Book Extract
instantaneous and moist lovers, which
again placed him inside her with ease.
His lustful climax came from a place
in his heart, body and soul that had
lain dormant for years. The Spanish
words he gasped between gritted
teeth called out to the deities in the
heavens.
“I haven’t cum in Spanish for years,”
he said and slumped to one side of
their bed.
~~~~
Riding the stuffy bus to Madrid
sickened Leah. The rushed breakfast
coffee and pastry she shared with
Miguel curdled in her stomach. The
abundance of wine the night before
created a pounding headache. She
placed her forehead against the cool
windowpane as the crowded bus
bounced along. How did a simple
invitation to Segovia result in an
overnight with Miguel, being hung
over and so sexually aroused with his
memory that she was still moist? She
wasn’t that impetuous to run off
willy-nilly with a stranger but that’s
exactly what she did. She was a
seasoned woman with an attuned
instinct for choosing lasting
bedmates and not one-night stands.
Her Madrid trip was supposed to
resolve issues that gnawed at her
psyche, not create new ones. But
what incredible joy Miguel gave her.
When the bus pulled into the Madrid
bus station, Leah had already been in
and out of the city twice despite
being in Spain for only four days.
She’d contacted none of her Madrid
friends or her family back home. The
refrigerator was empty; her emails
unanswered. She was flat out
exhausted, physically and emotionally.
She’d slept with two men and neither
was permanently at her side.
Leah’s apartment building with its
balconies overlooking a green plaza
and a gushing fountain was a
welcomed sight. Once inside, she
went directly to the bedroom,
lowered the metal shutters, took a
shower, slid naked under the bed
covers and slept for the entire day.
~~~~
“I need to talk to you right away,”
Leah said to her friend Rocío. It was
the first call she made when she woke
up. She was still in bed when she
reached for the phone.
“Welcome to Madrid, Leah. Or should I
say welcome home. Where are you? I
lost your cell number and was getting
nervous when you didn’t call.”
“Oh my God, Rocío. The most amazing
thing happened. I don’t know why I
did it. Can I see you in an hour?”
“Of course but give me a hint. You
always have a story. This one sounds
extra special.”
“Hint? Think seatmate, Segovia, lust
and confusion.”
“What? Oh, never mind. Come visit
me. I’ll make paella. I know, I know, no
shrimp for you, only chicken. Hurry.”
“Great. I’ll bring the wine.”
Refreshed and eager to see her
friend, Leah dressed quickly and took
a cab to the wealthy Salamanca
district and Rocío’s apartment on
Calle de Lagasca. The building had a
potero who opened the door for her,
modern elevators and slick marble
hallways. Rocío had decorated her
spacious two-bedroom home with
exquisite taste. Leah adored her
friend but not her cats. The friends
had remained in frequent contact
that evolved with Skype and email. A
favorite topic was men.
“Guapa,” Rocío greeted Leah as she
opened the door with a flourish. “You
look marvelous. Come in, come in,”
she repeated after they rocked back
and forth in a bear hug. “Let’s uncork
your wine and you can tell me your
fantastic story. Or should I only ask
his name? Wait, don’t tell me just yet.
First we need full wine glasses. Wow!
Look at that smile on your face.”
Leah walked out onto Rocío’s terrace
while her friend prepared their drinks.
Any skyline view was limited since the
apartment was located in a congested
neighborhood. Instead, she peered over
the railing, remembering the many
times Javier treated her to shopping
sprees on the upscale street below.
“Okay, my dear, begin,” Rocío said
when she joined Leah, and they
toasted. “Who’s the mystery man?”
“Miguel Santiago,” Leah said and blew
out his name between pursed lips. “He
was my seatmate on the flight over.
We talked the entire way. I never
expected to see him again, but we ran
away to Segovia where we made love.
It’s incredible this happened to me.
Javier and I slept together in
Salamanca, too, but we’re finished.
Completely finished.”
“You’re talking too fast, Leah. Slow
down, please. I can’t follow you. One
lover at a time.”
Rocío never took her gaze away from
Leah, sitting stone-faced as a cat
jumped on her lap. She still had a
shapely body with narrow hips,
rounded breasts and long legs. Her
flawless skin contrasted with her
jet-black hair pulled back in a bun
with an exotic Spanish comb tucked
in it. Her expensive clothes came
from the top shops on Calle Serrano
accented with scarves purchased at
Loewe. Rocío wore 18-karat gold
bracelets and Majorica pearls.
“Absolutely. Why ask me that? You
know you did. Move on. You deserve
better. Now tell me about Miguel.
This one might have some promise.”
She was also a seasoned woman so
Leah felt at ease discussing her
sexual escapades of the past few
days. Although her friend had had
several romances in and out of
marriage, she’d soured with age and
was judgmental.
“He’s incredible. What a charmer.
What a lover. I’m crazy about him. It
was lust for sure but something else
was going on. He’s got a girlfriend in
Virginia.”
“Listen. Javier is like most men,” Rocío
said. “He didn’t want an emotional
conflict with you and took the line of
least resistance. He reverted to what
was comfortable and familiar behavior.
You were his mistress, even after his
wife’s death.”
“So you don’t like affairs. Is that what
you’re saying? Or no affairs with
married men or Spanish men with
deceased wives?” Leah questioned a
bit annoyed with her friend.
“You should only be involved with
single men who want a new woman.
Learn from my mistakes, Leah. Don’t
you remember the delirious and
painful affair I had with Ricardo?” He
was a fellow Spaniard, married to a
Spanish woman and lived in New York.
He and Rocío were lovers when she
was married and living in New York.
“I’m still disgraced behind my back and
hurting. We were deeply in love. But
when our affair was discovered, I lost
my husband, his wealth, my
standing in the Spanish
community and self-respect.
Ricardo only lost me.”
“And guess what?” Rocío
asked Leah. She tried to
laugh but tears came
instead. “Ricardo and his
wife are still married with
memories of a long life
together, me being one of
them. My husband and I
separated for years until
Spanish law let us divorce.
Would I have had the affair
if I had known the
outcome? No. I should
have known better. I’m a
Spaniard but love and lust
have no conscience. La
familia, Spanish
marriages, infidelities
and no divorce are an
engrained way of life for
some of us.”
“Did I do the right thing
by leaving Javier?” Leah
asked.
75
“Truthfully, you may not like this
story,” she said and relived the plane
ride and Segovia.
“Oh, come on, Leah. A girlfriend back
home?” Rocío said and looked down
her nose, shrugging her shoulder. “Not
nice behavior for the two of you?”
“I know, I know. But he’s not engaged
or married. She sounds like a sister or
best friend. For me, it was sexy and
perfect timing after the dump from
Javier. I don’t expect to see Miguel
again. I just wanted your reaction to
this far-fetched seatmate story. So
what’s your advice on affairs? What
should I do?”
“Truthfully? I think lustful love
where you lose your sense of
direction is a sickness. Avoid it.
Cultivate deep friendship, then make
love but not when either party is
involved with someone else. The
relationship works better without a
lie as the foundation. Miguel will be
back. Mark my words. But let’s forget
men for now and eat paella. I prefer
to hear about your family and your
daughter’s wedding plans,” Rocío said
as she took the wine glass out of
Leah’s hand and led her to the
kitchen.