When I met Carlos, I was fed up with men and scared of having sex. You see, I was very inexperienced when I got married, my husband took my virginity on our wedding night. How was I to know that I was supposed to be wet with my own desire when he entered me, instead of dry and frightened? And so I spent the two years of my miserable married life thinking it was normal that men spat on their cocks to lubricate them before sticking them in their wives without so much as a by-your-leave. Or worse, demanded that their wives sucked them until they were wet enough to make penetration comfortable for their men. Fortunately, he was a busy man and on the road a lot, thus I did not have to suffer his attentions much.
It was almost a relief to open the door to two police officers one night and accept their news without flinching. He was dead. After getting drugged up and drunk with a whore in a hotel room, her pimp mugged and killed him.
After taking care of the seemingly endless paperwork and formalities, I decided to go on a prolonged holiday in order to relax and find out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was only twenty-two and had a lot of time to start over. Without a man to hurt me by shoving his dick inside me every time he felt like it.
Because I was not looking for company, I avoided all the usual package holiday destinations and picked a small village on the Atlantic coast of Spain. I was not planning to bathe or tan much, I just wanted endless hours of walking the beach alone with my thoughts.
Arriving at the village on the back of a pickup truck, the driver of which had kindly consented to give me a lift, I felt a little dishevelled and kept on swiping my blonde, shoulder-length hair to stop it from flopping into my face all the time. I knew better than to go into the bar looking for information, but soon found a little corner shop. In reply to my enquiry about available accommodation, the old lady behind the counter shouted for her son to come to the front of the shop because I had trouble understanding her rapid Spanish.
Dark curls damp from perspiration and deep brown eyes flashing with mischief, Carlos appeared from out of the storeroom. He explained that his mother had a small house in the next side street that she rented out to visitors and offered to show it to me. His hand was callused and hot when he shook mine in greeting. Like a gentleman, he helped me out of the straps of my backpack and carried my luggage. I did notice his glance at my blouse that gaped a little over my modest cleavage when I shrugged out of the backpack. That look was very interested and I resolved to be careful around him.
The little house was ideal for my purposes, well equipped with a complete kitchen on the ground floor, a cool bedroom with wooden shutters and bathroom on the first floor above that a rooftop veranda with a waist-high wall around it. Quickly, I concluded the deal with Carlos and he left me with a lingering gaze that seemed to touch my body everywhere, that I could almost feel as it brushed my lips, swept over my breasts, took in my slim waist, narrow hips and long, slender legs. I was not used to such attention, my figure was normally far too boyish to interest the men. Especially the good-looking ones with the flashing white smiles, the strong shoulders and the lean hips like Carlos.
Within minutes I forgot about Carlos and luxuriated under the hot stream of water from the shower, rolling my shoulders and relaxing them after carrying the backpack for over an hour before the pickup came along. I wanted to go out and explore the beach but the sun was baking hot, so I decided on an afternoon nap instead.
It felt to me as if I had slept only a few minutes when a loud knocking on the front door woke me. I wrapped a large beach towel around my naked body and went to investigate. It was my landlady who wanted to see whether I was all right and invite me to the village festival on the beach that night. There was to be fresh fish grilled over charcoal fires, lots of red wine and music. She explained patiently that Carlos could not accompany her because he would be coming back late from an errand he had to run to Algeciras and would probably stay the night there with a cousin.
What could I do? I picked my landlady, Maria, up at 9 PM and we went down to the beach. I had procrastinated over what to wear and finally decided on a pair of jeans and a top with spaghetti straps with a light jacket over it in case it got colder.
Everybody at the party seemed to be related to Maria and she introduced all the cousins, nephews, nieces and assorted siblings to me until my head swam and I was unable to take any more in. The food was delicious, redolent with garlic and spices, the sweet taste of really ripe tomatoes along with the tangy wine was heavenly. Soon, I was pleasantly light-headed from the wine and the music of rumbling guitars. I danced with all the uncles and nephews and brothers, most of them had friendly, wrinkly smiles and few teeth.
