Renaldo

by James McCreath

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  JAMES McCREATH

  and nipples. All sense of decorum and propriety had disappeared with manager

  Suarez’s order to “go and have some fun.”

  “It would seem that I should have a few words with Señor Vida myself

  before he starts using that table as his personal casting couch. It would reflect

  on me personally if a client of mine became too exuberant in his celebrations.

  We can’t have that in the midst a public gathering. I will remind Ramon of our

  meeting tomorrow, but I am depending on you, Renaldo, to make sure that he

  arrives with all his faculties functioning.”

  The agent knew perfectly well that he could count on his conscientious

  client to show up with Vida in tow, but more than anything, he was enjoying

  the game of cat and mouse that was obviously driving Renaldo to distraction.

  The anxious look on the player’s face made it crystal clear that Simone was his

  only thought, and her whereabouts the only thing in this world that mattered

  to him right now. It was almost painful to look at the boy.

  The image of young love suddenly and unexpectedly vanished from the

  agent’s mind as the question of Lonnie De Seta’s fate surfaced. It was the first

  time in hours that The Fat Man had conjured up that nasty business. If things

  had gone according to plan, there would be one less De Seta to contend with.

  Poor Renaldo. To lose a brother was a terrible thing.

  Well, I will know about Lonnie’s situation soon enough. Right now, it’s Viva

  Argentina time! he rationalized, turning away from his audience. “Good night,

  Renaldo. Don’t party too hard. I will see you in the morning.”

  “Señor, please, one moment. What news do you have of Simone? Where

  can I find her?” The urgent, almost tragic tone of the question brought a broad

  grin to the agent’s round face.

  “Oh yes, Simone! I almost forgot. Here, she told me to give you this.”

  Gordero pulled a metal fob with a key attached from his jacket pocket, then

  entrusted it into the footballer’s hand. Renaldo held it ever so delicately while

  reading the inscription.

  ‘Hotel Presidente, Ambassador’s suite,’ read the engraved black script

  on the gold metal. The boy raised his head and looked at his mentor with a

  puzzled expression. The agent’s response was fatherly in tone.

  “My, my, we will have to teach you the ways of the world, won’t we? Go,

  go to her! That is her suite tonight. She is waiting for you there now. Take the

  service elevator by the kitchen where you came in. That way, no one will bother

  you. The suite is on the seventh floor. Seven! A lucky number, so they say!

  Good night, my dear boy. I will see you tomorrow at one o’clock sharp.”

  Renaldo stood glued to the spot where he stood. His knees felt weak and

  the key almost slipped from his grasp, so sweat covered had his palms suddenly

  become. He watched the drunk facilitator stumble over to Vida’s table, then

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  glanced down at the key to paradise. As much as he had fantasized about this

  moment, he was now trembling with outright fear.

  Simone, Ambassador’s Suite, service elevator. The words kept repeating

  themselves over and over again in his mind. It was only the intrusion of an

  intoxicated army officer seeking the scoring sensation’s autograph that snapped

  Renaldo out of his daze.

  The player obliged the military man’s request, declined an invitation to

  have a drink with the officer and his cohorts, then excused himself as politely

  as possible. Making it to the stage door was no easy task, as more would-be

  friends and souvenir hunters descended upon the boy at every turn.

  Finally, he was clear of the mob and through the entrance to the service

  area. A startled, awe-struck waiter gave Argentina’s newest hero directions

  to the service elevators, then offered to show Renaldo the way personally in

  exchange for an autograph. The player figured that a uniformed escort may

  just fend off other unwanted annoyances, so he readily accepted the employee’s

  help. In little over two minutes’ time, Renaldo De Seta was standing outside

  the door of the Ambassador’s Suite, his heart pounding and his head spinning

  in anticipation of the treasures that lay behind that mystic portal.

  He had been rendered physically incapable of using the key, and it seemed

  an eternity before his knock was answered. When she finally stood before

  him, he thought that he would faint. He could not move, only stare in silent

  apprehension and appreciation.

  She was attired in a pink chiffon floor-length wrap, which was gathered at

  one shoulder and held in place by a golden clasp. Its semi-opaque material was

  meant to tease the beholder, but Renaldo’s searching eyes were able to detect

  a cornucopia of feminine delights beneath the flowing mantle. Her matching

  pink stiletto pumps gave her added stature and allure.

  Simone gently grasped her visitor’s hand and pulled him into her private

  world. Not a word was spoken as their lips met in the most delicate of kisses.

  The boy had never tasted anything so sweet. Tenderness escalated into passion

  the longer their lips held the embrace, but before things could get out of hand,

  Simone gently freed herself from his arms.

  “I am so glad you came to me, Renaldo. You don’t know how I have

  longed for this night. Come, let’s have a drink and get comfortable.”

  It was true. She had waited for this moment, and there was no way that

  she was going to rush things. She was in control, and she would set the tempo.

  Her finishing school for young boys was about to commence.

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  Renaldo followed her to the living room couch without saying a word.

  Simone’s image flickered in the glow of countless lit candles as she walked. A

  grand piano adorned one corner of the suite’s main salon, while a fully stocked

  bar enhanced another. Simone had thought of everything.

  The stereo softly spun the familiar melodies of the Frank Sinatra-Antonio

  Carlos Jobim album that the boy loved so much, and beside the couch sat a

  beautiful Martin acoustic guitar. The drapes had been drawn to shut out the

  ongoing celebration that continued noisily on the streets seven stories below

  them. The mood that the singer had set was perfect. Perfect for love!

  “What shall we have to drink? I’ve opened a bottle of champagne, but

  there is anything you could ever imagine here.”

  Renaldo could only drink in her beauty, nothing else. Her long brown curls

  fell below her shoulders, and in the candlelight, her enormous dark eyes and

  full lips had a richness and sensuality, the likes of which he had never imagined

  possible. All he could do was sit mutely, overwhelmed by her beauty.

  “So, what will it be? Don’t be shy. This won’t hurt a bit. Here, let’s have

  some champagne together. I’ll add a fresh strawberry to sweeten things up.”

  “It could never be as sweet as you look right now.” He was amazed that he

  was able to articulate the emotion pent up within him. “I mean, in my wildest

  dreams, I never imagined anyone could ever look the way you do tonight. I find

&
nbsp; this all very hard to comprehend. I have to pinch myself to make sure that I am

  really here, alone with you.”

  She seemed to glide across the room on a cushion of air as she carried the

  two crystal goblets to the couch.

  “Here, have a sip of this. It will relax you. What a day you have had!

  You must be totally exhausted. Why don’t you let me make you more

  comfortable.”

  She pushed her guest slightly forward and removed the team blazer from

  his shoulders, throwing it on a side chair when it was full extracted from his

  upper torso. His tie went next, followed in quick succession by the uncoupling

  of most of the buttons on his white cotton dress-shirt.

  “There, that’s better! Now, a toast to Renaldo De Seta, world champion!”

  Simone entwined her right arm lovingly with his as the soft clink of

  crystal on crystal preceded their mutual imbibing. Their eyes were riveted

  to each other’s as they slowly sampled the frothy nectar. The lady’s lips then

  replaced the goblet’s touch on those of her companion. Her perfume enveloped

  him as they explored the sweetness with their tongues. Simone sighed softly as

  she once again pulled away.

  “Let me show you something that I know will turn you to putty in my

  hands.”

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  She slid to the floor in one smooth motion, then removed his loafers in

  the blink of an eye. The dark socks that covered his feet also disappeared in a

  heartbeat.

  “How is your injured foot? Does it still pain you greatly?”

  Her hands felt incredibly soft as she massaged the soles of his feet. The

  boy had never felt anything like this sensation in his life.

  “You should have been my physiotherapist instead of that roughneck they

  had working on me. God knows how many more goals I could have scored with

  this kind of treatment.”

  Renaldo’s voice sounded calm and at ease. Simone smiled up at him as he

  stretched his body out to give her easier access to this new source of pleasure.

  Once his head reclined back against the soft cushions of the sofa, the teacher

  knew that she had her pupil totally under control.

  “Quiet nights of quiet stars, quiet cords from my guitar, floating on the

  silence that surrounds us.” Sinatra’s lilting voice was a perfect backdrop for the

  total release that Renaldo was experiencing. Simone had been right, he was

  putty in her hands.

  Renaldo had no idea how long she silently but lovingly attended to his

  aching extremities. All he was aware of was the tremendous sense of contentment

  and relaxation that had seeped into every inch of his being. It was another

  sensation, however, that shocked his manly urges into full awakening.

  Along with her gentle manipulations suddenly came the soft blowing of

  warm breath on the tips of his toes. Then, one by one, each small protrusion

  was affectionately engulfed in the warmth of her mouth, where it was treated

  to the most intimate of introductions. This oral reflexology sent shock waves to

  the boy’s brain, the resultant effect of which became prominently noticeable by

  his undeniable arousal. He was incapable of vocalizing his feelings, so intense

  was the reaction to her ministrations. The only response the pupil was capable

  of mustering was a succession of low, guttural moans.

  The soothing, sweet-toned sounds of ‘Corcovado’ continued in the

  background.

  “This is where I want to be, here with you so close to me. Until the final

  flicker of life’s embers . . .”

  She was aware of his confined acknowledgement, but did not alter her

  curriculum to suit his needs. This could not be rushed. These lessons required

  patience and control to bring the student to matriculation.

  In time, when each of the ten had received the desired amount of

  attention, Simone slowly, ever so gently, started to caress her apprentice’s inner

  calves. Working her way up to his inner thigh, it was impossible for her to

  not feel his need, so strained was the material of his grey flannels. Finally, she

  took pity on his discomfort, and while one hand explored the firmness of his

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  hairless, exposed chest, the other silently uncoupled the leather belt buckle that

  constrained her reward.

  The undergraduate was more than willing to assist his professor at this

  point, all caution and shyness having evaporated. The metal zipper was torn

  asunder in one swift motion, and a slight rise of the young man’s buttocks

  allowed his instructor to discard the unwanted vestments.

  Simone had closed her eyes, not wanting to gaze upon her treasure just

  yet. She pulled herself up beside him, so that his taunt nipple rested perfectly

  on her lips. With ever-mounting lust, she twirled the erect object with her

  tongue, then drew it into the warmth of her sweet mouth, just as she had done

  earlier with the tips of his body. She knew full well that he was experiencing

  immense pleasure, but offsetting this was the considerable frustration of her

  not focusing on the center of his newly blossomed desire.

  In the end, Simone could no longer stand it herself. She set about kissing

  her way down that rock-hard chest, lingering with her tongue around his navel,

  then sliding to the floor between his legs. She allowed herself the sense of sight

  once she had settled comfortably there, and the vision she beheld silhouetted in

  the candlelight took her breath away.

  He looked so beautiful sitting there in all his maleness. It was her turn

  to drink in his aroma, to revel in the aura of that immense object. She tried

  to grasp it gently in her hand, but her grip was too small. Two hands were

  required to continue this course of study, but the educator remained undaunted

  and pressed on with the lesson. Her tongue played an integral part in this

  passion play now, as did her lips, teeth, and full mouth.

  Several times she perceived her disciple’s white tears of love to be on the

  brink of expulsion, but the evangelist had learned how to control these urges.

  She was an expert educator, and class would not be dismissed until all her

  courses had been taught!

  Finally, when her own desires became irresistible, she took him by the

  hand and led him to her boudoir. More candles decorated that chamber, which

  highlighted a king-sized, Louis the Fourteenth canopy covered bed. Renaldo was

  suddenly overcome with self-consciousness, his exposed manhood prominently

  on display for his adoring lover to gaze upon. Simone guided him to the bed,

  gently pushing him onto his back.

  “Get comfortable, my love, and don’t be shy. I will join you presently.”

  She stood at the foot of the giant playground, and with one touch of her

  hand to the shoulder clasp of the chiffon wrap, the confining article fell to the

  floor.

  The boy had never conjured up such a vision of erotic pulchritude, even

  in his most stimulating of moments. Simone’s height was accentuated by the

  stiletto pumps. Her smooth, long legs were caressed by the sheerest of pale pink

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  stockings. From a lacy mid-length bustier of matching
color extended ornately

  woven garters, which, in turn, clasped the sheer fabric encasing those beautiful

  gams. It was a breathtaking sight, one that brought the student to the verge of

  losing all control.

  His administrator was attentive to his needs, however, and she joined him

  on the pillared laboratory for her introductory anatomy lesson. Their lips met

  once more, this time with some urgency, for the lady was aware that the heat

  of their passion had drenched her velvet cleft. Suddenly, she withdrew her lips

  and whispered in his ear.

  “I want to teach you how to pleasure a lady, how to make her insane with

  abandon. We will start with a kiss on the lips, then work our way down to our

  ultimate goal. Don’t be scared. I will show you exactly what to do.”

  Again she kissed him tenderly, then slowly, ever so lovingly, took his soft

  curls in her hands and guided his mouth to her breast. First one, then the other,

  while her sweet voice cooed instructions. Further south on this new journey, the

  traveler wandered, allowing his tongue to explore the hidden pleasures of her

  tiny navel. The texture and scent of her soft, silky skin combined to completely

  overshadow his own yearnings.

  Further down past the equator, the adventurer roamed on his quest for

  knowledge, guided expertly at each step by his knowing tutor.

  Ultimately, he beheld the center of her universe, and with it, all the

  joyous wonders contained therein. Softly, with her husky, soothing voice giving

  encouragement, the instructor nuzzled his features against her soul. She had

  waited so long for this . . . had thought of very little else each time she had laid

  eyes on him. And now, now she would teach him to be a man.

  She was diligent and exacting in her enlightenment of the boy, making

  each semester last until she could resist no longer. The waves that eventually

  swept over her, driving her to a state of fretful convulsions . . . these were proof

  of his passing grade.

  She had ushered him out of teenage adolescence and into that sacred realm

  that some men never achieve in a lifetime. She had given him this gift to bond

  their love, for she was fully aware that a more intimate union between man and

  woman did not exist!

  The student could not believe his instructor’s demonstrative reaction to