Tell Me What You Want
“No, I don’t want to.”
He finally sits down on the bed, determined to wait out my temper. He knows me well enough now to understand it’s better if he gives me a little time to calm down. Ten minutes later, I feel ridiculous, and without him having to say anything, I go and sit on his lap again. We stay like that until I try to kiss him and he pulls away.
“Did you just pull ‘the cobra’ on me?”
Eric smiles and squeezes me tighter.
“I had to do it sometime, don’t you think?”
I smile, and then he comes closer and gives me a honeyed kiss as he squeezes me tighter and tighter. He lifts me in his arms and places me on the bed. He raises my dress, takes off my panties, and without taking his eyes off me, he undoes his belt and lets his pants and briefs fall around his feet.
He lies down on top of me, finds me wet and waiting, and, taking both my hands in his, slowly submerges in me.
I tremble and close my eyes.
“Look at me, love. I need you to look at me.”
His plea makes me open them. I gasp, and Eric puts his mouth on mine as he hammers me, accelerating his pace each time to give me more and more pleasure.
“Harder . . . harder,” I demand.
Eric lets go of my hands and takes hold of my hips. He plows into me while I scream and convulse.
“Yes, Jude . . . yes, love.”
My orgasm arrives in tandem with his, and he folds on top of me. We stay like that for a few minutes, out of breath, until Eric lifts up his face.
“All right, Jude. I’ll go back tomorrow and have the surgery. But I need you to think very seriously about coming to live in Germany with me and Flyn. Will you think about it?”
I nod.
57
Living without Eric is difficult for me.
I’ve gotten used to his hanging out at the office and strolling through my apartment, so being alone throws me off balance.
Before leaving, he wanted to tell my supervisor the truth about our relationship, but I asked him not to. I hate gossip, and I know our relationship will provoke a lot of talk.
The day of Eric’s surgery, Sonia calls and tells me that everything has turned out fine but Eric is in a foul mood. He’s a lousy patient. After a few days, I ask Sonia about the possibility of my going to Germany. She consults Eric and he refuses. He doesn’t want me to see him not doing well. I try to convince her, but she reminds me that she already told me her son is a lousy patient and adds that at moments like these, it’s best not to go against his wishes.
Desperate, I call my dad and tell him what’s happening.
As best he can, he calms me down and tells me to go to bed and get some rest. When I arrive home the following day, I find my father and sister at my place. They try to lift my spirits and assure me that Eric is a strong man and, no matter what, he’ll return to my side. I want to believe that. I need to believe that.
At dawn, my father and I talk. I mention the possibility that I could move to Germany to live with Eric and Flyn, and he seems to accept it. He encourages me to live my life with the person I love and who loves me.
A week later, my father returns to Jerez. He needs to get back to his business, but my sister stays to take care of me. Even though she drives me crazy sometimes, she’s the best sister in the world.
From: Eric Zimmerman
Date: October 17, 2012, 10:38 p.m.
To: Judith Flores
Subject: I miss you.
I hate the treatment and my sister. She puts me in a bad mood.
As for Flyn, I don’t know what to do.
I miss you.
I love you.
Eric
From: Judith Flores
Date: October 17, 2012, 10:50 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: RE: I miss you.
You, in a foul mood?
I don’t believe it!
A man like you doesn’t even know what that is.
About Flyn, give yourself some time. He’s a very little boy.
I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you.
Jude
From: Judith Flores
Date: October 18, 2012, 11:12 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: Hellooooooo
Hi, this is your girlfriend!!!!
How are you today, my love?
I hope a little better. Smile—I’m sure your brow is furrowed right now. And yes, I got the message that you don’t want me to visit. I’ll wait.
It’s starting to get cold here in Madrid. I just got home because it was nuts at the office today. I have so much work, I barely have time to breathe.
I hope Flyn is behaving while you’re there.
Many kisses and have a good night. I love you.
Your sweetness
From: Eric Zimmerman
Date: October 19, 2012, 8:19 a.m.
To: Judith Flores
Subject: Hello
I hate that you work so much.
What kind of hour is that to get home? When I get back to Madrid, I’m going to have a very serious talk with your idiot of a supervisor.
I love you, sweetness.
Eric
From: Judith Flores
Date: October 19, 2012, 8:21 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: Keep out of my work situation.
The subject line bears repeating: Keep out of my work situation! That I’m your girlfriend doesn’t give you the right to intervene in my work.
Oh . . . and I love you more.
Judith
From Eric Zimmerman
Date: October 19, 2012, 10:16 p.m.
To: Judith Flores
Subject: I’m your boss.
Don’t ever tell me again not to get involved in your work situation. I’M YOUR BOSS.
As to who loves who more, I’ll show you!
Eric
From: Judith Flores
Date: October 19, 2012, 10:19 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: Mmm
I’m asking myself, why doesn’t he call instead of write me? Don’t you want to hear my voice? I’m dying to hear even your grumbling. Come on now. Be good and call me, BOSSMAN.
And in terms of loving, then show me!
I hit “Send” and wait . . . and wait and wait.
He doesn’t call. And he stops writing. Nothing.
At eleven o’clock that night, I opt to make myself something to eat. I take my plate and Coke over to the little table. I turn on the TV and find a gossip/entertainment show. I watch for a bit, and then the doorbell rings. That’s pretty weird, so I check my watch. It’s eleven twenty-one. I get up and look through the peephole.
“Eric!”
I open the door and pounce on him.
“Whoa, careful!”
I cover him in kisses, and he squeezes me in his arms. When he finally lets go, I’m very happy and breathless.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hello, love.”
He hugs me again, and I close my eyes. I can’t believe he’s right here!
When I finally pull away, I see his tired face and his reddened eyes. And that makes me feel uneasy about my effusiveness.
“Oh, love, I’m so sorry.”
Eric smiles and pulls me close again.
“Don’t be sorry. That’s what I need from you, for you to be yourself.”
With tenderness and joy, I take his face in my hands.
“How are you?”
“Good . . . better now that I’m with you.”
“And Flyn?”
He makes a face.
“Good. He was good when I left. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back tonight?”
“It was a surprise. And besides, didn’t you just tell me a few minutes ago to call you, even if it’s just to hear me grumbling? Well, here I am, in the flesh.”
We both laugh.
“What
do you say—will you ask me to come in?”
I close the door behind him. I help him take off his heavy blue coat and lead him to the couch. When I sit next to him, I realize he’s thinner, but he still looks good.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Some water, please.”
I get up, grab the pitcher, fill it, and go back to him. When I sit down, he points to my plate.
“What’s that?”
“My dinner. Want some?”
“What is it?”
I’m pretty amused by how he’s looking at it.
“Chocolate chip crêpe.”
“Chocolate chip crêpe?”
I laugh.
“Sometimes when I sit for Luz, she doesn’t want to eat. I discovered a long time ago that if I add chocolate chips to any food, she’ll eat. And tonight, since I didn’t really feel like cooking, I decided to imitate her.”
“My God, baby,” he says, grinning, “I’ve missed you so much!”
“Me too.”
Eric just looks at me, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Why don’t you hug me?”
“I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Come here. I’m fine, silly girl . . . just fine.”
He has me sit on his lap and begins to kiss me all over my neck.
Minutes later, naked on my couch, Eric shows me how much he’s been wanting and missing me, making love to me twice, with his usual possession.
58
Once I go back to the office, I find that my life returns to relative normalcy.
The difference now is that Eric is by my side, and I love his company and the way he spoils me. He keeps the suite at the hotel, though he spends many nights at my apartment. But we both still need a place of our own, in spite of how much we love each other’s company. Each day, he wants to tell everybody I’m his girlfriend, but I continue to refuse. I don’t know why, but I don’t want anyone to know. We talk a lot about Germany, though. I can see in his eyes that he needs an answer, but I still don’t know what to do. He doesn’t pressure me, which I appreciate.
Eric’s been back several days now. Every morning, I ask him how he’s doing, and his answer is always the same: “Good.” He hasn’t had any more headaches, and I haven’t noticed him experiencing nausea, and that helps me relax.
One morning when I’m in the cafeteria having breakfast with Miguel, I see Eric come in. His look tells me he doesn’t approve of my hanging out with my pal.
He sits in the back of the cafeteria and orders coffee. I’m talking with Miguel when I hear my cell buzz. It’s Eric.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” he asks, annoyed.
I don’t look his way because I don’t want to laugh.
“I’m having breakfast.”
“Why do you have to have breakfast with that guy every day?”
Sitting in front of me, Miguel asks whom I’m talking to.
“It’s my father,” I tell him, then turn back to the phone. “C’mon, Papá, I’m having breakfast. What do you want?”
My lover sighs, but I’m having some fun.
“Look, Papá, don’t worry. I promise you I’m having a good breakfast, OK?”
“Jude . . . ,” Eric says through clenched teeth.
Just then, Raúl and Paco approach. As they do every morning, they give me kisses on the cheek and sit down with us. Eric’s response is immediate.
“Who gave them permission to kiss you?”
I don’t know what to say. I laugh. Paco and Raúl are a longtime couple, and just as I’m about to say the first thing that comes to mind, Miguel, with whom I have a lot of cozy familiarity, pulls a strand of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.
“Goddamn it,” growls Eric, “why is that guy touching you now?”
“Papá, what do you say I call you from home?” So as not to give him a chance to respond, I quickly add, “Kiss-kiss, Papá. I love you.”
I switch off my cell and leave it on the table. I turn to look at Eric and find him standing, his cell at his ear. He’s very angry. He passes by us in a huff while Miguel, unaware of what’s just happened, continues with his breakfast in his relaxed, casual manner. In contrast, I feel like my stomach just dropped.
Ten minutes later, I head back. As soon as I sit at my desk, my phone rings. It’s Eric. He orders me to his office.
I close the door behind me, and he drills his icy gaze into me. I know he wants to curse and growl, but he’s controlling himself. It’s neither the time nor the place to get into it with me.
“Papá?”
I shrug. I’m about to answer, but he starts in on me.
“I’m very angry.”
Aware of where we are, I try to keep it light. “Well, you know . . . a general cleaning would do you wonders.”
But that only makes him angrier, and I’m soon sorry for having been so casual, although the masochist in me likes to see his fury.
“Why do those guys have to touch you and kiss you?”
I try to find an answer that won’t piss him off more, but I come up blank. Everything strikes me as terribly absurd.
“Please, all Miguel did was push a lock of hair off my face. And all Paco and Raúl did was give me a little kiss each on the cheek.”
“I haven’t given them permission to touch you.”
His words leave me stupefied. My brow creases.
“What are you talking about?”
The Iceman scrutinizes me with his stormy, angry eyes.
“I don’t want them to touch you or kiss you again,” he hisses. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Perfect!”
“It’s an entirely different matter if I’m going to pay any attention whatsoever to what you’re saying.” He looks at me, frustrated. “What is wrong with you? You’re jealous over what you just witnessed, but . . . but later, you don’t care if we play with others and . . .”
“It’s not the same, Jude.”
“I don’t understand it,” I say. I take a deep breath.
“That’s it! I’m going to go out right now and tell everybody you’re my girlfriend, that you’re the boss’s girlfriend.”
That alarms me.
“Eric Zimmerman, if you do that, you’re going to pay for it.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course. I don’t want you to tell.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.”
“That’s not an answer. Why not?”
I look at him and sigh.
“Let’s see . . . I don’t want people to gossip and think I’m a gold digger. If we continue, there’ll be time enough to tell. Why get ahead of ourselves?”
At that precise moment, his office door opens. It’s my supervisor.
“What’s going on?” she asks, surprised to see me.
I don’t know what to say. I’m blank. But Eric reacts quickly.
“I was just asking Miss Flores to send these faxes.”
He hands me a bunch of papers he is holding.
“When you have the confirmations, please bring them to me.”
“Of course, sir.”
As soon as I step out of his office, I feel relief.
Arguing with Eric wipes me out. We can never come to an understanding.
Eric doesn’t come out of his office for the rest of the morning. At lunch, I’m surprised when my supervisor tells me Eric has left for the day.
I don’t call him. I don’t text. I give him his space.
I go to the gym. I need to vent. I run into Marisa, and she introduces me to two friends, Rebeca and Lorena. The four of us take an aerobics class, and when we’re finished, all sweaty, we head for the showers.
After the gym, we go to the pub next door for a drink. We exchange cell numbers and agree to get together for dinner one night, with our partners. Then Lorena talks us into going with her to a store to pick up something she’s ordered. While we
wait, I look over the merchandise on display, and the owner encourages us to try on anything we like. I select a pair of very sexy panties and a bra I’m sure Eric will love.
“They look great on you,” says Rebeca as she comes into the dressing room.
“You think?”
She nods as she drapes a couple of ensembles on the bench.
“You should get them. I’m sure your guy will love you in them.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will.” I can imagine Eric’s face.
Suddenly, Rebeca grabs my hand.
“Beautiful ring.”
I’m still enchanted by it.
“My boyfriend gave it to me.”
“He has very good taste.”
“Thank you.”
I look in the mirror while she undresses to try on another ensemble.
“Here—try this on,” she says, handing me a black leather corset.
I take off the bra I have on and stand there naked, like her, in the dressing room. I bend to take off my panties and see she’s also bending. When I stand up, she’s face to face with my tattoo. I don’t move; I just look at her. She slides a finger on my slit and gives me a kiss. I jerk away.
“What are you doing?”
She stands and steps up close to me.
“Marisa told me she saw you play at a little party in Zahara. Is that true?”
I’m uncomfortable with this.
“Yes, but I only play in the presence of my partner.”
“Is that your norm?”
“Yes.”
She stops where she is.
“Your guy doesn’t have to know. It can be our secret.”
“No,” I say, firmly.
Rebeca opens the dressing room curtain, and I see Marisa, Lorena, and the store owner, naked on the couch. I’m speechless. Rebeca circles around me and surrounds me with her arms, taking my breasts in her hands.
“They’re having a very good time. C’mon, let yourself go.”
I drop the corset and remove her hands. I step away. I get my clothes, bend to put on my pants, and start to get dressed. I don’t want to look; I want to leave as soon as possible. Quickly, she grabs me by the hips and grinds against my butt.
“C’mon, Judith . . . you want it. You want to open your legs for me. Don’t deny it.”
“I said no—let go of me!”
My words make the other women look up. Rebeca steps away. She doesn’t touch me again, but I don’t like how she’s looking at me. She seems pleased with my discomfort. As soon as I dress, I’m out of there like a flash and without a word.