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Volume IThe following seconds were critical. I didn't have more than 15 seconds to close and apply the lock before Miles started beating the door, threatening to tear it down.
Luckily, I only needed 5 and used the rest to reinforce our improvised refuge.
Fortunately, the bedroom entrance was facing a closet, behind which extended the bathroom corridor, achieving two objectives: isolating the living room noise and giving privacy to the bedroom.
Due to that, it wasn't hard to find an stainless steel chair that would barricade the door handle with the base of the wall, making the bedroom an impenetrable fortress, unless Miles had tried to recreate the classic scene from The Shining...
But it seemed he didn't have the axe.Ø MARKO, NO! DAMN TRICKSTER!- She screamed like a possessed person, pounding the door like a gorilla.
Involuntarily, Doris gave me a smile of relief, with the same satisfaction that a zoo worker gives to a colleague when they recapture an escaped predator.
However, this feeling was fleeting in her, since it meant being trapped with a stranger who had only known her that same afternoon.
Her luck was worse as she backed away without looking back, falling completely defenseless and sitting on the bed, as I advanced towards the room.
However, panic changed dramatically to confusion when I saw that not only did I get out of there and advance along the side of the bed, towards the quieter end, to lift my finger in a gesture of silence... to call my cell phone.
-Hello, Nightingale?andLove, is that you? - asked my half orange, worried about the shouts from the room.
I noticed that Doris was trying to see who I was talking to, so in one of the rare occasions, I spoke to my wife in English over the phone.- Yes. I'm calling because I'll be arriving a bit late.andOh! Are you okay? - she asked, upon hearing the incessant death threats and whippings at the door.
- Yeah... or so... there were problems with the bets. - I replied in the most casual tone I could muster.
And with that sixth sense so typical of my wife, she asked:andAnd are you with a woman? I knew what he was really asking from the tone of his voice... That is to say, Marisol has always told me that I'm such a nice guy, that I don't need more than a couple of hours talking to a woman to take her to bed... And although it would obviously be the perfect opportunity to test her theory, I still refused to face it... - Yes. - I replied, looking at Doris who was still paying attention to my conversation. - But you don't have to worry... Nothing will happen unless she wants to... Those cryptic words made an impression on my cellmate, just as they did with Gloria when she was my secretary.andOh... okay... my wife replied, adding a brief luxurious sigh, confirming that she was starting to touch herself. -Will you be here... soon? -No, I'm sorry. - I responded, laughing to myself, knowing what that would trigger...-I'll try to get back before dawn... My wife gasped a little harder, responding with a brief Ok and hung up. I looked at Doris, who was still confused. -Sorry. I had to excuse myself with my wife. Doris's clear eyes were enormous like fried eggs...· Are you married? - Yes. I feel like I've gotten you into all this. With this gesture, I got permission to sit on the bed's mattress, which, as expected, rarely had its sheets changed or aired out. I told him what happened: that I wanted to leave, but Miles didn't want to stop betting and I proposed betting something I would never have bet...· Good... he's like that. – He replied, justifying him with resignation. - When he feels he's on a winning streak, he can't stop.
That response left me speechless... - But I would be unable to bet like that on my wife. She smiled again, something sad and perhaps with a hint of envy...· Good... not all are like you... -he said smiling, probably remembering when I asked for tea. And noticing the kind of person I was, he came to the conclusion...· Then, it means you can leave when you want to. - he said, urging me to follow his suggestion and getting up to guide me towards the door.My stomach felt a intense twisting...
I told him that at work, Miles also harassed me and if I didn't fulfill what I had bet on, he would undermine my authority even more.
Although he was no longer trying to break the door, Miles was bleating like a wounded sheep and in some way, it gave us something of peace.
Even so, I noticed her comfortable with me. That is, she realized that I wasn't the type of person who had sought to take advantage of the situation and while maintaining caution, she wasn't as nervous as at the beginning.
But on the other hand, I think Marisol is right in saying that I have a certain charm, since I don't feel like I stand out more than normal. I'm 41 years old, with black hair and some grey, 1.80 meters tall, and physically, I don't find myself to be very spectacular because despite going to the gym, it's exclusively to prevent me from hunching over like a grandpa from working in front of the screen and because I have three daughters who enjoy being carried on my shoulders.
However, what my wife likes most is that I constantly look at her eyes and apparently, that's the key to catching the ladies' attention.
We turned on the TV to pass the time and pretend the noise, although we actually started talking.
She even asked why we felt so comfortable, despite the circumstances that had led us to that bedroom. I showed her pictures of my wife and daughters. She was surprised to see how beautiful my woman is and how tender my kids are.
They had been living together for 2 years. I got the impression that there was little to no romance in the relationship, given that she again had a vacant, hurtful smile with envy tones when I mentioned the attention I give Marisol and my daughters. But on the other hand, it also reinforced my perceptions about women, since unlike my wife Doris, she was almost solely a homemaker. Not that this is particularly bad, but it meant depending exclusively on Miles' modest income and apparently being happy with that. In contrast, for me it was always essential that Marisol complete her studies because I wanted to give her the freedom to choose whether to work or dedicate herself to the home and I endured Sonia's rise until my wife got her degree. The same way went with Lizzie when we moved to a new city, who is now saying she is an entrepreneur since her store is already generating profits. But apart from being a gambler, Miles occasionally did cocaine, so many times they could barely cancel their monthly debts. Despite this, the conversation was so pleasant that we hardly noticed when local TV stations closed transmissions around 2 am and not having cable or Netflix, our wait became longer. - If you want, you can sleep...- I said, noticing she was yawning tiredly.· No, it's fine. I can wait a little longer... - she replied sympathetically, rubbing her eyes.In some way, we reached a level of trust where my presence no longer bothered him. However, boredom and fatigue made my mind wander more and more within the little furniture of the bedroom, until I eventually found a package of moisturizing cream for hands.- What is this? - I asked, since my wife never uses that kind of product.• Oh, this!... is to soften my hands. They get dry.
- But you're so young. - I exclaimed, thinking it was anti-aging.
She laughed and gave me a demonstration.· See? It smells good, doesn't it? That was the moment when something happened... I took her hand with delicacy and softness and brought it to my nose, following the path that her fingers had traced. I don't know how to describe it (Marisol said she felt a shiver similar to how princes in movies kiss the heroine's hand...), but our eyes met... and she pulled her hand back. · And how... how did you pull off the card trick? - she asked, trying to keep her composure. - Oh, that...! And I braved up to tell her about my obsessions. I told her that when I was a younger boy and played cards with my parents, I was the type of person who could recognize cards by their backs, stains, and creases. Since my father was a strategy player and still didn't understand the extent of my quirks, he could quote even the dates on which such a card got stained or lost. Do you remember that day we were eating cookies and cream spilled a little? Or... That's the card that stayed under the bed last summer. Just like Marisol, Doris laughed heartily.· So... you weren't cheating. It was already quarter to three and we were bored out of our minds...
We had stopped looking at our cellphones because our eyes were tired and the migraine wasn't letting us enjoy memes. But on the other hand, not using them meant talking to that other strange person we had never known until that day. Suddenly, I noticed Doris was sore from her neck. - Are you ironing too much? - I asked, since Miles seemed to be following macho trends to the letter...· No... it's just that these pillows are bothering my neck.
- If you want, I can give you a massage...· No, I'm fine!
- My wife says I give very good massages...
And once again, she smiled with flirtation...· And won't she get angry if she finds out...?
I had to bite my tongue, imagining that in those moments, I should be going at it like crazy...
- Come on, relax! Everything will be fine!
Reluctantly, I convinced her to go to bed. Although her body was sensual, I really worried about her discomfort.· Ahhh… ahhh… I feel... good-jadeaba slightly, while releasing the knots on my back.- I told you so! - I replied, continuing with greater enthusiasm. - My wife is a teacher and also, when she arrives tense, I tell her to get in the tub and I'll give her a massage.· That sounds... good. Slowly, I started to release her back and it was making some strange crackling noises, which made us laugh... Eventually, I reached the base of her belt and the beginning of her rear. - Do you want me to continue down your feet?· It's not necessary... - It's no trouble... And I continued with mine, massaging in the same way as I do with Marisol: starting from the ankles, knees, thighs, and the beginning of the pubic area. The last part was particularly more difficult, given that at first, it closed off access and didn't let me move my hands. But little by little, I noticed it opening its legs wider. By that point, I looked at the clock: there were only 20 minutes left until we were free... I let her know. We looked at each other one more time... And we started eating each other's mouths mechanically...Next post
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