16
My alarm clock rings. When I check, it’s seven thirty.
I reach to turn it off. I stretch lazily on the bed, and then my brain snaps awake. I look to my right and see Eric is gone. My mind becomes aware of all that has happened, and I quickly sit up.
“Good morning,” I hear a voice say.
I look toward the door and there he is, fully dressed. I check out his clothes and am surprised that the suit and shirt he’s wearing aren’t what he had on yesterday. He reads my mind.
“Tomás brought these over about an hour ago.”
“Did your headache go away?” I ask.
“Yes, Jude. Thanks for asking.”
I reply with a sad smile. I get up without being fully conscious of what a horrible sight I must be. My hair is a mess, my eyes are crusty, and I’m wearing my Tasmanian Devil pj’s. As I walk by him, I get on my toes and give him a peck on the cheek.
“Good morning,” I mutter sleepily.
I head toward the kitchen, ready to give Curro his medicine, when I see all his things gathered on the counter. I come to a dead stop and feel Eric behind me. But he doesn’t let me think. He grabs me by the waist and spins me around.
“To the shower!” he commands.
When I finish and come into the bedroom to get dressed, Eric is gone. I hurry to pull a bra and underwear from my drawer and put them on. As soon as I’m presentable, I go out to the living room and find him reading a newspaper.
“I just made some coffee,” he says, looking up at me. I watch him fold the newspaper and get up; then he kisses me on the head.
“Today you’ll go with me to Guadalajara. I have to visit the branch there. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve already told the office.”
I nod, not wanting to talk or protest. I drink my coffee, and when I go to put the cup in the sink, I feel Eric behind me, although this time, he doesn’t touch me.
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
I want to cry again, but I take a breath and manage to avoid more tears. Wearing the best of my smiles, I turn around and move the hair from my eyes.
“We can leave whenever you want.”
We go down, and Tomás is waiting for us with the car. During the hour it takes to get there, Eric and I go over various documents. I’m in charge of keeping the Müller Company’s branch offices up to date, which means I know almost all the supervisors. Eric tells me he wants to learn absolutely everything about each branch office: productivity, how many people work in each factory, and their efficiency. This makes me worry he’s going to start firing people left and right. But he lets me know that’s not his intention. To the contrary, he wants to try to make his products more competitive and to open up the market.
We arrive in Guadalajara at ten thirty. I’m not surprised when I realize Enrique Matias doesn’t find my presence out of place. He greets us affably, and together we go to his office. For three hours, he and Eric talk about productivity, the needs of the business, and a million other things. Sitting discreetly in the background, I take notes on everything. At one thirty, when we leave, I’m glad to see they’ve come to an understanding.
I get a text message from Fernando, and I curse to myself. To get his messages while I’m with Eric makes me feel bad. But why? I’m not serious about either of them.
Heading back to Madrid, Eric suggests we stop and eat at a town along the way. Tomás stops at Azuqueca de Henares, and we dine on a delicious lamb dish. As we eat, Eric receives various messages. He reads them with a furrowed brow but does not answer them. At four, we get back on the road. When we arrive at the Hotel Villa Magna, I get tense. Eric notices and takes my hand.
“Relax. I just want to change so I can spend the evening with you. Do you have any plans?”
“I have something at six thirty,” I tell him. “If you don’t have anything better to do, maybe you’d like to go with me. That way, I can show you my second job.”
That surprises him.
“You have a second job?”
“Yes, you could call it that, although this is my last year. But I don’t plan on telling you any more about it unless you come with me.”
I notice his smile as he gets out of the car. I follow him.
When we get into the elevator at the Hotel Villa Magna, the operator greets us and takes us directly to the top. Eric drops his briefcase and cell on the table as soon as we enter his spacious suite. He goes into the room we didn’t use that day I came to play. His cell buzzes. I can’t help looking at the screen and read the name Betta. Who could that be? Two seconds later it buzzes again, and the screen reads Marta. Well, he is very sought after.
I’m restless. I touch the beautiful coffee-colored couch and look out at the Japanese garden as I try to keep my breathing in check. If Eric should pop out of that room naked and invite me to play with him, I’m not sure I could say no.
“We can go whenever you’d like,” a voice behind me says.
I turn around and see he has put on a pair of jeans and a maroon T-shirt. He’s incredibly handsome. Elegant, like always. The best part is that he’s keeping his promise, to the letter, not to touch me. Curiously, I’m feeling a bit disappointed that he hasn’t swept me away on a sea of lust, as he usually does.
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the car with Tomás, heading to my apartment.
When we walk in, I immediately feel Curro’s absence. Eric notices and kisses me on the head.
“C’mon, it’s almost six. Hurry or you’ll be late.”
That reanimates me.
I go to my room and change into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a blue T-shirt. I put my hair up in a high ponytail. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s observing everything I do. My skin gets warm whenever I’m around him. I grab my camera and a small backpack.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I guide Tomás through Madrid traffic, and in a few minutes, we’re at a schoolhouse door. A surprised Eric gets out of the car and looks around. There appears to be no one here. I smile. I take him by the hand and pull him along. We enter the schoolhouse, and his perplexed expression grows more pronounced. I like to see him disconcerted.
A few seconds later, I open a door marked “Gymnasium,” and we’re engulfed by a tremendous buzz. In an instant, dozens of girls aged seven to twelve run screaming toward me.
“Coach! Coach!”
“Coach?”
I grin and shrug.
“I’m the soccer coach for the girls’ team at my niece’s school,” I explain before the throng of girls reaches us.
He starts to open his mouth, then just smiles. The girls are all over me, hanging on my arms and legs. I joke around with them until their mothers peel them off me.
“And who is this guy?” my sister asks.
“A friend.”
“Well, well, well, that’s some friend!” she whispers, and I’m beside myself.
The girls’ mothers all become extraordinarily attentive in Eric’s presence. It makes sense. Eric reeks of sensuality, and I know it. After she says hello to everyone, my sister pesters me until I finally give in and introduce her to Eric.
“Raquel, let me introduce you to Eric.” He stands up to greet her. “Eric, this is my sister, and the little monkey around my leg is my niece, Luz.” They trade kisses.
“Why are you so tall?” asks my niece.
“Because I ate a lot when I was little,” Eric says.
“Why do you talk so weird?” Luz asks. “Is there something wrong with your mouth?”
Eric squats down to my niece’s level.
“It’s because I’m German, and even though I speak Spanish, I can’t get rid of my accent.”
My niece looks up at me, amused too.
“Whoa, the Italians beat you guys bad the other day.”
My sister, embarrassed, pulls my niece away. Eric comes back up.
“A chip off the old block,” he whispers in my ear. We both laugh, and then the girls run toward me again. This isn’t a practice session; it’s the summer party the moms have put together to mark the end of the school year. For an hour and a half, I talk to the girls, hug them goodbye, and have my picture taken with them. Eric remains seated up in the bleachers, but from his expression, he seems to be enjoying the show.
The girls hand me a present. I open it to find a colorful candy ball. I clap just like they do. I love candy! After a few minutes, and after I kiss all the moms and the little soccer players, they leave the gym, my sister and niece among them.
Satisfied and touched by the show of appreciation they’ve given me, I turn to Eric with two cups of somewhat-lukewarm Coke.
“Surprised?” I ask, handing him a cup.
“Yes, you’re full of surprises.”
“Eric,” I say, finally finding the courage to speak frankly, “my life is what you see: utterly normal.”
“I know, and it worries me.”
“It worries you? It worries you that my life is normal?”
His gaze cuts right through me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my life isn’t exactly what you’d call normal.”
I know my face must betray my confusion. I don’t understand.
“Jude, your life is full of relationships and commitments,” he says before I have a chance to ask for an explanation. “But those things have been obsolete for me for a very long time.” He touches my face with his hand. “I like you, I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want to lie to you. What I like is sex with you. I like to take you, to get between your legs and see your face when you come. But I’m afraid you’re not going to like a lot of my games. And I’m not talking about S and M. I’m talking about sex, just sex.”
“I’m a normal woman, without great pretensions, who works for your company. I have my dad, my sister, and my niece, all of whom I adore, and, until yesterday, a cat who was my best friend. I’m a coach for a girls’ soccer team. I have friends with whom I enjoy games, take vacations, go to movies, and dine out. You may be wondering why I’m telling you all this, right?”
Eric nods.
“I’m not a knockout, I don’t like to dress provocatively, and I don’t bother to try. My relationships with men have been normal, nothing out of this world. You know: girl meets boy, they like each other, they sleep together. But no one has ever managed to find the part of me that you have, and in such little time. I never imagined that curiosity could drive me so crazy. I never imagined I could do what I’m doing with you. I can’t say no because my whole body—all of me—wants to do what you want to do. I hate to be given orders, and even more so in bed. But inexplicably, I let you do it. Never in my life could I have imagined that a stranger would demand sex with just a look and that I would acquiesce . . .”
“Jude . . .”
“No, let me finish,” I say, putting my hand over his mouth. “Whether I want to admit it or not, I loved what happened at your place the other day. Whenever I’ve thought about it since, I’ve gotten excited. In fact, on Sunday, I used the vibrator and thought of you and had a marvelous orgasm while I replayed what happened in your room.”
Eric grins.
“As I said at the beginning of this conversation, I’m no expert on sex, but I like what I’ve experienced with you. It thrills and excites me, and I’m up for another round.”
“Even without a commitment on my part?”
“Even without that.”
Eric moves his head in understanding.
“And please, let me free you from the promise to not touch me. Kiss me and say something, because I’m going to die from embarrassment over all the crazy things I’ve just said.”
“You’re exciting me, sweetness,” he murmurs.
I smile, a bit embarrassed.
“You can imagine what I feel like then, having just said all that.”
Eric moves a lock of hair from my face.
“Here’s what I know: Your full name is Judith Flores Garcia. You’re twenty-five years old. Your family is your father, your sister, and your niece. From what I’ve seen, you don’t have a boyfriend, but there are men who want you. I know where you live and where you work. I know your phone numbers. I know you drive a Ferrari very well, that you like to sing, and that you’re not embarrassed to do it in front of me. Today I learned you’re a soccer coach. I know you like strawberries, chocolate, Coke, candy, and soccer, and that if you get anxious, you get a rash on your neck.”
He gives me a look of satisfaction.
“From the way you treated your cat, I know you love animals and that you’re a good friend to your friends. You’re curious and stubborn, sometimes excessively so, and that drives me nuts, but you’re also the sexiest and most frustrating woman I’ve ever met in my life, and I know I like that. Right now, that’s what I know, and that seems enough. And now that you’ve freed me from my promise, I’m going to touch you and kiss you!”
“Good!” I say, raising my arms to greet him.
“Now that we’ve worked all that out, I need you to accept my proposal so I can get to know you better and so you can be with me while I’m in Spain,” he adds. “This week, we’ll be in Barcelona. I have two important meetings on Thursday and Friday. We can devote the weekend, if you’d like, to sex. What do you think?”
“Your name is Eric Zimmerman,” I say, brushing his indifference aside. “You’re German, and your father . . .”
But his face goes dark again, and he interrupts me.
“As a personal favor, please never mention my father again. Otherwise, go on.”
That stuns me.
“You’re a pathological Mr. Bossy Pants, and that’s all I know about you, except that you’re very curious and you like to play sex games. Even so, I’d like to get to know you better.”
I can sense the battle he’s having with himself—he doesn’t know whether to open up to me or not. Then he gets up and pulls me with him. He kisses me and I kiss him back. Seconds later, he pulls his mouth away.
“My mother is Spanish; that’s why I speak Spanish so well. I’ve slept very little in the last few years. I’m thirty-one years old. I’m not married or engaged. Right now, there’s not much else I can tell you.”
Moved by that small confidence, I smile happily, as if I’ve won the lottery.
“Mr. Zimmerman, I accept your proposal. I will go with you.”