Part 41
Is there shame in me, I asked myself as I brought my pants up and got myself together.
Paris in the spring is a hiding spot for poets in search of words.
Cowardly rain forced me to seek shelter, and without thought I dove into a crowded tourist trap of the Champs Elysees.
In a friendly way I barked, "Grey Goose neat, barman." Without gazing up he slid a shot glass down the bar, and just as quickly I inhaled it.
Wet as I was, I went straight for the bathroom to get myself together, as I walked down to the basement I heard a very distinctive, "Fucking shit, que clase de mierda es esta."
To my amazement there was a Cuban trapped in the bathroom stall, I chuckled and said, "No te preocupes aceré, I got you."
I reached my hand over the door and freed this captive bird.
He was doubly happy, he had been freed from his entrapment by a fellow Cuban traveler.
He fussed slightly ashamed at the situation and with a sigh of relief said, "Fuck it! Let's have some drinks, come to my table."
I finished my business in the bathroom and went back upstairs. Cuban chatter wasn't difficult to spot in this francophone filled room.
I approached their table and as I gazed upon his companions my eyes were caught by a woman whom seconds later I would come to find out was his wife, she deliberately ran her eyes all over me.
He made light of the situation, they were all laughing, his wife Margarita whom by now I was on a first name basis with was mocking the fact that he was about a foot shorter than I am. "Eso te pasa por enano," she would repeat over and over.
I didn't pay much mind to her.
As cubans around the world do we started the long get to know me, I get to know you process.
To my amazement my new friend was a surgeon, he had fled from Cuba on the Peter Pan flights, he had studied medicine in the Dominican Republic as many Miami doctors had.
Dr. Calderin was much more than that, he was a decorated army veteran, as we conversed he let on that he had served in Grenada.
They were in Paris on account of their twin daughters quinceañera's. With mother in law in tow and two young daughters, Paris was pulling them every which way, and they were worn for it.
Margarita was peeved, maybe it was the jet lag, maybe it was the fact that she was traveling with her mother in law.
Calderin waved the waiter to our table, she looking as Mexican as Frida said, "We monsieur." Calderin in a forward conquistador demeanor replied, "Otra botella preciosa."
She was taken aback by his Spanish but with a gleam in her eye she replied, "Otra Macallan?" He nodded yes.
Paris is less Parisien than most would think.
When the second bottle arrived I took it and poured Margarita and Calderin generous portions of Scotch. While I was pouring hers she grabbed my hand and held it for a few seconds, while giving me a mischievous look.
Instantly I realized that this lady was crossing the line, "Este huevo quiere sal" I said to myself.
I played it of and began to tell them about my writing, as soon as I brought up my dog eared Pulitzer project she gasped.
There was the conversation I was having with them, and then there was this not so subtle dance her eyes were making, she was sending me not so crossed signals.
She saw my bewilderment, and was enjoying my uneasiness.
Calderin was enjoying his war stories too much to see this swan dance.
"Margarita es una temba durísima," I said to myself.
Colloquially speaking this meant that she was in her early forties, and was hard and soft in all the right places.
Her shoulder length blond hair paired with her honey colored eyes all set on an elegantly proportioned face that screamed, "Fuck me."
Mother in law stood up and with a swift gesture motioned for the girls to follow her, it seemed that she had enough of stories and indecency, mother in laws have an acute awareness for these things.
The trio stood up to leave, as they made their way towards the door the mother in law turned and asked Margarita "Renaissance Hotel right?" In a distracted nod Margarita affirmed it.
Now it was I who was surprised, we were all staying in the same hotel.
Just as our departed companions crossed the threshold and stepped onto the sidewalk, Margarita slid up right next to me, the noose was tightening up.
We were sitting on a long green booth, behind us a half mirrored wall, Calderin was sitting two seats to my left on the edge, while Margarita was so close to me that I could feel her breasts on my shoulder.
She was relishing making me nervous.
She asked me a question but it was just a ruse so that I would turn and face her, instincts took over and I turned, instincts took over and without debate she took ownership of my mouth and did to it what ever her lips and tongue deemed.
Gasping for breath I stole a glance through the reflection on the mirror, Calderin was slumped over. She caught me looking and grabbed my face with her hands and repositioned me.
I was feeling a sense of shame, here I was taking advantage of my new friends condition.
She kissed me deeper and put her hand on my crotch as if sensing my confusion.
From this moment on I said to myself she is the married woman, the onus is on her.
It all seemed to be going in the right direction, I was in a state of bliss, Calderin was anesthetized and the world was spinning.
Then came the Mexican waiter screaming, "Que descarados son, have you no shame?"
To be continued.
