The Kiss of Zorro

by KC

You need to know a little about me before I tell my story…being a widow, albeit a young one, I have more freedom than most women in this place called Los Angeles. I can walk or ride by myself, and not have to worry about current conventions or chaperones. And because I am a "foreigner", from Boston (although my mother is Spanish), my family here think that I am not as delicate or as much in need of protection as their precious daughters. So, once I finish tutoring my cousins each morning, I am free to do as I please. And if I happen to meet a handsome stranger while I am wandering through the hills, who is to know?

I encountered "El Zorro" three days ago, when he was being chased by what passes as the local military. With a little fast thinking I was able to lead him to a wooded area (rare around here) to hide, and received a brilliant smile, a brief speech of thanks – oh, what a voice! - and a lingering kiss on the hand for my trouble. An alluring and dangerous man, a chance encounter, I thought. If only it would happen again! But I never dreamed that what transpired tonight would ever happen to me.

My aunt and uncle gave a party this evening, celebrating my cousin Maria's birthday. All of the local gentry attended, smiling and dancing, bragging and braying like the cattle they let loose on their ranchos. The noise and heat gave me a headache and halfway through the evening, I slipped away to a back verandah. I was leaning on the railing, watching the moon and dreaming when I heard a footstep behind me.

A familiar, deep voice came from the darkness. "Why are you not dancing, Señora?". Zorro!

I turned slowly and replied "Because no one has invited me to, Señor." With a soft laugh he moved towards me, cape flung back and arms outstretched and said, "Then please let me remedy a most grievous error on the part of my countrymen." I moved into his arms and we began to turn slowly, to the faint rhythms of the musicians playing in the courtyard. I could only stare into his incredible, fathomless dark eyes, smiling down at me as he led me through a waltz.

"Why are you here? They will surely find you and capture you. This is too dangerous." I could barely force the words out; his beautiful, half-covered face jolted my heart, and made my head spin.

"No one will find me, find us. I wanted to see you again, touch you…have you dreamed of me? Querida, you have filled my dreams since we met," he murmured. He lifted a gloved hand to the back of my head, and slowed his steps. "This is what I have dreamed about…"

His head bent down; his mouth touched mine, softly, sweetly. I could not pull back, did not want to. He lips left mine briefly, and then with a wicked grin, he pulled me close to his body, black cape swirling and falling around us, and kissed me as I have never been kissed in my life. Deep, liquid kisses, tongue swirling through my mouth like a painter's brush touching a canvas, teeth gently nipping and teasing my lower lip, tracing my lips with his tongue, holding me as if he would pull me into him…his lips moving over mine, demanding, playful, sensual, filling me with a sweet fire until I thought I would faint. I wanted it to never end!

When he finally lifted his head, we could only stare at one another, stunned by the emotions we had aroused. He caressed my face gently, fingers tracing my lips and nose, his eyes never leaving mine and sending messages I could not begin to interpret. His mouth covered mine one more time, moving slowly and carefully, as if he was trying to store a memory. And then another smile, full of – do I dare write this? – love and promise.

"I will see you again soon, my love, and one day soon you will be mine…never doubt that," he whispered. "When you go to sleep tonight dream sweet dreams, of me." And then he melted away into the night, leaving me dishevelled and shaking, and wondering how my heart could have been captured by someone whose identity I didn't even know…