Bend, not break

Part 11 - But it's not like that between us

Fina's lead was too much for Marta to catch up with her. But she saw the dark, slender figure disappear into the guest house and was somewhat relieved.

When she entered the guest house, Fina stood at the dark window and stared out.

'Fina?' She didn't dare come much closer and touch Fina. 'Querida, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for her to kiss me.'

'I know. It's all right. I saw her pushing you.'

'You're still angry.'

'Not at you. But if I'd been a Reina, a Velasquez, a Belmonte or something, she wouldn't have taken it out on me.'

'No, probably not,' Marta agreed with her.

'I'm so sick of it Marta, sometimes at least. All these dons and doñas who think they own the world. And look down on people like me or my father as if we were still in the 18th century. They believe they have an inherent right to everything and everyone. And as long as we work well and diligently, do what they say, don't stand out and keep quiet, they act as if we're on an equal footing. But woe betide us if we want a slice more of their cake. Or resist their advances.'

'But it's not like that between us.'

'Really, Marta? Really?' Fina now turns round, her arms crossed in a fighting stance, as Marta had often seen her do. 'I've been following you around like a dog after a stick for days. It's your friend we're here with. Families you know, not me. And as soon as we stand on the threshold of a house like this, like today, you're Doña Marta. And I'm just Fina.'

Marta remained silent. Basically, Fina was right. And this whole system also worked because of women like herself. Who willingly played along, for their own benefit, or because they themselves believed that it had to be that way. Marta had also believed for a long time that everything was as it should be. That she should honour her name, or at least not disgrace it. And there were other women in the old families of the landowners who simply enjoyed the advantages of their lives. Women like Maria, women like Valeria. Women were not saints, Marta knew that only too well. They also enjoyed power and privileges. Or simply the valorisation of their own stunted egos through the degradation of others.

Even Marta could not absolve herself of such behaviour. The world would be a different place if at least women would support each other without worrying about their reputation.

Marta was lost in her own thoughts and barely realised that Fina was giving free reign to her anger, which had built up over the last few hours and days through insecurity and frustration. The volcano spewed fire and without realising it, Marta was standing in the middle of the lava field. If she had looked up at that moment, she would probably have seen a Fina she had never seen before.

She was all the more startled when she unexpectedly felt Fina's hand on her head and in her hair. Her head was pulled back a little roughly and firmly. Fina stood directly in front of her, bolt upright, and looked straight at her with deep, dark, sparkling eyes.

'Eres mia,' she heard the astonishingly dark rumble from the slender body of the young woman, who said the words she had used herself just a few days ago under pursed lips.

And it did something to Marta. The ray of a completely new feeling surged through her intestines and bowels and into her abdomen. She felt her knees go weak. Her heart was beating dangerously fast.

Her status, her so-called privileges, Marta knew well, were part of her armour and her walls. It was so easy to let someone who didn't belong bounce off it. It was so easy to take a step back, to build up a distance, to settle into a supposed sense of security.
And also so difficult to give up and leave it all behind. But now, under Fina's steely gaze, she wanted nothing more than to finally put it all aside. To be free. To be truly free. From everything. From everything that had ever held her back and could perhaps still hold her back.
And she wanted to fall. From her imaginary throne to her knees and much further. And be grateful for this woman, whose rage and anger still glimmered in her eyes and who at the same time wordlessly signalled, allowed, almost gave the order to do just that.

She felt Fina's lips on her neck. A brief pain flickered close to her carotid artery. It was more a bite than a kiss that shook her for real and pulverised every last bit of resistance.

So she did. Marta knelt down in front of Fina. She then raised her head. And welcomed the wave of pain from all the past months and years, but above all the past weeks, which now rolled unhindered through her body. She was no longer afraid of it. Her eyes welled up with tears.

And finally Marta replied in a quiet yet firm voice: 'Sí, soy tuyo.'

Fina gulped. She looked down at Marta, who openly returned her gaze. Her anger evaporated in a fraction of a second in the adoration in Marta's gaze. Another feeling took its place and made her pause. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she recognised the part that was called desire.

'I want you to do something for me, Marta,' whispered Fina.

'Doña Fina, what do you want me to do?' Marta's voice was rough, dark. In her eyes was the weight of an almost infinite trust and a certainty that no one had ever conveyed to Fina to this extent. It was only at that moment that she really realised.

Not only did it not matter what a Doña Valeria thought or didn't think. But that Marta, her Marta, was all too willingly no longer one of these doñas from this moment on. Marta, her Marta, peeled herself out of the last of the armour that clung to her like a worn shirt under the weight of their love. This woman, whose skin would shimmer in the moonlight as she moaned, was the only thing still visible underneath. The only one that mattered. And she was so beautiful.

'I want you to take your clothes off, Marta. I want to look at you.'

'Very well, Doña Fina.' Marta lowered her eyes and began to unbutton her dress.

She felt Fina's hand on her chin. 'Mirame, Marta.'

Marta raised her head.

'Neither of us will ever lower our gaze in front of the other again, do you understand me?

Marta nodded, unable to speak. She glanced into Fina's eyes as she undid the next buttons over her chest. And only now did Fina feel the full wave of passion wash over her. She would have no chance of resisting it even if she had wanted to. One more look into Marta's eyes was enough to realise that she was not alone in feeling this way.

'Good girl,' Fina whispered, grinning a little.

'Thank you, Doña Fina,' came the immediate reply with a smile that Fina could only guess at in the darkness. She bent down to Marta.

'I love you, Marta.'

A tear ran down Marta's cheek as Fina kissed her, infinitely gentle and demanding at the same time.