The Familiar Tonic.
CHAPTER SIX.
FIRST PART.
SHe took off his glasses and dried a tear with his fingers. He let out a long and trembling sigh that moved me. I didn't like seeing her sad, and even less so without knowing the reason.
What is going on, grandma? Who has called? I asked again, nervous.
—It was Jacinta —she said. That Jacinta was one of her beata friends from the village. She sighed again and continued speaking in a trembling voice—. She says that... this afternoon they arrested Father Basilio. The Civil Guard took him away.
What has detained the priest? What did he do?
A shiver ran down my back. It couldn't be coincidence that he had been stopped on the same day I had drunk wine with tonic. I put my hand on my grandmother's knee to encourage her to keep talking.
—It turns out that... Oh, son, I don't know how to say it! It turns out they caught him... abusing the altar boy.
—Seriously? Don't mess with me.
May it be a lie.. May it said. He started crying and pulled out an immaculate white handkerchief from the pocket of his robe—Oh, poor Luisito! How innocent and good he is. Jacinta says they took him to the hospital. Imagine what that... that...
That son of a whore — I finished the sentence.
—Yes, that son of a whore —she repeated, surprising me.
I had never heard her use that kind of language before, and I have to admit it excited me a bit. I made her sit down on the sofa next to me and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, consoling her. Luisito, the altar boy, was one of the few children in town, and his position would remain vacant for a long time.
Who would have said it? Father Basil... so devout and so charitable, a saintly man... and look -- he lamented.
You've got to screw yourself. You can't trust anyone — I said, carelessly.
I tried not to feel guilty about what happened. As far as I knew, the tonic only increased desire, it didn't change the sexual preferences of whoever drank it, and the priest hadn't taken that much quantity to lose control until he screwed whatever came his way. He could have jacked off, gone whoring or seduced one of the spinster beauties who gazed at him with adoration in mass. If I had done what I did, it was because I already had those tendencies. It wasn't probably the first time I abused the altar boy, but due to the unusual heat we got caught.
We spent a good hour sitting on the sofa. My grandmother needed to vent and my duty was to comfort her. As I stroked her back and gave her kisses on the damp cheek, I thought I should get rid of the fake wine bottle when I had the chance. I couldn't do it that same night, of course. Maybe she was a simple and slightly naive woman but my grandmother wasn't stupid at all, and if the bottle disappeared she might suspect and tie things together, even relating it to the dinner I prepared for her and what happened that night. But due to certain events that occupied my scattered mind I forgot about the matter, and as I already said the damn wine gave trouble again later on.
When she stopped crying we had dinner, went back to the living room and I watched a movie while she talked on the phone with some of her friends, commenting on the unexpected tragedy, lamenting Luisito and cursing the evil priest. She also talked for a bit with my mother, which reminded me that I had to go see her in the city and clarify our strange situation.
At midnight we went to bed. To her bed, specifically, since I was allowed to sleep with her from the previous night, a feat almost as pleasurable as fornication. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to give in to vice and had to settle for feeling her body next to mine, as I didn't want to insist and upset her, especially after the glorious blowjob she had given me that afternoon. She didn't take long to fall asleep but I woke up. I did a ninja masturbation with care not to wake her up and went out to the porch to smoke a joint, wondering if the damn drink would bring me more trouble. The next day I got my answer.
In breakfast I was glad to check that I was more energetic. Women of today get anxiety attacks if their phone battery runs out or a worker gives them a whistle while passing by a construction site, but the women from my grandmother's generation were made of different stuff, more prepared to process and overcome life's vicissitudes. When you've grown up after the war, it's hard not to sweat about looking good in a selfie.
We resumed work in the garage, not as cheerful as the previous day but with energy. I brought the transistor from my room and put on a station playing popular songs and folk music, and I went back to listening to her crystal-clear laughter when I grabbed her and made her dance with me, without inappropriate touches or kisses since we were outside and I had proposed respecting her rules. Her humor was improving by the minute and the work was advancing at a good pace. We finished scraping and prepared the equipment to start painting in the afternoon.
At midday, while she was showering before cooking and I was smoking a cigar in the kitchen, the phone rang. I went to answer it, thinking it would be some old lady from town with some news about the priest rapist case or maybe my mother. I hung up and put the receiver to my ear.
Say what?
—Are you Carlos? —asked a deep and rough voice on the other side of the line.
—Yes. Who speaks?
I am Ramón Montillo.
After hearing the name, my pulse quickened. What did that jerk want and why was he calling me at my grandmother's house? The last thing I wanted was for her to know I had dealings with the Montillos, a family she disliked just as much as everyone else in town.
What do you want, Mr. Ramón? Have you had any problem with... you know what?
I got straight to the point since I didn't want the conversation to drag on too much. Besides, there was no other reason for the pig breeder to want to talk to me except for the tonic.
What's the problem? The opposite, kid. —He paused and listened to an obscene snicker, similar to the grunting of a pig—. I gave my wife two slaps and left her bent over. She won't complain for a season, that fat whore. And my girlfriend... I'm not even going to tell you. They hadn't screwed her like I screwed her last night in her slut life.
—Okay... I'm glad it went well for you. Anything else? —I said, impatiently.
I didn't want to be too rough with that guy, but my grandma would come out of the bathroom any moment now. As I imagined, Montillo hadn't called me just to tell me about his sexual conquests.
See, I want to buy more for you. And I have a friend who would like to try it.
Don Ramón, I told him not to tell anyone, damn it —I scolded him.
Hey, calm down, kid, it's not just anyone. It's a lifelong buddy and you can trust him.
I sighed and looked nervously down the hallway.
—It's fine. Where do you want us to meet?
Come by my estate when the sun sets. Do you know where it is?
Yes. I know.
I know how to keep quiet. My mate isn't just anyone —he warned me.
What if it's discreet? You have to get laid.
Don't whine so much, pussy, you're going to earn some good bucks. Well, until tomorrow, and give your grandma's regards.
Testicles.
Ha ha! You're starting to grow on me, kid!
I hung up the phone, stronger than necessary. I didn't like the idea of going to the pigsty at night from Montillo's, a place that all locals avoided. On the other hand, I liked the idea of increasing my capital. What had bothered me most was Don Ramón's lascivious tone when mentioning my grandmother. It was logical that all men in town (except for the priest, apparently) would desire her, but thinking that such a guy wanted to put his dirty hands on her made me sick. By then, she had already come out of the bathroom and was looking at me from the kitchen, tying the bathrobe belt around her waist.
Who called, heaven? Was it Jacinta again?
—Eh... No. He was a friend —I said. Almost makes me sick to call the pig 'friend' —. My friend Julio. He's been here a couple of times, do you remember him?
—Ah, yes, that blond boy so nice —said my grandmother, making a memory—. How is he?
Okay, okay. It turns out I forgot it's your birthday today, so I'll go to the city this afternoon and might come back late. Doesn't bother you, does it? -I improvised.
Of course not. Go have fun, you deserve it. But don't drink too much, huh? Don't go and get into an accident.
Don't worry. And don't wait up for me awake.
I approached her and kissed her, grabbing her by the waist. She smelled like soap and freshly cut grass, and despite the hot summer weather, the contact of her skin was refreshing. I let her get away a little and she moved back, smiling at me.
Come on, get out. I just showered and you're full of garage dust —he complained.
Powder that...
Ah, yes, the dust you were blowing at me, wasn't it? —she anticipated my words, mocking.
Hey, you're becoming a slapper — I said, laughing.
Who's to blame for this, you clown? She gave me a mischievous smile and turned towards the counter—. Go get yourself a drink, I'm going to cook dinner.
After lunch and the telenovela, I thought we could get intimate for a bit on the living room sofa, but they hadn't finished the credits of the soap opera yet when the phone rang and he got up to answer it. For a moment I feared it might be Don Ramón, but it was his friend Jacinta again, to bring him up to speed on the priest's case. Father Basilio was still behind bars and apparently he was going to get in trouble. Luisito had been discharged from the hospital but the poor guy wasn't going to be able to sit for a season.
They talked for a good hour and I noticed my grandmother was back to being sad and in a bad mood. The possibilities of horizontal entertainment vanished, so an hour later I got dressed and climbed into the Land-Rover, heading to the city.
It's not that I was really going to see my friend Julio's nerd. I drove to a huge shopping mall on the outskirts and entered in search of something that would serve me for distributing the doses of tonic. If I was going to sell it, it was better to do it well. After visiting several stores without success, the salesperson at a hardware store told me that maybe I could find what I was looking for at a pharmacy. Indeed, at the pharmacy I could buy ten small brown glass vials with pipette incorporated, ideal for housing several spoonfuls of tonic.
It was early so I went for a walk around the shopping mall. I weighed the possibility of a quick visit to my mother, but I wanted to respect her warning to call her first. If my father was home we wouldn't be able to settle the matters we had pending, whatever they were. I walked past a lingerie store and when I saw the suggestive items in the display window I got an idea.
I entered and a salesgirl of thirty years old, plump and quite fuckable, with very painted eyes and hair like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, although there were still years before that movie was released. She looked at me with a forced smile and certain distrust. Probably she didn't usually attend to many young boys of sixty centimeters tall wearing worn-out sweatpants and a Ramones t-shirt, not to mention my agitated features and the hair covering my neck.
Good afternoon - I greeted with my best smile.
—Hello, what can I help you with? —she said, with an artificially and excessively amiable tone.
You'll see, I wanted to give my girlfriend a set as a gift for our anniversary. We're two years old – lied like a scoundrel. To be honest, my 'girlfriend' and I had been together only two days.
—Ah, congratulations! —he congratulated me, showing me two rows of perfect teeth. I think I had never seen a smile so forced in my entire life— And what were you thinking?
A set. You know, bra and panties. Make it sexy and if possible green. She's a redhead and that color looks great on her.
—Well, it seems you have it very clear, huh? Come on, I'll show you some models.
The store between shelves and hangers full of panties, corsets, suspenders, stockings, and other intimate garments designed to enhance the sexual appeal of women who could afford them. We stopped in front of a display where a wide variety of bras hung. I found one that I loved, with a beautiful green color. The fabric of the cup was very fine, intended for the nipples to be transparent, and had delicate shell and starfish embroidery on the edges.
I like that one — I said, pointing to it.
—Oh, that's precious. You have very good taste —the saleswoman praised me—. Will you tell me the size?
Ugh, the truth is I don't know the exact size. You know how guys are about those things - I joked, although it really annoyed me not to know the bra size of the tits with which I enjoyed myself so much.
What are you going to tell me?! she said, laughing, this time almost sincerely.
She's got big ones, that's for sure —I affirmed, with a certain pride.
To give me an idea... Larger than mine or smaller?
The chick pointed to her chest, looking at me with an inquiring air. She had a good pair of pears, no doubt, pressed under her white shirt, but not even close to approaching.
Much bigger. Much much bigger. I'd say it's twice as big as yours.
The salesgirl raised an eyebrow and her smile twisted slightly. She must be used to receiving compliments and my apparent lack of interest in her otherwise attractive curves must be disconcerting her a bit. It seemed like the type of young lady who asks if you think she's fat just so you'll tell her how good she looks. She showed me the suggestive green bra in various sizes, none of which convinced me. Finally, I took the largest one, hoping it would fit. Choosing the size of the panties was faster. I only had to indicate the approximate width of my hips with my hands. Like the top part, the panties were very transparent and the back showed almost all of the buttocks, although they weren't quite thong type. It was a sexy set but not vulgar or trashy. And it was expensive as hell.
When I paid, I was left with just enough to buy tobacco and give some gas to the Land-Rover. Lucky that night I would be receiving new income, and double so. I stored the lingerie in the glove compartment and slid into the rear compartment of the vehicle. The parking lot of the shopping center was quiet at that hour, so I took the tonic from the compartment under the seats and dedicated myself to filling the bottles carefully not to spill anything, since I hadn't been smart enough to buy a funnel. I kept two in my pocket and left the rest in the old box with the bottles.
The sun was setting when I headed back on the path. The Montillo estate was farther from town than my grandmother's plot, and by the time I arrived it was night. I rang a rusty bell hanging on the wall next to the entrance gate and an unkempt man with a dirty work outfit and a few friends' faces opened up for me, likely an employee or relative of Don Ramón. Without responding to my polite Good evening, he gestured for me to continue along the dirt path that led to the facade of a two-story house, large but in disrepair. It didn't seem like an abandoned house, but rather one inhabited by people not as civilized as they should be.
In the town, it was always said that the Montillos had much more money than they seemed to have and it must be true, judging by the size of the estate. At a certain distance from the dwelling, I could distinguish the roofs of the pigsties. There were several and very large, with space to accommodate thousands of rabbits. As one would expect, as soon as I started approaching, the intense stench that the air carried attacked my prominent nose like a swarm of African bees. Luckily, I'm not especially sensitive to smells and could tolerate the odor.
I got out of the car and approached the house, surrounded by all kinds of trash and waste. In the darkness I could make out the oxidized chassis of an old tractor, piles of used tires and some broken furniture. I was surprised that no dog came out to greet me, as farms like this usually had several. Instead, Don Ramón appeared on the porch lit by a hanging lightbulb. He called out with a loud whistle and waved his hand towards the interior of the house. He was wearing a flannel shirt like his son always wore, rolled up to his elbows and stained with grease. As I got closer, I saw that his nose was redder than usual and his breath smelled of wine, although he didn't seem drunk.
It was about time, pussy —she complained, with a scowling smile on her lips.
I had to go to the city. You know - I apologized.
The pigsty had swallowed the story that the tonic was made in the city and had to keep up the charade. The interior of the house didn't smell much better than the exterior. Besides the piggy aroma coming in through the windows, there floated in the dense atmosphere the smells proper to a home where hygiene and cleanliness weren't a priority. There was dirty laundry piled everywhere, dust accumulated on all the furniture and trash on the floor, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and empty cans. The lighting was scarce so I walked carefully not to trip over anything. In a hallway with cracked walls I dodged by a hair's breadth a bucket full of dirty water. At least I hoped it was water.
Accustomed to my grandmother's extreme cleanliness and my mother's more relaxed yet efficient attitude towards cleaning, that environment disgusted and depressed me. I did what I could to hide my discomfort and followed my host until a large living room, slightly cleaner than the rest of the house. The sofa and armchairs were covered with sheets, the table had a nearly clean cloth on it, and there was only a pair of recent cigarette butts on the floor. The walls were decorated with taxidermied animal heads, deer antlers, and a few humidity stains. There was a ceiling fan that rattled with each turn, making the crystal lamp vibrate and casting a dull light over the room. Upon entering, I found three people there.
From an armchair I was looked at by a man of around sixty years old, medium height and tending to fat. He wore a white guayabera, matching pants, and brown grid-patterned shoes without socks. His gray hair was styled back with pomade and he sported a well-groomed black mustache, along with a thick gold watch on his bronzed wrist. I immediately recognized that type of guy with a Caribbean mafioso look, for it wasn't anyone else but Jose Luis Garrido, the mayor of the town. Montillo hadn't lied when he told me his friend wasn't just anyone.
He stood up with the rehearsed smile typical of a politician and greeted me with a firm handshake while holding onto my arm, making it clear who was the alpha male in that room. Don Ramón stayed in the background, confirming that although he was the owner and master of the estate, his friend was in charge.
—What's up, Carlos? How's that going?
—Well... Well, Mr. Mayor —I said. I had never spoken to him before and wasn't sure of the proper treatment.
Ha ha! Call me Jose Luis, man, we're not in a city council meeting.
Okay.
He gave me a few slaps on the shoulder and sat back down again. I took a chair near the table and Don Ramón took a sofa next to his friend's. There was a couch stuck to the wall about two meters away from where we were, and from it two people were looking at me with distrust and certain disdain. They were two young girls. The youngest would be around twenty years old and the older twenty-five, both dark-haired, with dark eyes and sturdy build. They weren't extremely ugly but far from being pretty, and their curves indicated that unless they took care of themselves in a few years they'd be as fat as dairy cows. They were Don Ramón's daughters, Monchito's younger sisters. Rarely did they leave the estate and I had never seen them until that day.
—Another glass of wine, buddy? —said the pig farmer, with a bottle of wine in hand.
—Doubt offends —the mayor replied, approaching his empty cup.
—And what do you want to drink, kid? —This time I was asking myself.
Beer, if you have.
Of course I have beer, man, it would be missing —he said. He turned his head towards the two girls and spoke to them in a harsh voice—. Girls! You've heard, bring a cold beer to my friend.
The two of them stood up with bad grace and looked at me as if I were the one responsible for their father treating them like maids. Both were barefoot, had dirty knees, and neglected hair. They weren't slow-witted like their older brother, but didn't seem to be the sharpest tools in the shed, as our Anglo-Saxon friends would say. The elder was very tall, and towered over her smaller sister by about two heads, roughly my height. The big one wore a faded white summer dress with black moons that was too small for her, sleeveless and reaching down to mid-thigh. Her sister only wore a long T-shirt that barely covered her buttocks, discolored and with numerous stains. They went out into the hallway and I thought they might have some charm if they were clean and well-dressed.
—Where is Monchito? —I asked, to talk about something while my drink was arriving.
With his mother, feeding pigs – said Montillo –. He's angry with me because I've forbidden him to screw the grocer's daughter-in-law.
But let the poor man enjoy himself, man — said the mayor.
Let her get used to getting screwed and with the slut that I pay once a month. As long as she keeps sticking it to that blonde one, let them all know at home, husband and father-in-law, and I don't want trouble with the town folk.
The girls came back and the little one put a beer bottle on the table in front of me, with a dry thud and a harsh look. The poor thing had inherited her father's square jawline and thick nose, but she had a good pair of tits like her sister. I took a good swig of the beer and the girls went back to the sofa, still looking at me with animosity. The mayor looked at me smiling, gave a clap and rubbed his hands.
—Well, let's see that magical liquor I've heard so much about —he said.
I took out the two little bottles from my pocket and put them on the table. Don Ramón grabbed one of them impatiently and looked at it through the translucent part. Garrido opened the other and sniffed it with airs of a sommelier.
Take very little. What fits in the pipette of the bottle is enough —I explained to my new client—. It takes around half an hour to take effect, sometimes more and sometimes less. Depending on the person.
Without further ado the mayor threw his head back, opened his mouth and emptied the pipe on his tongue. He swallowed and twisted his face.
Ugh! I hate licorice —she complained.
—Yes, flavor isn't their strong point —I explained, although I found it pleasant.
Don Ramón also took a dose, anxious to feel the effects of the potion again. Maybe he had left that night with his young lover, or wanted to prove to his demanding wife again that he hadn't lost his virility. The mayor pulled out a thick roll of bills from his pocket and began counting with agile movements of his fingers.
Ramón told me the price. I hope it works for that amount.
I think it works, buddy. I think it does — confirmed Ramón, before letting out a pig-like snort.
I invite you to this round.
Garrido handed me an amount in pesetas that would be equivalent to four hundred euros today, the double of what I got from my first sale. He made a pause and gave me another pair of bills from the fat bunch.
Take a tip and go.
When I had the money in my pocket, my mood improved significantly. I didn't want anyone else to know about the tonic, but if those two guys became regular clients, I'd have a comfortable source of income until my merchandise ran out.
—Of course, this stays between us —said Garrido, in a tone almost threatening.
Of course —I said.
—Okay, it's not that I need anything to get hard, but one is already getting old and has to make an effort, you understand me?
Of course, Don Jose Luis. If I were married to a woman with a flag like hers, I'd also want her happy —I dared to say, perhaps taking too many liberties.
For my surprise, the mayor burst out laughing, and his friend immediately imitated him.
Is my wife? That harpy hasn't been screwed in years. If she weren't rotten with money, I would have sent her to hell a long time ago.
—Ah... oh no... —stammer, without knowing what to say.
I don't mind. I've got my own issues and she's got hers, do you understand? Before I could respond, she leaned in a bit towards me with an air of confidence... Now I have two sluts in the city. On the outskirts, I have a single mother who does whatever it takes for money. The very unhappy one thinks I'm going to leave my wife for her, ha ha, she's ready. In the center, I have a young lawyer who sucks better than any slut. She does this for connections. She thinks that as the mayor of a small village from hell, I can hook her up in some important position. My balls are thirty-three.
I nodded to the confessions of the lecherous mayor without being moved. The worst part of my incipient business was having to listen to the sordid sexual life of those guys. I would have liked to leave as soon as the transaction ended, but they insisted that I stay for a bit. I'm not sure if it was out of kindness or because the mayor wanted to make sure the tonic had an effect. That didn't bother me. The potion had already demonstrated its effectiveness in five different people and it was unlikely that Garrido would be immune.
I finished the beer and the girls brought me another without sparing harsh glances. When they weren't working as waitresses, they'd sit on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder, whispering or looking out the window. Men would drink and talk about this and that. When the mayor found out I was unemployed, he told me he'd look for a job in the area for me. I thanked him politely, not too sure if I wanted to owe a favor to that kind of guy.
About an hour later, maybe more, the mayor stopped talking, let out air through his nose and a wide smile was drawn under his mustache.
Damn it, I notice that now — he said.
—I do too. For a while now —said Don Ramón.
Garrido brought his hand to his crotch and pressed the bulge that marked itself out on his immaculate white pants.
Damn whore. I have it so hard that I could crack nuts with the head. Right now, I'm going to screw my wife too.
Don Ramón let out a belly laugh and also rubbed the package, equally swollen.
Don't worry, buddy, you're not leaving here without relieving yourself - Without stopping to touch his balls over the fabric of his pants, he turned towards his daughters and called them out in an authoritative tone - Girls! Come here!
The girls obeyed without hesitation. The elder approached her father's armchair and the younger one her mayor's, who looked at her from top to bottom with lust. It was clear what was going to happen, and I got the impression it wasn't the first time. Maybe the pig farmer didn't even have a mistress in the neighboring village and used the tonic to entertain his obedient daughters. Anyway, I wasn't the most qualified to judge him, considering my recent amorous activity, but the squalor of that scene couldn't be compared to the moments of love and passion I had shared with my grandmother and mother.
In a few seconds I had the dubious honor of contemplating the erect member of the mayor. Not very long and with notable thickness, it was hard for the youngest Montillo girl to wrap her mouth around it when she leaned forward and started sucking it diligently. In that position, her shirt rose up to mid-thigh and I could see that the girl wasn't wearing underwear. The black pubic hair poked out between her thighs and surrounded the pink butt that was visible when Garrido stretched his arms to rub her ass, separating her cheeks and kneading them with force.
The snake of Don Ramón also came out of its den, long, thick-headed and curved to one side. It was not as big as his son's but more than enough exceeded fifteen centimeters. His eldest daughter had taken her measure and swallowed it again and again, swallowing it whole with each submissive nod. Her father lifted her skirt up to the waist, revealing large and pale buttocks that would soon become reddened by the farmer's blows. She didn't complain or make any gesture of pain.
Seated on my chair, I limited myself to taking brief sips from the bottle and contemplating the scene, moving between disgust and a morbid excitement that, against my will, made me hard. The mayor was snorting. He grabbed the young woman's head with both hands and went down on her mouth without caring if she choked. The girl must have had experience and accommodated the advances without problems, filling the type's testicles with saliva. Don Ramón continued to receive oral attentions from his experienced eldest daughter, and I was startled when he looked at me, made a hand gesture and pointed to the young woman's wide rear.
Come on, kid, don't cut yourself short. Give it to him in the ass, he likes that —he said, with a cruel undertone in his rough voice.
In other circumstances I wouldn't have had any trouble enjoying that blow job, but despite being really hard up I didn't find the idea of participating in that twisted orgy at all seductive.
No, thank you. I think better... I'm leaving —I said, in a rather educated tone considering the circumstances.
What's up, man? Look how beautiful she is -- said Don Ramón, shaking his daughter's buttocks with a strong slap --. Aren't you a faggot, huh?
—No. What's going on is that... I've got a girlfriend.
The two men started laughing at my excuse in front of me. For two full-blown adulterers like them, it sounded ridiculous. Luckily they didn't insist anymore, and a little later I slipped away towards the hallway. Before leaving the room, I could see that the mayor had put the girl on all fours on the armchair and was punishing her pussy with such energy that the heavy furniture creaked and screeched as if it were being beaten
CONTINUES...
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