by Young, D. L.
“Quite the man-trap you’ve got here, boss,” Angela joked. “Need anything else before I leave you to your wicked ways?”
Ximena remembered the customer. “Señor Torres is still in the Red Room, would you mind staying until he leaves?”
Angela looked surprised. “He's still in there?”
“I asked him to test drive the new models.”
“They’re that good, huh?”
Ximena nodded knowingly. “Way better than good. I was thinking about talking Javi into giving one a go. I know he’d love it.”
Angela shook her finger playfully. “Careful now, you don't want to scare him off. It’s taken long enough just to get him to come here.”
Ximena checked herself in the mirror, making small adjustments to her long mane of black curls and the plunging neckline of her silk blouse. “I know, I know,” she said, opening one more button. “But a girl can dream, can't she?”
Angela smiled and kissed Ximena on both cheeks. “Good luck,” she said. Then she left, closing the door behind her.
Ximena looked at the glow of the candlelight. Yes, a girl can dream. She wondered what had changed Javier’s mind, why he’d finally agreed to a dinner invitation. Had two months of living on his own softened his view of her business? Did he finally understand how much it meant to her? And if he didn’t, could she convince him?
There had been a time in their lives when she could have talked him into almost anything. During their early years together she’d relished the occasions when she persuaded him to try something new, something he never would have considered on his own. Those were her happiest memories, the moments she lived for.
Ximena smiled wistfully, recalling their trip to Colombia.
It had been their first vacation together, and in the low-salary days of their mid-twenties it had taken them over a year to scrape together enough money for an overseas holiday. Javier wanted to lounge on a beach in the Caribbean. Ximena had her heart set on the South American jungle. After months of debate, Javier finally acquiesced.
The morning after arriving in Colombia they stood on the ridge of a small mountain overlooking the valley of La Cocha Lake, its bright turquoise water surrounded by a dense, green forest that stretched to the horizon in every direction. Javier’s face was a mask of worry as he carefully leaned forward and looked down to the drop off point. The parasailing guides re-checked the harness belts and straps and assured him that he was completely safe.
“Not very nice tricking me like that, Xime,” Javier said, clutching the shoulder straps. “Not very nice at all.”
Ximena adjusted her helmet’s chin strap and laughed. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“No, that’s not it. You didn't say anything because you knew I wouldn't have come. Next time you tell me you want to go for an early morning walk, I'm staying in bed.”
“Amor, don't worry, people do this all the time down here. Trust me.”
“People die down here all the time.” Javier removed his helmet. “I'm sorry, I just can't do it. Hey, wait a minute!”
His shouts were drowned out as Ximena revved the motor, ran a few steps, and leaped off the edge of the mountain. She squealed with delight as the sudden drop made her stomach lurch. Then, as she gained control she turned back and waved, slowly rising higher and higher into the cool morning mist.
Minutes later, as she turned a lazy circle high above the shimmering lake, she saw him. He was maybe fifty meters directly beneath her. She laughed and called his name as she watched him fly along, so slowly and carefully, never going too high or straying too far from the landing strip. Joyous tears filled her eyes. Her Javi.
Over dinner that night he couldn’t stop going on about it. “I’ve never done anything like that before. And the views, I’ll never forget those views. Increíble." For hours afterward, his face glowed with excitement. “But that first step off of the edge, Jesus. Weren't you scared, Xime?”
Ximena smiled. “That was my favorite part.”
Later, under a full moon they made love for hours in the jungle near their lakeside cottage. That was the night Ximena knew she would be his forever. And he would be hers.
***
Ximena opened the door to her office to find her estranged husband sporting a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of ridiculously oversized sunglasses. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“Por dios, Javi. Those things cover half of your face.”
He removed the hat and glasses. “Yes, they’re pretty bad,” he said sheepishly. “But you never know who might be watching.”
Ximena raised her eyebrows. “I don't think any of your colleagues would care too much,” she said, shrugging. “They're some of my best customers, after all.”
Javier’s mouth dropped open.
“Just kidding,” she said with a wink
“You got me,” he said, smiling in relief and rolling his eyes. The ice was broken.
Ximena welcomed him with a kiss, lingering for a moment near his cheek, feeling his warmth. “So good to see you,” she said. “Come in, amor.”
He removed his coat. “Smells wonderful in here.”
During the first two courses, Javier seemed distracted and stressed. Ximena tried to make him feel more comfortable by keeping the conversation limited to safe topics like the weather, Madrid’s eternal traffic problems, and a costly new public works project. She patiently played the gracious hostess, politely nodding and behaving herself, which wasn’t easy. From the moment he’d walked through the doorway, she’d wanted nothing more than to kiss him full on the lips, grab his wrists, and wrap his hands around her. Javier had lost none of his rugged good looks over the years, and Ximena marveled at how sitting this close to him still made her feel flushed, still sent her thoughts wandering to the bed they’d shared for so many years. Their time apart suddenly seemed much longer than two months.
Her patience only lasted through two courses. “So what do you think of the place?” she impulsively asked, placing the third course plates on the table.
Javier seemed to struggle for an answer. “It's...uh...nicer than I thought it would be, I suppose.”
Ximena smiled. A stumbling compliment was still a compliment. “I'll give you a tour after dinner and show you one of the new bots.”
Javier shifted in his chair. “I don't know, Xime.”
“You'll be amazed at these new models. We’re the first business in Madrid with the OH5s. And they didn’t come cheap, let me tell you.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
Ximena sighed. “Okay, how about us, then? You still angry with me?”
He shook his head. “It’s not anger. It’s not that.”
She reached over and placed her hand on top of his. “Javi, I know this isn't easy for you, but I love what I'm doing here. And I think in time you'll come to love it too.”
“Ximena, listen to me—”
“And if you can't love it maybe you can just tolerate it. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
He drew his hand away. Undeterred, Ximena said, “Remember our trip to Colombia before we were married? You didn't want to jump off that mountain with me, but when you finally did, it was incredible. You thanked me for it afterwards, remember?”
“This isn’t exactly the same thing, Xime,” he said. Then he pulled a sheaf of folded papers from his jacket pocket and placed them on the table.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Javier cleared his throat. “It's a no-fault agreement. You don't have to sign it right now. You can hire your own attorney, if you want to. I just thought this way it might be...easier somehow.”
A cold shock ran through Ximena’s body. She stared in horror at the papers, the divorce papers, lying on the table. Then, as it slowly sunk in what it was Javier wanted, or what it was he no longer wanted, a wave of emotions washed over her. She sprang up, knocking the chair over backwards, and ran out of the room, tears flooding her eyes.
***
Moments later, Ximena burst into the Red Room, slammed the door behind her, and covered her face in her hands.
“Can I help you, my dear?” someone asked, startling her.
She looked and saw Torres, still on the bed with the nymphbots. He was lying on his back, hands clasped behind his head while the nymphbots fellated him.
Ximena cursed herself for forgetting he was still there. Teary-eyed and reeling, she’d simply wanted a quiet place to collect herself.
She wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. “I'm sorry, Señor Torres. I thought you’d left already.”
As she turned to leave, Torres sat up. “Are you all right?”
“It's nothing. I'm terribly sorry for the interruption.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She forced a smile. “I'm fine.”
“It's your husband, isn't it?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? Your husband came here for dinner and things went poorly.”
Ximena bristled at the man’s nosiness. She took a deep breath and said, “Every marriage has its ups and down, Señor Torres.” She certainly wasn’t going to discuss her problems with Torres, a man she hardly knew, a mere business contact. Even less so while her nymphbots were giving him head.
“I’m sorry to hear it, my dear,” he said, closing his eyes and moaning softly as the blonde took over. “Perhaps he’s just working too hard. Politics is a nasty business.”
Ximena turned to the door. “I’ll leave you alone. Again, my apologies for the interruption, Señor Torres.”
She reached for the doorknob and stopped. She then turned back toward the bed and stepped forward. “Señor Torres, may I ask how it is that you know my husband works in politics?”
Torres looked down, his eyes darting back and forth like he was searching the bedsheets for an answer. He removed himself from the blonde’s mouth. “Well...let me try to remember...you must have mentioned it to me...about Javier’s work...”
The nosy bastard.
“I’ve never mentioned my husband’s work. And I’m even more certain I never told you his first name.” She took another step toward the bed. The thought of this Torres poking around her private life, now of all times, made her blood rise. Torres fidgeted and avoided Ximena’s glare.
Another menacing step toward the bed. “Señor Torres, please answer my question.”
Torres shooed the nymphbots away. He sat up straight and said, “My dear, I must have misspoken. I'm sure I was thinking of someone else. I didn't mean to upset you.”
Valued customer or not, Ximena was in no mood for his fumbling non-answers. “How dare you snoop into my private affairs,” she sneered, “you fat piece of shit.”
Torres made a feeble attempt to appear insulted. “Señora, I'm not going to sit here and listen to your accusations—”
The command Ximena uttered was almost inaudible. There was a flash of moving limbs, and suddenly the brunette nymphbot was clutching Torres’ throat. The blond had him by the balls. Both nymphbots squeezed tightly. Torres flailed helplessly as they held him in place with their free hands.
“What the hell are you doing?” he managed to choke out.
Ximena glowered over Torres, his face red and contorted with pain, spittle dripping from one side of his mouth.
“Today’s not the day to fuck with me, Señor Torres,” she said. “I have your attention now, yes?”
“Yes, yes,” he grunted. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Ximena muttered another command and the bots released him. Torres coughed and wheezed, catching his breath and gingerly checking his neck and balls for damage. Ximena sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Now, tell me.”
When Torres caught his breath, he said, “I wasn’t snooping, señora. Your husband hired my company a few weeks ago.” The bots stood against the wall, naked with their arms crossed, scowling at him. “It’s something we do all the time for potential candidates,” he said. “Background screens to check for financial improprieties, criminal records, skeletons in the closet.”
Potential candidates?
As Torres gave up all the details, Ximena felt the hope she’d clutched onto for weeks melt away entirely. She exited the Red Room and numbly walked to the reception area.
“Are you okay?” Angela asked from behind the front desk. Ximena approached the window and gazed out over her city.
“I'm fine,” she answered.
“He's still in your office,” Angela said carefully. “I think he's waiting for you. Should I ask him to leave?”
She watched her city fade into twilight gray as the last of the sun’s rays melted into nothing. “No, Angela, thank you. I’ll see to him.”
When had she lost him? When she opened the brothel? No, it had been long before that. Ximena remembered the dinner party they’d hosted four, maybe five, years ago.
***
“I must have fucked a hundred boys by the time I was fifteen,” Ximena had said with a smile and a shrug. The comment had frozen all conversation at the dinner party.
She remembered how Javier laughed nervously at the comment, saying, “Xime, I don’t think this is the time—”
“Oh, Javi, come now.” She looked around the table at their guests, a dozen of Javier’s colleagues from party headquarters, all staring at her with their mouths agape. One of the wives scowled and shook her head, the derision clear on her face.
“We’re all adults here, aren’t we?” Ximena asked. No one answered. A few managed to force polite smiles, returning their attention to their bowls of oxtail stew. Later, when the last guest had left, Javier let her have it.
“If your goal tonight was to make me look bad, you did one hell of a job.”
Ximena threw her hands in the air. “I don't know how you put up with those people. They’re all so uptight. They may belong to a progressive political party, but you’d never fucking guess as much. And why do you give a damn what they think?”
Javier ran his hand through his hair. “Jesus, how many times are we going to have this conversation? Whether I like it or not, whether you like it or not, I work in a profession where image matters. I’m working myself to death to get somewhere, to build some kind of career, and my own wife goes and gives them a year’s worth of office gossip material.” He shook his head. “You just can't come out and say stuff like that, Xime.”
His career. Ximena had grown to loathe his career with the National Action Party. When they’d met, Javier had had little interest in politics. Through a law school friend’s recommendation, he’d been offered a job at the party’s headquarters. Good salary and benefits, lots of room to move up.
In the years that followed, with his professional skills, good looks, and natural charm, he quickly climbed the ranks of the local party machine. And with each step up the career ladder, their marriage became more difficult, more tenuous.
Ximena clanged the silverware into the sink. “I can't stand those ridiculous fawning women. Giggling like schoolgirls at their husband’s bad jokes, obsessing over their social calendar, gossiping at the hair salons.” She grunted. “They’re pathetic, the whole fucking lot of them.”
Javier didn’t say anything.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m sorry, amor. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You know that, right?”
Javier stood in front of the balcony window, his arms folded, staring out into the night.
“You know that, right?” she asked again.
He nodded. She noticed his eyes were sad, like he was recalling a painful memory.
“I know, Xime, I know.” He sighed. “You are who you are.”
***
Ximena hadn’t thought of that dinner party in years, but now she recognized how things had changed after that night, how Javier had never looked at her in quite the same way, how they began to fight more often and more bitterly. Why hadn't she been aware o
f this when it was happening? Why only now, when it was far too late, could she see the pattern of their slow and steady decay?
The bot brothel hadn’t been the cause, of course. It had been the last straw, the final breaking point that drove him away. How naive she’d been, believing that any day Javier would come to his senses and come back.
Ximena went to the office and found Javier still seated at the table. The flickering candles had melted halfway down. The papers were still where he’d laid them.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to run for office?”
Javier looked surprised. “How did you—”
“It doesn't matter how I found out. It just surprised me. You’d never mentioned anything like that before. You could have told me, you know.” There was a time when he’d told her everything. Every grandiose dream, every secret desire.
Javier sighed. “Would it have mattered?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes. “Would you have done anything differently?”
Ximena shook her head. “You know me better than that.”
“I do,” he said. “You are who you are, Xime. I don't want to change you.”
He left the rest of it unspoken: a robot brothel owner for a wife, even in the most liberal of societies, was an impossibly heavy liability for a career-minded politician. Ximena understood this. She understood everything.
They said nothing for a long while. Ximena finally approached the table and picked up the papers.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, her eyes brightening. “Do me one favor and I'll sign.”
Javier looked skeptical. “Favor?”
Ximena opened the side door of the office to reveal her private suite. She looked at the plush, oversized bed and then back to Javier with the naughty, inviting smile that had won him over countless times. “One last go for old times’ sake?”
Javier looked stunned by the unexpected offer. Then his eyes narrowed as he…What? Considered her offer? Came up with a polite excuse to leave? Ximena steeled herself for an abrupt refusal.
Agonizing seconds passed, and then Javier finally returned her smile. A wave of joyous relief washed over her.
As they undressed one another, their time apart seemed to disappear. She felt her skin warm under his strong hands, caressing the curves of her legs, belly, and breasts. Her first orgasm came almost immediately, rippling through her body before he was even inside her.