Chapter 2: Maria Story
Again thanks to my editor and the voice of my conscience, LadyCibelle. This is best read if you read Put to the Test Peters Story Part 1 first.
Enjoy and any votes and comments are appreciated even the negative ones.
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Hello. I have decided to write to you about my side of how I met my Peter and why he needed to pass the test if we were to be happy. Please forgive my English. I am considered fluent in it but I still make mistakes, mostly in the area of slang and colloquialisms. It is not my native language you see. So, please bear with me.
My husband is my life. I know that for you it may seem strange to say but I have waited for him all of my life. Now I have him and I will never let him go nor will I allow another woman to have him. It is as simple as that. There is no room for discussion in this. This is strange for many of you here. Many women I have met here in the US have taken the strange attitude that men are easy obtained. This may be true for you here but not for me.
I come from a Latin American country. In my homeland the men do not treat their women as the men here treat theirs. Brazil is a land of machismo. Which means, in part, that a woman is a man's property, as is his car, his house, his dog. I am quick to say that not all Brazilian men are like this, many are not but a great many are. I know this because I almost married one. His name is not important but what he was and the way he treated me for the brief time we were together is. I do not hate him; I do not even think of him. But I am thankful for him. Because of him, I found meu homem velho, my old man.
My man's name is Peter, like the saint in the Vatican. But he is no saint; he is just a man, my man.
I remember the night we met. As I have said, I had been going out for sometime with a man from Chile who had taken a job in Brazil. He did not treat me as I wanted to be treated. He cheated on me, took my money, and expected me to be there whenever he wanted me. I thought I loved him at the time so I put up with his foolishness for almost six months. Then one night I came home to find him in my bed with another woman. I was heartbroken that he would do this to me. I knew he cheated but never in my own bed. He tried to reason with me as he called it, telling me it was just a fun on the side. I had been busy at work and it wasn't like he couldn't satisfy us both so where is the harm? When he finished, I slapped him hard across the face. His eyes went cold and he slapped be back and called me a vile name and hit me again. Then he threw me on the bed and took me. Later, when he was done he said that we were through and that the sex would have to hold me for a long while. I cried the rest of the night. At that moment I swore I would wait until I had found a man worthy of me.
For months I did not go out with any men. I was like the Madonna or a nun at a convent. It was hard for me as I like sex. Most Brazilian women do. Maybe it is the tropical climate but we are a hot, passionate people. Our women are sweet and devoted and make good wives and lovers. But that was not for me until I met Peter.
On the night we met my friend Lourdes had asked me to go to a tropicali club in our city in Sao Paulo, my home.
"Maria Marlene, it is time for you to go out. How do expect to find the right man sitting in here?"
"Do you have an idea?" I asked.
"You know Ramón, the man I have been seeing?"
I thought for a moment. Lourdes sees so many men. They are like grapes to her, to be picked, eaten and then discarded if they are not to her liking. Lourdes and Ramón were good for each other. They are just alike. "Yes, the one from the telephone company?"
"Sim. Well he has been working with two Anglos from the Estados Unidos. They are very lonely he says and he wants to bring them to the club. He thinks it will be funny to watch them. Why don't you come and meet them"
"Lourdes, I am not interested in meeting a Norte-Americano. We would have little in common." I protested.
Lourdes sighed. "I am not saying to marry the man, just, you know, meet one, do a little Samba, and have some fun." She grinned and moved her hips.
"Two Americans and Ramón? If Ramón is yours am I to take care of the two gringos myself?" I asked with a small smile.
"No, Aline says she will go if you will."
"Aline! She has had her eye on Ramón. You be careful of that one," I warned.
Lourdes shrugged her shoulders. "So, if she wants she can have him. He was becoming a bore anyway. There are plenty of others." As I said, Lourdes and Ramón are made for one another.
We made plans to meet later that night at the club. I spent the rest of the day looking for something to wear. Perhaps Lourdes was right and it was my time to come back to the world. There was little available. We in Brazil have little time or money available for shopping. So as a result what we have must be good. I took down a short, black dress that I had bought during my time with the pig. I knew that it fit me right. I bathed, waxed my legs, and made myself as desirable as I could. As I dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew my breast were good. Men enjoyed touching them enough. I turned in the mirror. My friends all told me that my best feature was my bom-bom. What you would call my butt. It was round and firm. Not at all like so many women we have seen from the north. Theirs was almost gone. We often wondered what they sat on! My legs were full as well. Round and made to hold a man prisoner.
That night at the club I began dancing. I admit I was anxious to see what these men Ramón had talked about looked like. Of course I had seen Norte-Americano's before. I had worked as a translator in English for the Brazilian Embassy mission for three years in the United States and was well acquainted with the people there.
I remember well the first time I saw Peter. Ramón had walked in and sat down with two men and had just ordered some drinks when I noticed them. One man was looking around the room while Ramón and the other were talking. He was not a handsome man the way people sometimes define it. But he had strength to him which I could feel from across the room. This may have been because he was older than me. I was 32 years old and he had to be at least 40 years old. (I was to find out later he was much older, nearly fifty. But, I did not care. We are not as concerned with such things here.) For a moment, he saw me and the strangest look came over him. His mouth fell open and he just sat there staring at me. His eyes bored into me; they seemed to devour me and reach right into my soul. At that moment I knew this man was going to be unlike any other.
The other man had taken to talking with Ramón, who got up and walked over our way. I motioned to Lourdes who had been in conversation with two young men at the bar. She retrieved Aline. Ramón walked up to me just as Lourdes and Aline arrived.
"It is all set, he said. "Come on over and we will talk. Get to know the guys." He winked at me. "One is especially interested in you, caro."
"The older one?" I asked hopefully.