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“Lee. Where have you been?”
She sighs, and then there’s silence on the other side, but then I hear footsteps before a door shuts quietly.
“It’s been horrible, Diego. Mi abuela, she’s really sick.”
I know this, but then I thought with the urine infection clearly up that at least she would be better now. I can hear the sadness in her voice.
“What do you mean?”
“She had her Santo and I thought for a minute that maybe, just maybe, she was back to her old self. She got ready for the party and everything, then during the party she forgot it. The next day, she was in a state of panic and didn’t know who we are. Today has been calmer. She hasn’t forgotten us, but she goes in and out of trances. We have to keep an eye on her all the time.”
I put on the video, because she starts sobbing on the phone.
“Don’t hide your face. I want to see you.”
“I feel bad. I was working for you and all the time mi abuela was sick.”
She shouldn’t feel guilty. I don’t know how to tell her that even if she wasn’t working for me, there would be no change to Abuela’s condition, but it’s not something she wants to hear right now.
“It’s dark. Why did you put the camera on if it’s so dark?” she asks, so I put my side lamp on. “I miss you,” she says.
I nod my head. I can tell that she needs my physical comfort, but I can’t give it to her and it cuts like a fucking knife.
“I wish I was there to make you feel better or to help you through this.”
A tear escapes her eye as I try to comfort her, but I fail.
“I hope things have been better for you there.”
I want to make her feel better. I know that I can’t do it, because I’m not with her, but then there are other ways to do it.
“Touch yourself, Leticia.”
I need her to make me feel better, because today has been a rough day. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t give to have her in my arms, in my bed. I feel like a man possessed who would do anything to have her by my side.
“No. How are you? What’s your day been like? Nothing. Just touch yourself.”
I’m staring at her through the screen, not able to keep going on with this war. This morning Papá brought up all my misfortunes, such as my drinking habits, and claimed that Jorge was the better man to be CEO.
They have a habit of blaming me for every shit that goes down and I feel like that five-year-old. The one whose father said he couldn’t stand the sight of him. The one who was told that he belonged in anorfanato3. Or even better, dead like his mother. The only woman he has ever loved, even though he remarried again.
She hesitates, but then she stands up from the edge of the bed and lifts up her dress. Maybe absence makes the heart grow founder, because she slides her panties down her legs with her eyes focused on me. The old Leticia would have protested more and said that I needed to wait, but she’s complying as if she doesn’t want me to wait.
“Slowly,” I say as she starts sliding her fingers in between her legs. I want it to be intimate. I need to think of it as my fingers and watch her react to every single move.
She eases up and rubs herself with her legs wide open in gentle circles, as if she’s savoring the look of lust that’s on my face. Her eyes drop to my pants, as my bulge starts to grow with every passing second.
She let out a soft moan as she brings her second hand down to play too, slipping her fingers inside while her first continues to focus on what I assume is her clit.
“You look so sexy right now.”
I can’t help myself as I unfasten my zipper, freeing my shaft from my pants. She opens her eyes widely as she sees that I’m stiff as an iron. I stroke myself, gripping the base firmly in my fist, while working up and down.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen a man touch himself?”
She nods her head.
“Enjoy the show,mi cariño.”
