For once I listened more than I talked, slightly intimidated by the Argentine accent that was difficult for me to understand. Rafa, on the other hand, had no problem following along even though it sounded so different. I was particularly confused by their abundant use of vos and vosotros, which eventually I figured out meant tu and ustedes, and by two in the morning several of Cari and Santiago’s friends had joined us at the table, ordering bottle after bottle of wine and enjoying the couples still dancing late into the night. The later it got the more risqué the dancing became, until at one point two dancers stopped in mid performance and left the floor, overcome by the need to really have sex instead of just simulate it. Quite a few people in the room whistled and cat called, laughing as they urged them to finish their performance out in the open.
When the topic turned to something that had happened at the last show, Rafa gave me his full attention, whispering in my ear as his hand found his way under the tablecloth, first to my knee then to my inner thigh. I wasn’t sure how much he’d had to drink, but his filter was completely gone. Giving me a little kiss on my neck, he started to talk.
“Mamita, you should let me reach under your dress and slide my fingers inside you. No one can see. But then again, maybe you want to be seen. I’m not going to be able to make it home without fucking you.” As his fingers danced dangerously close to the apex of my thighs, I squirmed away, just a bit, and gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“Then fuck me,” I whispered back. I squeezed his wrist, running my fingers over the Rolex he had finally, reluctantly agreed to accept from me. He’d insisted the other two be sent back, but this one, my favorite, he’d kept.
“You should tell them the story of how we met,” he said, trying to free his hand. I held him tight, then he kissed me, a little at first, then more when I opened my lips. I glanced at Cari and Santiago, who were giving each other little pecks while deep in a conversation of their own.
“You mean when you showed up at my room and buried your face between my legs within five minutes of meeting me? That story?” He tried again to push his fingers into my panties, but I dug my nails into his wrist. We were both breathing hard now, about to lose it in public. “Down, boy.”
“Come on,” he said, abruptly standing up. I put my hand in his, thinking it rude to leave without saying anything, but not really caring at this point either. I was just as turned on as Rafa, maybe more.
“Going to finish your drink?” asked Santiago with a smile. He put his arm around Cari suggestively and rubbed her shoulder.
“Yes,” said Rafa. “Do you know of a quieter spot?”
“There’s a small alcove just beyond the bar that we like.”
Rafa could barely wait until we’d rounded the corner to kiss me again, this time holding nothing back. He plunged his fingers into me, doing something rather aggressive that felt like he was stretching me, then used his other hand on my ass to pull me as close as he could.
“Te amo,” he murmured, kissing and licking my lips. The music and everything else faded into the background as he murmured sweet nothings in the dark. “My sexy wife.”
“¡Ay!” came a female voice from a few feet away. It was Cari, her hand on the opposite wall with Santiago right behind her. Santiago took swig of wine from the open bottle in his hand, then offered Cari a taste, at no time taking his eyes off us. Rafa looked over his shoulder and Santiago’s eyes went to his as if to ask permission to stay, which must have been granted in some subtle way. Unsure of what to do, I froze.
“This is what you wanted,” he said, taking a bite of my neck. “I caught them making love at Madrina’s. Now they’re returning the favor.”
“What were they doing?” I pulled away from his kiss and waited for him to tell me.
“He had her up against the wall, just like this. He was inside her when I interrupted them, but they liked it.” I moaned when he moved his fingers again, his body covering mine. In spite of their presence, or perhaps because of it, I was getting more and more turned on, yet I was still undecided.
“That feels so good,” I said. “Everything you do feels so good.”
“I’m going to turn you around,” he said quietly, “then lift your skirt.” I gasped at the thought, my heart racing a mile a minute. “Stop me if you change your mind.”
“How high?” I asked, feeling panicked. Cari and Santiago were kissing now, his hand down her blouse, but they were still mostly focused on us.
“All the way, but I can stand between you and them if you want.” He slipped out of me and placed both hands on my waist, then kissed my neck and the tops of my breasts.
“Yes, like that,” I said, my arms around his shoulders.
“You’re nervous, mamita,” he murmured in my mouth. “There’s no point if you’re not enjoying it.”
“I am,” I said, recognizing how my own voice had become thin and tense.
“Mm hm,” he said. He put his left hand on my right shoulder and spun me around. In a second, I was facing the wall, his entire body pressed against mine. “Here I go,” he teased, moving so that I had plenty of time to stop him if I wanted. Rafa’s fingers grazed my upper thigh as he slowly raised my skirt, inch by inch until it was above my knees. I put my hands against the wall, fingers spread, head down, waiting for him to go the rest of the way, the slight breeze at the top of my thigh letting me know he was close. When I felt his hand push my underwear aside from the front, my legs buckled.
“Are you going to melt from how good it feels, mamita?” He was grinding against me now, up and down, letting me feel his strength, his hardness. Again, his voice in my ear. “You want me, right now?”
In response, I brought his hand to my mouth and began to suck the two fingers he offered me, running my tongue along and between them. Overcome with desire, I turned back around and bit down on his neck while balanced on one four-inch stiletto heel. The other leg, firmly in his grasp, was as high as it could go without exposing me completely. Sliding his open hand up the back of my neck, he gathered a good amount of hair just above my nape and slowly closed his hand into a fist. In one seamless, fluid motion he pulled my head back and made me look at him, then scolded me loudly enough for Cari and Santiago to hear.
“What have I told you about biting?” His eyes darted down to his erection, then back up at me. “I think I deserve an apology.”
“Not here,” I breathed. “Not that.”
“Then what?” he said, lower. “Now’s your chance, mamita. Perfect place, perfect audience. I put a lot of thought into this. It’s safe.” He licked the side of my face with his soft, silky tongue. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Talk to me, Rafa.” I barely recognized my own voice as I moaned into him. It was all really just too much. His skin, his hair, the scent of his cologne were the most seductive substances I’d ever encountered in my life. There were moments with him when I felt we were so alike that we were the same person, like when he was in a cerebral mood talking about medicine or science, or even when we were around the house doing mundane things together like washing dishes or arranging furniture. But when he was all male like this, he was an entirely different being, ruled by urges and emotions I could never understand as a woman. That was Rafa now, laser focused on me as his mind ran down some sort of checklist. I don’t know what he was looking for when he took inventory of my body, his gaze running from my lips, down to my breasts, then sliding down my belly to the apex between my legs. He’d said it many times before, that he’d touch or kiss me as he pleased without caring one damn about who could see. Now I knew the only thing that held him back sometimes was me.
“What are you thinking about when you look at me like that?” I asked.
“I’m thinking about how much I love having you pinned against this wall,” he said, licking his lips.
“What else?” I asked, tightening my leg around him. Over his shoulder I could see Santiago and Cari kissing wildly as she grinded against the knee he’d lodged
between her legs. Rafa closed his eyes as if to focus, to force himself to put what he was feeling into words.
“I’m feeling sort of intoxicated. That I could hurt you if I’m not careful. I’m focused on holding back,” he said. He still hadn’t let go of my hair, and this time he pulled just a little harder, causing me some discomfort. “I don’t ever want you to know what I could do to you if I let myself. It’s like when you bite me. You could do it harder, and you want to do it harder, but you don’t.”
“You would never hurt me,” I breathed, rubbing my cheek against his.
“What are they doing?” he asked, releasing my hair. In a manner of seconds his fingers grazed my clit and settled just beside it, a surge of electricity thundering through me. It was incredible how he knew exactly just what to do, nothing more and nothing less. I peered over his shoulder and gasped when I saw that Santiago had pulled Cari’s top down exposing her breasts.
They kept their eyes on us as he palmed them roughly and then gave one a little slap.
“She’s half naked,” I said, expecting him to turn around. Instead he resumed the discreet but slightly frenzied massage of my clit and kissed me within an inch of my life, as if he would devour me whole. I began to feel the waves of heat dance along my nerve endings, a near Pavlovian response to his touch.
“Put your head on my shoulder, Amada,” he growled, pressing his erection into me. “Let me hear you.”
“Don’t you want to look at them?” Cari and Santiago were in their own world, barely aware of us now. With a practiced twirl of her waist, Santiago turned Cari and bent her over the wine rack that separated the hall from the corridor leading back to the dance floor. He was inside her in seconds.
“No,” said Rafa. “I’m busy.”
“Don’t stop,” I panted, moving to his rhythm, the dancing electricity flowing from his fingers into me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I pressed my face into the bend of his neck. While I breathed in Rafa’s scent I watched Santiago take Cari, his rough, almost violent movements pushing her hips into the sharp edges of the bar. I inhaled when he wrapped his enormous hand around her throat from the front and her face turned red.
“Why is he choking her?” I asked, feeling my legs go weak from what Rafa was doing to me. He’d begun to suck on my neck as he swirled his fingers in my wetness. “Would you ever do that?”
“Never. But if you want to know why, hold your breath until I say so,” said Rafa, glancing sideways at me.
“Now?” I asked, knowing I was close. “I’m about to—”
“Yes,” he answered. In one fluid movement I felt Rafa wrap his hands around my ass and enter me, his penis igniting my already plump, sensitive walls. As he pushed himself in deep, grazing that part of me I could never identify, I closed my eyes and did as he asked. The feeling of weightless surrender overtook me, and I slid down into the depths of ecstasy I found in unison with Rafa. Like diving into a deep pool, my lungs stilled, and time stopped. Everything around me fell away, and it was only me and him, breathless.
***
On the way home, a set of headlights shined steadily behind us, bathing the car in unwelcome light.
“Is that George and Lars?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the reflection. “Have they been following us the whole time?”
“I told you we need round the clock security until we find out what happened with Demarais.” He exhaled, a deep, tired sigh. “No exceptions.”
“Don’t tell me they were inside the club!” I shrieked, starting to panic.
“No, just in the parking lot,” said Rafa, laughing more at me than anything they might have seen. Drunk with happiness, I sank into the passenger seat and watched the city lights ebb and flow across his face as he drove confidently, with purpose. We sat quietly in the darkness, both of us relaxed and sated, but just as I was about to doze off, he broke the silence.
“You never told me what you thought of Cuba,” he said absently. “You must have formed some sort of impression in spite of the circumstances.” I opened my eyes and thought about how I should answer. I knew how much he loved his country, but I wouldn’t lie to him now or ever.
“I couldn’t believe I was there with him and not you. I want to go back one day and see it for the first time through your eyes,” I said. “Other than the hotel, I remember almost nothing.”
“No,” he said. “There’s more.” He wanted to know if I thought of him differently now that I’d seen where he came from. I didn’t answer right away, trying to articulate my thoughts. We were only a few minutes from the house now, and I didn’t want his mood to change, but he deserved an honest answer.
“Poor. Old. Lacking in basic comforts. Mostly unhappy, guarded people.” I braced myself for the possibility that he might get angry with me.
“Yes,” he said simply, turning into our driveway. “I’d like to help change that.”
Later, upstairs in our bed, Rafa turned out the lights and we had sex again, but this time it was different. As always, Rafa was strong and tender, rough and sweet, but as if to balance how exposed I’d been in the back room of the little tango club, Rafa kept me covered. Every time the blanket fell away, he pulled it back over us.
“That was fun,” I said, knowing tonight had been just for me. It was clear he had no interest in sharing our lovemaking with anyone. “But once was enough. Thank you.”
“Get on top,” he breathed, flipping us both over. “You ride me.”
I straddled him and rocked my hips on his, losing myself in the sensation of his hands pulling me back and forth in bold, long strokes along his body, burying himself deeper every time. He was breathing hard, curling up to meet my every thrust, fighting the instinct to take over. When I came, he let out a moan of contentment and held me in place when I collapsed, refusing to let go when I tried roll back onto the bed. He whispered something that sounded like así as he swept the wet hair away from my face.
“Spain,” he said when we were almost asleep. “I want to take you to Madrid for our honeymoon.”
***
I’d spent most of the day with Lidia and Raquel at Lidia’s house while Rafa was working at Madrina’s, getting ready for some big party tonight. He wouldn’t tell me much about it other than it was to take place out on the water with almost everyone in our circle in attendance, and that there would be something special in store for me, if I wanted it.
“Mamita, you’re going to see with your own eyes what Doña Delfina did and what I do now for other people,” he’d said. “So you understand.”
I spent a few hours filling Lidia and Raquel in about my trip to Europe, and though I considered leaving the redhead out of the story, I figured they’d heard about it from their husbands anyway. Lidia’s mother was in town, a sweet lady in her eighties whose own humble beginnings were like Rafa’s. Unlike her daughter, Eugenia was a simple woman who’d worked long and hard in life and still retained the same values, and she was what I imagined Rafa’s mother might have been like. Outside in the garden, over Cuban coffee and pastries I caught them up to speed as much as I could without saying anything inappropriate in front of Lidia’s mother, who was more interested in hearing about my recent trip to Cuba and my forthcoming marriage.
“So how is Cuba these days? Everyone still miserable and hungry?” she asked, taking a bite of her guava pastry.
“Well,” I said, hesitating. “Pretty much. It’s beautiful and so are the people, but they need help.”
“So sad,” said Eugenia. “You know, when I was young, I went to a lot of parties at the Hotel Nacional. Glad I was there on New Year’s Eve 1959, instead of at the Havana Hilton. That was quite a night.”
“Mamá, Amada is marrying a Cuban doctor.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” said Eugenia. “Your Spanish is very good. I imagine he’s teaching you. Smart men are so much better than handsome men.” She waved her hand dismissively, pushing her oversized glasses up to the bridge of her small freckled nose.
“You’re going to be sorry the day Carlos hears you talk like that,” said Lidia. “Bye Twitter. Bye Instagram. I’m telling you.”
“That’s right, mija, and anyway, he’s her husband!” said Eugenia, pointing to me.
“She doesn’t care,” said Raquel, giving me a playful wink. “I get a pass.”
“Wait till you see the new tattoo he got on his arm,” I shot back. Raquel opened her eyes wide. “Hot.”
“Mamá, you know her husband is also a santero,” said Lidia.
“Oh, sí?” said Eugenia, sitting up in her chair. “You help him?”
“No!” I said, intrigued by her enthusiasm. “I don’t know about that at all.”
“Well, if you’re marrying him, you should make sure you understand his commitment to his work. The santero I knew in Cuba was a very good man, but so many strange things happened around him that it broke up his marriage. It can be a stressful way to live. Dangerous even.”
“I know,” I said, thinking of how our lives had been almost ruined by Achille.
“Speaking of that,” said Raquel, putting her cup down, “my cousin went to see Rafa.” She sat forward, as if sharing a big secret. “I’m not supposed to gossip, but . . . she told me all about it.”
“Oh?” I said. “What did he do for her?”
“Raquel, are you sure you should be repeating your cousin’s business?” asked Lidia, looking over her shoulder.
The Santero Page 27