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Damn, I want Alicia so bad I can taste her skin. It’s delectable, delightful and delicious. Her body will t
remble from my warm embrace; my gentle touch will make her quiver. Undressing, then caressing her, teasing and pleasing her, hopefully I won’t miss a spot with my tongue. Testing, teasing while tasting, by the time I’m done eating her, she’ll shudder and shiver through an endless series of orgasms.
Then, as we feel ourselves climbing into uncharted heights of lust, the heat of my dick will be relentless once it breaks the skin of a new world. Once embedded and entrenched within her spicy walls, our bodies will stretch the imagination of contortionists everywhere. Pumping and pleasing her, I’ll be determined to see the trembling tremors from a sexually sedated seductress. Swirling from peak to peak, we’ll share the grunts, groans and pleasurable moans that our horizontal mamba brings, as well as the uncontrollable contractions of nerves exploding in ecstasy. I will make this woman cum until she joins me in the ultimate cluster of climaxes that pure, unadulterated passion brings.
Damn, I sure hope she craves chocolate tonight.
So, here I am, on the fourth floor of her walk-up building, at the doorway of paradise. A smoldering bachata tune with a steady Dominican beat heats up the hallway, compliments of the apartment below hers. Maybe that’s what we’ll be dancing to tonight. Or better yet, maybe I could show her the steps I practiced this morning while listening to Marc Anthony. Maybe…
“Well, aren’t you going to come in?”
There’s nothing like a fantasy disrupted by an even better reality.
“Close the door,” the voice of a siren orders.
Glancing out in the hallway, the other gray apartment doors smirk at me. I just hate being the last to know shit.
Obliging, I shut the door to the real world and enter a surreal yet serene place, an erotic world where you can neither run nor hide from inhibitions. I follow the cadence of her sashay;Alicia’s natural movements are so precise, so deliberate and rhythmic.
I’m scanning my surroundings, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, curiosity etched all over my face as to what lies ahead. The only degree of normalcy is Gloria Estefan singing “Tengo que decirte algo” on her stereo. Someone left the bathwater of questions running, and it’s overflowing my mind.
Why is she dressed in a black, formfitting catsuit? And why are there scented purple candles lit throughout the house? What’s up with the red lights, and the chair in the middle of the living room floor? And why are there towels and long red scarves on her red velvet sofa? Wait a second: Did I walk into a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie and meet the seductive Spanish half-sister of Norman Bates? Or, in the alternative, did I walk onto an adult movie set and meet Vanessa del Rio?
“Thanks so much for the roses,” Alicia says, removing both the arrangement and libations from my arms.
She reads my card.
Closing it, her eyes, piercing my soul, are warm and watery.
I struck a chord in her heart; the right chord.
“I see you…um…“I stutter, alluding to the scenery.
“That’s for later.”
Then she takes my hand, leading me away from one flytrap, steering me in the direction of what I’m thinking is another.
I’m wrong. It’s the kitchen.
“Come, William. Sit and let Mamá feed you.”
Damn, this sister can burn. The paella, complete with lobster tails, bits of octopus, chicken, calamari and shrimp, was so filling. Initially, Alicia looked disturbed that I couldn’t eat two helpings, but I explained to her my disdain for walking around on a full stomach. That’s one reason.
Reason number two? Who likes having sex on a full stomach? It’s so uncomfortable. I have to leave room for dessert; that is, if there is any.
My goodness, Alicia sure set a stage. If the cream-flavored scents these candles give off are an aphrodisiac to awaken sexual impulses, then it’s working. Before she went in the back to freshen up, she asked me to push the “2” button on the CD changer in the living room, then make myself comfortable on the sofa.
“It’s a surprise,” she added.
Fulfilling the request, the music I’m now listening to caught me by surprise. To my utter amazement, it’s the scintillatingly sinister street radio mix of “Downtown,” by SWV. The background vocals of this song tell me exactly what Alicia wants tonight.
She wants to get freaky.
“Going downtown is the way to Alicia’s love, William,” she yells.
I gulp.
Did I walk into a mine field, or what?
