Panting from her race through the woods and into the house, Zafiro gazed around the great room. “Where are Tia, Maclovio, Lorenzo—”
“Tia is ironing Sawyer’s shirts in her room. The men finished making the bundles of kindling, and I helped them. Now Maclovio is passed out in the hall upstairs. He is too heavy to move, so we just left him there. Lorenzo is asleep in his bed, and Pedro is going through the house marking all the doors with lamb’s blood.”
“What?”
Azucar laid her mirror down on the table and smiled. “He says the Angel of Death will soon pass over the house, and the lamb’s blood will keep her from killing all of us. But it is not really lamb’s blood that he uses. It is only water that Tia colored with red berry juice. Pedro was happy when she gave it to him, and he is now very busy marking the doors. Pedro, he is only a crazy old man, Zafiro, and we must take good care of him. Tell me, do you like my hair up like this? I think my lovers will like it very much.”
Zafiro saw that Azucar had twisted her brittle white hair into a knot on the top of her head and kept the arrangement in place by means of two tin forks. The handles of the utensils stuck out of her head like two shiny horns. “Your hair is very nice like that, Azucar.”
“Yes, my lovers are going to be like rutting bulls when they see how very pretty I am.” Azucar reached up and patted her hair. “Now, tell me what is the matter with you.”
Zafiro dropped her boots and stockings by the door and peeked out of the window to make sure Sawyer hadn’t followed her from the stream. When she didn’t see him she turned back to Azucar. “I need to talk to you.”
“Come,” Azucar said. “Sit by me, and we will talk.”
“It is about men. I want to talk about men.”
“They are my favorite things to talk about.”
“Their bodies… Their bodies change, Azucar. I do not think a woman’s does. I have never seen my own body change.”
Azucar smiled again. “Come here with me.”
Zafiro sat down at the table beside the old woman. “A man’s part… His private part…”
“That is the best part of a man. And you must believe what I say, Zafiro, because I have seen thousands of man parts.” Azucar leaned back in her chair, recalling her many lovers of the past. “Man parts,” she murmured. “Some thick, some skinny. Some long, some short. Some appear red, others are very dark. But all are wonderful.”
“And they change? The man part, it changes?”
Azucar laughed. “It would be very sad if it did not.”
Zafiro felt more confused by the moment. “But why does it change, Azucar? How is it possible for a man part to be soft and little and then hard and big? What does that mean?”
For a moment Azucar merely looked at Zafiro. “Why do you ask me these questions? You have seen a man part change like this?”
Zafiro formed her explanation carefully. It certainly wouldn’t do for Azucar to know that she’d handled Sawyer’s man part. Such knowledge might very well make the old woman jealous.
And upsetting the dear, sweet Azucar was the last thing in the world Zafiro wanted to do. “I saw Sawyer’s man part change, Azucar,” she said. “He was bathing in the stream, and I accidentally caught him there. He did not see me, but before I could leave, his man part went from little and soft to big and hard. I saw it change with my own eyes, and I did not understand.”
“Poor Sawyer,” Azucar cooed, smiling once more. “He is so ready to bed me. When you saw him in the stream he was probably thinking about me, about my body, and the arousing things I can do to him. I will not change my mind though. Only when he has the gold will I give him his night of ecstasy.”
Zafiro allowed Azucar to fantasize for a few minutes. “But you did not answer my question, Azucar. Why did Sawyer’s man part grow the way it did?”
“That is what happens when a man wants a woman, chiquita.”
“But why?”
A smile still lingering on her lips, Azucar rose from her chair and crossed to Tia’s cooking pot, which hung over the gentle flames in the hearth. With a spoon she removed a single cooked noodle from the pot.
She then hobbled to the pantry, where Tia kept foods that she’d dried and put up for the times when fresh food was scarce. There she found a large jar of dried noodles and picked one from the container.
Next she slipped a small key from the gaping bodice of her gown.
Zafiro frowned when Azucar placed the cooked noodle, the dried noodle, and the key on the table. “Why do you give me these things?”
Azucar sat back down in her chair. “There is a small hole at the top of the key.”
“Yes.”
“You have a soft noodle and a hard noodle.”
“Yes.”
“Push each into the hole in the key, and then tell me which noodle was the easiest to push through.”
Zafiro stared at the two noodles and the hole in the key.
She smiled. “I do not have to try. The hard noodle will be easier to push through the hole because it will not bend or sag.”
“That is why a man’s body changes. So he can easily push his staff into the soft, warm tunnel between a woman’s legs. If his man part did not harden—”
“It would be like trying to push this flimsy cooked noodle into the little hole in the key!” Zafiro picked up the cooked noodle, smiling with it drooped over her thumb and forefinger.
Sawyer’s bodily change meant that he’d been ready to make love to her, she realized. He’d been ready to push his staff into her soft, warm tunnel the way Azucar had described.
It meant that Sawyer wanted her.
“Do you know when Sawyer will have any gold, Zafiro?” Azucar queried. “I have been waiting so long to pleasure that handsome buck. Maybe if I give him a free night he will do everything he can to get gold for another night. I know that once he has had me he will want me again and again and again. It is always that way with the men who experience my favors.”
Zafiro could only imagine how Sawyer would react to Azucar’s idea. The men irritated him enough. He certainly didn’t need to deal with Azucar’s antics as well. “No, Azucar. He is never going to have any gold, so it would be a waste of your time to give him a free night.”
At that, Azucar laughed. “Lovemaking is never a waste of time, Zafiro. When have you ever heard me say that I did not enjoy being with the men I entertained?”
Ordinarily, Zafiro would have listened avidly to whatever titillating story Azucar was about to relate, but her discovery concerning Sawyer, his man part, and his wanting her occupied her every thought.
“And do not think that the men did not enjoy me,” Azucar boasted again, patting Zafiro’s hand. “They did. So much that many of them spent every peso of their work pay to have me.”
“Yes, I am sure they did, Azucar.” Zafiro rose from the chair and began to amble around the room, all the while marveling over the fact that Sawyer had wanted to make love to her.
“Men,” Azucar said, and sighed a long sigh. “They are not like women. Sometimes a woman, she does not have the mood for lovemaking. I do not know why this is so, but it is not like that with men. They are always ready for a woman. Men will do almost anything for a good time between the sheets. Anything at all.”
“Yes,” Zafiro answered absently. “Anything at… Anything…”
By the stove Zafiro stopped and slowly turned toward Azucar, the old woman’s words flowing through her senses like the scent of beautiful perfume.
Men will do almost anything for a good time between the sheets.
Sawyer, Zafiro thought. He wanted her. Wanted to make love to her.
She’d seen and felt the proof of his desire when she’d nearly pulled it off.
If she let him make love to her, if she gave her soft, warm tunnel to him, would he consent to listen to her story about Luis? Would he agree to help her men remember their skills?
Men will do almost anything for a good time between the sheets .
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br /> “Azucar?”
“Yes?”
Zafiro returned to the table and sat back down with the seasoned lady of the evening. “I know you’ve already told me almost everything there is to know about what men and women do in the bed, but would you mind very much telling me again?”
“Mind?” Once again, Azucar laughed. “Oh, Zafiro, my lovely girl, nothing would make me happier.”
And when Azucar began to describe and explain the many aspects of lovemaking, Zafiro memorized every word.
Chapter Eight
Her mind nearly bursting with all the information Azucar had imparted, Zafiro stood naked in front of the mirror that hung inside one of the doors of her armoire, and held the red gown up to her shoulders.
The black lace that trimmed the dress was rather droopy, but the scarlet satin still shimmered. And although the gown was a good four or five inches too short, Zafiro remembered that Azucar said men liked to see the turn of a woman’s ankle.
It was the dress of a true seductress. “Azucar let me borrow it,” she informed Jengibre and Mariposa, both of whom watched her from the bed. “I told her that I only wanted to see what it looked like on me.”
While the animals stared at her, Zafiro slipped into the dress, amazed and delighted by how wonderful the soft satin felt against her bare skin.
The gleaming fabric clung to each curve and line of her body. Accustomed as she was to seeing the dress hang on Azucar’s bony frame, Zafiro hadn’t realized how snugly the gown was supposed to fit.
The lace-trimmed bodice hugged her breasts and plunged low in the front, barely covering her nipples, and a high slit up the left side of her dress showed her leg all the way up to the top of her thigh.
“Do you think this dress will make Sawyer’s eyes bulge?” she asked her pets. “Azucar said that men’s eyes always bulge out when they see a woman dressed in such finery.”
She studied her hair. Men liked to unpin a woman’s hair right before lovemaking began, Azucar said. They liked watching it fall down a woman’s shoulders, and then they liked to push their fingers into it. Trouble was, Zafiro didn’t have any hairpins. And she didn’t want to use forks, the way Azucar had. Deliberating, she looked around her room in search of some other kind of item that might work.
Finally, she spied the vase of freshly picked red roses that sat on her bedside table. Fifteen minutes later she finished twisting her long, thick hair into loose knots on the top of her head, all of which she kept in place by working the thorny stems of the crimson roses into and through strategic places.
Now for the cosmetics. Azucar had explained that colored cheeks and lips and dramatically lined eyes roused a man’s appreciation of beauty, and so Zafiro had also asked to borrow Azucar’s box of face paints, all of which Azucar made herself with whatever ingredients were available to her.
Zafiro opened a small pot and saw that it held a greasy, beet-red substance. Remembering how rosy Azucar’s cheeks always were, she decided the red stuff was for her face. She smeared onto her cheeks two perfect circles. Then, so her mouth would match her cheeks, she smoothed a bit of the red grease on her lips.
It didn’t smell very good. In fact, it smelled rancid, as if it had gone bad.
“Well,” she said to Jengibre and Mariposa, “the smell will probably go away after a while. And I can always wear some scent to cover it up.”
Next she found a matchbox full of black powder and a matchstick whose end was covered with the black powder. The black dust looked like soot, and she realized it was for the eyes. Using the matchstick as an applicator, she lined both the top and bottom lash lines of her eyes, then she stood back and examined her face.
It certainly was colorful, she thought, and her eyes certainly did stand out.
Sawyer’s appreciation of her beauty would certainly be roused.
She decided to go barefoot. The only shoes she had were her boots, and they were old and covered with mud. Too, they made loud clodding noises when she walked, and tonight she had to be the very essence of grace and femininity.
Because Azucar said men liked light-footed women. Light-footed women whose hips swayed and breasts jutted out.
For a final touch, and with the hope that a bit of scent would overcome the unpleasant smell of the rouge, she sprinkled homemade rosewater over her neck and shoulders.
“I am ready,” she murmured to her pets. “Ready to give Sawyer so much passion that he will not be able to say no to anything I ask of him.”
She retrieved a scrap of paper upon which she’d jotted down a list of passionate things that Azucar said men liked to hear. Slipping the note into the bodice of her gown, she looked toward the window.
It was almost nighttime. Already she could see a few stars glimmering in the darkening sky. Sawyer would be in the barn soon. The last chore he performed at night was feeding and watering Pancha, Rayo, and Mister.
But he’d find more than the cow, the burro, and the mule in the barn tonight.
He’d find Zafiro.
And ecstasy.
Sawyer tossed a pile of hay over Coraje’s paddock fence, barely moving away in time before the ill-tempered stallion lunged his huge head over the railing and bared his teeth. “Son of a bitch!” Sawyer shouted, watching as the horse bucked and reared.
Why Zafiro kept the malicious animal was beyond Sawyer’s comprehension. Who cared if the horse would come when he heard a whistle? No one could get near him, much less ride him.
Hearing Pancha, Rayo, and Mister calling from inside the barn, Sawyer picked up the two buckets of water he’d brought from the stream and entered the shabby stable. Ordinarily, he would have had to light the lantern that hung from a nail beside the door, but not tonight.
Soft light already filled the animal sanctuary. Bewildered, Sawyer saw a multitude of lighted candles scattered throughout the barn. He walked farther inside, wondering who had created such a fire hazard.
Probably one of the old outlaws, he thought. Maybe Pedro had decided that this night was the night of the Savior’s birth, and the candlelight was supposed to be the light of the star of Bethlehem.
Ten or fifteen minutes more and the light of the star of Bethlehem would have turned poor Pancha, Rayo, and Mister into the biggest banquet of roasted meat La Escondida had ever seen.
Shaking his head, Sawyer approached the animals’ stalls, but stopped when he saw his trunk lying nearby.
He closed his eyes against the instant crash of something horrible that grabbed at him, but a long while passed before the feeling released him.
Dammit, what was in the trunk?
He didn’t know.
Didn’t want to know.
Not yet.
Breathing deeply to steady himself, he poured the clean, fresh water into the animals’ water troughs. He then gave the hungry beasts several scoops of grain, making a mental reminder that he had to somehow replenish the dwindling supply of feed.
Watching Pancha, Rayo, and Mister munch their oats, he rubbed the back of his neck and pondered the idea of fencing two pastures, one for Pancha and Rayo and another for Coraje. If they had an enclosed place where they could graze, they wouldn’t need so much hay or grain.
He wondered if there was enough grazing area within the confines of the hideaway. Deciding to investigate the possibility in the morning, he began blowing out the candles.
“Do not blow them out, my handsome buck.”
Startled, and with his mouth still pursed from blowing the candles, Sawyer turned around and saw Zafiro close the barn doors. She then slid into place the board that locked the two weathered portals.
“We must have our privacy,” she explained, dusting off her hands. “With the board barring the door, no one can come in and interrupt us.”
Dumbstruck, Sawyer stared at her. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn she was wearing one of Azucar’s dresses.
The gown sure looked different on Zafiro.
“I know you must be hungry after you
r long day of work," Zafiro said huskily, remembering that men liked it when a woman spoke with a low, throaty voice. “But forget about dinner.”
Still standing in front of the barn doors, she drew her gaze down the length of his body. He wore only his breeches and his boots. She’d seen his bare chest before. Many times she’d seen him completely naked.
But things were different tonight.
Tonight she would touch his bare body the way a woman touches her lover. And he, in turn, would do the same to her.
A yearning stirred within her, a hunger that filled her with a sweet, deep ache. Greedily, as if the sight of him were the first course of a splendid feast, she devoured him with her eyes, missing no enticing part of him.
Candlelight coated his skin like the mellow mist of a golden morning, playing over and seeping into every curve, bulge, and crevice of his torso. His long, thick hair drenched his shoulders and chest with drizzles of gold, and his eyes picked up the hue, the tawny hue, gleaming at her like those of a lion who knew he could have anything in the world if he so chose to have it.
And he wanted her. This lion of a man, Sawyer Donovan, wanted her.
Her heart flopped within her breast, like a fish out of water. “Tonight, Sawyer,” she murmured, “you will have only dessert—me.”
She walked toward him, swinging her hips as widely as she could get them to swing, and with her breasts jutting out as far as she could get them to jut. “You like what you see, don’t you, buck?”
Sawyer still hadn’t figured out what he was seeing. He could only gape at Zafiro in pure, unadulterated amazement.
“Your eyes, they are bulging, buck,” Zafiro murmured. Finally, she arrived before him, stopping just far enough away from where he stood so that he could get the full view of her, from head to toe.
As he continued to stare at her with wide eyes, she tried to think of a few more sensuous lines to say to him, things that had worked for Azucar when she’d been in the harlot business. “I have not seen a man like you in a very long time, buck. Just looking at you makes…”
Having forgotten the rest of the line, she dug into the bodice of her gown, withdrew the scrap of paper, and quickly scanned it. “Just looking at you makes me burn with desire. I know that if I do not soon have you inside me I will burst into flames.”
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