Chris’ Story

I used to curse my stupidity for purchasing the old house I now live in. I bought this beautiful old Victorian house, located nearby Asheville, North Carolina with huge plans of turning it into a bed and breakfast inn. I fell in love with the place the first time I saw it. I bought it, even after the inspector warned me about all the problems. But after six months of dealing with shady contractors, incompetent workmen, and a host of building inspectors, each with their own agenda, I began waking up every morning thinking I was the biggest fool that ever lived. That was before I hired the Handyman.

I wanted to use the bed and breakfast as my major source of income, but right now, I still had to work. The night I tripped over the lumber in my living room and sprained my ankle made me realize I needed help. A coworker mentioned a man she had hired to do some work for her. It was only a small job, but she just raved about him. “Antonio is from Spain. He is so polite and he really knows what he is doing. I told her that was nice, but what I really needed was a general contractor. She said, “call him.”

I didn’t think about the contractor again until I realized how tired I was as I drove home. I had Antonio’s phone number in my purse, and decided to give him a shot. His lack of experience might mean I could afford to hire him. I called, but only got the answering machine. “Hello, this is Antonio Dominguez, I cannot answer your call right now, please leave a message.” His voice sent shivers down my spine. It sounded like silk and leather and smoke. Something you could feel. Smooth, but textured. How could those simple words on his answering machine seem so sensual?

Later, when my phone rang, I hoped it was he. I picked up the phone and said, “Hello?” “Hello? My name is Antonio Dominguez. You called earlier about some work?” the voice asked. “Yes, yes,” I replied. I tried to think past the voice and remember why I had called him. “Yes. Someone where I work gave me your name.” I told him about the house, my ankle, and what I needed from him, and would he be interested? “I have never done any contracting, you understand?” he replied. “Yes, but you are highly recommended and I don’t know where else to turn at this point.” I realized I mostly wanted to meet the man whose velvety voice so enticed me. We made arrangements to meet after work the next day.

The timbre of his words rang in my head throughout the next day. I told myself that he could not possibly be as devastatingly handsome as his voice made me think. I rushed home after work on Thursday, and tried to make myself presentable. I kept telling myself that he would not, could not be as wonderful as the voice sounded. When the doorbell rang, I jumped. My mouth felt dry. I thought to myself, you have completely lost your mind. I hobbled to the door, and peaked through the little spyglass. His face, even though it was distorted, matched the resonant voice. I gulped, then opened the door. His hand extended to me as he said, “Hi, I am Antonio, you must be Chris?” “Yes, I replied, “please come in. So pleased to meet you.” He was dressed casually in slightly tight gray jeans, and a gray pullover shirt that enhanced his firm body. He had almost black hair, just slightly long on the top of his head, very curly and just a little out of control. His eyes were the color of cinnamon, or nutmeg, or cloves, something with intense flavor. His lips were full and just asking for a kiss. Have mercy, I thought, I am trying to hire him as a contractor, not a lover!

I showed him the house, and what still needed to be finished. We looked at the blueprints and talked about my plans. He heard every word, asked the right questions, smiled and laughed at the right moments. We went over every room, every little detail of work. I apologized for keeping him so long, and said, “Please, would you to write up an estimate for the work, and we can agree on a price. OK?” He replied, “Fine. Good. Shall I bring it by tomorrow evening? Oh, but that is Friday, you probably have plans.” “Me?” I said, smiling. “No, I don’t have any plans. Tomorrow would be fine. You can come at about the same time?” “Si, Senorita, that would be good for me, too.” He left.

I opened a bottle of wine, and sat on the front porch, wrapped in an old quilt. Summer would be over very soon, and there was already a bit of cool air at night. I thought about Antonio, and what it would be like to kiss those supple, full lips. I dozed off, and woke myself up when I poured most of the wine in my lap. I went inside, muttering to myself, and went to bed, anticipating seeing him again tomorrow.

Work was worse than usual on this particular Friday; but I finally got to go home. I hoped that I could get Antonio to stay for dinner tonight. I bustled around in the kitchen until I heard him knock at the door. I gulped, and went to the door, hoping this handsome and charming man would at least stay for dinner. I opened the door, and he immediately exclaimed about the wonderful smells drifting from the kitchen. I smiled, and said, “I enjoyed your company last night, and hoped if you are not busy tonight you will stay for dinner?” He smiled, warmly, and said, “Ah, Senorita, if I had plans, I would cancel them! What are you preparing, it smells wonderful!?”

He asked what he could do to help, and as we worked, I asked him about his life in Spain. He reluctantly said, “I was a lawyer. In Spain. I, well… I was what I think you would say… disbarred. I really don’t want to talk about it.” I stammered, “Oh. I am sorry.” “No, it is ok, really. It was political more than anything else. But, in this country, my language, my accent is a handicap.” “But your English is flawless!” I replied. “No, flawed by the accent. I am not easily understood. I work on it, but it is very different from Spanish.” “I am sorry you feel that way, Antonio. I do not have any problem understanding you. And your accent makes my first language more beautiful.” I stopped. He turned and smiled, then said, “I think the food is ready, where should we eat?” We moved to the dining room.

We talked over dinner, and he longingly described things he missed in Spain. He said, “I lived here through last winter, and mi Dios! I don’t know if I can take another mountain winter!” I replied, “But it is almost September, and it will begin to get cold here quickly. Are you sure you want to take on this job?” He smiled and said, “Si, Senorita, how can I refuse when a charming lady treats me so well, and gives me an opportunity such as this? I will stay as long as you need me.” After we ate we talked business for a time then he demanded that he clean the dishes.

As we cleaned the kitchen I accidentally brushed against him. He turned and looked at me with his deep, dark eyes. His hand reached up and brushed a tendril of hair away from my face, and in his deep husky voice, he said, “If I am wrong, I hope you will tell me, but I think you are as attracted to me as I am to you?” “If you mean wildly attracted, then, yes, that is true,” I whispered. He gently took me into his arms then slowly lowered his lips to mine. His lips brushed across mine, softly, then more firmly. His hands moved across my back, slowly caressing me. His lips pushed mine apart, and his tongue gently slipped over my lip. His teeth caressed my lips, gently pulling, and then his tongue plunged into my mouth, hungrily seeking my taste. His hands slipped down my back, slowly applying more pressure. As his hands found my hips, he suddenly pulled me against him, and I could feel his insistent hardness through our clothing. He stopped kissing me, and his grip on me lessened. He mumbled, “querida, are you sure you want this to happen?” My voice was husky as I whispered, “Si, I definitely want this to happen.”

Well, it happened, that night, and several times more while he was working for me. I laughingly referred to him as my handyman, and played the old Del Shannon song. He laughed for a long time over that. He worked for me for the six most memorable weeks of my life. I knew he wouldn’t stay, so I told him to move to California. “Antonio, your language would be an asset there. So many more Spanish speaking people. And your law expertise could be of some use at least as an advisor, translator, something. You should try.” I didn’t want him to go, but I didn’t think I could hold him here.

He completed the work I had hired him to do and on the day that the last of the work was finished, he took me in his arms and said, “You know I plan to leave don’t you?” I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut, determined that I would not cry. “Ahh, querida, do not be sad. I shall never forget you. I have decided to take your advice and move to California.” I pressed my face against his chest, trying not to let him see the emotion welling up in me.

“Antonio, that is wonderful! You must give my friends KC and Susan a call when you get there. They both would be very happy to help you find a place to live and get started. “Chris, This is our last night together for now, but I hope it will not be the last time I see you. Your friends in California, you must visit them and look me up.” “I will,” I whispered.

KC’s Story

I was so lucky – I sold a screenplay! And then another one. I was actually a semi-success! Of course, two sales do not make one quit one’s real job, but the macaroni and cheese days were definitely over. So, Mark the Accountant said to me, “You have to do something with this money – it’s being wasted, sitting there in the bank.”

“OK, what do you suggest?” I asked Mark. He suggested a house – not a new one, but a fixer-upper. Wow - I could buy a house! So, I did. A three bedroom house in a lovely, well-planned smaller city. There was just one problem – it WAS an older house, and needed some work. One contractor, then another told me that it would cost me at least $45,000 to make all the necessary repairs – replace gutters, some roofing; redo the kitchen and the bathrooms; paint; wallpaper; landscaping…there was no way I could afford to hire any of them.

I called my friend Chris, who had just been through similar house pains in the mountains of North Carolina, to moan. Her struggles had resulted in a beautiful bed and breakfast inn, which was already popular and lucrative. “What should I do? You know I’ll break my hand the first time I try to swing a hammer!” I laughed into the phone.

“It’s high time that you learned, girl,” she retorted. “You don’t have to do everything at once, you don’t even have to do all of it, from what you’ve told me. “Yes, you’re right,” I sighed. “I guess I should think small-scale, but Chris, you should SEE the kitchen – it’s a disaster. Any ideas for cheap remodeling?”

“Go to Home Depot, silly!” she yelled. “You can get something really nice for not a lot of money.”

“OK, so I get something nice – how the hell do I get the old stuff down and the new stuff up?”

“Well, they have people you can hire…hmmm, wait a minute…” I heard her rummaging though some papers on her desk. “Do you remember the man I told you about last fall? The one who helped me when I messed up my ankle? Well, he’s in California now…I gave him your phone number, and he knows about you.”

I hesitated. “Chris - are you talking about that Dominguez guy? What was his name, Antonio? I thought, well, I thought that you…you and he…” I stopped, uncertain of what to say.

“You know what happened; I told you,” she replied quietly. “He has so many more opportunities there than he would here. I couldn’t ask him to stay.”

“Oh sweetie…I am sorry…”

“He left me a message a few weeks ago. I, um, I just never called back,” she answered. “Let me give you the number, I’m sure he would love to help you.” The area code was in Los Angeles - would he want to come all the way out here to do a minor remodeling job?

“Thanks, friend, I really appreciate this,” I told her. “I hope I can convince him to help me. And I promise to behave myself!”

“KC,” Chris said seriously. “He is a wonderful, charming man. If he agrees to help you and you get an opportunity, take advantage of it. I mean it.”

I wondered a little about what I should do, but lure of Home Depot proved too much for me. I spent a wonderful morning choosing cabinets, flooring and fixtures with the help of a friendly sales-person, airily turned down the offer of a contractor list and wrote a deposit check. So, I was committed. (Or should be committed.) When I got home, I stared at the telephone, took a deep breath, and picked up the handset to dial.

“Hello?” A husky, accented voice answered. “This is Antonio Dominguez.”

“Uh, hi, my name is KC, I am a friend of Chris’, in North Carolina? She suggested that I call you, I had no idea that you were in Los Angeles, I mean, she spoke of you and said you were moving here…oh hell…” I seriously considered hanging up and going to hide somewhere.

“KC, yes, I remember your name, he laughed. “I apologize, it is I who should have called you when I arrived, to introduce myself. Chris said I would like you! How is she, she hasn’t called me.”

“Chris is terrific, and sends her love. I hope that LA is being good to you, so far,” I answered. Maybe he had found a job, I thought; he won’t be able to help, I’ll be stuck with some surfer dude named Sean or something. “ Did you find a good place to live?”

“I have an apartment; it is not much, but I am pleased with it. I am studying to take the California Bar Examination, which I am very excited about. I was an attorney in Spain and recently received some good news which makes it possible for me to try to practice again here. And I am doing some translation work, and other part time jobs to earn some money.”

Things were looking up. “I know that you worked with Chris on her house last year, and I was wondering if you would be willing to help me out with a similar project,” I said hesitantly.

“I would be delighted, Senorita,” he immediately replied. “What needs to be done? Where do you live? When can I come to talk to you?” We spoke for a few minutes about the work that I planned for the kitchen, and confirmed a meeting for Saturday. I wished for more things to talk about, just so I could sit and listen to that warm, sexy voice.

When the doorbell rang on Saturday, I was a little nervous. Chris had told me that Antonio was incredibly good looking. She wasn’t exaggerating. Dark, curling hair, coffee-colored eyes, a sensual mouth. He was wearing worn gray jeans, a darker gray sweatshirt and work boots. I felt a little weak in the knees, looking at him.

“KC, hello, it is so nice to meet you!” Oh, that voice…”And I am happy to meet you, Antonio, please come in.” I replied. “Would you like some coffee?” He followed me into the wreck of a kitchen and looked around. “Ah, yes, I can see that you need to do a little work in here. Have you ordered materials? When will they be here? We can definitely fix this up, it will take no time at all.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon papers and calculators were spread all over my table. We agreed on a price for his services, and decided to start the following Wednesday. I would take some vacation time, and assist.

He arrived bright and early on Wednesday, admired the new cabinets stacked in my living room, and dragged me into the kitchen to tear out the old ones. I had some tools, he brought others with him, and my little house soon looked like a Bob Vila set. We fell into an easy routine of work, and we worked hard, bumping into one another and laughing in the small kitchen. I felt like I had a wonderful new friend, but was always, always aware of him, his hands, his eyes…his mouth. We also got in the habit of sharing dinner almost every evening. The weather was perfect, and we would sit out on the patio to escape the mess in the kitchen. He told me about Spain, and asked endless questions about California, my life, my friendship with Chris.

“You know, we cannot do this tomorrow, I have to fix that faucet before we put the new floor down,” Antonio remarked one night. “We have almost completed this project - maybe we could finish early and go out to a nice dinner, what do you think, hmm?” I would go to Cupid’s for a chilidog with you, Senor, I thought, and promptly accepted. He helped me clean up and dropped a gentle kiss on my cheek before he left. I stood in the entryway for at least half an hour, staring into space, touching my cheek.

On Saturday, Antonio brought along a change of clothes. As I stood under the shower spray early that evening, I wondered what he was thinking…and wondered if I dared to tell him what I was thinking. I remembered Chris’ words; “if you get an opportunity…” Maybe tonight would be my chance. We drove to a small Spanish restaurant, where we spent hours, talking, laughing, drinking a wonderful wine. As we wandered out to the parking lot, he took my hand and murmured, “I am so glad to have found your friendship, it was hard for me to come here and not know anyone.” My heart sank – friendship? Oh, please, no. I stopped and faced him.

“And I am happy that you consider me a friend, Antonio,” I said softly. “You have helped me so much, and I am very grateful to you.”

His dark eyes stared down at me for a minute. Then he raised a hand to cup my face and smiled that dazzling smile. “I think we are fooling ourselves here, don’t you? I truly do appreciate your friendship, but when I look at you…when I watch you, and yes, I am always watching you, I think differently. I think that I would like to be more than a friend.” He tilted my head gently, and kissed me, and I was lost. We stood for endless minutes, our lips exploring one another, tongues touching, laughing a little.

“I can think of a much better place to continue this, corozon,” he finally whispered, and helped me into the car. I don’t remember driving home, don’t remember the glasses and the bottle of wine I grabbed. I do remember walking into my bedroom, and watching him light three candles that I kept on the dresser, turning to me, smiling. And I remember a night of slow, lazy, incredible lovemaking.

I was so happy to get several more opportunities for myself during the following days. As we wound down, I grew a little sad, wondering what would happen when we no longer had to share our project. On the day that we finished, Antonio was quiet as we cleared the last of the tools and debris from my lovely new kitchen. “The exam is in six weeks,” he finally said, drawing me close and resting his chin on my head. “I will have to really, how do you say it? Crack the books to prepare. I will not be able to be with you as much…I’m not happy about that, querida.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “This is so important to you. I know you will do well, though, I have faith in you.” I ducked my head so that he couldn’t see that I was trying not to cry, but I felt his fingers brush my face, and then strong fingers lifted my chin again, and his lips touched mine, softly, sweetly.

“No, no this isn’t over. You will see me, I promise you. And do you promise me that you will be able to see me? That is important to me, very important.”

I looked into his wonderful, beloved eyes. “I will,” I whispered.

Susan's Story

It’s almost summertime and yet it still rains. As much as I like the rain I now have come to hate it. I’d rather complain about the heat then to be freezing my butt off.

One night I was on the computer talking to KC and Chris when I heard the weather report.

"Shit!" I said.

"What?" KC replied.

"Weather report says that rain is on it’s way and I have a leaky roof."

"That’s not good." said Chris.

"Tell me about it. I have to figure out something and quick."

"Hire a roofer," KC said.

"Too expensive, besides it’s only a patch job that the roof needs."

"KC give her Antonio’s number. Do you still have it?" said Chris.

"Damn right I still have it. BRB," said KC.

"Who’s Antonio?" I asked

"He’s this handyman that KC and I know. He’s great," said Chris.

"Found it," replied KC.

"Is he that good?"

"You bet he is!" said Chris.

"Give him a try. You won’t regret it, will she Chris?”

"No she won’t."

"At this point, I’ll give anything a try," I said

"I know you will ; )," said KC.

KC sent me Antonio’s number and I called him. I left a detailed message on his machine, including my address and phone number. I couldn’t believe how sexy his voice sounded.. The next day around 11:00 am the doorbell rang. I opened the door to see the most beautiful man I’d had ever seen.

"Can I help you?" I said.

"Are you Susan?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I’m Antonio Dominguez. You left a message for me on my machine."

"Yes. Please come in."

"Gracias."

He walked past me and I checked him up, down and all around. I muttered under my breath, "Oh baby."

He turned around.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Nothing. Please sit down."

"Thank you." We sat at the dining room table. He took out a pad of paper and a pen and was ready to take notes.

"Where are the problem areas?" he asked.

"There is one leak in the kitchen, one in the living room and one in the bedroom. I don’t know if you’ve ever been woken by drops of water on your back."

"No I don’t, I’ve never felt that. May I look around?"

"Sure go ahead."

He got up and looked around. He took notes as he walked through the house and he saw where each of the leaks were. He came back to where I was.

"Well? Do you think you can fix the leaks?" I asked.

"Sure, no problem," he said.

"How much will this cost me?"

He handed me his estimate. I looked at it and then at him.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Sure of what?"

"That this is all you want to charge?"

"Yes. Too high?"

"No no it’s just fine. When can you start?"

"Tomorrow morning. Is that okay?"

"Perfect. What time?"

"I’ll be here at eight."

"I’ll see you then."

I walked him to the door. I opened the door.

"Thank you for coming," I said.

"Thank you for calling."

He left. I closed the door behind him.

The next morning Antonio showed up on time and started working. As Iworked on the computer I could hear him walking on the roof. I continued to work but found that I couldn’t concentrate. He would come inside at the end of each day. On this day, he was hot and sweaty when he walked over and stood behind me, watching what I was doing. I thought to myself ‘Oh geez!’. I was trying to put together a menu for a party. I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

"What are you working on?" he asked "A menu for a party that I’m catering."

"You like to cook?"

"I love it. How about you?"

"I love it too. Maybe we can cook together sometime?"

"Sure."

"I’ll have everything finished up by tomorrow afternoon."

"That was quick. It took only three days."

He smiled. I’d better get going," he said.

"Oh Antonio."

"Yes?"

"If you don’t have any plans tonight…well would you like to have dinner with me?"

"I’d like that. Let me go and clean up first. I’ll be back in about an hour. Okay?" "Okay. See you then."

He smiled and left. I heard the familiar ‘Uh-Oh’ from the icq program on the computer. It was a message from KC.

"Yes?" I typed.

"How’s Antonio doing?" she asked.

"He’s fine. He’ll finish everything tomorrow and he’ll be coming over for dinner tonight."

"Mmmmmm."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. Have a good dinner."

"I will, thanks."

She went off line. I stood staring at the computer screen and wondered what she meant by that last comment. Antonio returned a while later. He looked sexier than ever and the cologne he was wearing smelled wonderful.

"Why don’t you sit down and relax while I get everything ready," I said.

"Please let me help you."

"You don’t have to."

"Please, I want to.

"Well…okay."

We went into the kitchen and started cooking. We were having a wonderful time. From time to time, I could feel him as he passed by me to get what he needed from the counter or cabinets. He would brush against me, and after the second and third time it was beginning to drive me crazy, but I couldn’t let him know this. He was now standing directly behind me and I felt his breath on my neck. He took the knife that I was using from my hand and put it down on the counter. He turned me around and he looked into my eyes.

"I’ve noticed you from afar these past few days," he said.

"What have you noticed?"

"I’ve noticed that you are a very special person and I would love to get to know you better."

"Oh. How much better?"

"This much better."

He pulled me close to him until our body’s touched. He gently placed his left arm around my waist and his right hand gently pulled my face towards his. He kissed me passionately and his tongue gently parted by waiting lips. The kiss we were now sharing was getting more and more passionate by the minute.

We were able to turn off the fire on the stove but not the fire that we were both feeling. He walked me to my bedroom and he kicked the door shut with his foot. We stood there for the next two days making the most incredible love that I’d ever experienced. I then realized what KC had meant with her comment and I smiled.

Antonio finished fixing the roof and we both knew that his job was over and he had to leave. He held me close while we stood at the front door.

"Thank you for everything Antonio and I mean for everything."

"Thank you, mi amor, for calling. Now promise me one thing," he said.

"What?"

"That if you need anything and I mean anything that you will call me right away."

"There is nobody else in this world that I would call but you."

We smiled. He hugged me tightly and kissed me once more time.

Take care of yourself amor," he said

"I will. And you do the same."

"I will."

He started to leave.

"Oh Antonio."

"Yes?"

If you ever need anything please feel free to call me day or night. All right?"

"Thank you. I’ll do just that." He winked at me and got into his car and left.

The rain came and there were no leaks. I thought that I would drill a hole so the roof would start leaking - this way I could call Antonio, but I thought against that idea. I knew one day I would see him again and with that thought I would have to be content with, at least for now.

Deena’s Story

The house was finally finished. The newly shingled roof with the Spanish tile gleamed in the sunlight. The stucco walls were a warm cream like the sands of the beach of Montecito. The porch looked inviting and the wooden white swing swung gently in the breeze waiting for lovers to sway together in its embrace. If you gazed only at the house, you had a perfect picture. But surrounding it...a sea of weeds, burnt lawn, yellowed bushes.

I had bought the small hacienda style dwelling a year ago with the royalties from my first romance novel. I had fallen in love with it although it needed a tremendous amount of work. I think what clinched it for me was the story that the realtor told me when we drove out to see it.

“Dee, you are just going to LOVE this house!!!” Marisa always spoke in capital letters and exclamation points. Perhaps that was why she was such a successful real estate saleswoman. “Why, it even has a GHOST!”

My ears pricked. “A ghost, Marisa? Tell me more.”

“Well, among my mother’s people the story is told of an Anglo female who fell in love with the son of the owner of the house – he was one of the original settlers in Los Caminos. So, the son runs away with this woman and it turns out she was only attracted to him when she couldn’t have him. And the pobrecito, he goes home disgraced, his cojones tucked between his legs and jumps from the roof and kills himself. This happened 100 years ago. The house was shut up and left abandoned until the turn of the century. It fell into the hands of a silent film star, some mano from Mexico, who took his pretty blonde girlfriend here and supposedly killed her in a fit of drunken rage. Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you, the house has never had good luck when it comes to Latinos and Anglos. The ghost of the young cabballero, he takes revenge on the Anglo women who come here.”

By this time, we were almost there and my curiosity level had shot through the roof. A ghost. I had never lived with a ghost.

Well, I fell in love with the house even though all this past year I had never seen even one trace of this apparition. Now the house was finished, but I needed to give it a perfect setting.

“Hmm, where did I put that number KC gave me?” I muttered. I dumped the contents of my purse on the polished ebony wood of the immense dining room table. The furnishings were all in keeping with the Spanish theme. The table alone could seat 20 people. It shone with a high gloss put there by the loving hands of Conchita, the house keeper I had hired to help maintain the dwelling. She came in twice a week and kept the house looking like it was ready for a shoot for architecture digest.

“Gotcha!” I had written the number on the back of the menu from the restaurant where we had eaten. “Antonio Dominguez.” La Cocina was run by members of Marisa’s family. I had had several delicious meals there, the last one with KC. She had given me the number of the handy man she had had work on her house.

“Deena, he’s fantastic! Name it, he can do it.” She giggled softly as if she had some private secret. “You need anything done around the house, roofing, plumbing, carpentry, gardening, if he can’t do it, he knows some one who can.”

Well, it looked like I was going to take up her challenge. I dialed the number and got an answering machine message – in Spanish and in English – and the promise that ‘I will return your call. You are important to me.’ Important, eh? I left my name and number and that KC had recommended him and told him briefly that I needed major landscaping work. We’d see…

He called back that very evening. The voice that asked for me ran through my veins like quicksilver. His voice was so deep and dark, the Spanish accent warming it like fire.

“I can be there tomorrow morning, Senorita Silver. I will bring some samples of some ground covers and some catalogues. I am sure I can help you.”

The next day dawned warm and clear. Antonio’s truck pulled up before the front door. After he got out, he came over to the passenger side and leaned over to get the catalogues he had promised. His jeans pulled taut over as fine a butt as any I’d seen. The straw cowboy hat that he had worn, he now took off and left on the front seat. Turning, I could see curly hair and eyes the color of fine Sherry, a mouth that was slightly pouting and hands with lean strong fingers holding colorful brochures. He smiled.

“Senorita Silver?”

“Call me Deena,” I smiled back.

And it was as simple and fast as that. I was wildly attracted to him. But knew I was never going to do anything about it. I led him all over the property. He took copious notes, asked a multitude of questions – did I like flowers with a demanding scent? Succulents. That question gave me pause at first.

“Things like cactus,” he said with a grin. “They do well in climates and soil like this.”

“Sure, why not,” I shrugged.

“You will be surprised,” Antonio said. “They can be quite lovely. Now, I see outrageously colored flowers for you. Like a rainbow in your garden, si?”

“A rainbow?”

“Claro. You seem to throw off sparks of light and color, Deena.” He took a step closer to me. All this time he had walked a polite few feet by my side, not touching. Now, he put out his hand and touched my face. “Your soul shines through your eyes. Sparks of fire and light gleam there. I saw it the moment I saw you.” His hands cupped my burning cheeks and lightly caressed them.

“You’re so young,” I stammered inanely.

“Not that young.” His mouth curved into the sweetest smile I had ever seen and I was lost. Noting my confusion, he gently brushed my mouth with work-roughened thumbs and then released me. We continued on as if nothing had happened. I looked over some of the plants he had carted in the truck and picked out some boxwood bushes that would look good by the porch.

“I will be here tomorrow with some workmen. Well, actually work boys..” he grinned.

“Work boys?” My voice trailed off uncertainly. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I see the results of domestic violence come through the doors of my office on State Street in Santa Barbara. When fathers don’t work they take out their frustrations in many ways – crime, of course, and I help them there in court – but also on their families. Their wives and kids….and so, I try to show them that it isn’t manly to beat up on weaker, defenseless people. I have them work with me on the occasional “handy man” jobs I still get and they learn a trade that will make it possible for them to work and help out their families.”

“Court? You’re a lawyer?” I had to admit I was a bit flabbergasted.

“Si. Probably the poorest lawyer in California.” He laughed outright. “When I passed the bar exam I knew that I couldn’t practice the kind of law that my fellow classmates were planning on getting into. So, here I am – with two cards – Antonio Dominguez, Esq. and Tony Dominguez, Handy Man.” He offered me a courtly bow and kissed the fingertips of my hand. But instead of dropping it, he turned it over and pressed his mouth to my palm. I could feel his lips open and his tongue sensuously lick the sensitive skin. Boldly, he nipped the fleshy part of my thumb before releasing my now numb hand.

“Until tomorrow morning, Deena?” Mutely I nodded my head.

A truckload of teenage Latino boys swarmed allover my front and back yards the next day. Each had been given a specific responsibility and it was heartwarming to see how they deferred to Antonio, treating him with an easy respectful attitude. To me they were as mannerly as anyone could wish. If this was the result of Antonio’s help, these boys would not see the inside of a prison or the battered faces of their future children.

They left around 5:00 p.m. Antonio was in the house just washing up after helping to plant those boxwoods. He rolled down the sleeves on his shirt, but was having a problem somehow with the buttons on the sleeves.

“Here,” I said. “Let me.” As I reached out to grab the cuff of his shirt, he clamped his hand over mine.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want you to button my shirt.” He placed his hand under my chin and raised my face to look at him. His eyes seemed to glow with passion. “I want you to unbutton it.”

“Tony?”

“I want you, querida. I have been burning with this hunger since the first moment I saw you. It came upon me like a lightening bolt.” He looked almost confused, as if he couldn’t quite figure out why.

Suddenly, it hit me. The house! The ghost – could it have taken control of us somehow? Should I tell Antonio that it wasn’t real. That this attraction he felt for me was a fake? I wasn’t that honest.

“I want you, too, Tony. From the minute I saw you lean over to get your catalogues.” He tilted his head questioningly.

“You butt, “ I giggled. “You have the best damn butt I’ve ever seen.” He roared with laughter.

“The rest of me is pretty damn good, too, I think you’ll find.” It was.

He led me into the bedroom and I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The rest of our clothes came off a whole lot faster. Soon we were naked in the huge four poster bed. He fondled my breasts and suckled them strongly. His hand delved between our bodies and played gently with my swollen flesh. I was so ready for him. He thrust into my willing body faster and faster, lifting my legs to his shoulders to drive even deeper into my woman’s core. One last push and I was over the edge. I heard his shout of triumph as he joined me. He stayed for a moment inside me then rolled off to my side. Drawing me close to him, he tucked my head under his chin. He whispered something so softly, I thought I may have been hearing things.

“What did you say, Antonio?” I asked almost fearfully.

“Mi corazon esta lleno de amor. My heart is full of love.” I didn’t tell him it was the house that had filled it.

The next few weeks were busy. The boys worked as if their lives depended on how good the job came out. In a way, it was true. I asked him to build a green house addition just to keep him near me a little longer. I had him pick out the houseplants and had him order ones that would take weeks to get here. Almost every day after the truck with the kids would drive off, we’d have dinner and then go at each other like we knew that it wouldn’t last and we needed to make love as hard and as often as we could.

Then, one day, I ran into Marisa.

“How do you like the house, Deena? Great, no?”

“Yeah, even the ghost.”

“Ghost?” Marisa quirked an eyebrow quizzically.

“You don’t remember? The house has a ghost, you said. Latinos and Anglos who come under its roof are destined to love each other and come to a bad end.”

Chuckling, she said, “Oh, DEENA! There is no ghost. I made the story up. I thought the house would sell more quickly if there was something like a ghost attached to it.”

“Nothing?” I asked.

“Si. Nothing.”

So now I need have no fear. There is no curse on my beautiful home. No ghost. In fact, there’s really an angel. And his name is Antonio.

Photo courtesy of the Antonio Banderas Web Mall

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