Page 24 of Out of Office

“Better I show you than to explain.”

“Oh, I’m...wow, I’m so sorry. I was just joking earlier. I didn’t...truly.” I was babbling, but what was a woman to do when the man you’d been consorting with in sexual relations for two weeks brought you to their parents’ final resting place?

We stood in the middle of a clearing, about fifteen minutes away from Villa Bonita. Low grass covered most of the ground, and palm trees and wildflowers sprouted around haphazardly but with a calm beauty that lured you to breathe in and take the day.

There were wood benches across the clearing, and Adrián sat on one, still, eyes closed as I took in the beauty of the spot.

“Come sit next to me.” He patted the space beside him without opening his eyes. I sat and studied his features. His beautiful long eyelashes rested on his golden-brown skin, reddened by the walk here. I wanted to run my hands over his soft hair, longer on the top with its sexy fade. I wanted to snuggle into him and ask him if he thought we could make it past these two weeks. I’d wanted to ask that question, knowing deep down it wouldn’t make sense. We both had very clear paths we were following, and I couldn’t see them converging.

“We each have a bench here. We carved our names in the benches that sit around their graves. When they passed... When they passed, I promised myself I wouldn’t fail my family any more. I’d been so far from them, only available on very special occasions, always busy in the city. I’d send money...thinking that would make up for my lack of time, chasing that next step in my bourgeoning career...then...then they were gone. My rocks. They were gone, and I had no time left. No step left to climb. No money in the world would bring them back...”

“So you moved back home,” I asked, not wanting to prod too much. I figured the career was in hospitality, which was demanding as hell, or even transportation, but who cared? In the end, it was about how Adrián had felt. His gaze was shuttered, and the deep wound was clear as day to me. I wouldn’t push when my time with him grew short, but I wondered, would I have wanted more? Would I have expected him to open up and bare his soul to me if we had a future? All questions that didn’t require answers because our time was running out.

“I did. I rented a little efficiency in the city because of my transportation business. But this is home.”

Any thoughts of bringing up a long-distance relationship shriveled in the wind as Adrián explained his deep connection with Aguimar. I’d seen it when we walked together around Villa Bonita or the town; people always came to him, like the de facto mayor. His easygoing nature, quiet assurance, and natural leadership worked like a magnet on all the inhabitants of Aguimar. And I hadn’t missed how more than a few people shot me daggers after longingly staring at him when they thought no one was paying attention.

“I understand...” I whispered into the breeze as the warm air caressed the hair away from my face, snuffing away the small flame of hope that had simmered inside for days.

“You make me want things,” Adrián said, anguish tingeing his words.

“You make me want things too, but I get it. Let’s just enjoy today to the fullest. I’m very rarely able to be as present as I’ve been here with you these past few days. I don’t want to spend my last day wallowing,” I said, hiding the fact that I’d probably wallow for days after this. Adrián slid his warm hand into mine, and as always with us, I immediately felt lifted and grounded simultaneously; such an odd contrast but perfect for me.

Adrián seemed perfect for me, and I still would walk away because how could he be the perfect man for me if I had to put my life on hold for him?

We returned to his cabana in silence, the long walk necessary to dispel the sense of helplessness that surrounded us.

“I didn’t take you there to make you sad,” Adrián said as we stepped into his space. I walked in front of him, seeking the privacy of the bathroom, if only for a few minutes. I was feeling bruised and needed some alone time.

“Why did you take me there, then?” I asked, not turning back to look at him.

“Because I wanted you to meet them, even if...”

The hope and sadness in his voice made me turn around, and my feet acted on their own accord. I crashed into him, our lips meeting in desperation. His taste galvanized me, and I rubbed my body into his, needy for his warmth and weight. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t have this anymore. Tomorrow, I’d be on a plane back to reality, but today, today, this beautiful man was mine, and I meant to enjoy it.

Magic was at play as we pulled each other’s clothes off, the actions so easy we were naked in minutes, him on top of me, sprawled on his bed. The brush of his warm nipples against my breasts ignited a whole-body shiver, and his growls in my ear amped up my desperation.

“Always so rushed, I had wanted to take my time with you. Show you how it could be between us...” He groaned as we lined up, and his length glided over my clitoris, my wetness making the move so easy. I didn’t know why he was trying to torment me with drags of his shaft against my bundle of nerves. I needed him inside of me in the same way I needed water and air. When he slid between my folds, I jerked up, searching for the fullness only he could give me.

“Take it all, Preciosa. Take me in,” he groaned, and I wished his command was true. I wished I could take him all in. I moaned as Adrián’s strokes grew in speed, the slick sound of our bodies threatening to visit me on my lonely days ahead.

“Oh, Adrián, I... I...” Whatever temporary frenzy overcame me had me imagining things, wanting to spill all my hidden secrets, making me wonder if my career and my goals were not enough anymore. If only I had dared to dream differently, but none of it was viable. I had a career not only because I wanted it, but because I needed it. Who would I be if I dropped everything for love? My livelihood and my pride would not allow such idealistic musings.

“Stay with me, Genevieve,” Adrián grunted and did something with his hips and my eyes rolled up to my head. A deep reverberation emanated from within, where his flesh seduced mine with relentless strokes meant to disarm me. He didn’t have to ask me twice. I was fully with him, my orgasm so spectacular that tears gathered in my eyes as my throbbing became full shudders, taking Adrián away with me.

Tears continued to fall as our skins cooled down under the ceiling fan, and I wondered if the tears were not just for how good we came together, but how devastating it would be to be apart.

“This is the town celebration to thank the Americans that came to give us patronage,” Adrián explained as we stepped into La Buenona. The merry old girl had gone from shabby dive to an equally ragged nightclub with wooden benches with no backs scattered around tall tables, citronella lanterns around the perimeter of the cement area, and two huge speakers flanking the mural. The kitchen window had become a bar, and Chichi and Mario manned the drinks orders from the patrons.

The Americans—even I’d started calling them that, as if I was a local—were all hanging out in different clusters, the buzz of excitement and slight intoxication evident in the balmy night. Four of the townsmen gathered on one corner of the area pulling out the handcrafted drums of different sizes I’d come to recognize as the drums used for Congo music and tambores. The wooden bodies painted black and white, with hemp holding them together, the dried cattle skin stretched taut on the top of the drums to give them their sonorous quality.

Mario turned off the boom box, and I saw Claudia and other women from the town stand close to the drums. They had T-shirts and blouses on, and colorful wide skirts for dancing on top of their pants. An older lady whom I’d met in my walks, Doña Petronila, was seated on a chair with arms, and she was in full Congo dress, with wildflowers threaded in her milky-white hair.

That sense of rightness, communion, and kindred experiences ran through me again as Adrián found a seat for me close to the drums. He squeezed my hand and then walked toward the group standing next to some men, clapping their backs and smiling.

Doña Petronila opened her mouth, and a rasping but powerful voice emerged. A cappella, she started singing, then the drums kicked in, and my blood surged as the women next to Doña responded to her call with force, clapping at the rhythm of the drums. The song seemed older than time; the drumbeats had a sensual cadence that invited the hips to move.

Chichi came out of the bar and approached a young lady who shyly smiled, then went out to the center of the circle created by the men on one side and the women on the other with the drums at the top of the open circle. Her hips and waist undulated under the song and Chichi shuffled his feet, his body easily swaying in a similar syncopated sensual move that I would be hard-pressed to imitate. Every time Chichi approached the lady she twirled away in a low circle, her beautiful skirt swinging in the air.

---