Margaritas by Moonlight (A Romance Novella): Maybe Mandy 2

by Chris Genovese

  He had to look down at me because he was a fucking giant. I’m so sorry to sound like a horrible stereotyping bitch, but Marco was the kind of guy that’s always seen on the TV documentaries about America’s worst prisons.

  You know, the guy with the bandana pulled down over his eyes, so he has to lift his head up to peer out the bottom? The guy holding both middle fingers up, both with initials of ex-wives? That was Marco.

  And how does a sweetheart like Valentino become associated with a big brawler like Marco? Oh…oh…oh shit. Valentino’s a prison gangster too, isn’t he? How do prison gangsters get hired at fancy hotels? Wait, are prison gangsters good in bed?

  Suddenly I didn’t care if he was the leader of the Mexican mafia. He’d just rescued me from the scumbag of Cancun with just a sentence or two and it looked like Marco would take care of the rest.

  I’ll have to introduce Jill to this Marco. More than likely she’ll introduce herself.

  With Chad out of the picture, I was left standing there alone with Valentino. He was even more striking than he’d been by the pool, with his hair combed back and his pre-work shave starting to grow out just a little. He wore a black T-shirt and white pants.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I covered my face in both hands, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed that this guy had just seen me in what kind of looked like a lover’s quarrel.

  “I don’t even know him,” I swore. “I mean…we talked last night and then…”

  “Mi amor,” he said as he placed one finger on my chin and lifted my face up so we could look eye to eye. “It’s ok. I’m just sorry you have to come to my country and be treated like that.”

  I hugged him. I don’t know why. Thinking back, it seemed like an odd thing to do, but what can I say? I’m impulsive.

  I never leave a grocery store without buying one of the candy bars at the checkout and I’ve fallen for many late night infomercial gimmicks. Just last month I bought one of those sets of pots and pans with the handles that absolutely never get hot.

  I was so excited to cook with them. My first meal? Stir-fry chicken. And guess what. I burned the shit out of my hand. Those motherfucking handles get hot.

  The point is, I’m impulsive. I make quick decisions and just go with it. Except in love of course. Then I’m all maybes.

  My hug seemed to surprise him as much as it did me. But then he wrapped his arms around me, his big muscular biceps, and squeezed me tight. He put one hand on the back of my head and pulled me into him. And I felt like I’d known this guy forever. Yet I knew nothing about him.

  “You just need to be held,” he said, understanding me completely.

  “Javier, get us two drinks please,” Valentino said.

  Who the fuck is Javier? Where are these guys coming from?

  “What kind of drinks, mang?” Javier asked.

  Mang? Oh…man…with a g…mang. How cute.

  I found the mang man and saw that he was younger than Valentino and had kind of like a mohawk, with lines shaved in the sides of his head.

  Valentino the adorable one, Marco the prison yard boss, and Javier the 80s break dancer. Got it.

  How many more of these guys would pop out of the crowd?

  Valentino let go of me and replied to his friend in Spanish so I had no idea what kind of drink was coming my way. I still had no desire to drink but Valentino was so cute saving me and then buying me a drink that there was no way I’d turn it down.

  “Mandy?” Jill shouted over the music from a few feet away.

  Javier came back with our drinks but as soon as Valentino saw my friend he pointed at her, his silent order for Javier to hand his drink over to her. This guy was incredible.

  But why are these bad looking dudes following his orders?

  Jill slid up next to me and locked her arm around mine.

  “Friends of yours?” she asked.

  “Kind of,” I said.

  “I’m her bodyguard,” Valentino said.

  “She’s been needing someone to GUARD her body,” Jill said, drawing out the word guard.

  Marco came back and pulled Valentino aside for a second. Jill took the chance to gather intel.

  “Holy shit, he’s hot,” she said in my ear.

  “I know,” I squealed through clenched teeth. “And you’ll never guess who he just scared away.”

  “Who?”

  “Who had you bent over the bed last night?”

  Jill looked up at the ceiling, her “in deep thought” expression.

  “I don’t remember,” she said.

  We both laughed.

  “Good, cause I’m dying to get this guy alone,” I told her. “And I might need you to pull his buddies aside.”

  “Buddies as in plural? What kind of whore do you take me for?”

  “Could make for a good video,” I reminded her.

  She squinted her eyes and took a second to imagine it. She smiled and nodded her head. She was seeing it clearly.

  “Tattoos and Mohawk over here?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Tattoos is kinda cute for a fucking monster. He’s huge,” she said. “But one plus side is big boys love to eat.”

  All joking aside, I knew Jill would be my wing woMAN. She was always there at times like these. I had to wonder if Valentino had any gay friends to hook Ben up with, not that he needed my help in that department the night before. He’d been just fine finding some ass himself.

  I held my glass out to the side and Jill met me with hers. As the glasses clinked I said, “Here’s to the Cancun conquest.”

  “The Cancun conquest,” Jill repeated.

  We tilted our heads back and shot down our drinks.

  One shot led to another and then I was on the dance floor with Valentino showing off moves I didn’t even know I had. I became a chameleon mimicking the moves of other chicks on the floor. And I was doing great or at least it seemed that way.

  Jill was next to me grinding up against Marco. She had no problem coming up with moves of her own. Marco mostly just stood in place with his hands raised, bobbing his head to the music. Jill didn’t seem to mind.

  Valentino was a great dancer, especially to reggae songs, which he explained were mostly reggaeton, as in reggae beats with Spanish lyrics. The broken English reggae and the Spanish reggaeton sounded pretty much the same to me.

  I didn’t care if they were singing in Chinese as long as Valentino kept his hands on my body. He was doing great in that department.

  I was in front of him, my back against his chest, rubbing my ass against the front of his slacks when the music changed. The beat slowed down to what I guess was the romantic version of a reggae song. It wasn’t slow as in Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On, but it was much slower than anything else that had played.

  I don’t know if it was the drinks or the music or the guy, but I closed my eyes and allowed myself to just feel everything for once.

  “I like you,” Valentino whispered.

  “Mmm, I like you,” I replied.

  His chiseled chest was solid against my back. His face was near my ear. I could hear him breathing, soft and sensual. It almost seemed as if he might be blowing in my ear very gently. It was turning me on.

  He was taller than me and I could feel the lump in his pants, just above my ass. I moved in a slow circle, making sure to rub up against him just right. He got the idea.

  His left hand snaked around my body. It slid to the spot between my thigh and my pussy and settled there. Two fingers pressed against the fabric of my dress and I wished I were naked.

  As soon as he touched me I felt a yearning inside, a dull ache that I was quite familiar with. It was desire. And I was getting wet. I didn’t want his hand on my leg or on my thigh. I wanted his fingers to keep sliding over until they were touching my clit.

  They stayed in place and I considered grabbing his hand and putting it where I wanted it. I decided not to. He was the
man. He’d need to make his move.

  Around us couples rocked gently to the slow rhythm. Next to us one guy kissed a girl passionately.

  It suddenly felt very hot in the club. The air was humid. My hair clung to my shoulders but it turned me on even more. Feeling his sweaty arm against mine made me imagine our bare bodies pumping away in the heat. I imagined his chest glistening as he spread my legs.

  I leaned back against him and touched my forehead to his neck. My lips were just below his chin. I wanted him to lean forward and kiss me. He didn’t.

  That bothered me.

  I fucking want you dammit. Kiss me.

  I tried to look up into his face but it was too dark. I looked around us and everyone else was too shrouded in the shadows to see clearly. I found the faceless silhouettes surrounding us to be erotic. I was getting turned on by the tension in the air and the urge to fuck Valentino was becoming too much to handle.

  No one could see us. No one knew the hunger growing inside me.

  No one saw his right hand move around and go up under my shirt. I felt his fingers trace over my belly button and traipse up my stomach to my bra.

  “I want you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I want you too, right here on the dance floor. Take me back to my room.

  I thought it but I didn’t say it. I couldn’t for some reason. I just froze. And as his hand made its way up to my right breast and over it, I could barely move at all. He moved his fingers over my skin, right between my breasts, and then cupped his big hand over my breast and squeezed gently.

  I moaned but the loud music masked it.

  His left hand moved on, making its way up my dress. I looked around to see if anyone else was watching, but it was dark, it was late, everyone in the place was smashed, and Jill had her tongue down Marco’s throat.

  I put my own hand over Valentino’s and he seemed to take it as a sign that I wanted him to stop. He started to pull his hand away. I grabbed it and shoved it hard against my pussy, showing him exactly where I NEEDED his hand to be.

  He rolled his fingers around in circles over my panties, his finger over the fabric but tracing over and into my pussy lips before moving back over and out. I was dripping wet and I knew if he kept pushing like that, I’d soak through my panties.

  I reached down and grabbed his hand again. I picked it up, bent his fingers, and put his cupped hand against me, making sure he knew that I wanted his fingers inside the folds of my pussy, not just playing around the outskirts. I needed him inside me.

  He finally caught on and pressed his fingers against me and it almost felt like I wasn’t wearing panties at all. His finger was inside me. His hand found its spot and this time I know he felt the moisture from within. He had to. My panties were soaked.

  He slid his finger up and down the slit of my pussy, making sure his finger went in between the folds, all the way from my hole to my clit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fuck him so bad.

  My pussy was aching. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. It was like a toothache I just couldn’t soothe.

  I turned my head to the left again, finding his neck, and this time finding his face too. He leaned forward and met my lips. I didn’t bother with gentle smooches but instead shoved my tongue past his lips.

  His tongue met mine and it was nice and wet. I kissed him hard, moving my tongue around excitedly. I wanted to eat his mouth. Our hips swayed to the rhythm of the music and his hand danced against my swollen pussy.

  “Mi amor, do you want to be my woman tonight?” he asked.

  I do. I want to be yours tonight.

  “Yes,” I said.

  He slid his fingers into my panties. I could feel his rough hand over my trimmed mound. His hand opened wide and closed, like he was combing my little hairs with his fingers. Then he dipped one finger down in between my folds, getting it wet, and then circling it around my clit.

  He was so good. His fingers knew exactly how to touch me. My asshole puckered up and I rose up on my toes, silently begging him to put his finger in me.

  He was content with my clit. He circled it softly, playing at the nub, rubbing his hand against it from side to side. I leaned my head back against him and moaned.

  My eyes closed and I reached up to grip the back of his head. I leaned back, feeling his chest against my back and his hard cock against my tailbone. I knew my mouth was open but I couldn’t close it. I was in awe. I was in ecstasy.

  “Mmm hmm,” I said into his ear, letting him know I was absolutely loving it.

  “Your pussy is so warm,” he said. “It’s so wet.”

  “Yesss, yeah like that,” I said as he slid his hand down further and teased me with a finger right at my pussy.

  He was toying with me, getting ready to enter me, but making me beg for it.

  “I want you,” I said. “Let’s go back to my room.”

  “You want me?” he asked.

  “Yes. Let’s go. Come on.”

  Then, just when I thought the night was going to end perfectly, Ben crashed right onto the dance floor and headed right at us.

  It was that slow motion moment in every movie.

  You know when you hear the heroine yelling, “Noooooo,” but it sounds like she’s under water.

  When something terrible is about to happen, like a grenade was tossed into the air and it’s too late to stop it so all everyone can do is stand there and watch with terror-filled eyes.

  Ben was coming straight for us. He had a hand over his mouth. Jill stopped him just in time before he bent over and puked on the dance floor. I jumped back and it missed me, but splashed a few others dancing.

  “The fuck!” somebody yelled.

  “Yo, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” somebody else asked.

  I yanked my dress down before anyone could notice.

  “Oh my God,” Ben said, with his hand still over his mouth. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I think it was the shrimp earlier. Or the enchiladas.”

  “Oh babe,” I said, as I let go of Valentino and hugged Ben, putting his head on my shoulder.

  I’m so going to make you pay for this, Benny.

  “Can you guys help me get back to my room?” he asked.

  I looked back at Valentino, hope draining from my gut like the juices flowing down my thigh. This night was shot. I wanted to kill Ben, but he’d help me if I were in this situation. He actually did the night before.

  Valentino leaned in close to me. “Take care of your friend.”

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch someone.

  Mostly, I wanted to fuck Valentino.

  “Let me take him back to his room and then you can come to mine,” I suggested.

  “It’s okay, really. You help your friend. But you have to promise to meet me at the pool tomorrow at 7pm. I want to take you to a party.”

  Oh but why…why…why!

  My internal bitch was throwing a temper tantrum but I forced a smile and nodded.

  “7pm. By the pool. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to my place?” I said.

  “Mandy, if your friend ate something bad in Mexico, he’s going to need all the help he can get tonight. Trust me.”

  He leaned in, took my face in both of his hands, and kissed me on the lips. I melted into the kiss, opening my mouth and searching for his tongue. I found it and sank into it, our mouths eager to keep this night going on course while our bodies were busy pulling us apart.

  “Tomorrow, 7pm,” I repeated.

  Act 3 – The Blue Balls

  If a girl could have blue balls, mine were navy that night. I slept in Ben’s room, silently resenting him each time he jumped out of bed to spew his guts. Really it wasn’t Ben’s fault.

  Bad shrimp was the reason for my aching vagina. Not Ben.

  He dry heaved and I winced, sorrow for him and sympathy for myself.

  I wanted Valentino and it seemed he wanted me too. His coming to my rescue was so hot. They say women love bad boys. That’s
not true.

  We love ice cream, sales on shoes, wallets with secret compartments, and purses that can fit everything in them but still look dainty.

  We love a hot bath and a good book.

  We love a gentleman who actually LISTENS to us.

  We don’t love bad boys…