Hello Dahlia Ch 03

I am sorry for the delay in getting Chapter 3 out. My computer crashed and, of course, I did not have the story backed up, so I had to start from scratch. You may want to scan chapters 1 and 2 to get back up to speed, although it is not necessary.

The story continues:

It was hard to believe that less than a week had passed since Dahlia (my company's lawyer in Mexico) and I started a sexual relationship. She came to my apartment on a Saturday morning and we had oral sex (she told me that oral sex was all she could give me until she left her husband. She felt that oral sex was not a betrayal of her husband, but intercourse was.) Then on the following Monday, she came to my apartment before I left for the airport, and we spent the morning fucking in the living room, in the bedroom and in the shower.

My last image of her, as I closed the apartment door, was her lying on my bed, naked, with her hair still damp after our last session in the shower.

I knew in my heart that Mexico was where I wanted to retire. I loved the climate, I loved the standard of living that I could enjoy, and I especially loved the people (or at least one in particular). The only issue was the drug wars and gang killings, but it was no worse than South Central LA or some of the other cities plagued by drug violence. In addition, it was certainly better than some other cities in which I worked: Kandahar, Jakarta and Port Harcourt.

I had a long-time "friend with benefits" in Milwaukee named Susan. We slept together whenever I visited the home office but we both knew that our relationship was one of convenience and nothing more. After knowing Dahlia for six months and being with her for two days, I knew she was someone special and I felt more for her than I had felt for any other woman, including Susan.

I talked to Susan about Dahlia, and apologized for my "betrayal", but she reminded me that since we did not have a committed relationship, there was nothing to betray.

I knew what I had to do and vowed to work to make my relationship with Dahlia a long-term one. I would help her leave her psychologically abusive husband and start a new life with me. I wanted to wake up each morning with her by my side. I wanted to start each day by running my fingers across her body while kissing and sucking her nipples to make them hard: to wake her up by quietly sliding between her legs and gently work my tongue through the folds of her pussy until she became aroused and wordlessly enjoyed the attention that I was paying to her. I wanted to give her pleasure and have her know that she was under no obligation to return it, just enjoy it.

On Wednesday, however, my clarity of purpose became clouded, when her husband sent an angry fax to my boss. In it, he accused me of adultery and threatened me with violence if I ever saw his wife again. I nearly lost my job (and about $1.5 million in salary and bonus), but I convinced him that I could salvage the situation. To do that, I had to fly back to Mexico immediately.

I told Dahlia that I would arrive in Monterrey on the American Airlines flight from Dallas at 3:40 PM. In fact, I took the later Continental flight through Houston, which got in at 7:40 PM. I was still not certain if Dahlia told her husband about us and I wanted to come into town without a welcoming committee. I failed to consider how worried Dahlia would get, because as soon as I turned my phone on there were six text messages from her, each expressing a greater level of worry than the one before.

After we landed, I got my passport stamped, gathered my belongings, cleared customs and waited for Enrique, my field boss and my second in charge, whom I asked to meet me. He pulled up just as I walked out. I threw my luggage in the back seat of his car and we headed for my apartment.

I owed him an explanation about why I asked him to meet me when he knew I had parked my truck in the long-term parking lot at the airport, but the explanation would have to wait; first, I needed to call Dahlia. I called her cell number and she answered on the second ring.

"David, is everything okay?"

"I am sorry", I said, then made up a lie. "I realized on the plane that I gave you the wrong flight information. There was no room on the American flight so I had to take the Continental. Can you forgive me for making you worry?"

"Now that I know you are safe, it does not matter; I was just so scared that something had happened."

"Let me call you back in a little while. I am with my field boss and I need to talk to him about the job and send him back to the site."

"Okay, but you sound strange. Are you sure there is nothing wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. I will call you when I get settled in."

I hung up and turned to Enrique. "So", I said, "I suppose you are wondering what is going on."

"I did not know if it was any of my business, but yes, I am slightly confused."

I explained the situation as best I could without revealing that I slept with the company's attorney. I told him about the letter and the threat from her husband. Finally, I told him about leaving my truck at the airport in case someone was watching.

Enrique pulled over to the side of the road with a look of sheer terror on his face. "Are you talking about Dr. Javier Villegas?"

"Yeh, I think that is his name. He is a heart surgeon here in town."

"Señor, be very careful. He is a very dangerous man."

"How can that be? He is just a doctor. Maybe he has important friends, but what can he do?"

"Don't you know? He is the doctor for the Zeta. Their leader had a heart problem a couple of years ago and Dr. Villegas took care of him. Since then, he has been paid much money to take care of their soldiers. He has many evil friends."

"The Zetas? Are you talking about the drug cartel? I thought they were north and west of here."

"They are everywhere. Monterrey is a big city. Do you think they would not have interests here?"

Suddenly I was worried. I came into town sure that her husband could do nothing to me, but now I was beginning to think I was being a little too cocky.

On the way home, I asked Enrique to stop at a Telcel Shop (the Mexican cell phone company). I picked up three SIM cards for my phone and an additional phone for Dahlia. I did not want her husband to see my caller ID on her phone and know I was in contact with her. I wanted to talk to her, so if figured that if I could spread our conversations out over three phone numbers, I might actually survive this project.

After I got to my apartment, I opened the case of electronic gear my friend sent me and gave the rooms a quick check to see if there were any wireless recording devices or cameras. The place was bug free, so I sat down on the sofa, opened up a cold bottle of Sol and contemplated where I was in life.

I was 54 years old and falling in love with a 33-year-old Latina who was unlike any woman I had ever met. She had the passion for life and love like other Mexican women. However, unlike others, she had light complexion, blond hair and blue eyes: part of her German-Mennonite heritage. However, a shroud of overwhelming sadness hid all her beauty and passion.

When our sexual relationship started and I watched as I was eating her pussy or as she sucked on my cock, I saw in those moments that the sadness fell away. Then, when she came to visit and we went all the way, she broke free of the sadness that was holding her back. On that day, I knew that I wanted more of her. I no longer wanted to be alone, and I wanted to share my life with her.

To say there were problems in fully exploring a relationship with her would be an understatement. She was an attorney in Mexico. This was where she built her career, so even after I finished the project, I would have to stay in the industrial city of Monterrey if I wanted to be with her. To compound the problem, she was married to an influential doctor who also happened to be associated with one of the most violent drug cartels in all of Mexico. A few days earlier, he issued some idle threats, which now could very well turn out to be real.

If I would have known how things would turn out, I may have handled things differently, but I do not have the benefit of hindsight. No matter what I should have done, the die had been cast. I had a job to do and there was no way to turn back the clock. I met and fell in love with a woman in a complex situation, and there was no going back on that either.

I promised Dahlia that I would call her back. I used one of my new phone numbers to call. It took her a long time to pick up—so long that I was afraid that something was wrong.

Finally, she answered.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"It's David. I got a couple of phones so no one will recognize my number."

"Well it worked, because I did not recognize it. I almost didn't answer."

"I am glad you did. I really missed you. How has it been for you?"

"It's been fine. Javier is very angry, but he will get over it. I am tired of his bullying and intimidation."

I heard her words, but I didn't think things were "fine".

"Dahlia, are you sure you are okay?"

With that, she started to sob. "David, I miss you so much and I really need to see you, but I cannot. I look terrible and I don't want you to see me like this, but I really need you now."

"Dahlia, did he hit you?"

There was a pause—a long pause.

"Dahlia...did...he...hit...you?"

"Si, I mean yes, he did. He called me a tramp and a whore. Then he slapped me and punched me."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. He got a phone call and said he would be back in a couple of days to finish this. David I am so scared, but you cannot be involved."

"It is too late for that, I am already involved. Do you think he has anyone watching you?"

"What do you mean? Why would he?"

It occurred to me that despite being a sharp attorney, Dahlia did not have a clue. She had such a wonderful body and mind, but outside the legal world, she was so naïve. Maybe that was what attracted me to her: intelligence and beauty combined with vulnerability.

"Dahlia, think about it. He regards you as his property. He is going to protect his property. Don't think that just because he is gone, you are safe. It is you who must be careful."

"Oh David, I have made such a mess out of things. What should I do?"

"For now, drive to a clinic and have a doctor look at your injuries. Don't go to one of your husband's clinics. Go to a competitor and get it on record that he injured you. Then go home and sit tight. I will try to figure something out."

As I was about to hang up, I had to tell her one more thing. "Dahlia, I don't know if this is the right time to say it, but I am falling in love with you."

"I don't know if it is the right time, either, but I feel the same way."

"I'm glad. I will call you every day on one of the new numbers I have. Get some rest and have a doctor look at that beautiful face."

"Okay, I will. I miss you, David."

"And I, you. I will talk to you soon."

I hung up the phone, seething with anger. What could make this educated man think for a moment that it was okay to strike the mother of his child? The man was a coward and a bully, hiding behind the weapons of his violent friends, coming out only long enough to slug his wife and terrorize her.

What could I do? I was a guest in Mexico. I learned long ago that trying to impose American standards of justice in a foreign country usually yields indifference and hostility. "You come here and try to tell us right from wrong, while your country fights illegal wars and buys the drugs that make the drug lords so powerful." No, saying that a respected doctor was a bully who was slapping his wife, a woman with whom I was having an affair, would probably not end well.

There had to be another way, but what was it?

I went to bed exhausted but awoke at my regular time of 6:00. I put the coffee on and turned on the local news. More drug violence overnight with 19 dead in Juarez, and ten in Torreón. Things were getting worse and no one could seem to stop the violence.

After breakfast, I called a taxi to take me to the airport to pick up my truck. I was paranoid, and was sure that at least six vehicles were following me. When I arrived, I paid the driver, hopped in my truck and drove to the job site without incident. Not much had changed while I was gone, but it had only been four days.

I decided to call Dahlia and see how she was doing. She sounded remarkably chipper. She told me that her husband called to apologize and said he would be stuck for another couple of days.

Her words were like a knife in my heart. It sounded like a typical battered woman's syndrome. The guy says he is sorry and the woman, for whatever the reason, forgives him. "Is that why you sound so happy: because he apologized to you?"

"No, I am happy because he is going to be out of town for a couple more days. I don't have to look at him or take his abuse."

We talked for a few minutes more. She said that despite all that happened, last weekend was one of the best she ever had. She said that she is just coming down from the high of our time together on Monday. She described the feeling of looking down and seeing my cock slide in and out of her pussy as I took her from behind in the shower. She told me that she has masturbated to that vision several times in the past few days.

"And," she said, "I have not worn panties since that day. I want to make sure nothing gets in the way when the time comes that we can be together again."

Over the next few days, things got back to normal. I talked to Dahlia daily using one of the three phone SIM cards I bought. On Monday, Dahlia got a call from her husband that he would be home on Tuesday, but Tuesday came and went without any sign of him. By Thursday when there was no further word, even I was getting concerned, for fear that he would show up when I least expected it.

The Saturday edition of "El Dario", the local newspaper gave the first hint that something was amiss. The headline proclaimed "Prominent Local Doctor Suspected of Working with Drug Cartel".

I read the article and realized they were talking about Dahlia's husband. I ran out and bought up all the local, regional and national newspapers I could find. The headlines were all similar:

"Local Man Stands Accused of being Medic for Zeta Gang"

"Monterrey Doctor Tied to Drug Cartel"

"Missing Monterrey Physician under Indictment"

I called Dahlia. "Have you seen the papers this morning?"

"No, I have been busy with Juan Carlos. Why?"

"Well, Enrique is under suspicion of being tied to the Zeta Drug Cartel as their on-call doctor. There is a warrant for his arrest."

"Oh, my God! I have been trying him on his cell phone on and off for a couple of days, but he has not even had it turned on. Do you think he is running away?"

"If he is not, he should start thinking about it."

In the week that followed, the headline of every newspaper and the lead story on every local news broadcast told for more arrests and violent clashes between gang members and police. Even the local police commissioner was indicted for taking bribes from the Zetas.

Then on Friday of that week, six days after the first newspaper article, the lead story was that Dr. Javier Villegas Gomez, respected heart surgeon from Monterrey, was arrested in Juarez by Mexican border police while trying to cross into the United States. Mexican officials were holding him without bail at the Cereso State Prison.

It seemed that the pressure was off Dahlia because her husband had more important things to worry about. I called her with the news and while she seemed relieved, she seemed a little sad. "What will become of him? He is not strong enough to survive prison."

"Dahlia, everyone makes decisions that affect their lives and the lives of others. Your husband made the decision to put himself and his family at risk. Now he has to pay the consequences."

"In my heart I know all that, but he is the father of my son. How shall I explain it to him?"

"You tell him the truth: that his father made some mistakes and now must pay for them. He may not understand, what is happening or why, but if you lie to him he will not understand that either."

There was a pause on the phone. "Dahlia, can I come to your office this afternoon? I have not seen you in a nearly three weeks. I promise nothing will happen, but I need to talk to you face to face, and I need to conduct some business."

"I don't know. What if they are watching my office?"

"They are not watching you. Your husband is in jail. They have nothing to gain by worrying about you. More to the point, the threats were against me so I am the one who should worry. Can I come by at 2:00?"

"Can you make it 3:00? There will not be as many people around."

"3:00 it is. Do you want me to bring some lunch?"

"That would be nice. I will see you later."

I went to work, but the numbers on my digital watch distracted me as they advanced at a horrendously slow pace. I was excited to see Dahlia, because it had been weeks since we had seen each other in my apartment before this whole thing started.

I have had longer intervals between sexual encounters, but I was horny enough to screw a pile of rocks. It takes a remarkably short time to get accustomed to having a beautiful woman's lips around your cock, the feeling of a tight pussy, and the sensation of lying next to a naked woman, especially when there is an emotional connection. For today, however, I would be content just to be near Dahlia and take in her perfume and her beauty.

At 1:30, I rushed home, showered and put on a pair of khaki slacks with a green, loose fitting shirt. By 2:30, I was out the door, stopped at a street vendor, picked up some burritos, and headed to Dahlia's office. As I arrived, many of her coworkers were leaving, since most professional offices in Mexico (or Monterrey, at least) close from 3:00 until 6:00 (something Americans know as a siesta).

I arrived just as the receptionist was gathering her things. Like most Mexicanas in a business environment, she wore a uniform with a skirt was a bit too short and a blouse that showed more cleavage than would be acceptable in the USA. The ensemble was finished off with very high heel shoes.

In Spanish I said, "I am here to see Dahlia. Is she in?"

"Señor, we are closing for lunch."

"She is expecting me."

"Un momento, por favor."

She spoke into the phone and when she hung up, told me that Dahlia would see me and to have a seat. She impatiently sat at her desk and waited until Dahlia came down to dismiss her.

Dahlia was dressed very professionally, but in a very lightweight dress that flowed as she walked down the hallway. I could see the shape of her legs as the material clung to them as she moved toward me. I restrained myself from jumping up and taking her in my arms, because, under the circumstances, that might not be a good idea.

Dahlia shook my hand very professionally and coolly and then offered her cheek in a traditional Mexican greeting. I kissed her cheek and she asked me to join her in the conference room. Despite the sexy way she dressed, her demeanor suggested that we were back to a very professional relationship. I feared that the stress of the last three weeks made her lose interest in a relationship with me.

"In here, David. Can I get you anything to drink...water, coffee?"

"Water, please. I brought us some burritos so we can work straight through lunch."

"Okay, great. I will be right back."

While she was gone, I thought about what I had just seen and experienced. Dahlia was as beautiful as ever. Her blond hair touched her shoulders and framed her face. The bruising was nearly all gone, except for a small mark under her left eye, which she tried to hide with makeup.