He released one of my legs, then the other. We separated, our skin sticky from the sweat, and as he pulled it out, semen ran down the inside of my legs. Both of us were out of breath, covered in sweat, I was still shaking a little from the powerful orgasm. None of us knew what to say. I started gathering my clothes, pulling up my knickers and trousers, picking up my long sleeve shirt and buttoning it up. I left the torn top there on the floor, as well as the silly hat. He followed my example, pulled up his knickers and trousers, but before he put on his shirt, he stepped up to me and hugged me, squeezed me, held me for several seconds and gave me a peck on the cheek.
"I love you!"
Easily said, in all parts of the world. I went back through the door, entered the bar in trance, looked out for the ladies toilet. Spotted it, entered. Looked in the mirror, let water run, splashed it into my face. Looked into the mirror again, saw a slightly run down appearance, the face of a stranger, a little tragic, hurt and sad green eyes with a feverish spark, a little lunatic. I suddenly started laughing, which transformed the face in the mirror, gave it life and joy and invincibility, even if the lunacy persisted. I did not go into one of the cubicles to clean the mess between my legs, I would do that later, in the hotel, where I still had my backpack. But I cleaned up my hair - that was better.
When I came back into the bar, I was greeted with a smile.
"You want a new beer? This one was open a long time!"
I picked up the bottle of Indio, which was still untouched and still chilled
"No te preocupes, ni tenía el tiempo para calentarse mucho."
I said with a dirty grin.
"What's your name?"
"Birgit. Y tú, cómo te llamas?"
He looked at me puzzled.
"How? Burrrrguid?"
"Algo así."
"Un plácer, Burrrguid. I am Juan Pablo. But my friends call me Ceviche."
I burst out in laughter.
"Ceviche? Y por qué eso?"
"It has been my favourite food since I was a little child. I grew up at the coast..."
It was like we were living our first date in reverse, we chit-chatted like what had just happened had never happened. He refused to answer me in Spanish. I refused, with equal insistence, to speak English. I stayed for three beers before I had to leave for my overnight bus.
"Come back any time you like!"
he said, scanning me with his eyes top to bottom. Then he added, probably tongue in cheek
"Or marry me and take me there!"
"Hmmmm.... quizás!"
A long embrace and then our first kiss. Very sensual, very intense, very slow, very tasty. I could feel some movement down his trousers, he was coming back to life. He petted my backside as I walked out, I was happy. All the way during the busride, I tried to ignore those rational voices, telling me off through the beer haze... That's where the prejudices about western women came from in the first place, stupid horny girls on holidays taking liberties they would normally not take! What if he had something? What if you'll regret it for the rest of your life? And how are you going to make sure you're not pregnant, what if you are? Concentrating on the pleasant sensations of soreness between my legs that reminded me of what may well have been the best sex of my life, I shut the voices up. Take a break! You only live once, don't you?
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