by Dawn

Don’t ask me how I ended up in El Mariachi’s room. One minute, I am at home, sitting in my favorite chair, watching Desperado for maybe the 30th time, digging around in a Lone Star take-out bag in search of the luscious steak sub I was planning to consume heartily. And ------- whoosh! The next minute I am sitting on the floor by his bed, still clutching my bag, frozen in fear, watching him sleep peacefully as I wondered just what the hell happened!!

I sat there for a long time, waiting for my heart to slow as I looked around. This is the mariachi’s room! The room that he slept in at the beginning of Desperado when he was dreaming, right before Buscemi awakened him. How has this happened to me? I thought furiously, searching for answers. Alien invasion? Sentient VCR? Space warp? He moaned a little in his sleep, and I smiled to myself. Dream come true!

I scolded myself. There is the mariachi himself before you, and you waste these moments pondering the paranormal and theories of the quantum physical universe? I think not. But the longer I gazed at him-----his chest rising and falling slowly as he slept, the hair in his handsome face, his quiet exhalations------I have to admit I did start thinking somewhat physically about things……

I decided to be bold.

I got up on my knees and softly eased my elbows on the edge of the bed until I was face level with my mariachi. I reached over and smoothed the hair out of his face, stroking the silky tendrils back over one ear. So ruggedly beautiful……

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist with one hand and shoved a shiny gun into my face. His dark eyes glared maliciously at me, his mouth tense. "Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" he barked.

I stared at him, at his eyes, and at the gun. Be bold. I shut my gaping mouth and held up my take-out bag. "Room service", I smiled at him. "A guy with a blue shirt and red bandana ordered it. He said you hadn’t eaten during the whole movie…..I mean, the whole day…..said you haven’t eaten in a long time!" I cringed at myself.

He looked suspiciously at my bag and tightened his grip on my wrist. "So, you don’t even knock on the door, eh? You just sneak in here…." he pressed the gun against my cheek.

I wrestled my wrist out of his grasp. "Get that thing out of my face!" I said, slapping the gun aside. I stood up. "You know, you are way too trigger happy, you know that?" I did a little glaring of my own. "Now put that gun away, or I’ll take this food and I’ll….." I rattled the bag at his face. "I’ll take this food and I’ll eat it myself!"

He looked at me for a few moments, then he stood and tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants as he studied my face. "Gimme that," he hissed, snatching the bag out of my hand. He opened it and looked inside. "Dios mio, this smells good", he breathed. "What is it?"

But I barely heard him. Those pants! The gun…he tucked them in THE PANTS! There they are! Ladies and gentleman, live and in-person….the Desperado pants!! I stared down, I peered to either side of him, I stepped back to gauge all parameters, I stared some more, I…

He waved the bag slowly around in front of my face. "Hel-lo", he drawled.

I came back to the moment. "Oh gosh, I’m sorry!" I blurted. I felt myself blush profusely, and his eyes laughed at me. He thinks I am muy loco. "I just…was…I…", He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head, grinning roguishly. Desire pinged my heart.

I strove to recover. "Are you going to eat that sandwich or not? Because if you’re not going to eat it, then I will!" I said, reaching for the bag.

He pulled it away from me. "Oh, you want this, do you? Well, since my good amigo ordered this for me, I think I should eat it." With a smirk, he took the sandwich out of the bag and unwrapped it. The rich smell of steak and smothered mushrooms enveloped us, and I remembered how hungry I was. He grasped the sandwich with both hands and was about to take a bite, then his eyes hardened, and he held the sub out to me. "I think you should taste this first," he said quickly. "How do I know it’s not poisoned, eh? How do I know you weren’t sent here to poison me, hmmm?"

I looked at the sandwich, at a little string of charbroiled onion that dangled out of one side, and a mushroom that was about to slide out and away to the floor. Little chica voices spoke to me, go for it, chica! Go for it!

"I'll taste it", I snapped. I grabbed his wrists, and teased him with my eyes as I took a small bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly, watching him over the top of the sub. I leaned over to wipe one side of my mouth slowly alongside his shirt sleeve near his wrist, then alongside his other wrist. His eyes became sultry crescents as he watched me, and I could feel a tingle in the air.

"It’s not poisoned," I whispered, my own ragged breath betraying my thoughts. I held his gaze as I brushed the top of his hand with my parted lips, lingering questioningly over his fingertips

His eyes softened and searched my face, and he moved closer to me. He gazed deeply into my eyes and bit the wayward mushroom, then slowly licked at the filling around the edges of the sandwich. He dipped his head under the dangling onion string, wrapped his tongue around it, then pulled it slowly out of the sandwich, nibbling it as he pulled. Our eyes locked as he chewed thoughtfully.

Then half the sandwich filling fell out with a plop! onto the floor.

I laughed, and he shook his head, smiling. "Ayyyy," he mumbled huskily as he set the rest of the sandwich and the gun on the bed. Wiping his hands along the sides of his pants, he moved closer to me, spurs jingling softly. With a snappy head movement he whipped the hair out of his face, and peered down at me. Leaning forward, he grazed his nose against mine, then nuzzled my cheek as he wrapped his arms around me, bringing me into his embrace.

My arms encircled his back, and I melted, molding myself against him. "You are the only poison in this room," I whispered as he nibbled my ear, his breath quick and warm. I ran my fingers through his hair as his lips caressed my neck, and his arms tightened around me. "Yes, a poison, that is what you are, skull and crossbones…", I moaned. I was losing myself in him.

He pressed a finger gently to my lips as he crushed me against him. "You talk too much," he whispered, his accent thick with desire, his eyes dancing with a smoldering fire.

Dizzily, I smiled at him. "You'll just have to shut me up," I whispered, gazing at his moist lips longingly. "And if you don’t," I cooed, "I will keep talking, and talking, and talking…"

He put one hand behind my head and drew me towards him. He touched his lips chastely to mine, nibbled my bottom lip, and then kissed me full, over and over, each kiss more deep, more passionate, more urgent…..

I didn’t talk the rest of the night.

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