Author’s note: This story is a sequel to “Love and Terror on the 5:58,” although it can be read on its own. The Spanish phrases are usually defined. The term “pendejo” literally means a single public hair, figuratively a coward or jerk. Although it can be used with affection among friends, in general “pendejo” is a severe insult.
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An electronic squeak announced Dan’s words when they popped up on Dafna’s instant messaging screen. The words swept out of a blue sky like a storm, no introduction, letting loose a thunderclap in her heart.
DAN: Hi hon. Guess what? I’m coming to Mexico City on business. Can you believe it?
DAFNA: WAAWWW! I can’t believe it! Really? When? For how long?
DAN: Next week. The managing partner of my firm’s MC office has a big presentation to a big bank there. We’re bidding on the audit work, worth mucho dinero. I worked on the written proposal, now they want me there to write the slides for the orals and coach them on the presentations. My bonus this year could triple if we win.
DAFNA: You will be very busy?
DAN: Yeah, but you know how these things work. Once it’s done, it’s done. I’ve already told my boss I’d like to stay extra days. Flying in on Tuesday, work like a maniac until Friday morning, fly back Monday morning. I’ve got lots of vacation time. One guess for what I want to do on my vacation?
DAFNA: Either go to the bullfights or fuck me in real life?
DAN: Why not both? How ‘bout I fuck you at the bullfights? A little violence, a little sex. You’ll be shouting OLE in no time.
DAFNA: Mmmm, I don’t need bullfights to get me shouting OLE. You are my bull, with the big bull cock.
DAN: You’re kind. Wellllll, after all these months maybe it’s time to find out for real, yes?
DAFNA: Como no! Of course! I am getting wet at the thought.
DAN: I will pour tequila on your cunt and drink your cunt juices and tequila . Es el mejor delicioso! Not very good Spanish, sorry.
DAFNA: My pussy knows what you mean. Chingame vaquero. You know what THAT means.
DAN: Si, si. I will fuck you like a cowboy. And you will be my Aztec princess.
DAN: Are you there Dafna? Why don’t you reply?
DAFNA: I’m OK. Just crying a little. I am very happy to know you are coming. To see you real.
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The next day, Dafna almost ran her Jeep Cherokee into the guard’s booth at the entrance to the Anglo-American School, near her apartment in one of Mexico City’s most upscale neighborhoods.
“Hola, Senora Greenbaum,” said the guard in his crisp tan uniform, raising the gate. An Uzi, safety lock off, hung at his side. “Como esta usted?”
“Bueno, Joaquin, muy bueno,” smiled Dafna. Her clit still tingled from all the orgasms she had the night before, as instant messages ricocheted between Mexico City and Stamford, Connecticut, where Dan Lissner lived. Miles and borders vanished in their electronic lovemaking. The things he whispered to her in the dark, kissing her ear, licking her shoulder, his fingers easing down her panties . . . Dafna shook her head. No, she thought, I have math classes to teach. I need a clear head for the children. I’ll summon the memory later, maybe at lunch.
Dafna ran on automatic pilot for the first class, basic concepts for youngest children. By lunch, she was teaching integral calculus to the advanced students angling for places at top U.S. universities. The dreamy half of her brain had to switch to difficult mathematics, dx/dy and all that. By the time she settled in the lunch room, she almost forgot the electrifying conversation with Dan, but it came back with a jolt.
“Hey girlfriend, you have a big smile on your face today!”
Dafna looked up. Her friend Velma, who taught English, sat down. “So, tell me, why so happy? You win the lottery?”
Dafna blushed, down to the roots of her shoulder-length light-brown hair. “Velma, remember that guy I told you about, the writer I met online? He’s coming to Mexico City. It’s for business, but he’s staying for vacation. He wants to see me.”
“You haven’t said anything about him lately. I thought maybe it was over,” said Velma. She took a bite of salad.
Dafna sipped her iced tea. “It is private. We say many things to each other. But we still talk to each other, yes. I like him a lot.”
“Does he feel the same?”
“He says he does. He is very honest.”
“The last man to visit was very honest, too.”
Dafna winced. The last man to visit was passionate and honest, she remembered, except for the small matter of the wife and child in San Diego. She found out about that small matter when she answered his cell phone while he was showering after they made love. The woman calling asked Dafna to please tell Rafael his daughter was in the hospital with pneumonia and, if it did not disrupt his business trip to excess, to please come home. “And you sound like a very nice woman,” said the caller, in a voice that suggested, through Dafna’s shock, that nothing surprised her anymore.
Dafna shook her head. “Dan is not deceptive. He is a good man. We share so much. And if he is not honest? So, we have enjoyable times and then it ends.”
Dafna, do not kid yourself,” said Velma, a flash of anger in her dark eyes. “You were depressed for months after Rafael. He hurt you terribly. You were dying inside. I do not like my friends to suffer. He was a pendejo.” She paused. “Had Dan said anything about coming to see you?
“Not really. Some jokes about meeting in Texas.”
“Perhaps the jokes contained some truth.”
Dafna frowned. Had she missed a secret plea from Dan?
“Do you want him to come?” asked Velma. “You are opening yourself to pain.”
Dafna smiled. “I have to follow my heart. Others have wanted to come see me, and I said no. You know that. But with Dan . . . I would be dying on the inside if he didn’t come. I have to find out. I am going to be 48 years old. I am so tired of being hurt and being alone. When I talk with him online, I do not feel that way. He says I make him very happy. I want to meet him very much.”
“Is anybody else online making him happy?”
“So many questions! He’s in touch with other women. That’s the way we left things. We are so far apart. But he says he does not have online sex with anybody else.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes. If he is getting close to another woman, he will tell me. He said so. Dan said he would never treat a woman the way Rafael treated me. We have no secrets.”
Velma, whose own love life was stalled, sighed. “You open yourself too easily, Dafna. We all have secrets. Saying you have no secrets is the biggest lie of all. But you feel good about this, really?”
“A little scared, maybe.”
Velma smiled. “Good! If you’re a little scared, you’re realistic. You see life clearly when you are nervous, because you are alert.”
For a minute they ate in silence. Another class of rowdy teenagers in blue blazers barreled into the lunchroom. Finally, Velma smiled, “OK, go for it. I know you are smart enough to make good choices and protect yourself. If you two ever get out of bed, I’d love to meet him.”
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The 90 minutes at the gym after school left Dafna panting. Arms, legs, tummy, butt: Dafna cycled through every machine that could sweat her in shape. Not that she wasn’t in good condition, she told herself. She cared about her health whether a man was around or not. Still, the thought of Dan coming (in every sense of the word) push her repetitions to the highest numbers ever. In the shower, hot water pricked her back as she soaped her breasts and stomach. Her muscles were sore but, like the scared feeling Velma mentioned, Dafna took the soreness as something good, evidence that she was scraping the rust off her body, leaving a soft gleam of firm muscles and buffed surfaces.
She leaned against the slippery tile wall. The water cascaded off her head, over her shoulders, in warm rivers down her breasts and nipples, past her bellybutton and streaming into the luxurious curly brown hairs of her cunt. The hair spread up and out, touching her thighs. She had to dig a bit to find her clit. I’ll give it a shave before Dan comes, Dafna thought. He said he likes the trimmed look. I will look better at the pool, anyway. Maybe I’ll be a little aggressive with the razor, give Dan a surprise. That could be sexy.
She felt a jolt. Maybe, at that very minute, Dan was thinking of something sexy for her? They had had erotic thoughts of each other at the same time before, then raced on line to share their steamy ideas. She wondered what he could do to get even hotter looking than he appeared in the photos he had emailed her. With this thick chest and curly black and grey hair on his pecs and shoulders, he joked he looked “just like our Russian mobster grandfathers.”
DAN: We’d better be careful. For all I know we’re cousins from somewhere back in Odessa.
DAFNA: That explains why we so alike. We both like to talk dirty to each other. We are both hurt too much. Both tired of sad and loneliness.
DAN: Dafna, mi amor, let’s play it like this. We are both ready to give and get pleasure. No more hurt. No more alone.
DAFNA: OK, mi corazon!!!! My heart.
The water’s warm embrace, the ache of the workout, made Dafna dreamy. One hand went to her soapy breast, while her fingers pressed against her clit. She sighed and spread her legs so her fingers could wander through the thick patch and the smooth lips beneath. I’ll play just for a minute, she thought. Her nipple hardened under her caress. Beneath her manicured fingers her cunt felt alive, exquisitely vulnerable, starting to pulse. Dan, Dan, in the shower with me, she mused. Cup my tits, pinch them, make them hard, slide your fat cock between my ass cheeks, right here, right now, let me guide you in, mi alma, my soul . . .
“Hey, leave some hot water for the rest of us, por favor.” The exasperated tone of a towel-clad, sweaty woman outside the shower stall broke the moment. Dafna deflated. Time to go.
