Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation

...So I have this Spanish 301 class freshman year and I schlep it there everyday, stumbling towards the back, looking like a right bum. This Hispanic guy with these gorgeous milky jade green eyes also sits towards the back, but clearly across the other side of the room and he\'s much more attentive than me.

I hear him speak often, as he bravely volunteers when no else gives a fuck. His voice is a trembly tenor, rich with a variation of some Spanish accent. His speech is slightly tumbly, as if a clock is quickly winding down the moment he starts to talk. He\'s all suits and ties everyday and his hair all slicked back and I quietly snicker to myself, reminded of Ricky Ricardo.

So one day, I think we got partnered up, or probably no one chose us, so we got stuck together. I was riffling thru my wallet and this pik falls out. I think nothing of it, looking for something else as he picks it up. His jaw comes completely unhinged and he keeps staring from the picture to me and back...

I glance over and shrug. \'Yeah. Prom.\' I go on with my rooting around, but he\'s still looking like he\'s in shock, like he got slapped.

\'...That\'s you?\'

*nod, shrug*

From then on, he made it a point to sit next to me and engage in conversation.

He was older, I could tell. Possibly somewhere in his earlier 30\'s. He had light cocoa skin and gorgeous dark hair. But I was mostly intrigued by his eyes. They were quite startling and the more he talked to me, the more I became comfortable w/him, slightly mesmurized by how thoroughly he seemed to be looking at me.

Finally came to time for us to meet up and get our notes together for this essay we had to write in Spanish on the Death Penalty. It seemed like a shoe-in that we should get an \"A;\" he was , after all, was a nativespeaker; just taking the course to kill some time while we worked in his Masters. The only problem was that he had trouble wading through all the bullshit English law books (we weren\'t allowed to use Spanish sources, dumbly enough). So we decided to meet up in one of these quasi-private study booths in the library on the top floor (stuffed w/science shit, so hardly no one ever went up there, cept me).

He begins a little small talk. Asking me about myself, bouncing immediately on what had become his favorite question over the past month or so: Why didn\'t I even remote care about looking the way I had in that pik(?)

He asks intently about the dress, if I took someone to Prom, had a good time, etc. I tell him everything was cool, you know, nothing spectacular because the recent ex and the broad he played me for showed up. So he\'s surprised and doesn\'t believe I got stood up --twice, actually, and says, \'What\'s wrong w/these boys? Obviously, they were not man enough to deserve you. I wish I had known you. It would have been my honor.\'

So I\'m somewhat flattered (of course), but playing it cool. He\'s still a perfect stranger to me, though gentlemanly. I steer him back on the project and after nearly a grueling hour or so of horrific translating, he asks if he could take a break because his mouth was sore (he\'d had his braces tightened, but oddly enuf, I bearly noticed them). While he\'s massaging his jaw, out of the blue I make the comment that he has really nice hands (he did). So he moves the hand from his face onto mine and asks if they now feel as nice as they look.

I *gulped!* big time. His hands were extremely soft and for some strange reason very hot. And large. He nearly cupped my entire face in one mitt. And he\'s looking me unblinking in the eyes with those strange milky jade green ones of his against his cocoa skin and I seriously felt dizzy.

\'I want to kiss you,\' he says quietly and doesn\'t really wait for my response. He slowly leans forward, giving me ample time to move or run, but I don\'t. His lips are thin, but his mouth is strong, pulling. He had me breathless after what seemed like minutes of kissing. He would catch my lips with his mouth, the way you suck on a thick milkshake and pull me back in...

I\'m now reeling and my mind is shouting all these things, but funny enuf, they\'re muffled in my head. His other hand had slipped onto my thigh and he was squeezing it meaningful. I backed off a bit just then, like \'Wow. Whoa.\' He kind of laughs and then asks me if I\'ve ever had any fantasies involving encounters. I ask him what does he mean, playing it off like I couldn\'t get around his accent, so he begins to explain one that he\'s been having non-stop and mercilessly nearly six weeks back. He says he hasn\'t been able to get me out of his head since we began to sit next to each other. It didn\'t stop while he was at work or when he went home.

That his wife was starting to notice.

My brow shoot up. Of course, he\'d always been wearing a wedding ring(!!)

Even know as I glanced over, I could see it. Was I just so fucking stupid or maybe retarded that my brain had a lapse in judgement(?) But I was so stunned I didn\'t even jump up out the chair and declare the meeting OVER like my brain was screaming for me to do. I sat there, frozen....

He said that he\'d began having these fantasies of taking me on a day-long date starting with picking me up for breakfast and then going to a museum or just walking around the city. We\'d have a nice leisurely lunch, then shopping or doing whatever it is I thought might be interesting. Then he\'d dropped me off back to my room and pick me up later that evening for dinner. He wanted to go to a hotel with a nice dining hall and we\'d be dress casual. Then he said he ask if we could have our dessert to go and take it back up to the room. It would be something light, creamy. He wanted to spread it in some unimaginable places, lick it all off...

I was bowled over. Fucking Bowled Over. No one had ever talked to me like this. Not ever. Not even in my best dreams. He went on about how he\'d actually been watching me since the first days of class, recounting nearly everything I\'d ever worn and his impressions that I had seemed very nice, but disinterested in the language and how it hurt him slightly. He once tried to gather the nerve to offer to tutor me, but I seemed content to brood.

He said that his mother had a dark complexion like mine and that although his wife was very light and pretty, he\'d never been attracted to her physically because something of her \"paleness\" turned him off. He said that they were paired off pretty young and expected to have kids right away, but he managed to never get her pregnant in the rare encounters they\'d had together.

It was strange. He spoke glowingly of her. She cooked, she cleaned, she nagged, she was a fairly average house wife. She was not overweight or unattractive, but he never had his heart in the marriage. He thought about walking out several times, offering her alimony and the house and just pressing on. But he felt like he\'d shame his family in the eyes of god and the church because his family did not believe in divorce, not even remarriage after being widowed. So his only recourse was to stay with her. But he was now tempted to do something that would go against his vows. He said he thought about this heavily one evening, went to church and prayed over it and he thought that he could forgive himself.

He was coming to me w/a clean heart. Would I do this(?)

I was floored. It was too much, making my head spin. I didn\'t know what to say. So he moves the hand that is on my thigh an inch higher, teasing the warmth that is radiating behind the zipper of my jeans and squeezing gently.

He leans forward and rests his head on my shoulder, whispering all these...things in Spanish. Wild things. Some of them so crazy, I don\'t even think they have translation. He would ask nothing of me because as long as he initiated everything, I would stay clean of his sin. He\'d already wrestled w/his conscience, knew that he wanted to, was ready to ask for absolution.

I was stunned. I remember just blinking forever and opening my mouth. Til this day, I don\'t know what the fuck I said, but suddenly, he was smiling and his eyes light up and he pulled me into another strong kiss, gathering our things from the table.

We are in the car, heading towards the tiny downtown of my college city. He is talking a mile a minute, excited, looking over at me every few seconds, touching my arm. I nod numbly to everything he says, not even hearing him.

We pull up to a motel. I think he was saying how he was shocked that I\'d actually said yes, that I didn\'t slap him in the face or cuss him out or flat out turn him down in disgust. As he pays and we drive through, I vaguely recall that in his long whispery confession, he had been pleading with me to say yes to him today, that moment, to not make him wait any longer while he slept at a distance from his wife because he was tossed and turned from dreams that had nothing to do with her. That he was afraid one night he\'d just blurt out my name in bed.

So we are now in the room, the lights are low and he nervously asks me to make myself comfortable; did I want to possibly eat first. I look in shock over at the table where he\'d sat his keys and my backpack. There was a big of McDonalds sitting there. When the fuck did we pull thru(??)

The whole thing seems crazy, like I\'m slowly sinking in a mudpit, but somehow still crossing. I dumbly shake my head. No, I couldn\'t possibly eat. He smiles and excuses himself and get on his cell phone. Spanish. Brisk, polite, brief. He tells his wife he\'ll be coming home later..he\'ll eat well before he gets home...he will look at this thing she\'s been complaining about around the house.

He gets off, flashes me a smile of apology.

He comes around to the table, slowly unknotting his tie, uncuffing his shirt. He is talking the whole time, not small talk, but actually making slow, pleasant conversation. What did I want to major in(?) Why was I taking Spanish if I hated it(?) How in the world could I possibly hate Spanish(??)

He moves in front of me, his shirt open and his slacks loosened. He asks if I mind if he helps me undress. He carefully unclasps something I had pinned my hair up and tugs my sweater over my head. He sits down across from my on the bed while I stayed seated in a chair, running his hand all over my bra.

\'Que hermosa, que dulce...\' he murmurs, making me feel drowsy.

I vaguely remember standing up (or had I been stood up(?)) and my jeans coming undone and slipping to the floor. My body was sliding across the cool, crisp bedsheets. He settled me on a pillow far from the table towards the wall (why this struck me as odd then and now, I don\'t know). He parted my thighs slightly and slipped between them, still wearing his T-shirt and boxes. He asked if there was anything I wanted.

I was so baffled by this I started laughing. He frowned slightly, maybe thinking he\'d said the wrong thing. I told him that no one had every asked me that before. He said they should and then told me not to worry about it. That he wanted to do something for me. He reached down and snagged the corner of my cotton panties and pulled until I needed to roll my hips slightly so that they could completely come off. My mind was like, really stoned. \'ARE YOU CRAZY(?!)\' everything in me screamed and yet, my head was silent.

I remember two sides of my head being involved in this. One part of me was frightened and horrified about where he was going. The part that had been taught the strict code that no one touches you Down There and that things happen in that area that you wouldn\'t want to share w/anyone, much less want to put up with yourself.

Another part of me was hopping w/curiosity. Why did he want to do this(?) Was this something ever guy felt he had to do(?) Did he/would he enjoy this(?)

He lowered himself on his elbows, sliding closer. He pauses briefly.

I was plagued fright/anticipation/embarrassment and I wanted to look/close my eyes/die...

Then he reaches into his mouth and quickly unhooks the rubber bands keeping his back braces tight.

I was so relieved that it wasn\'t my grotesque body that stopped him that I bust out laughing. Like bellyache laughing. He looked down at me like I had gone insane, cause I was holding my stomach, my eyes tearing up and he started smiling shaking his head. He gently pushed me back and kissed the inside of my thigh. My whole body immediately trembled and the laughing stopped. I don\'t know how long it took him to move closer, but it seemed like forever and I couldn\'t stop the shaking from happening.

Then he kissed me real close and my legs almost snapped together. He warned jokingly that he\'d like to come up in one piece so I needed to lie still. What happened after that was strange and slightly familiar but alarmingly not.

It was like slowly slipping down into lukewarm bath water, skimming the surface, letting the water lap at you gently. There was an ebbing and then a slight surging forward. It wasn\'t hot and wild and onfirecrazyflyoffthebed like every stupid book I\'d read. It was slightly ticklish and unnerving to think where he was. He was very slowly, tracing strange patterns and delving deeper and deeper. My stomach flipped nervously, like I had to flee.

A few times I thought crazily \'I\'m going to run(!!)\' Uh, where(??) He must have sensed this because his hands came from resting lightly my thighs to grasping my hips and pulling me closer. I instantly squirmed away and he grip got tight and his mouth got more intense, all without him ever looking up. I dizzying wave of...something came over me and I felt both sleepy and alive as he stroked this one particular spot.

\'He really wants to do this,\' I thought dumbly, just not able to wrap my head around the concept. Then I feel his whole tongue, thick and heavy and dragging and my stomach drops 12 stories and I lurch upwards. He hooks my thighs over his shoulders and presses down into me more intently. I gasped, feeling nauseated like I was going to pass out and like the best thing was just beginning.

After struggling against my Guilt-Pleasure proved too much, he resorted to sucking the way he had when we were kissing in the library. Slow, long pulls. Like he was working a really thick milkshake.

I couldn\'t tell up from down, sideways, backwards --it was all the same to me. I can\'t even remember exactly how it ended except I was felt extremely doused, like I had been gotten my clothes wet and had been stewing in damp underwear. Like I\'d never have the nice refreshing feeling of being dry again. It was insane.

I must have pushed him away because suddenly he was quite a distance back, balancing himself on one elbow and grinning while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He said his wife didn\'t let him do that kind of thing, that she considered it dirty and something about having grown up in the church and being taught that only certain kind of girls let guys do that. He laughed and said he asked what kind of guy did that make the guys that liked to do that(?) She\'d never answer him and would just get mad and he\'d sometimes be able to coax her into letting him try.

He massaged his jaw, ran his tongue over his braces, said it tingled. For a stupid minute I thought he meant his teeth. When I realized he was talking about his tongue, I thought I would melt right thru the bed. He smiled and said that it was a good thing, that he hoped I had liked it, that he had done it right.

He settled next to me, gently pulling me close. It felt strange. We\'d never hugged before and now he was doing it so nonchalantly like we were on a picnic lunch. He asked after a moment if I wanted to go and I surprised myself by saying no. I quickly asked if he would be mad if nothing happened for him. He said no, that he wanted me comfortable. He clicks on the TV, scanning the weather channel.

After some tense moments, I finally relaxed against him, feeling curious. My hand slowly snaked down his leg and then up between his thighs. I gasped when my fingers curled around this thick, hot, pulsing dick trapped under the blanket in his boxers. He closed his eyes and said, \'Don\'t\' when I started to jerk my hand away.

I was silently freaking at the slow stiff rising and stretching of his dick in my hand; the brief twitches, how his breath would suddenly give out. I remember placing my fingers to very base of his shaft, holding them straight and slipping my arm along side his penis like a ruler. The throbbing head of it came inches well past my wrist.

He must have seen the worry in my face because he asked if I would be afraid to ride him, that it would be gentler if I did. I felt a funny flip in my stomach of fear and burning and I nodded. He quickly rolled to his side and slipped on a condom and pulled me over until I was straddling him but not joined. He whispered for me not to worry, said the same thing happened with his wife the first night and seven years later, she was not dead. It got a shaky laugh from me and he lifted me hips and shifted until I felt him enter slowly.

The few minutes felt like a horrific slightly terrifying struggle. Like something dumb I had done when I felt became aware of my cycle and attempted to introduce into my 12-yr-old body one of my mother\'s industrial strength feminine products. Despite my wetness, the burning and stretching of him in me was not relieved. My expression was stunned and maybe regretful.

He murmured something in my ear about me feeling delicious and to just hold on, that it would get better. Gradually, I adjusted to the swollen thing that had invaded me and he cupped my ass, gently encouraging me to rock. A slickness begin to build with the friction and he groaned.

\'...Chingado, so fucking tight.\'

On my own I started to build up speed, moving confidently now, confused and shocked by how much he was filling me and how far I had to pull in order to feel the tip twitching at my clit. He would allow me move so far, yanking me back up and grabbing me firecely around the waist, bouncing me up and down on his cock.

I was just feelng a rhythm, a steady warmth building, when his face suddenly seized and his body stiffened.

He immediately pulled me close, murmured over and over again that he was sorry and that he\'d been anticipating this for long and I was so tight he couldn\'t stop himself. He seemed more defeated than anything, offering me a smile that was less than dim.

Oddly enuf, I felt nonchalant. I think I actually shrugged and told him it was okay. I was a little sore, but managed stiffly to make slip off and into the bathroom. When I returned, he was slowly pulling on his things, his face looking...indescribable.

Suddenly, as he is pulling on his shirt, he reaches for my hand, knealing before the bed.

\'Pray w/me,\' he says urgently.

I was stunned, falling to my knees from the steely grip he had on my wrist. Every pent up emotion of guilt and lust and hard-core begging for forgiveness spews from him. In wet, weepy Spanish, he professes his wife, their 8-month-old daughter. He begs god to not punish us for our moment of weakness, to allow me to be able to walk away and find happiness.

He pleads with the deities of above to not allow his loved ones passed to look down on him with shame. He beseeches absolution. Explains how he needed me beside him, heaven help him what we had done.