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Compendium IIIWhile leaving the salon, Emma suddenly took my arm, violently holding onto my chest...· I don't want my 'Romeo' to get lost! - she justified herself, always smiling.
But when we got to the courtyard area, I witnessed one of the most improvised... strip teases...
He took the edge of his long skirt, crossing his arms and lifting it up by his waist, his breasts and head, revealing a beautiful yellow bikini...· What?– she asked coquettishly, when I almost drooled at the sight of her. – I like classics.It was worse seeing her bend over to put away her clothes, because it defined a pair of plump thighs comparable to juicy ham hocks...
Surprised because she had chosen that bikini just for me, my only reaction was to sing...
- It was an itsy bitsy, teeny weenie... (the original lyrics in her native language of the yellow bikini)
As she started walking, swaying her hips, and ending with a...· ...yellow polka dot bikini... Left me with my mouth open, along with her seductive gaze, because not even Marisol had heard that song.· What? I told you I like classics...
But once I left my things next to her, I decided to lend a hand to the mothers who were loading the freezers with meat for the barbecue.
Especially, I wasn't taking my eyes off Cheryl, who, while loading a box of hamburgers, almost let her opulent breasts loose.
- There's something I've wanted to ask her for a long time.andIs that so? Tell me, how can I assist you? - asked the teacher with curiosity, looking for a discreet place where we couldn't be interrupted and had some privacy.
Why does she use a roll of sushi as her profile picture? She laughed out loud...andI'm sorry! I'm sorry... it's just that I remembered how he greeted me that day. I apologize. It's just that you can tell... my appearance is very striking to some people. - she said lightly dejected, looking to make sure the other mothers didn't catch her brief moment of spontaneity.Believe me, I can understand that. But why sushi?orIf you allow me to be sincere... it's because it's my guilty pleasure. Simply, I love it! Nothing better than a Saturday night, eating sushi nonstop.
For your surprise, I approached as if telling her a secret. A delicious jasmine aroma came to my nose...
- I must assume then that you are single...
With a slightly more nervous glance, she showed a gesture similar to guilt and noticing the closeness of our faces, her precious eyes jocosely smiled.andIs it too obvious? - Only for those who look at you with more attention. – I said, lightly touching her forearm, empathizing with her. – It's a shame that no one treats you as you deserve... but I could do something for you. If you want and have time, I could teach you how to make sushi. Her precious eyes sparkled in admiration...orDo you know how to prepare sushi? - My daughters love it and it's not that hard, if one acquires the practice.andI don't know if I should accept. I'm not good at cooking...
I stroked her face with tenderness to calm her and give her encouragement.
- I didn't know either. But I dared, I tried, I tried again, until my daughters said it was delicious.
She smiled, but still distrusted...
- Look, think of it as a different panorama for Saturday night. Someone will want to try your sushi someday...
We shared a brief smile of complicity, subtly understanding the game of words...
But then, the intimate atmosphere collapsed with the arrival of the children, when the bell rang. Bastián overflowed with happiness at seeing me.Ø Dad! – exclaimed my little one, giving me a strong hug... And as expected, he showed me all the places he considered important: the bathroom, the computer room, the playground, the sports field... – Bastián, you never said your school had an Olympic pool!andAh! - Cheryl replied very proudly to me. - Our school has a complete swimming program for our students and from the fourth year on, we train them for the national selection. And seeing that the training track was practically immaculate, since the shallow zone was on the other side, I couldn't help but tell my son: - Bastián, did you know that if you do 20 laps in this pool, you'll swim a kilometer? Of course, my son isn't like Pamelita, who for her, those data are important. What I can say is that, to the disappointment of the mothers who were waiting for him to prepare the meat, I took off my sweater and jumped into the water... Bastián was following me fascinated, from the shallow side, cheering me on...Ø Come on, dad! You can do it! Don't give up!
Little by little, my son's constant erections were attracting more and more empowered girls, along with other kids, who celebrated with my son.Ø You're at 5, Dad! You can do it! 6! You're almost there! 7! Don't stop, Dad!
When I was crossing the 8th lap, I had my own mom fan club...
+8! Keep swimming! Don't give up! 9! Little left!... and 10! Hurrah!
But for some reason, they thought that was all...Ø Come on, dad! I know you can do it! You're almost there! 11!
From that point on, it became 'the sporting event', because if before, half the mothers were there, in those moments, at least 4/5 of all of them were.Ø Come on, dad! Don't get tired! Keep swimming! - my son was saying because I changed my stroke to dog paddle in the middle of lap 13.
Some of the mothers started laughing and others were cheering me on, with some sharing their own difficulties while swimming.
It seemed like they thought I was running out of strength, but actually, I was reaching my wall: where your arms feel like stones and your legs like marble...
But as I mentioned in another story, when I ran with Amelia (my sister-in-law), I would surpass that point and keep going, what I called zombie mode, because I didn't care about fatigue, pain or my body. The only thing that interested me was reaching the finish line.
And when I got to that point where you feel general apathy towards your entire body, I went back to breaststroke, to the delight of everyone else.+16! Come on, come on! 17! 18! 19! And 20! Hurrah!
I was completely dead from exhaustion. I felt my arms heavy and barely could climb up the pool ladder.
However, my son couldn't be more proud of me...Ø Look! Look! My dad swam an entire kilometer! Look at all of you! My dad is the best!
But in his wild leaps of joy, I could make out how Karen, Lilly and the little dark-haired girl who I imagine must be Sophie were trying to hug my son, without much success.· Come with me! – said Emma, wrapping me in a towel for the cold.
While Emma was escorting me back to our spot, some of the mothers were offering me hamburgers, hot dogs and refreshments, but I was so tired that all I wanted was to lie down on the towel.· I bet you'll never swim... - Emma commented in a sarcastic tone, half-rebuking me.
- But it's an Olympic pool. When do I have the opportunity to swim in an Olympic pool?
Emma smiled with sweet resignation, as if she admired me.· I suppose you never stop surprising me.
I lay down on the floor, on my stomach, enjoying the sweet caresses of the sun...
- What are you doing? - I asked, as she knelt beside me.· Massage your shoulder and back muscles so you don't wake up sore tomorrow. – Emma replied, really knowing what she was talking about. – You're not the only one who took a course. You're speaking with a 'licensed chiropractor'. - Really? – I asked, feeling relief in my shoulder after it cracked.· Yes. You'd be surprised what a single mother is willing to learn to pay the bills. While her hands moved over my shoulders, I felt like I was almost falling asleep. The movement of her fingers was soothing and relaxing, to the point that ambient noise seemed to fade away and it seemed we were only two, in the midst of the increasingly distant chaos of the mothers' meeting.· You've got broad shoulders... commented, as if it was calling a lot of attention to him.· I wanted to tell you that what you did for Bastián was very nice... I've really enjoyed sharing time with you... I mean, well, you have something special that's different from the rest of men... and I can appreciate that you genuinely care about taking care of your son, so...§What are you trying to do? - Isabella interrupted us.
Like Emma and as could be expected of her, Isabella wore a revealing and expensive bikini.· I only give him a massage so that his muscles don't ache.§I don't talk to you, I talk to him! What are you planning? eh? Are you going to sleep with all of us?· Oh, please, Isabella! Mature!§You yourself heard it! He is married!· As if that were a great obstacle for you... - replied Emma in a sarcastic tone.§What?· Only admit hotel. He also likes you...§What?... No!... it's just that I'm annoyed he plays with all of us.· Yes, of course... because we all whisper sweet little things in French when we meet a tall, handsome, and intelligent Latin man. – Emma replied in a tired voice. - Isabella, the only one who's deceiving herself here is you. Marco is intelligent, I can tell what's going on with you and Cheryl understands us, because he also likes her. The only one who seems not to want to see the truth is you.§But he's married! - protested Isabella.· And what's that? Do you see her husband here? Besides, this is just a game. – Emma sighed tiredly.- Tell me, Isabella, how many men in his position would have lied to us without saying anything? At least he had the decency to say it from the start... and you saw him. He's not like the others...Then she leaned in close to my ear, feeling her warm fingers on my shoulders...• Marco, I like you! I'm dying to kiss you! And if you want something more, I'm willing to explore... And then she turned back to Isabella, to challenge her...· Do you see? Simple... In those moments, I felt my body so tired that I didn't realize that Emma's massage or words had stimulated blood circulation, so when I turned around...Next post
2 comentários - PDB 08 Presentation for the Course (II)
" No debo spoilearme tus historias pero no puedo evitar leer algunos de los relatos actuales +10