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“Ahh.” He nods. “Entiendo. It is not that I’m making more, ángel mío. It is you trying to make less. I should have expected. Come now.” He flops his napkin on the table and stands. Looking down at me, he says, “We go now, and have the sex, then?”
“But,” I stall, slinking in my seat, glancing around to see if anyone heard him. “The grappa hasn’t come yet.”
“So we can finish the meal?” he asks.
“Yes, we can finish our dinner, Javier.”
“You are sure?”
The waiter arrives with our brandy but hesitates as Javier still hasn’t taken his seat.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I say and motion for him to sit.
This guy, Javier, I guess he is serious.
He pulls his chair closer so that his knee brushes against mine as he sits. He raises his glass and says a traditional toast and we both take a deep swig of the brandy. I close my eyes, letting the sweetness fill my mouth as the pungent scent hovers. Upon swallowing, a liquid heat courses down to my belly. He nudges my shoulder, leans close and whispers in my ear, “You are not without hope, yet, Americana.”
Tingles ripple across my skin as my face flushes, but my head doesn’t swim from the effects just yet. Whether it’s the effects of the booze or his sultry breath, I’m not sure. “Without hope for what?” I ask him.
“If you can enjoy your food the way you do, if you can enjoy the drink, then all is not lost. You are not in that much of a hurry.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” is all I say.
He laughs and places his arm on the back of my chair, directs me to look out on the night waters of the dark ocean. “Why did you come here, Americana?”
“I, I…” I stutter like a fool. “I just wanted to see it, it’s so exotic.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders, his thumb lightly stroking my naked arm. It’s still disconcerting, all this physical closeness. But I figure it’s a difference in our cultures. Nearly everyone around here is snuggled close, though I assume they’re longtime lovers.
He says, “You come here, looking for the exotic. And yet you’d deny me looking at what I find beautiful and exotic. Americana, you’re all in such a hurry. You make it about the satisfaction, no the joy in the act itself. Even your women. Even you. Fast food, fast cars, fast phones. Everybody in a rush to finish everything.”
“Yeah, well, we get a lot of stuff accomplished that way,” I tell him.
“Ahh.” He raises his brows. “But it is not all about the finish. We enjoy ourselves.”
His stilted English in tandem with the stroking on my arm starts a subtle vibration in my lower tummy. Maybe it’s not all about the finish to him, but suddenly I wish we’d at least get started. He purrs in my ear, now in Spanish, calling me bonita again.
I don’t mind if he wants to call me beautiful, but I know he has other motives. I know that because I’m not beautiful. I know I’m not beautiful because other men never bother to tell me that I am. They just get down to business once it’s been established that’s where things are headed.
I put my hand on Javier’s knee to let him know that I’m with him. He nods but refills our rum glasses, deliberately clinks his against mine, and drinks his slowly. In the soft glow of candlelight, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows;the soft scruff of stubble can’t conceal the that single, strong vein that runs down the side of his neck.
I lean into him, pressing my body against his side. He’s firm and warm and he dips his head and meets my mouth with his lips. Soft, tinged with the liquor. He moves his hand off my shoulder, places it on my exposed thigh. As he kisses me gently, his fingertips trace patterns upward on my leg. Thrumming inside, I kiss him more deeply as his hand snakes up. I uncross my legs to give him easier access.
Javier moves. Instead of kissing my mouth, he drops feather kisses on my cheek, his fingers rubbing the inside of my upper thigh. The brisa kicks up again, and I bite my lip to control a shudder as his breath tingles in my ear. Instinctively, I slide my hand up his leg, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. Not lingering, I take hold of him and he sighs in my ear again, a heavy breath, hot and moist.
The waiter comes to check on us. I freeze, but Javier doesn’t. He nuzzles my ear again before turning to the waiter and answering in Spanish, “Bring us the dessert list,” while his fingers dance dangerously higher, now brushing against the smooth fabric of my panties.
I blush and tuck my head down. It’s dim, but I’m not sure the waiter is oblivious. He bows, but loiters to refill our glasses. As he does, Javier slides his fingers directly across the crotch of my underwear, firmly.
I reel. I don’t know if it’s from the sensation so much as shame. Shame that it does feel good, shame that I don’t cross my legs or push him away. But he picks up my brandy glass and feeds me a sip, a rather large gulp. As I’m swallowing, he kisses my neck and works his hand smoothly up my stomach, then back down, this time beneath my panties.
I squirm and take hold of him again as the waiter retreats. He sets down the glass and moves my hand off of him. Saying, “Suave, señorita. Suave.” Slow. Slow down? That’s what this guy with his hand down my underwear in a public restaurant is telling me…slow down.
But before I can protest or take hold of him again, he slides his hand, his strong, sure fingers, back down. Inside my panties, parting my slit, two bold fingers slip down the length of me, then roughly, heavily back up, and again partway down, settling this time on my sweet spot, pressing against the nub of my rapidly sensitizing clit.
My breath catches, my shoulders tense, and my insides quicken. The rush from the grappa taking hold in my brain, warming my body as surely as he’s tuning me up, turning me on.
I’m wet already, it’s slick as he slides up and down, again coming to rest and pressing against my pleasure button. This time, shortening the length of his stroke, moving those two fingers only an inch. Sliding up, waiting, kissing my neck, and then gliding down, sucking on my earlobe. It’s so nasty, so risky, I know I should pull away, or push him away, especially before the waiter comes back. But I’m pulsing and as I allow him to slide a few more times, I’m wired on it.
