by D. P. Adamov
“I saw,” she whispered.
“Gotta go. I love you.”
With their brief conversation ended, she put the cell phone down and went back to her prone position on the mattress, feeling its coolness.
“I wish this would all be over for all of us.”
She had drifted off and started to dream when her cell rang again.
Struggling for it, the words sent a chill through her entire body.
“It’s me. Never mind. Fernando De La Torre just died.”
Chapter Nine
Manolo Garza was drunk. The funeral in Guadalajara had been a gloomy affair to say the least, but that was to be expected. The reception afterward offered a crying wife and kids who did not know the real man, who was off to places like Casa De Campo on the side. Though Manolo knew these secrets now, it was better to keep them within.
Knowing what a scoundrel De La Torre had been was not the only reason Manolo had drank so much. It was his own fear that had been evoked inside.
What if Gaditano was destined by fate to be his assassin?
He did not hate the bulls as a whole, nor even the one that killed De La Torre. It was just Gaditano he loathed.
Kicking off his shoes, he clumsily removed his jacket and tie, then flopped across the hotel bed, while Lucinda looked on.
“That was unpleasant,” he whimpered. “That was horribly unpleasant. All those crying people. Jesus, but it was depressing.”
Lucinda nodded as she started to take off her own clothes. She was sober.
“One of these days I’ll be retiring, but not for a long time. I just hope the bulls let me live long enough to retire.”
“You will live a long time,” Lucinda reassured him while inside she was not so sure. “You and I will live together for a long time and in the afterlife we will be together some more.”
“But you still won’t suck my dick,” he mouthed out. “Were you ever spanked for not sucking my dick?”
“Yes,” Lucinda sighed, now down to her undergarments. “You rest up. I’m going to shower.”
Manolo tried to nod.
“Naked, I hope. I should spank you for not sucking my dick.”
Lucinda was too frazzled to even masturbate in the shower, but after where they had just been, it didn’t seem fitting anyway. As she turned on the water and let it run over her, she thought of the events of the day and evening. Would she one day be a grieving widow like Lucia De La Torre, weeping over a dead husband? Once again she thought of bringing up the idea of leaving the bulls to Manolo, but knew it would do no good.
She had always hated those small bars of soap the hotels provided. They were so useless. She could hardly get a lather going.
There was something also, that Manolo had whispered to her after the burial, that had left her disturbed.
“You know all this about De La Torre being a great guy and matador is shit right out of the animal’s ass. He was a prick. I knew the real him. Ask him about Casa De Campo.”
She, of course, had no idea what Casa De Campo was and felt it better never to find out.
How little did she know in the other room, Manolo was thinking of the very same thing, though his thoughts were made groggy from the mixed drinks.
“I came like crazy. You fuck good.”
He remembered Esmeralda’s words to him in that near empty bedroom and how willingly she had serviced him. He was ashamed to admit he found himself wishing he was married to her instead.
In his drunkenness, he had blurted out about Fernando De La Torre and the Casa De Campo in Nogales, but had caught himself before saying anything else. That would have been an utter and unbolted disaster.
“De La Torre ended up just like that guy in those stupid films,” he muttered to the ceiling. “He cheated on his wife and went to face God with his suit covered with blood and sand alright. Right in the fucking groin, where all the big arteries were. That goring could have killed an elephant.”
A vision from the past came back to haunt him, where again he saw himself at the Manzano ranch being dragged from that little ring, while in the distance Gaditano watched the whole show, relishing what had happened.
“I nearly went to God in a suit of blood and sand, and that was before I went to Casa…”
He caught himself, biting down on his lip. Lucinda really didn’t need to know what he had discovered and done in Nogales.
Perhaps that was the key. Treat Lucinda like a normal woman. No more spankings, even when she deserved them. No more requests to have his prick eaten. Just let her do as she pleased in the bedroom and save himself for Nogales. He would most assuredly be returning there for a benefit bullfight for the De La Torre family. It was already in the works.
“People love a dead hero,” he slurred out. “They love a dead hero better than a live one.”
He could picture his next session with Esmeralda. This time, he would have her strip naked and bend over the bed. Then he would start with his hand.
“This is what you get for being bad. You get a bare bottom spanking.”
“No! Ow! Please!”
He didn’t need to use a paddle. He knew how to make the hand hurt plenty. Lucinda found that out in Agua Prieta. It was wrong to think of her here, while with another woman. The devil was in him now, and there was no turning back.
“Owwwwwwww!”
Esmeralda shook and shifted as the blows came, but this was what he paid her to do. Her ass was turning hot, too. The blows were seeing to that.
“Stand still and take it!”
More slaps came, echoing in the room. As they did, Esmeralda’s cries became harder to understand. They were being marred with the tears. This turned him on even more, though he now wondered why. In Agua Prieta, out of impulse, he had discovered how much he enjoyed discipline. Maybe he liked it too much? Was Lucinda right and Esmeralda wrong?
“Stop…”
Esmeralda finally managed to blurt out a distinguishable word, but he knew this was not what she meant. She wanted more and wanted it hard.
“You just be glad I’m doing this with my hand and not the belt. You might get the belt, too. If you don’t stand still and stop wiggling, I will give you the belt.”
“Owwww! Oww! Owwww!”
The feel of her flesh against his palm as he whapped at her sent sensual shocks through his nervous system.
“Owwwwwwww!”
The way Esmeralda was bent, with her legs spread, he could see her own dark beaver was growing wet with excitement. Beyond the pain, she was stimulated by this as well.
“Maybe I should just stop and fuck you now. I would, but you haven’t been punished enough. I can only imagine what you might have done that I don’t even know about, behind my back, besides what I do know. Shame on you. This will make you behave.”
“Pleasssseeeeeeee…”
“Don’t you beg me for anything. You aren’t in a position to negotiate. I’m the one in charge here, and I’m going to keep spanking you until I’m sure you won’t be bad.”
“You’re being bad, too,” she responded. “You’re cheating on your wife.”
“Don’t blame me! Blame Fernando De La Torre. He told me about this place, and when I got here, I found you! You all made cheating too easy!”
“Everyone’s fault but yours! Tell that to God!”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the church anymore! I thought you didn’t believe in God!”
“Owwwwww,” was the only answer that came, for he’d landed multiple strikes against her bottom as he spoke.
It was at that point Manolo halted, with the distinct feeling he was being watched. Were there hidden cameras in the room?
“Get up and stand in the corner. We’ll continue the punishment in a bit, and it is going to be severe.”
Crying, Esmeralda stood up and rubbing her badly spanked behind as she went, relocated to the familiar corner.
“I wish we were married,” Manolo whispered, but his eyes were darting about the roo
m. “I wish you and I could be together, because we know what we want.”
Esmeralda was still furiously rubbing herself, but her tears had turned to sniffles.
“You really hurt my butt,” she moaned out. “Owwwwww.”
Manolo looked at her naked body, studying every inch he could. He had, for a matter of fact, hurt her butt just as she proclaimed.
“If it hurts that bad, I am glad. You don’t need to be rubbing it. Put your hands by your sides. This is supposed to be painful! If it doesn’t hurt, you won’t learn a lesson.”
Again, Esmeralda obeyed, dropping her hands away from her injured ass.
“That’s better. Now I am going to take out my prick and jerk it until I shoot. You’ve been so bad; you don’t deserve to be made to feel good yet.”
Suddenly, the phone rang. Manolo had not noticed a telephone on the dresser before.
“I’d better take that,” Esmeralda said as she left her post. “It might be important.”
Manolo threw up his hands in exasperation. The whole charade was lost.
“I thought the Casa De Campo was more professional than this! Jesus Christ! What the fuck!”
Esmeralda was listening to whatever voice was at the other end and shaking her head. She then turned to Manolo and offered him the receiver.
“It’s for you.”
“What?”
Manolo was stunned when he took the phone and heard a voice he never expected to hold conversation with again.
“You shouldn’t drink so much if you have secrets to keep. You know, you nearly blew everything for yourself just now.”
“Fernando?”
It was distinctly Fernando De La Torre at the other end.
“Yes. I was at the funeral, too, but you didn’t see me. I took a look at myself in the coffin. I thought I looked pretty good there, but I wish they would have buried me in my purple and gold suit of lights. I liked that one better.”
“You shouldn’t be talking to me. You’re dead.”
De La Torre laughed at the other end.
“It isn’t that simple. Did you ever see that one movie where Scrooge gets visited by all those ghosts who try to tell him to straighten his ass out in that thing they show on television at Christmas? It’s kind of like that. I’m here to give you some advice.”
“You already gave me advice. You recommended the Casa De Campo.”
There was silence at the other end, before the voice of the dead matador returned.
“Yes, I know. It was bad advice. The thing is, you aren’t me and you aren’t as good at hiding these things from your wife as I was with mine. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to get caught. Gaditano is coming. You know that, too. Down the road, the two of you will meet and you need to be right with yourself.”
Manolo raised his eyebrows.
“Right with myself?”
The voice at the opposite end was getting frustrated.
“That’s what I said. Get your mind off Esmeralda’s bruised ass and get your thoughts right or you’re going to end up like me in more ways than one. Over here on the other side, I met this gypsy woman. She was a fortune teller in her life on earth, and she said to tell you to beware. I don’t know where she came from or why, but I’d listen, because if you don’t change some things, life is not going to be pretty for you.”
“What?”
The phone went dead at the other end.
“Esmeralda.”
As the phone conversation went on, Esmeralda had decided to take matters into her own hands. She was mounted on the bed and spanking herself with a large scrub brush. As she heard the receiver being hung up, she turned to him and leered.
“In a minute, I want you to stick this brush handle up my asshole.”
For whatever reason, the matador did not stay, but stormed out of the room and down the stairs into the lobby. He was then startled to see a group of people watching an old gypsy woman telling fortunes. She did not speak through her own mouth, but a stupid looking dog puppet. She was either a master ventriloquist or the animal was capable of speech.
“And here we have Manolo Garza,” the puppet proclaimed. “In a world of life he has managed to find death, and in a world of death he still tries to find life. He’s not going to be with us much longer if he keeps on the road he is going down. Secrets never remain secrets. He doesn’t know that yet. He will learn soon. He will learn many new things.”
In the distance, Fernando De La Torre emerged, wearing the purple and gold suit of lights he said he’d wished he’d been buried in.
“You should listen to her, you know. This is the gypsy I was telling you about.”
Manolo opened his eyes, to find himself staring at the ceiling still. He was only conscious long enough to hear the shower shutting off in the background and Lucinda opening the door. Then there was the blackness as he passed out.
Just before going into oblivion, however, he felt sure he had heard Fernando De La Torre laughing at him.
Chapter Ten
Esmeralda massaged Manolo once more in the room at the Casa De Campo. He was back in Nogales, and it was the night before the memorial bullfight raising funds for the widow of De La Torre. The late matador’s family did not need money, but it was a customary thing to do.
“So why is it you like to be spanked so much?” he asked.
Esmeralda did not have to think before answering.
“My parents both used to spank me with my panties down and when I was real little I hated it. They spanked me up into my early teenage years, and for whatever reason, I just noticed rather than feeling the pain alone, I was getting turned on. The last few times I got it with the belt, I nearly had an orgasm. I’d even masturbate in my room afterward.”
Manolo grinned at this revelation.
“I suppose you want to know why I like to spank.”
Esmeralda shrugged.
“I don’t know why it started but do know how. My wife, who was just a friend back then, was training with me and I was doing cape work while she pretended to be the bull. Anyway, she hit me right in the eggs with a set of horns, and I got mad. I pulled down her pants and whacked her on her bare ass. It was an impulsive thing, but I had to admit it was a turn on, too.”
“Is it a turn on for her?”
“Not so much. Which is why I come here now. You see, it was done for discipline at first, and I actually mean discipline. It was part game, but also part punishment to resolve a problem. Then it became a ritual to help bring me luck in the bullring. Then after that, it became foreplay, too. We’re at the point where she gets spanked for everything, and as a man I actually have to question my sanity sometimes. I think really, I would rather spank than have sex, though I prefer both. I am like you there.”
“You know, sooner or later she is going to leave you if she doesn’t share your love for spanking,” Esmeralda noted with her accustomed honesty.
Manolo longingly looked at Esmeralda’s nakedness, desiring it.
“Hey, if she leaves me, maybe I will move to Nogales. I can marry you.”
Esmeralda laughed.
“So did she get a spanking before this bullfight, or was her ass spared because you knew you would be coming here?”
The matador still stared transfixed at the naked girl.
“You know, I didn’t spank her this time. I’m wondering if she thinks something is up.”
“She doesn’t come to all the bullfights?”
“No. Too hard on her nerves. Sometimes she comes to them and sometimes no. She never liked the bullfights either. She doesn’t like to see the kill.”
“She must really love you, though. If she takes spankings from you. If she comes to bullfights when she doesn’t really want to. These are signs. She must live for you. Believe me; you are better off with her than me. Really. Just come see me when you are in Nogales and stay with her the rest of the time.”
“And why would I not want to be with you all the time?”
Esmerald
a again answered honestly. With most clients it was best to lie and say whatever they wanted to hear, yet something within told her in this situation, the truth was needed.
“Because I could never be satisfied with one man.”
The matador snickered.
“But I can do everything with you, and with Lucinda, I cannot.”
Esmeralda moved her hands down the matador’s legs towards his feet.
“Now let me ask you something, if it is okay.”
“Sure.”
“Why are you so fixed on killing one bull?”
The matador hesitated, thinking not of the situation in the bedroom, but that day in Hermosillo once more. How many times had he played the incident over in his head?
“From the time I was in the hospital, I hated Gaditano. I did not fear him as much as I hated him. I’d never been gored before, and have not since. That’s why. He is the only animal who ever hurt me any place, and I have not forgotten it. Even in the hospital, I promised myself I would bring death to him. I even promised the devil in a dream. Since then I even worked out a perfect plan where I have secured my meeting with him. I asked Eliseo Manzano to save this bull for me until he is a full size toro at four years old. Then I will put Gaditano to death.”
“And how can you be sure?”
“I plan to rent the bullring right here in Nogales and put on a bullfight myself where I kill four bulls as lone matador. I did not have the money to do so back then, but I sure as shit do now. As lone matador, I will fight all the bulls, and there will be no need for a sorteo where we draw the numbers and Gaditano might go to another bullfighter instead. I will buy four bulls from Manzano and one will be Gaditano. Then we will meet again. I will kill him.”
“Again, it seems a waste of life to live it leading up to kill one bull.”
“Next season. It will be time for the long day for revenge. I’ve built up to it for a long time.”
“So you hate Gaditano?”
“Yes. The thing is he helped make me famous. When I nearly died, my name was all over the news. He started my career for me, but almost ended it before I could get a start. Now that’s odd.”