Tell Me What You Want

  “Eric . . .”

  The excitement inflames me. He slaps me yet again and pushes a finger into my vagina, right next to his penis, and I gasp again. Then he moves his finger, soaked in my juices, directly to my asshole. This time, the invasion is more powerful. His finger is devastating as it comes in and out of my anus and his penis does the same in my vagina. The new sensation leaves me limp.

  When everything’s over, Eric drops on top of me. I embrace him, and he buries his face in my neck. We stay like that for a few minutes. Bone weary. Drained. Consumed.

  “Get dressed,” he says as he pulls away from me. He orders me around in a flat voice without even looking at me. “We’re leaving.”

  Spent from the experience we’ve just had, I nod. I pick up my dress from the side of the bed and slip it on. I sit on the bed and watch him put on his clothes. That’s when I realize we’re alone in the room.

  “Where is Björn?”

  Eric looks at me and makes a gesture that leaves me cold. “Why do you want to know?”

  “For no reason, Eric,” I answer, though I don’t understand his question.

  In that instant, I realize he’s upset about something, and I grab his arm. Eric jerks away.

  “Why are you angry?”

  The fury in his eyes leaves me speechless.

  “Why did you want to take his dick in your mouth?”

  I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say.

  “I don’t know, Eric. It was the heat of the moment.”

  When I see that he still refuses to look at me as he buttons his shirt, I go off on him: “Perfect! You bring me here, you make me open my legs for him, and now you come at me with this shit? Fuck, Eric . . . I really don’t get it.”

  “You agreed. Don’t forget that.”

  “Of course, I agreed. I’m playing the game. Your game! I’ve let a complete stranger lick me, suck me, and fuck me because I know it’s something you like, and now, when you see I’ve had a good time and that I let myself surrender to it all, you’re going to hold it against me? You can go fuck yourself!”

  I start for the door, aiming to leave immediately, but he grabs me and throws me on the bed.

  “You’re right, baby . . . you’re right.”

  “Dickhead! That’s what you are, a real fucking dickhead.”

  “Among many other things. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes . . . his voice . . . the smell of his sex and everything about him manages, as always, to make my anger disappear.

  “I’m sorry, love. I’ve let myself be carried away by my possessiveness and . . .”

  “Look here, Eric, I’m yours! You’re going to tell me you don’t know that, while I like all this exploration and experimentation, I only want to do it with you? You said my pleasure was your pleasure. Well then, apply it to your own damned self, because it works the same way with me. What just happened here has been incredible! Marvelous! Exhilarating! I loved seeing your eyes sparkle when I told you what I wanted. You enjoyed the moment, and so did I. So what is so wrong? I simply surrendered myself to explore, to give in to my curiosity. But if—”

  Eric kisses me. He doesn’t let me finish.

  He devours my mouth and plays with my tongue, and I adore it all. For a long time, we remain like that, embracing and alone in the room. We just hug each other. We’re dead tired. And when we finally leave the private room and return to the larger, public room, Björn offers us very cold champagne. He takes my hand and kisses it.

  “It’s been my pleasure, Jude.”

  I nod. Björn looks over at Eric.

  “Thank you, my friend, for offering me your woman. It’s been a delight.”

  Eric smiles.

  “I’m glad to know that.”

  “Also,” adds Björn, “tomorrow night, we’re going to play the Wheel at the villa I’ve rented. Marisa and Frida will be there. Perhaps you’ll come as well?”

  The Wheel? What is “the Wheel”?

  “Thanks for the invitation, but no,” says Eric as we start to step away. “Maybe another time.”

  When we get to the dance floor and start to move to the beat of the music, my curiosity gets the better of me.

  “What is ‘the Wheel’?”

  “A game you’re not ready for.”

  “Fine . . . but what is it?”

  Eric smiles and presses me to him. “To start, you’d be nude, along with two or three other women. The men play cards while you serve us drinks and satisfy our whims. Once the card game is over, the men make a circle around the women who’ve volunteered, and the entire wheel gets fucked. Of course, this always requires consent.”

  I nod and swallow. No, I’m definitely not ready for that.

  At about four in the morning, without having shared more than words with anyone else, Eric and I decide to go home. Frida and Andrés will go back later. When we climb into the limousine they’ve left at our disposal, Eric hugs me, and I give him a sly look.

  “I’m beyond tired. Why do you think that is?”

  We both laugh, and Eric kisses me on the neck.

  “Did you have a good time?’”

  “Yes, a very good time.”

  “Enough of a good time to do it again someday?”

  I search his face before responding.

  “Oh yes . . . of course. In fact, I saw some things I’d like to try and . . .”

  Eric smiles and brings his mouth near mine.

  “My God, I’ve created a monster!”

  42

  Three days later, we’re still at Zahara de los Atunes, and Frida and Andrés encourage us to stay a few more days at the chalet. Charmed, we accept. Eric receives several calls and messages from someone named Marta, and every time, I have to bite my tongue so I won’t ask, “Who is that woman who calls so much?”

  On the fourth night, Frida and I decide to go into town for a drink. The guys are playing chess and choose to stay at the chalet.

  We find a pub called La Cosita. We each order a rum and Coke and sit down to chat at the bar. Talking with Frida is easy. She’s fun, effusive, and engaging.

  “Have you been married to Andrés for very long?”

  “Eight years, and every day, I’m more grateful that I ran him over.”

  “What?”

  Frida laughs. “I met him because I hit him with my car.”

  That makes me laugh.

  “Tell me everything right now,” I demand.

  Frida takes a sip of her drink and begins. “We were both studying medicine in Nuremberg. And the first day I drove my car to campus, when I went to park, I didn’t see him and I ran him over. Luckily, nothing serious happened. He got bruised from the fall, and that was about it. But I tell you . . . it was a real fall for both of us, and from that day on, we’ve never been separated.”

  We both laugh. “Hey, and what about the game? Who proposed that?”

  “I did.”

  “You?”

  She nods.

  “You should have seen his face the first time I told him about it. He absolutely refused. But then one day, I invited him to a party where I used to hang out with some people in the game, and I introduced him to Eric, and, well . . . since then, he’s been into it!”

  “Eric?”

  “Yes, he and I are lifelong friends. We’ve always moved in the same circles. It’s something that, as you’ve seen, we continue to do.”

  “Hey . . . ,” I say, remembering something, “did you go play the Wheel that Björn organized the other night?”

  “Yes,” says Frida with a laugh, “I love that sort of game, and games like that drive Andrés insane.”

  “And don’t you feel, I don’t know, a little . . . ?”

  “A little . . . ?” she repeats.

  “I don’t know . . . Isn’t it a little degrading to be there, satisfying all those guys? I mean, you’re nude. You offer yourselves. You’re who . . . you know . . .”

  Frida bursts out laughing. “No, my dear. I love how those gu
ys desire me, I love how my husband offers me, I love how the others possess me. I love it, and Andrés loves it. That’s what counts.”

  I want to ask her more about the game, about Eric, Betta, and Marta, but John Paul Young’s “Love Is in the Air” starts to play, and Frida shrieks.

  “I love that song! Let’s dance!”

  We jump out to the tiny dance floor and begin to move our hips to the beat of the song, and I’m instantly aware of several men watching us.

  At about three in the morning, Frida and I decide to go back to the chalet. We walk to the BMW, which we left in the parking lot near the beach, but two men have followed us out.

  “Well, well, here are our two dancers.”

  When I recognize them, I smile. “If you don’t want trouble, you’d best get out of our way.”

  Frida looks over at me, and I can see she’s insecure about all this. We’re in the parking lot by the beach, and not another soul is in sight. I grab Frida by the elbow and continue toward the car.

  “Hey . . . come here, beautiful. We want to give you what you want.”

  “Leave us alone, you shitheads,” I say.

  The men stay on our tail. They’re drunk and continue with their insinuations.

  When we get to the car, I tell Frida to give me the keys. She’s so nervous, she can barely hand them to me. I take them from her, and in the same moment, I sense one of the guys behind me: he puts his hand on my butt. I quickly throw my elbow back and hit him in the sternum. Frida screams, and the man curses. The other guy tries to manhandle Frida. In the process, he shoves me, and I land flat on the sand. That infuriates me, and I quickly spring back up.

  The one who touched my butt comes to get me, but I’m faster, and I land a punch on his jaw that makes him cry out. I grunt because I’ve just bashed my knuckles. Then the guy gets up and hurls me down on the ground again. I decide to put an end to this foolishness once and for all. I stand, adrenaline racing through my veins, and face off against the guy. I punch him hard in the face and kick him in the stomach. Then I grab the guy who’s holding Frida, spin him around by his hair, and kick him so hard that he flies in the air for a couple of feet.

  “Come on,” I shout at Frida. “Get into the car.”

  The two men are flat on the ground as we flee. As soon as we exit the beach parking lot and find a street where people are out on their porches, I stop the car. I turn to Frida. “Are you all right?”

  Still frightened, Frida nods. “Where did you learn to defend yourself like that?”

  “Karate class. My father signed us up when we were little, my sister and me. He always said we needed to learn to defend ourselves from scum, and look, he was right!”

  “You’re my hero!” says Frida with a huge grin. “Those guys got what they deserved and . . . Oh my God, Jude, your hand!”

  We both stare at my right hand. My knuckles are red, bruised, and swollen. I move my hand as best I can and try to play it down.

  “It’s nothing . . . Don’t worry about it. But I’m going to need ice for the swelling. Will you drive?”

  “Of course.” Frida gets out of the car, and I run around to her side. When we arrive at the chalet, we see the light on in the living room, and two seconds later, the guys come out to greet us. We’re both laughing, but as we come closer, Eric sees my hand and rushes to me.

  “What happened?”

  I’m about to answer, when Frida gets ahead of me.

  “When we left the pub, these two guys tried to harass us. But luckily, Jude knew how to defend us. It was incredible! You can’t imagine how she punched and kicked them. We have to get ice for her hand—now!”

  Eric is speechless while Frida acts out over and over what happened. She’s so impressed, she can’t stop herself. Seeing we’re both fine, Andrés hugs his wife. Eric is walking a bit ahead of me, but his look is surly. I can tell he’s upset. Finally, in order to ease the moment, I give him a kiss.

  “Easy. Nothing happened. Just a couple of idiots who wanted me to kick their asses.”

  “Just get into the car, Jude,” Eric demands all of a sudden.

  “What?”

  Frantic, he grabs the keys from Frida’s hand.

  “You’re going to tell me who those sonsabitches were, and then they’re going to have to deal with me.”

  Andrés and Frida immediately flank him, and Andrés takes back the keys.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Frida asks him.

  “To give those guys what they deserve,” he says, and opens the driver’s side door. “Give me the keys, Andrés.”

  Eric is having trouble breathing, and his eyes betray his fury.

  “Damn it, Eric,” I say. “Nothing happened! What do you want, for something to really happen so we can regret it later?”

  He turns and slams the car door shut. He walks over and puts his arm around my lower back.

  “Are you all right?” he asks.

  “Yes . . . Relax. I just need some hydrogen peroxide to clean my knuckles, and some ice for the swelling.”

  “God, sweetness . . . ,” he whispers, leaning his forehead on mine. “Something could have happened to you.”

  “Eric . . . nothing happened. Besides, you should see the other guys.” As Frida and Andrés step inside the house, I whisper, “I beat them to a pulp.”

  He hugs me. He presses me to him and buries his face in my neck. We stay that way for several moments.

  “Remember what my father told you: I’m a karate champ.”

  I smile and his muscles relax. Finally, he gives me a kiss on the lips.

  “Oh, sweetness, what am I going to do with you?”

  43

  Our marvelous days continue, and what happened that night becomes just one more story we tell. We spend our days lying in the sun, talking and enjoying each other’s company. Betta’s messages continue coming in, and I keep trying not to think about them. I can’t. Fernando sends messages too, and Eric has stopped asking about them as well.

  One morning, the four of us go on an excursion to Tarifa to see the Roman ruins at Baelo Claudia in Bolonia. We eat lunch at a wonderful restaurant, and when we go to pay, we run into Björn and a friend of his.

  They greet us warmly, and we all go for coffee out on a little terrace. It’s then I learn Björn is a German lawyer on vacation in the south. The other friend, a French guy named Fred, owns a vineyard. For a while, we talk about whatever, but I’m well aware of the looks I’m getting from Björn. So is Eric.

  “Björn is dying to be with you once more,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Does that bother you?”

  Eric smiles and kisses my neck.

  “No, he’s a good friend. I know he’d never do anything without my permission. In any case, I was thinking of offering you to him again, if you’d like.”

  Feeling the heat on my face, I pull out my fan. Eric can’t stop smiling.

  “Are you hot, sweetness?”

  “Yes.”

  He runs his hands over my thighs possessively, and I notice Björn watching.

  “Do you want us to go to a hotel and fuck you?” Eric asks.

  “Eric!”

  “Or better yet . . . what if we just go to the beach, and we can do it in the water . . . ?”

  “Eric!”

  “Just thinking about how your mouth looks when you’re panting makes me hard.”

  Having fun now, he takes his hands from my thighs. He loves to provoke me, and I just blush.

  “Björn, Fred, would you like to come to our house for dinner tonight?” I hear Andrés ask as we’re all saying goodbye.

  They accept immediately, and I blush a deep red. As soon as we agree on nine o’clock to meet again, Frida sidles up to me as we walk to the car.

  “Ooooooh . . . we’re having a little private party tonight!”

  During the ride back, Eric just stares at me and grins. And when we get home and take a shower, he tries to turn me on while whispering in my ear that he
’s going to offer me. After the shower, he suggests I wear a green dress and a pair of heels he likes, and he asks me not to wear any underwear.

  At nine o’clock, Fred and Björn arrive. I can feel how Björn looks at me; I can sense his eyes all over my body.

  Andrés makes dinner. He’s a terrific cook, and the six of us really enjoy his roast. All through dinner, Eric never takes his eyes off me. I notice when he sees my nipples are hard as rocks and poking through my dress. He’s enjoying my nerves, and that makes me even more anxious.

  As soon as dinner is over, an impatient Eric stands up, takes my hand, and grabs a bottle of champagne.

  “Let’s go for dessert,” he whispers to Björn.

  Björn wipes his mouth, grins, and comes over by Eric. I’m just stunned by everything.

  I let Eric lead me by the hand. He’s going toward the blue room, the one with the round bed.

  “Don’t move,” he says once we get inside.

  I come to a dead stop and watch as he sits on the bed. He places three glasses on a little table and pours the champagne. I’m really starting to get hot. I see several containers on the bed and . . . the vibrator. I notice the sheets. They look like they’re made of plastic. Just then, I feel Björn behind me. Eric lifts one of the glasses and takes a drink.

  “This is a marvelous dessert,” he says, “don’t you think, Björn?”

  In a matter of seconds, Björn’s hands are on my waist and then tracing the shape of my butt as Eric watches. Björn squeezes my ass cheeks.

  “Mmm . . . stupendous.”

  I move, so turned on, while he touches me shamelessly. Eric’s eyes glint when he sees how my movements aid Björn in feeling me up. For a few minutes, he restrains himself and only touches me through the dress. My nipples are very visible, and Björn brings his mouth to them, right through the fabric. He flicks them until Eric calls me over.

  “Come here, Jude . . . Let me undress you.”

  In seconds, the dress is at my feet, and I’m naked as a jaybird in front of them.