19
When my alarm rings, I just want to die.
I’m exhausted. I’ve barely slept, thinking about what happened in that bar. Eric’s words, his gaze, and how those men wanted me kept me awake. Finally, at about four in the morning, I took the vibrator out of my suitcase; and after playing around for a while, I managed to quench my desire.
Like the day before, Amanda, Eric, and I leave the hotel with a driver who takes us to the office to continue the meeting. I’m wearing slacks today. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. As soon as he sees me, Eric looks me over, and though he only says, “Good morning,” I can tell by his tone he’s no longer upset.
During the hours we’re at the meeting, Eric and I only glance each other’s way a few times. He doesn’t send me emails today, nor does he stop the proceedings for any reason. I’m grateful.
At seven o’clock, when we get back to the hotel, I say good night to both him and Amanda and go up to my room. Someone knocks on my door. I open it and am not surprised to find Eric. He looks determined. He comes in, takes off his jacket, and throws it on the floor. He undoes his tie and takes me in his arms. He moves like lightning toward the bedroom.
“My God, sweetness . . . I want you.”
There’s no need to say anything else. The desire is mutual, and the night is long and perfect.
When I wake up at six in the morning, Eric is gone. I’m beat from our sexual marathon and fall back asleep.
At about ten in the morning, the buzzing of my cell rouses me. I pick it up and see a message from Eric: Wake up.
I leap from the bed and take a shower. It’s Saturday. I don’t have any meetings today and would like to spend most of my time with him. When I step out of the shower with a towel around me, someone knocks at my door. I open it and find a magnificent Eric, wearing low-slung jeans and an open-collar white shirt. He’s tempting and wild.
“Good morning, sweetness.”
“Good morning.”
I stare at him like a schoolgirl.
“Would you like to spend the day with me?” he asks.
For once, he’s not taking anything for granted.
“Of course.”
“Great! I’m going to take you to a beautiful place. Bring your swimsuit.”
I smile affirmatively, and he finally comes in.
“Go get dressed, or I’m going to end up having you for breakfast,” he says in a raspy voice.
Delighted by his words, I rush to the bedroom. As I get dressed, the radio’s playing a song I love, and I sing along.
When I turn around, Eric is leaning on the doorframe, watching me.
“What are you singing?”
“You don’t know that song?”
“No. Who sings it?”
“A group called Quinta Estación,” I say as I button up my jeans. “It’s called, ‘I Die.’”
Eric grabs me around the waist.
“The song says something like ‘I’m dying to kiss you,’ right?”
I nod like a fool.
“Well, that’s happening to me right now, sweetness.”
He takes me in his arms. He lifts me up and kisses me. He devours me with such a frenzy that all I want now is for him to undress me and keep on ravaging me. The song continues as he kisses me until he stops abruptly and gives me a playful slap on the butt.
“Finish dressing, or I won’t be able to help myself.”
I laugh and go to the bathroom to put my hair up in a ponytail. When I come out, Eric is leaning on the window and peering outside. He has such an impressive profile. Sexy. When he sees me, he beams.
“How do you manage to look more beautiful every day?”
Delighted by that compliment, I give him a special smile.
“Let’s get out of here before I tear your clothes off, sweetness,” he says.
Laughing, we go down to the hotel lobby. He doesn’t touch me or come close to me again beyond what’s necessary. A valet hands Eric a set of keys. “A Lotus?” I ask, astonished.
Eric nods and points to the hotel door, where I see a marvelous orange sports car.
“Oh my God, a Lotus Elise 1600!”
Eric is stunned.
“Miss Flores, besides soccer, you also know cars?”
“Remember I told you my father has an auto shop in Jerez?” I say. “You’re going to let me drive it, aren’t you?” I ask, not coming close to him, though I really want to.
With a straight face, Eric just looks at me until—finally!—he tosses the keys in the air for me to catch.
“All yours, sweetness.”
I’m dying to grab him and kiss him, but I contain myself.
Eric and I leave the hotel, and as soon as we climb into the car and I engage the ignition, I turn on the radio. Prince’s “Kiss” comes on, and I shimmy my shoulders, enraptured. Eric rolls his eyes. I smile playfully at him, and before anything else, I put on my sunglasses.
“Hold on, babe.”
It promises to be a fantastic day. I’m driving an impressive Lotus next to an even more impressive man. When we leave Barcelona en route to Tarragona, I detour down a little road.
“I don’t know if you know I used to summer in Barcelona many years ago,” I tell him.
“No, I didn’t.”
My adrenaline is running as I drive.
“I’m taking you someplace where we can really try this baby out. You’ll flip!”
“Jude,” he says, ever serious, “this road isn’t for cars.”
“Relax.”
“We’re going to blow a tire, Jude.”
“Be quiet, party pooper!”
My adrenaline is really pumping now.
I stay on the road, and we pass various puddles. Our shiny car gets splattered, and Eric glares at me. I keep singing along to the radio and pretend I don’t see him. I continue on my way, but then the car swerves, and I fear we’ve blown a tire.
My joy vanishes in a matter of seconds, and I curse to myself. He’s undoubtedly going to remind me he told me so. I slow down, and when I stop, I bite my lip and give him a contrite look.
“I think we’ve blown a tire.”
Eric’s face says it all. It’s clear he loathes the unexpected. We’re in the middle of nowhere with the noon sun beating down on us. Without a word, he exits the car and slams the door. I get out too. The car is beyond dirty. It looks nothing like the beautiful, shiny vehicle we took for a drive forty minutes ago. The flat tire is the front one on my side.
“If the spare is where it’s supposed to be, I can change it in a jiffy,” I offer.
He doesn’t respond. Ill humored, he goes to the back of the car, opens the trunk, and takes out the spare and the tools needed to change the tire. He comes back and drops the spare on the ground. His hands are black.
“Can you get out of the way?”
“No,” I say, “I can’t get out of the way.”
My answer surprises him.
“Jude,” he snarls, “you’ve just ruined a beautiful day. Don’t make it worse.”
“You’re the one who’s ruining our beautiful day with your bad manners and your sour face,” I respond. “Jesus! It’s just a flat tire. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Not that big a deal?”
“No, not that big a deal at all. And now, please, if you’ll get out of the way, I will change the tire and pay for my terrible, irreparable, and tremendous mistake.”
Eric’s sweating. I’m sweating. The sun won’t give us a break, and we didn’t bring even one miserable little bottle of water.
“Very well, smarty-pants,” he says. “Now you can change it all by yourself.”
Without another word, he starts off for a tree about thirty feet from the car. As soon as he hits the shade, he sits down to watch me.
Fury engulfs me, and my neck begins to itch. I shove the jack under the car and hike up the car. I’m sweating like a pig. My breasts and back are drenched, and my bangs are stuck to my face, but I proceed, refusing to give in.
After an incredible effort during which I think I’m going to keel over, I manage to take off the flat tire. I’m smeared with grease everywhere, but there’s no going back. When I’m about to scream with frustration, I feel Eric lift me up by the waist.
“C’mon, you’ve proven you can do it all by yourself,” he says in a softer tone. “Now, please, go rest in the shade. I’ll take it from here.”
I want to say no. But I’m so hot that either I go to the shade or I’m going to faint.
Ten minutes later, Eric starts the car, turns it around, and backs up to fetch me.
“C’mon . . . get in.”
Still cross, I do as he says.
I’m dirty, angry, and thirsty. He’s the same, though I recognize he’s in a better mood than I am. He drives carefully on the damned road and exits out to the highway.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks when he spots a big gas station.
When I see how he’s looking at me, I mutter, “Of course I want something to drink.”
“Can I ask what’s wrong now?”
“What’s wrong now is that you’re a sourpuss. That’s what’s wrong now.”
“What?” he asks, surprised.
“Do you really think that because we blew a tire and got our clothes dirty, our beautiful day is ruined? C’mon!”
He’s about to say something but thinks better of it. He sighs, gets out of the car, and disappears inside the gas station. That’s when I see the hand car wash, and I know exactly what I need to do. I start the car, put it in gear, shove three euros into the little machine, and the hose comes alive. The first thing I do is wash my hands. I’m so hot that I loosen my ponytail and stick my whole head under the hose, without a care. Oh, it feels so good!
With my head cooled off, life is once again in Technicolor. Eric comes out of the gas station with two big bottles of water and a Coke, and strolls over to me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m cooling off and also washing the car.” And then, without warning, I aim the hose at him and soak him while I laugh my head off.
Once more, his face says it all.
People are looking at us, and I’m having second thoughts about what I’ve just done. Oh my God, the way he’s glaring at me! But to my surprise, Eric drops the bottles and comes right up to me.
“Very well, baby, you asked for it!”
Then he grabs the hose and turns it on me until I’m soaked. I scream and laugh and run behind the car. For a few minutes, we get each other sopping wet, and our anger drains away with the mud and dirt.
When the water shuts off because our three euros are spent, I’m dripping and leaning up against the car door. Eric drops the hose and presses against me before kissing me. His lips crush mine with real passion and give me goose bumps.
“Something as unexpected as you is making this embittered German feel.”
“Really?” I ask like a silly girl.
Eric nods and kisses me again.
“Where have you been all my life?”
It’s a movie moment. No one’s ever said something so beautiful to me at such a perfect time. After a bunch of fiery kisses, we decide to go. We’re still waterlogged, so we put some towels down on the car’s leather seats. Eric offers me the keys.
“Let the adventure continue,” he whispers.
Between laughs, we finally arrive at Sitges. We park the car, and after I put the keys in my shoulder bag, Eric claims my hand. I hold on, and together we walk the streets of the lovely little town.
The heat dries our clothes. He takes me to a beautiful restaurant, where we eat looking out on the sea. Our conversation flows, or more precisely, my conversation flows. I can’t stop talking, and he just grins. I’ve rarely seen him like this. In the evening, around six, we decide to go for a swim. No sooner are we in the water than Eric lifts me in his arms and takes me into the deep, where he then throws me into the water. Determined to make him pay for his mischief, I stick one leg between his and, when he least expects it, give him a good dunking. That surprises him, so I try to get away, but he catches me again and plunges me underwater.
We have a lively time in the water, and when we come out, we throw ourselves on towels on the sand. We dry in the sun again, this time in silence. I get drowsy and am about to fall asleep when Eric gets up and proposes getting something to drink. I accept immediately. We gather our things and stroll up to a snack bar.
Eric goes to order our drinks while I secure a table. My cell buzzes. It’s my sister. I consider whether I should answer and decide I shouldn’t. It buzzes again and I surrender.
“What’s up, slug?”
“I’m the slug? I’ve called you a thousand times.”
She’s mad. My sister’s a case, but I’m not ready to spend three hours on the phone with her, so I get to the point fast.
“What’s up, Raquel?”
“Why haven’t you called me back?”
“Because I’m really busy. What’s going on?” I ask as I watch Eric order our drinks and text.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“Raquel, love, what if I call you back later? I can’t talk right now.”
I hear her sigh.
“Fine, but call me, OK?”
“Kiss.”
I hang up and close my eyes. I feel the ocean breeze on my face, and I’m happy. The day has been marvelous, and I don’t want it to end. The cell buzzes again, and convinced it’s my sister, I pick up.
“You’re a persistent one, Raquel—just what do you want?”
“Hey, beautiful, I’m sorry to say it’s not persistent Raquel.”
“Oh, Fernando, I’m sorry! I just hung up with my sister, and you know how she is.”
I can sense him smiling.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“Right now, in Sitges, Barcelona.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Working.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Today I’m out enjoying the sun and the beach.”
“Who are you with?”
The question surprises me.
“With people from work,” I finally say.
Eric comes back to the table. He sets down a beer and a Coke with lots of ice, then sits beside me.
“When are you coming to Jerez?”
“In a few days.”
“Damn,” he says.
Uncomfortable with Eric watching me, I respond, “Enjoy yourself. You know you don’t have to wait for me.”
Fernando sighs.
“I’ll enjoy myself when you get here. You know a vacay without my fave hometown girl isn’t much fun.”
I laugh. Eric looks my way.
“Go on . . . Don’t be silly, Fernando. You have a good time, and when I get there, I’ll give you a call and we’ll hang out, OK?”
After we say goodbye, I close my cell and grab the Coke. I’m so thirsty. For a second or so, Eric watches me drink.
“Who is Fernando?”
I put the glass on the table and pull back the hair from my face.
“A friend from Jerez. He wanted to know when I’m going home.”
“A friend . . . a good friend?” he presses.
I smile when I think of Fernando.
“Let’s leave it at friend.”
The marvelous man at my side nods and looks off to the horizon.
“What, you don’t have friends who are women?”
“Yes . . . I have sex with some of them. Do you have sex with Fernando?”
If I could see my own face, I’m sure I’d look a little foolish.
“Sometimes. When we feel like it.”
“Do you like having sex with him?”
This incredibly intimate question strikes me as totally out of bounds.
“Yes.”
“As much as with me?”
“It’s different. You’re you and he’s him.”
Eric stares at me.
“I think that’s great, Jude. Enjoy your life; enjoy your sexual adventures.”
After that, he doesn’t ask about Fernando anymore. Our conversation continues, as does our good energy.
At seven o’clock, we decide to go back to Barcelona. Eric again gives me the keys to the Lotus, and I’m thrilled to drive, enjoying every moment.
When we get back to the hotel that night, Eric orders dinner in my room, and then, for hours, we make savage love.