clear that her set was actually quite
good, something of an imitation of the better European cabarets. Felicia clearly
aimed the show right at her husband, in what was a very effective combination of
seduction and contrition. I found the performance to be amazing, all the more
because it came from genuine emotion. Though at various times she flashed her
tits and pussy, this was a long ways from being a simple bump and grind. Even
Xiomara had to grudgingly admit that it was kind of beautiful. It was certainly
funny to watch Jorge’s face get redder and redder as he realized what was going
on. I later made a point of pointing out how in this particular high class
club, the dancers only had to sit and talk to customers between sets, with no
lap-dances or touching allowed.
The whole plan seemed to be working when Jorge went back to the club twice more
on his own just to see his wife dance and actually bought her drinks so that she
could sit with him. Xiomara was encouraged, noting that if he was willing to
pay for $20 drinks just to sit with his own wife, he was probably getting close
to forgiving the fact that she had lied about her past. But I’m still not so
sure. Unfortunately he also saw one of the dancers leave with a client crazy
enough to pay the exorbitant bar fine and though Felicia was quick to insist
that she herself, as the headline act, never had to leave with clients, he
didn’t sound so convinced when he told me about it. He sure can come across as
the righteous German sometimes. Well, we can only hope for the best.
(end of extract)
Unfortunately, in the end, the plan to get Jorge and Felicia back together did
not work. I think he still loved her in a way, but simply couldn’t get the
image of her fucking a bunch of strangers for money out of his head. When I
came back from the end of year holidays, Jorge told me that they were getting a
divorce. I don’t really know what Felicia did after that, but frankly I felt a
lot more sympathy for her than for him. For my part, I gladly stopped hanging
around Jorge.
The whole episode did make me think about the fact that I had never gotten upset
over the fact that Xiomara and Beatriz not only had rather sordid pasts, but
were actually fucking others for at least part of the time they were seeing me.
For instance, what annoyed me about the Italian wasn’t that he was having sex
with my girlfriend, but rather that he seemed to have first dibs.
The Mosqueteras continued to hit the clubs for awhile, but it really wasn’t the
same after after I hooked up with Xiomara. For one, the two of us made no
effort to disguise the fact that we were a couple; not that it was all that
obvious given Xiomara’s reluctance to show any affection in public. But the
word did get around, which took some of their mystique away. The fact that
watching Beatriz flirt and occasionally hook up with other guys didn’t bother me
is pretty telling in itself. That certainly wasn’t the problem. I think it was
more that the novelty wore off and our club nights gradually became much less
frequent as we moved towards the end of the year.
It didn’t help that there was a strain in the relationship between the three
women, which came about as another consequence of that dinner party. It turned
out that one of the Belgian women’s clients was planning a return visit to the
country, this time with his two sons, and had asked her to line up a couple of
girls for them. The client was in his 60’s and the sons were in their 30’s, so
he specified that he didn’t want just some young whores, but rather age
appropriate women of some class. Without consulting Xiomara first, the Belgium
women had taken Sandra aside at the party and broached the subject.
Though Sandra had been successfully discouraged from trying her hand at
prostitution back at the beach in June, her financial situation remained
precarious. She’d had to drop out of school and take a full time job. As soon
as she heard that her share would be $1000 a day for four days, more than she
would make in 6 months at her current job, it was a done deal.
This time the other two Mosqueteras were not able to dissuade her. I wasn’t
there, but according to Xiomara, Sandra had at one point pulled out her pocket
agenda where she had made a notation each time she had sex with a guy since
starting her spree. She came up with over 30 different guys and asked her
friends if this really would be so different. Xiomara sure thought so, but the
ever practical Bea came up with a solution: she would volunteer to be the second
girl, so that at least Sandra would not be on her own (as by this point Xiomara
wasn’t even speaking to her neighbor and none of them trusted her too much).
The Belgian woman wasn’t crazy, there was no way she was going to turn down a
chance to use Bea.
A couple of weeks later, I was lounging in Xiomara’s living room while the three
women were busy getting Sandra and Bea ready to go out to the airport with the
Belgian woman to meet the clients. Though Xiomara still openly disapproved of
the plan, she had let them use her apartment rather than having to get ready
next door. I had been a bit worried that they would have a problem in that both
sons would clearly prefer Bea, at least until they saw Sandra’s pussy. But when
the Mosqueteras finally came out, I had to whistle. By whatever magic they had
used, they had managed to make Sandra look almost as enticingly irresistible as
her friend. If gorgeous classy women are what the client wanted, he was getting
more than his money’s worth.
After her friends left, Xiomara looked really sad. She honestly felt that
Sandra had fallen into the trap of prostitution and was really worried about
her. At the same time, she was pissed off at her two buddies. She seemed to be
in a funk even after we went back to my place and made love. Nothing I had said
seemed to work, so as we were lying naked on the bed, I started tracing my
fingers over her tattoo. She followed my fingers for a moment and then mumbled,
“Uno para todos y todos para uno” (One for all and all for one).
I responded, “Damn right. And by the way, I still insist these are the wrong
kind of swords.”
Xiomara groaned and promptly bopped me over the head with a pillow, to which I
of course had to respond in kind. There’s little that a good pillow fight won’t
make better.
Of course, when our two friends returned four days later raving about the
experience, Xiomara didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad. The way Sandra
kept waving around her wad of fifty 100 dollar bills, taking the nice tip as a
confirmation of the success of her first foray into the world of sex for pay,
made it clear that she had caught the bug. And in fact, she went on to do two
more such assignments for the Belgian woman well spread out over the next few
months, sufficient to allow her to quit her job, finish grad school and have a
nice nest egg with which to start her real career. But contrary to Xiomara’s
fears, Sandra never engaged in any other kind of prostitution (if she is to be
believed).
Beatriz’s reaction to the experience was much more sanguine. She liked the
money and the sex, but had started missing her kids too much and had no interest
in ever leaving them for that long again.
Xiomara continued to spend time with the other two (both with and without me
along), but more likely than not it was just to meet at a café or bar and chat,
or hang around one of their homes. The days of them strutting into the Galaxia
on their spike heels, flashing their matching tattoos from beneath their short
skirts, were over.
I did spent Christmas that year with Xiomara in Nicaragua, before continuing on
up to the States to spend the Millennium New Years with my family. I thought it
was kind of funny the way she made me stay in a hotel and would not spend the
night with me. But I guess she did have a reputation uphold in her home town,
particularly given what many people assumed young pretty single Nicaraguan girls
were doing abroad in those days.
I had rented a car and Xiomara did make quite a point of showing me off around
town, basically to counter rumors (which she insisted had been spread by the
Comandante) that she had become a prostitute.
At least I had a chance to finally meet Xiomara’s family as we tended to spend
most of the day over there when we weren’t seeing the sights of Managua and its
surroundings. Her mother really did look like she was in pretty bad shape. The
strokes had left her unable to talk, so the most I could do was tell her what a
wonderful daughter she had. Her older sister looked like a plumper beaten down
version of Xiomara, but at least she was in a pretty good mood as she had just
gotten her first secretarial job (at the whopping salary of $90 a month), but
she knew that wouldn’t be enough money and was considering eventually sneaking
across the border into neighboring Costa Rica, the way half of Nicaragua seemed
to be doing at the time. There she could earn at least twice as much plus room
and board working as a household maid or in a factory (and what a sign of the
times in Nicaragua that the daughter of a formally solid middle class family
would even be considering those jobs). But since it would mean leaving her kids
with her ex-husband’s folks (whom had backed her up in the divorce), she wanted
to wait at least until the youngest entered high school the following year. So
it sounded like that economic burden on Xiomara was not going to lessen all that
much in the short term.
I also met the infamous Comandante. This last happened when Xiomara took me to
see a performance by the National Dance Company and he approached us during the
intermission. He actually came across as a pretty friendly guy who seemed
genuinely glad that Xiomara had found someone, but then again he is a politician
of sorts, so take that for what its worth. I looked it up and he currently has
a somewhat important (though not cabinet level) position in the current
Nicaraguan Government, now that the Sandinistas were voted back into power. I
guess having run an escort service and whorehouse for awhile didn’t hurt his
long-term political career.
The most interesting part of that evening was the conversation I had with their
long time choreographer, a man who clearly felt an almost paternal affection
towards Xiomara. The sad part was when he told me that she had clearly been the
most talented dancer in her generation and could have gone on to great things
well beyond Nicaragua if she hadn’t gotten injured. But he followed that up by
looking at her impressive bust size and asked straight out if they were fake or
real. When I assured him that they were real, he shook his head and said that
perhaps her future potential hadn’t been so bright after all. I guess her boobs
grew quite a bit after she turned 18 and left the Company.
The funniest part was his description of her reaction to the infamous Contra
attack. The way he described it, Xiomara had been so pissed off at being woken
up that she had started yelling curses and throwing pebbles at the attackers,
until one of the soldiers tackled her to the ground to get her out of the line
of fire, getting hit in the arm in the process. This pissed her off even more
and ignoring the orders of the military guys with them, she grabbed up his
weapon and started firing short bursts roughly in the direction of the enemy
while continuing to cuss them out using language he’d never thought he’d hear
coming out of the mouth of a teenaged girl. Now that certainly sounded much
more like the Xiomara I had come to know than Zayda’s overly heroic version of
the event.
Another funny moment came on the day of our arrival. Or at least is was funny
to me though not so much for Xiomara. It started at the airport back home when
she had lit up a cigarette and announced that it would be her last. She didn’t
want to ruin her reputation back home as a health nut. While it was true that
she had been able to sort of quit for the duration of Zayda’s visit, she really
hadn’t been smoking that much before then. This time I had my doubts it would
be so easy, given that she had now been smoking at least a half a pack a day
regularly since July.
I started making bets with myself on how long she would hold out and I have to
give her credit. We got all the way to Managua, dropped my stuff of at my hotel
and spent three hours in her house before she finally announced just as we
finished eating dinner that she wanted to take me to see a friend of hers. Her
sister and the caretaker couldn’t understand why she just didn’t wait until the
next day, but I suspected that I did. Sure enough, as soon as we got a few
blocks away, she directed me to stop at a small store. She was in and out in a
flash and before I knew she was sitting next to me sucking desperately on a cig.
I couldn’t help but laugh, which got me a punch on the shoulder for my troubles.
After that, she made sure to space out our little excursions so that she could
get her fix when she needed it.
The one more negative note came when we dropped by to see Zayda where she was
living in her own small apartment (to our great surprise). Xiomara had been
seriously considering my suggestion from the previous summer that she bring the
girl back with her and get her into counseling. But from the moment she walked
in it was clear that Zayda still resented Xiomara for what happened earlier in
the year. The first thing the girl did was defiantly light up a cigarette,
almost daring Xiomara to say something. My girlfriend quickly took the winds
out of that little bit of rebellion by pulling her own cigs out of her purse and
lighting one up herself. At least that cut short any silly stuff, though to be
honest; Zayda really did come across as much more focused and serious than I
remembered. She was already 17 and was clearly set on finding her own way. She
explained that she had hooked a Sugar Daddy of her own and he was paying for her
apartment, acting classes and had helped her land a role in a local TV
commercial. At least the guy had also insisted that she finish High School, so
it wasn’t all bad.
Xiomara was quite gloomy afterwards as she had hoped Zayda would avoid repeating
her own mistakes. I don’t think Xiomara realized what she was getting into when
she rescued Zayda years earlier. But considering that she was only in her mid-
20’s at the time and had plenty of other serious problems to deal with, she did
remarkably well by the girl.
Overall, it was actually a really nice trip, but I think it also led to our
final breakup. Once we got back home, it simply became impossible for us to
continue while she was still seeing the Italian. We started fighting all the
time and lasted barely a month.
The breakup was really tough, but it was mutual. Xiomara finally came right out
and said that we had worked better as friends with benefits, noting that we had
even stopped talking with each other the way we used to (for which she correctly
accepted the blame).
To be honest, I was kind of relieved and it wasn’t just the Italian. A lot to
the things about the way Xiomara treated her lovers that I hadn’t liked when we
first met were still bothering me, and though she did initially make an effort
to improve, she started reverting to her old bad habits after the holidays.
When we hooked up after Beatriz broke things off with me, I had somehow
forgotten all the very good reasons for not getting involved with this woman
that I had written to Chicho the previous summer. By the end of January 2000,
they had been rubbed in my face once too often.
Surprisingly enough, one of my key additional gripes was that I had started
becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the fact that Xiomara simply wasn’t
“cuddly” enough. She normally detested too much PDA, even preferring not to
hold hands in public. That would have been OK, if not for the fact that she
wasn’t much better in private. For instance, she was the first girlfriend I had
who did not like to cuddle up after sex, preferring instead to that I move over
to the other side of the bed. Now some guys might prefer a woman who doesn’t
get clingy after sex, but I sure started missing it when it didn’t happen.
Still, as I think back, Xiomara remains one of the most impressive women I have
ever met. I’m just glad I didn’t end up marrying her.
Ironically, it was a few weeks before that Christmas trip to Nicaragua that
Xiomara introduced me to Liliana in another one of her attempts at matchmaking,
though this time I wasn’t the intended target. But that’s a story for another
day.
WHERE ARE THEY NOW
I guess I shouldn’t just end this account without including the obligatory
“Where are they now” section.
The one member of the Mosqueteras whom I still have somewhat regular contact
with is Sandra, despite the fact that I didn’t see her for some 3 years or so
after my breakup with Xiomara. The first time we ran into each other again was
at a cast party for the play her ex was in with my wife and I found her in a
corner, smoking away while talking with Liliana, her ex, and another man. She
seemed really happy to see me and introduced the other guy as her new husband.
Judging by how content she looked, this guy clearly was capable of appreciating
her feminine charms. She’s repaid him by becoming the epitome of the devoted
wife and mother. Seeing her now, you’d never guess that this was a woman who
slept with 30 guys in 7 months and even did some escorting on the side.
It’s through Sandra that I get news about the other two, since true to their
pledge during that beach trip; they’ve remained in close contact, even when
living far apart. Beatriz was Sandra’s maid of honor and they remain best
friends today despite the fact that they now live very different lifestyles.
I did run into Beatriz occasionally around town over the next few years, but we
always simply greeted each other and went on our way. According to Sandra,
she’s still single, but has slowed down her hectic social life considerably.
She got into a pattern of serial monogamy, breaking things off whenever a guy
showed signs of becoming too attached to her. She even ended up playing the
role of the mistress herself a couple of times over the years (though never
letting herself become financially dependent the way Xiomara had on the
Italian). This includes an affair with a former president of this country that
they managed to keep out of the press. As a result of the clever management of
her ex-husband’s assets and some of the gifts she received from lovers, she was
able to afford to send her kids to the same expensive American school that the
Belgian girl had gone to and her daughter will be heading off to a US college
next fall.
As for Xiomara, once she got her Master’s and her mother passed away, she dumped
the Italian and got a decent job using her new degree. About a year later she
surprised everyone by marrying Jorge, the German car rental guy. They
eventually moved back to Germany when he came into an inheritance. Sandra and
her husband went over there and stayed with them during the 2006 World Cup. She
reports that Jorge now manages a car dealership of which he’s part owner, while
Xiomara runs their household with an iron fist, takes care of their two kids,
gives dance lessons to children in their neighborhood and writes poetry on the
side. Perhaps she needed a guy as laid back and easy going as Jorge all along;
someone willing to let her be in charge as long as she doesn’t go over certain
lines. Good thing then that she resisted the temptations of stripping or
whoring.
But Xiomara – a suburban German housfrau? It boggles the mind!
Sandra has actually become something of a friend of Liliana’s. After all, they
do have a bit of a wild past in common and my wife is one of the few people that
Sandra can be honest with about some of the things she got up to. But I tend to
feel a little uncomfortable around her and it’s not because she reminds me of
Xiomara and Beatriz. The problem I have is that I can’t help but picture her
cute little pussy dripping cum on to my bed that night at the beach. Xiomara
was right; I really am “pervertido”.
