by Desdemona

El M. drove into our small town on the border in a truck and a small dust storm. I watched from the cool darkness of the bar, pressing my face close to the dirty window. Standing still, his guitar case in hand, he was a dark man of mystery. He moved and you wanted to solve that mystery bad.......real bad.

I wiped at a trickle of sweat that was making it’s way between my breasts as he came through the door of the bar. He paused a moment to let his eyes adjust and me time to take him in. I envied his hand as it raked through his long hair; it must feel warm from the sun. My throat was growing dry as he strode easily to the bar and eased onto the leather seat of the bar stool. I had envied his hand before, but that was nothing compared to my jealousy of the bar stool.

He turned his beautiful head and noted my solitary figure standing amidst the wooden tables. A voice to melt the heart issued from his lips asking for a cerveza. I could not speak properly and had to clear my voice twice before croaking that our bartender had just left on a small errand but that I would happily provide him with a cerveza. I silently blessed my good fortune and the bartender’s lust for his brother’s wife who lived next door.

I turned my back on the velvet touch of his gaze and poured the cerveza. My fingers trembled as I slipped into the golden liquid the white powder which my tia Carolina had pressed into my hand on my last birthday, telling me it was a powerful aphrodisiac and to use it wisely. An absolutely brilliant moment had arrived.

He was thirsty and I watched his strong, smooth neck muscles as he threw his head back and downed the cerveza in one long satisfying drink. The empty mug came down with a thud onto the bar top and I noted his lips were still moist from the liquid. The large eyes blinked once and then the long, thick lashes drooped as his lips parted slightly.

Our eyes remained locked as I walked slowly around the bar, my hand sliding along it’s smooth surface and around the corner, slowly sliding my hand along until I came to stand between his widespread legs. His hard thighs were tight against my waist as my hands reached hungrily for his hair, to feel the warmth of the sun that was still captured there.

My eyes did not close until I had brought his head down, pressing my lips against his, tasting the moistness from the cerveza and his own richness. Lips that yielded to mine as I traced their shape with my tongue. He broke away, but only for a moment, as we started once again, his lips growing in their hunger. My hands slid down to the hard thighs and caressed the silver studs.......

The wretched bartender chose that precise moment to return. El M. and what could have been is only a lustful fantasy.....but the kiss lingers.

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