Happy Birthday

by Jeanne

I had decided to celebrate my fortieth birthday by myself. Well, actually, I didn't have much choice. Sad, but true. In the whole big city of Buenos Aires, there was no one to celebrate with me.

It hadn't always been that way. When I was twenty-four, I married a man with lots of money and lots of friends. As long as I stayed married to him, I had plenty of money and plenty of friends too. What I didn't have, as time went on, was a decent marriage. No children and no real reason to stay together, other than habit. My husband broke that habit, first with his secretary, then with my best friend, and finally with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

I could have made trouble for him when he asked for the divorce, but I found that I had too much pride to try to hold a man who no longer wanted me. I accepted the terms he offered and moved out of the house to make way for the child bride. It was then I learned that both the money and the friends had been his all along.

I found work from time to time as a stenographer for some of the lawyers in town. It wasn't steady, but it helped to pay the bills, especially when my husband forgot to send the monthly check. I found a flat too, far from my husband's house. It wasn't much, but it was mine.

I had fallen into the bad habit of frequenting the bar around the corner from my apartment building. I knew it was a bad habit, but I couldn't find a good reason to stop. In fact, the bar was the one bright spot in my day. I could go there and forget for a few hours that I had nothing to look forward to and no one to share it with.

My birthday fell on a Wednesday that year. I had just been paid for a lengthy transcription, and I had no work scheduled the following day. I decided to spend the evening at the bar, conducting an experiment to see how many drinks it would take before I could forget not only the forty wasted years that lay behind me, but also the empty years that lay ahead. I expected it would take a lot of drinks.

The bar was quiet that evening, which suited me fine. I drank steadily, but I didn't seem to be forgetting anything. Instead, the alcohol seemed to induce a heightened and morose awareness of everything that was wrong with my life.

I was steeped in gin and self-pity when I heard the bartender say, "Last call, senora." I looked up, surprised to find that we were alone. All the other customers had gone home.

The bartender's name was Che. He was a man of striking good looks, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. I had often admired him as one admires a work of art in a museum, with aesthetic appreciation but no thought of possessing the work oneself. Other women, I had noticed, were not so reserved. It wasn't uncommon for them to flirt with him, practically offering themselves to him. I never saw him accept such an offer. He treated these women with great courtesy but distinct reserve, just as he treated the other patrons of the bar.

When Che said "Last call," I ordered a double. I held it for a moment, then murmured "Happy birthday to me," before taking the first swallow. Che thought I had spoken to him, and he said, "Excuse me, Senora. I didn't quite hear you."

I glanced up at him and said, "I was just saying good bye to my youth. It won't be coming back again."

Che walked over to where I was seated, looking at me intently. "You're not old, Senora," he said. "Just…sad, I think."

When I raised the glass to drink again, Che took it from me, gently but firmly. His fingers were warm against my skin. "I think you've had enough," he said. Undoubtedly, he was right.

I rose, somewhat unsteadily, to leave, and Che said, "I think I had better see you home."

"That's very kind of you but quite unnecessary," I replied with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Nevertheless," he said, "it will be my pleasure."

Che helped me into my coat. When I fumbled with the buttons, he buttoned them for me, as if I were a child. He turned off the lights and locked the door, and we set out for my flat. He offered me his arm, and I took it, grateful not only for his steadiness, but also for the simple human contact.

When we reached the flat, Che came in, offering to make a pot of coffee for me. I sat down on the sofa to wait for the coffee. I remember nothing else until I woke the next morning in my bed, head pounding and mouth dry.

A bottle of aspirin and a tall glass of water stood on my bedside table. I took several of the aspirin and drank all of the water. Little by little, I began to feel better and to remember the night before. Che, I thought, must have set out the aspirin and water before he left. But how had I gotten to bed? Not under my own power, I suspected. I peeked under the bedclothes and saw that I was still fully dressed. Che must have removed my hat, coat and shoes and put me to bed. I was grateful to him, but also tremendously embarrassed about last night. I knew I should thank him, but I couldn't imagine going back to the bar any time soon.

When I felt able, I got out of bed, took off my clothes, and put on a silk kimono, a relic of more prosperous days. I brushed the tangles from my hair and headed through the sitting room to the kitchen, in search of coffee. I stopped in surprise at the threshold of the sitting room, startled to find someone asleep on the sofa. It was Che. He was lying on his back with his head turned slightly toward me. In repose, his face was beautiful, with the dark lashes lying softly against his bronze skin and the stubble of his beard just beginning to shadow his cheeks. His lips smiled slightly, as if at some pleasant dream, and his chest rose and fell with his deep, regular breathing.

In a moment, Che's eyes opened, and to my mortification, the color rushed to my face. I was embarrassed that he had caught me watching him and ashamed of my behavior the previous night. Most of all, though, I was suddenly and overwhelmingly aware of my nakedness beneath the thin fabric of my kimono.

Che smiled at me and rose from the sofa, rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," I replied, my cheeks still burning. "Thank you for taking care of me last night. I'm sorry I put you to so much trouble. You didn't have to stay with me."

"I didn't want to leave you alone," he said. "You seemed so sad. How are you this morning?"

"About as you'd expect, I suppose. Anyway, I'll live."

"That's good," he said. "I'm counting on a full recovery by ten o'clock this evening."

"What happens at ten?" I asked.

"That's when I pick you up to go dancing."

"Dancing?" I said. "Oh, no, I don't think…"

"You don't dance?" he asked.

"Well, I used to, but…"

"It's just like riding a bicycle," he assured me. "You don't forget."

"It's very kind of you," I began, "but you really don't have to."

"I know that," he said, "but I think you deserve more of a birthday celebration than you had last night. And besides," he added with a boyish grin, "I'm a very good dancer."

Che seemed determined, and I was anxious to end the conversation and my embarrassment, so I accepted the invitation. I told myself that I could always cancel later. As the day wore on, however, I found myself looking forward to the evening. I had always enjoyed dancing, and although it had been a while, I thought that I could remember the steps. I caught myself humming a tango as I looked through my closet for something to wear.

In the back of my closet, I found a long, black dress that I hadn't worn in several years. I had bought it for a charity ball that I attended with my husband, and I vividly remembered him telling me that I was making an indecent spectacle of myself. The dress was revealing, but it was the only thing I owned now that might be suitable for dancing. When I tried it on, I was relieved to see that it still fit. The bodice was a tight sheath that left my arms and shoulders bare and displayed more of my cleavage than my husband had thought proper. The skirt was slit on one side to the top of my thigh, and I remembered now that it was impossible to wear stockings with the dress, because the slit would reveal the tops of the stockings and the fasteners of my garter belt. I looked in the mirror, feeling deliciously bare beneath the dress. My eyes were sparkling, and I began to think that perhaps I wasn't quite as old as I had felt last night.

I finished dressing and did my hair, piling it loosely on top of my head. When I was done, I was pleased with the result, although I missed the spray of diamonds I had pinned in my hair the last time I wore the dress. Well, the diamonds were gone along with the rest of my jewelry, and that couldn't be helped.

Che arrived promptly at ten, and when I opened the door, he smiled at me and said, "You look beautiful." He handed me a small box tied with a ribbon. Inside was one perfect, creamy gardenia blossom. Breathing in the heavy fragrance, I pinned it in my hair, where it gleamed softly against my dark curls. Holding the door for me, Che asked, "Are you ready?" and I knew that I was.

The evening was mild, and Che and I walked several blocks to a dance club he knew. I was suddenly shy with him and a little tongue-tied. He looked very handsome in his dark suit, and his skin glowed against the white collar of his shirt. It had been a long time since I had been with a man, and I hoped that I wouldn't make a fool of myself.

When we entered the club, the music washed over me. I stood swaying to the beat for a moment before Che led me to the dance floor. The band was playing a tango, and he pulled me to him, holding me close as we began the dance.

Che had not exaggerated his ability. He was an excellent dancer -- graceful, confident and strong. As he led me through the half-remembered steps, my body knew instinctively that it could trust him. His hands were very firm, but gentle, as he guided me around the dance floor, and I was acutely aware of their touch on my bare back and arms. As we moved together to the rhythm of the dance, I began to feel an excitement that I had never expected to know again.

The band played tangos, waltzes, sambas, rumbas, and we danced them all. As we grew warmer, Che removed his coat and tie and unbuttoned his collar so that the curly black hair on his chest peeped through. I was shocked to realize how much I wanted to rub my face against it. Che seemed to read my mind as he smiled down at me and pulled me closer, his hands drifting down my back to where the swell of my hips began.

The dance floor gradually emptied as the hours passed, until we were the only couple left. The music was slow and sensuous, and we were locked together, barely swaying to the beat. My head was nestled against Che's shoulder, and as I breathed in his clean, warm scent, my lips grazed against the base of his throat, where the pulse throbbed. His hand caressed my cheek and gently lifted my face to his. "How lovely you are," he said, tenderly tracing the contour of my jaw. His fingers moved to my lips, brushing against them until they opened for him. Che's amber eyes darkened as my tongue peeped from between my lips, slowly licking his fingers. He was breathing harder when he bent down to me and covered my lips with his own.

Che's mouth was soft and warm, yet demanding, insistent. I wanted only to please him and to give him what he desired. He took my lower lip gently between his teeth and bit me softly. When he released me, my mouth opened to him, and his tongue entered me, tasting me deeply and with infinite care. His tongue explored my mouth while his hands roamed over my body, brushing against my hardening nipples and cupping my bottom as he pulled me even closer, so that his growing erection pressed against my belly. My hands kneaded the muscles of his back as I clung to him, wanting only to remain as close, as intimate as we were at that moment.

When Che broke the kiss and pulled away from me, I was dazed and breathless. Instinctively, I moved toward him again, but he stopped me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes. "If I kiss you again," he said, "I won't want to stop. You make me want more. You make me want everything."

"Take everything, then," I said. "Whatever you want is yours."

Che took my hand and led me from the club to the street, nearly deserted in the early morning hours. We spotted a cab down the block and hurried toward it, too impatient to walk as we had done before. Che gave my address to the driver, and we slipped into the darkness of the back seat. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Che pulled me onto his lap, and we were lost once again in the depths of our kisses. His hands moved from my breasts to my hips, then found the slit in my skirt and began to stroke my thighs. As his hand moved higher, my thighs opened to him willingly, eagerly. His fingers brushed against my panties, then grasped them and stripped them from me. I was completely open to him, utterly ready. As his fingers entered me, his mouth was clamped on mine, stifling my moans of pleasure. His fingers moved in and out, slowly at first, then faster, while my hips rocked against him, making him harder as his excitement matched my own. Che had brought me almost to fulfillment when the cab stopped in front of my building. I stumbled out, dazed at the interruption of my pleasure. Che thrust some bills at the driver, then pulled me into the building and inside the waiting lift.

The lift in my building was creaky and slow, but at this time of night, it was empty. The doors had barely closed before my hands were on Che, unbuttoning his shirt to the waist and opening it to expose his broad, muscular chest. I rubbed my face in the curly black hair, then sought his nipples, which I teased with my lips and tongue until they grew hard. My hands dropped to caress the length of his manhood, but he groaned and gently pushed me away. "Wait, mi amor," he begged me. "Please wait. I'm so close."

The lift reached my floor, and we hurried down the hall to my door. When I fumbled with the keys, Che took them from me, opened the door, and pulled me inside. The bedroom was only a few steps away, but we couldn't wait. I unbuttoned his trousers while he pushed my dress above my hips. My back was against the door when his hands slipped beneath me, lifting me as he murmured, "Now, dulce, now." I wrapped my arms around his back and my legs around his waist as he entered me, filling me more completely than I had thought possible. He stood still for a moment, poised inside me, breathing hard. "I'm so close," he said again, his lips against my ear.

"Darling, we both are," I whispered. "Take us there."

Groaning softly, Che began to move inside me, slowly at first but with mounting urgency. He threw his head back as he drove into me, and I watched as his desire to prolong the pleasure struggled against his need to succumb to it. As each thrust brought me closer to the edge, I sobbed with pleasure, begging him not to stop. He pumped into me harder, faster, relentlessly, until the intensity of my climax drove him to the ecstasy of his own release.

Che stood trembling in the aftermath of our passion and slowly, reluctantly released me. I unwound my arms and legs from his body as he slipped from inside me. We clung together for a moment before I took his hand and led him to the bedroom, where we collapsed on the bed, locked in each other's arms. He stroked my hair, murmuring, "So sweet, so sweet." I nestled against him, utterly satisfied, completely fulfilled.

We dozed for a while, still in our rumpled clothes. As it grew light outside, Che stirred drowsily and began to take the remaining pins from my hair, spreading it across the pillow. He kissed my eyelids tenderly, then turned me over on my stomach so that he could reach the zipper in the back of my dress. He unzipped me with sensuous slowness, pausing to kiss each inch of flesh that he exposed. The zipper ended where the cleft of my buttocks began, and by the time I was completely unzipped, I was thoroughly aroused.

I stood then, so that Che could slip the dress off me. He knelt before me as the dress slid slowly to the floor, lavishing attention on my breasts until the nipples stood up hard and exquisitely sensitive. He took each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking them thoroughly, languorously, while I cradled his head against me. As his hands traveled down my body, I stepped out of the dress and balanced lightly against him while he removed my black pumps, admiring my pink toe nails and slender ankles.

"Your turn, my love," I said then, gently coaxing him to his feet with my fingertips beneath his jaw. As he rose, I pushed the shirt from his shoulders, revealing his strong arms and muscled torso. Every inch of him was perfect -- utterly masculine, exceptionally beautiful. The trousers were next, and they dropped to reveal his taut buttocks and powerful legs. Even his feet were beautiful. I kissed first one, then the other, then slowly worked my way back up his legs and toward my goal.

I cupped Che's balls in my hand and took his shaft into my mouth, letting my tongue arouse his passion while my fingers gently milked him. His hands cradled my head, urging me to go deeper. He was too big for me to accommodate completely, but I took all that I could, hungry for every inch of him. "Oh, that's so good," he moaned as he grew bigger and harder inside my mouth.

When Che was very close, he stopped me, moaning a little as my lips drew away from him. I pushed him down to the bed, onto his back. I straddled him, leaning forward to give him a deep kiss, then settling back as I lowered myself onto him. He slipped into me inch by inch until I ground my pelvis against him, filled completely with his manhood. Che's eyes darkened with pleasure as my hidden muscles squeezed him and my hips began to rock. His hands moved over my breasts, then settled on my hips, establishing our rhythm. All the while his dark eyes watched me, my excitement fuelling his own.

I rode Che with abandon, lost in the sensation as my hips rocked faster and faster. The first tremors had begun inside me when Che pulled me toward him and rolled us over, driving into me with all the force of his passion as I writhed beneath him, meeting every thrust. His husky voice was in my ear, urging me to come with him, and when at last he exploded inside me, I did.

We lay together as the first rays of the sun peeped into the room and turned our bodies to gold. Che's arms were around me, my head on his chest. "Happy birthday, mi amor," he murmured, smiling down at me.

"And many happy returns of the day," I added.

"As many as you like. As often as you like," he assured me. "You know that birthday wishes always come true."

"I know that mine did," I said, smiling. "Thanks to you."