John Brown had just turned 50. He was still in pretty good shape, still pretty good looking, still pretty prosperous, and still pretty sure he was ready to quit his job and move to Mexico. OK, not
move
move, but at least take a long vacation. He signed up for an adult education program at the local community college. "Intermediate Survival Spanish" it was called. The catalog said it was designed for those with an elementary knowledge of Spanish who wished to get a handle on functional street language. That was perfect for him. He already had enough to ask directions and order beers, but he wanted to be able to carry on a simple conversation and have enough to bargain for deals and maybe get laid.
The class was a mix of students looking to up their skill level enough to challenge Spanish II, missionary types getting up to speed for a Latin American assignment, ambitious tourists, and him. They got superficially acquainted before the prof arrived. She was a middle-aged Latin woman with dark hair tied up in a bun arrangement behind her head. She wore a snugly fitted knee-length grey business suit over a starched white blouse. He noticed a well-rounded butt and trim ankles indicating a nice pair of legs, but her demeanor was purely no-nonsense, and he shelved any prurient thoughts.
She identified herself as
Profesora
Perez and invited the class to introduce themselves using whatever Spanish with which they felt comfortable. Some gave their English names and some used the Spanish translations, and all gave some tidbit of information, such as age, marital status, occupation, or hobbies. When his turn came, he said "John Brown, or
Juan Pardo. Cinquenta años, soltero, empresario."
She smiled, complemented him on use of the proper term for entrepreneur, and asked if he liked
musica.
He responded with a simple
"Si,"
and she commented that there is a famous Spanish singer by the name of Juan Pardo. He didn't know what to do with that, so he just smiled and settled for getting a little additional attention and distinguishing himself in some small way.
She ran through some vocabulary and idiomatic expressions to gauge the relative skill levels and help everyone relax into the group setting. She spoke mainly in Spanish, but mixed in enough English to make sure that everything was being understood. It was a comfortable low-impact lesson. At the end she reminded them that as the course was not about mastering academic language but providing the tools to understand meanings of popular slang and subtleties of street talk. She gave them an assignment for the next class: translate a song or poem into Spanish, with the intent of conveying meanings rather than just translating the words. She dismissed the class and marched out of the room. Again, he noted that she looked good from behind, but just filed that away under miscellaneous.
He chose a song he had first heard from Ian and Sylvia but had been covered by many artists, including Bob Dylan. "Spanish is a Loving Tongue" seemed quite appropriate, as the chorus was already in Spanish, and he figured some romantic lines could come in handy when he traveled. He spent hours on the translation and had it in what he considered good form for the next class. It was the story of a cowboy who fell for a Mexican girl and was enthralled by the music of her words. He got in trouble over a card game and had to leave in a hurry, saying "
Adios mi corazon
." It went over well in class, and Profesora Perez used it as an example for leading the discussion
.
John wanted additional clarification and approached her after class. She said they had to vacate the room for another scheduled class, so he asked her if she would join him for coffee at the Student Union Building café. She consulted her watch and accepted with what he thought was a rather terse and condescending manner.
They walked the half block to the SUB, side by side and saying little. He felt awkward and she seemed aloof, but in truth it was her discomfort, too. He wasn't used to being a student and she wasn't used to having someone so attractive and age appropriate in her class. They both felt awkward, and both were glad it was a short walk.
They settled at a corner booth, and each took more careful stock of the other. It was quite different seeing someone from across the table rather than across a lecture theater. She seemed younger up close, mid-forties maybe, but still a little stiff. He was pleased to find that she was quite pretty. Very pretty in fact. He noted the high cheekbones, the elegant jaw, the fullness of her lips, the regal arch of her eyebrows, and the delicate shape of her nostrils and ears. Her skin was a burnished tan and smooth as porcelain, her eyes shone darkly behind thick lashes. Her breasts pushed insistently at the front of her suitcoat, although the cleavage was concealed behind the high neckline of her blouse. She sensed his appraisal and rewarded him with a tentative smile. Shit, once she relaxed, she was a babe!
For her part, she couldn't deny that he was handsome, and he smelled good, but not perfumed. His hair was a faded blonde with streaks of grey and his eyes were very blue. He was tanned, with a manly two-day stubble on a strong jaw, but he had that little cleft in the chin that so annoyed her on race car drivers and gladiators. He was like the cliché Ken doll gringo that all the Mexican girls find so attractive and she ordinarily did not. This time however, she was somehow intrigued by this John Brown/Juan Pardo. He seemed both bright and polite, two things she had not always found in the men she had known. And so far, he had treated her and her class with respect. She felt comfortable in his company.
She excused herself to visit the ladies' room and returned looking refreshed and carrying the jacket of her business suit with the top buttons of her blouse undone. There was still no cleavage reveled, but the other buttons were strained by the pressure of her breasts, which seemed larger now that they were freed from the restraint of the formal suit coat.
"I'm off duty now," she said by way of explanation as she draped the jacket over a chair.
He poured two coffees from the self-serve machine and placed them on the table next to a copy of his translation lesson. They went through it line by line, she complementing his interpretation of the feelings in the song and he concerned that he couldn't make it rhyme. He admitted extensive use of a dictionary but was quite pleased with the results. He was curious about the use of the Spanish phrases in the original song, noting that it changed from "
Mi amor, mi corazon
" to "
Adios mi corazon
" which felt like the shift between, "My sweetheart, my baby," to "Good-bye my love." Or not.., John was interested in the nuances of the term
corazon.
It literally meant 'heart' but also carried shades of affection and romance, both current and nostalgic, and must have differing weights. He wanted to know if it usually implied commitment or could be used casually in a social encounter, and (especially) could it be considered offensive or disrespectful. She was amused by his interest in the subtleties of the word and impressed that he had given it so much thought. She couldn't suppress a naughty grin,
