“I never told you how I met you,” he said.
“On the plane.”
“No, I had seen you before, while you were checking in and saying good-bye to your friends. I noticed that your hair was trailing along the floor when you squatted down to get something from your backpack.”
“Really?” Matilde smiled, but Eliah, holding her from behind, couldn’t see her.
“Yes, I was staring at you like an idiot.” After a pause, he reminded her, “I once told you that there are no coincidences. That day I was supposed to go back to Paris on my plane, but a breakdown made me board your flight. I was also supposed to travel in first class, but when I saw you and Juana were sitting near me, I changed my mind. You were already next to me and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And all that happened so that you and I could be here tonight, in my bed.”
“And so you can cure me.”
“Yes, my love, yes. I want you to be comfortable. I’m going to take off your dress now.” Suddenly he felt her tense up. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to happen. Do you trust me? I need to know.”
“Like no one else,” she affirmed.
Matilde relaxed as she felt the tickle of the zipper going down her back and the delicacy of Eliah’s hands taking off her dress. At least, she thought, I’m wearing nice lingerie.
“I want to feel your skin against mine.” He spoke into her neck as he pressed his torso against Matilde’s back. “Do you like to feel me?” Matilde sighed in answer. “You’re so beautiful tonight! It hurts me that you didn’t get dressed up for me.”
“This afternoon I went to a spa with Juana. Jean-Paul arranged it for us. And while they were doing my hair and makeup, you were all I was thinking about, how much I wanted you to see me like this, so elegant with straight hair.” Matilde turned around and pressed her forehead against Eliah’s chin. “And in the morning, when I was trying on this set of lingerie and garters, I imagined you seeing me and wanting me.”
“I want you,” he said, his voice dark and thick. “So much.”
His lips wandered around Matilde’s face and he ran his hands over her back and her tiny waist. The sight of her erect nipples under the tulle of her bra tempted him, attracted him, spoiling his chaste intentions.
“I’m going to take off your…soutien.”
“My bra,” she laughed and then, suddenly aware of the implications, went quiet, feeling how Eliah’s fingers worked behind her back to rid her of one of her last bastions. She thought about The Perfumed Garden and remembered an illustration that had excited her, of a naked man and woman sitting opposite each other; he was massaging her nipples, she was caressing his penis.
“I want you to put your breasts on my chest and feel me in your nipples. Like that, very good,” he said, and Matilde looked up to see him with his eyes closed and mouth half-open, letting out a gasp. She wanted to make him happy. She reached her hand out, stroked his jaw and put her index finger in his mouth, which he sucked with relish as he grabbed her bottom and squeezed. Matilde gave a start and tensed up again. No, no, she urged herself. I need to stay calm. She distracted herself by recognizing that she was fascinated by the feeling of the hair of his torso on her nipples, which had become sensitive and taut; there was something painful about it too, just like when she was very cold.
Eliah’s cupped a hand around one of Matilde’s breasts, lowered his head and put her nipple in his mouth. At the same time, he wrapped his arm around her waist, leaving her with no room to escape. Matilde held on to Eliah’s shoulders and breathed in the way he had shown her. She was being driven crazy by the sucking of his lips and his tongue circling her aureola. Nothing had prepared her for this experience, for wanting to make love and doing it. Her body shook in his relentless embrace and little squeaks emerged from her throat, which she couldn’t drown out even though they embarrassed her. She needed him to suck the other nipple, to soothe its pain. As if he had read her mind, Eliah complied. Matilde arched and let her head fall back. She was insane with pleasure, confusion, fear and happiness. The ferocious pulsing between her legs had traveled up to her belly button and grew deeper when Eliah crushed her with his weight. Matilde’s eyelids fluttered. She felt trapped. His strength seemed infinite.
“Matilde,” he whispered to her, and they looked at each other for a few seconds before he fell onto her mouth. They kissed, mad with passion, locked in an embrace that was no longer enough. “Don’t be afraid, my love. I’m begging you, don’t be afraid.”
“No, no,” she panted, and propped herself up on her forearms as he left the bed to take off his boxers. His penis sprang out, erect, huge and dark, and helpless panic overwhelmed her. She found herself cowering against the headboard, her knees at her chest. Eliah came back to the bed and sat opposite her, leaning backward. He showed her his member from there in all its magnitude.
“That’s not going to fit inside me,” she thought out loud.
With a compassionate smile, he took her hands and pulled her down so her head was at the foot of the bed. He lay down at her side, and Matilde felt the tip of his penis poking into her thigh.
“Don’t be afraid. I took off my boxers because I couldn’t stand the pressure. I already told you nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen. How are you feeling so far?”
“Strange. Happy,” she admitted. “Scared. And you?”
“Happy to have you in my bed, something I’ve wanted since the first second I saw you. It was very difficult to achieve.”
“Tell me that everything’s okay, that I’m doing everything well.”
“You’re doing everything very well. And if you make a mistake, what would be the problem? After all, this is your first time. At least that’s how I see it.”
“I see this as my first time too, but I still don’t want to make a mistake. Not with you.”
“Why not with me?”
“I’m afraid,” she sobbed.
“Afraid of what, my love?”
“Of disappointing you. I would die of shame. I couldn’t bear it. You’re such an incredible man. You’re so masculine that I always knew you would be an extraordinary lover. That’s what scared me about you, and made me act coldly toward you. I wanted to keep you away because you were too strong a temptation to resist. And I know my limitations.”
“Matilde, I want us to be comfortable with each other. Each of us can make as many mistakes as they need.”
“You’re never going to make a mistake, I know it.”
Eliah smiled.
“What a responsibility! What if I turn out to be a disaster?”
Matilde’s expression and snort of derision made him giggle; she laughed too. Their laughter gradually faded and they looked more deeply into each other’s eyes. His irises had turned black, losing their natural green. He stared at her without blinking. His demeanor signaled a change in the mood. He took off her black tulle panties and paused as he absorbed her nakedness. He frowned, and looked again. She had no hair, not even light-blonde fuzz. It wasn’t that she was waxed—he knew what a waxed mound of Venus looked like, it was rougher and more porous. One of his hands started to explore, in spite of Matilde’s unease, and discovered a very fine scar on the lower part of her belly. It was a whitish color that stood out from the skin; he hadn’t noticed it at first. He traced it with a finger; it looked like a smile on her pubis.
“What’s this?”
“I had an operation when I was sixteen. It’s nothing.”
Eliah continued his examination. He caressed her forearms and thighs, which were still half-covered by stockings.
“You don’t have any hair, not a single one. Mon Dieu, Matilde!” He rubbed his face against her pubis and she writhed, crying out as she buried her fingers in his hair.
Eliah was like a man possessed. His mouth devoured Matilde’s clitoris, his tongue stroked it, his lips sucked on it, his nose filled with her aroma. Her response encouraged him even further. He penetrated
her with a finger, enjoying her wetness and the contraction of her muscles, which squeezed him with surprising force. His penis pulsed, his testicles had grown heavy and his mouth was dry. The desire Matilde awakened in him was like everything she spurred within him: out of control, irrational and excessive. He reached for the condom on the bedside table, ripped it open with his teeth and slipped it on quickly and skillfully. He loomed over her and asked her to open her legs, first in French, then in Spanish. Matilde obeyed, clutching onto his neck. Slowly, Eliah urged himself. Very slowly. He kept his eyes on her as he penetrated her. She was so small, thin and delicate. The very thought drove him even wilder, and he found it hard to keep himself under control.
“Are you okay?” She nodded. “Relax, please. I want you to enjoy the pleasure I can give you. Let me in. I’m burning with desire. Let me in.”
Matilde closed her eyes to visualize the image of his flesh sliding into her wetness. She smiled and wrapped her legs around his back. Eliah let out a loud sigh and buried himself until every single inch of his penis was inside of her. He stopped and tensed his body, resisting the tidal wave of pleasure.
“How are you? Does it hurt?”
“You’re inside me,” she gasped ecstatically, and he kissed away her tears. “You’re inside me, Eliah, my love.”
“Yes, I’m very deep inside you. All the way inside you. We did it, my love.”
“What do I do now? I want to please you, I want to do this well.”
“My love…” he mumbled, and stretched out his arms to raise himself above her. He plunged inside her until he started to allow himself to enjoy the feeling, and the pleasure left him exhausted.
Unconsciously, Matilde dug her nails into his back, amazed at Eliah’s intimacy, at once dominant and strong, vulnerable and devoted. His hoarse shouts cut right through her while his thrusts made her shudder and his pained face shocked her. He collapsed, relieved, on top of her, and Matilde grabbed his neck.
“Now I’m cured.”
“Now you’re mine,” he said.
Al-Saud continued to love Matilde until she had her first orgasm. Although he had explored her thoroughly and there wasn’t an inch of her skin that he hadn’t claimed as his, she was still a mystery to him. This was the first time she had ever felt sexual relief.
“You never masturbated?” he asked her, incredulous, and she, still trembling with her eyes closed, shook her head. “Matilde, my love,” he whispered.
“Eliah, kiss me, please.”
They sank into an embrace of burning skin, tangled thighs, thirsty mouths and irreverent hands. Matilde slipped hers between their bodies and surprised him by grabbing his member as she had seen and read in The Perfumed Garden. He arched and moaned as though he was dying. His penis grew in Matilde’s hand while their kiss deepened and Eliah’s fingers opened the lips of Matilde’s vulva. They would never get their fill, this would go on forever.
“Can I get on top?”
“You can do anything you want. Put the condom on me first.”
“Me?”
He showed her how and she giggled nervously. He helped her to get on top of him and to slide him into her firm, hot flesh until her body swallowed him entirely. Then he showed her how to rock back and forth. Eliah didn’t dare to do anything, he simply limited himself to admiring her. She reminded him of a pre-Raphaelite model, voluptuous but tiny. A mystery. His Matilde. His love. His woman with a girl’s face, with no hair, with freckles and pigtails. She definitely hadn’t been a part of his plan. In truth, he had never been looking to fall in love. This kind of passion complicated a wanderer’s life like his. And yet it was already impossible to conceive of a life without Matilde. The enormity of this thing growing inside him excited him. He straightened up to face her. Matilde shifted and settled into his new position.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and for a few seconds they contemplated each other in silence. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“And you’re the best thing to have happened to me in my life. You’re my savior.”
Pleasure overtook them once more as they kissed and they moaned into each other’s mouths before falling apart onto the bed. There they remained until they got their breath back. Matilde slipped out from under his weight and got out of bed. Intrigued, Eliah sat up to observe her. Matilde spun around on tiptoes with her hands reaching up toward the ceiling, her nudity half-covered by her long hair.
“I’m cured!” she cried out. “I’m cured!”
Eliah jumped up toward her, lifted her into the air and spun her around. Both of them were laughing.
“I want you to know something. This is the first happy day of my life. And I owe it to you.”
Eliah swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked a few times to halt the prickling in his eyes. He remembered Sofía and Juana’s words. “I’m warning you, nephew, that girl is an angel fallen to earth. Don’t hurt her. She has suffered too much in her life already.” “She’s suffered everything under the sun. Our gentle little Mat had to put up with it all on her own, because with the family that was given to her, she got no help from anyone.” Just as before, his nerve failed him. He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t bear her pain. Hearing about the rape had devastated him.
“It’s the first, my love, but not the last.”
“I want more,” Matilde said playfully. “Is there more?”
“I’ve created a monster,” he said, flopping back onto the bed face up, his arms out like a cross.
Matilde was watching him sleep. She knew the titanic effort he had made to make sure that she had her first orgasm, and then he had given her one more. At the beginning of the night she hadn’t aspired to feel what Juana was always talking about, “the orgasm”; she would be satisfied just by being able to accept a man’s member in her body, like any normal woman. But Eliah had given it to her; he had given her everything. There was no way she could sleep with the eruption of feelings flowing out of her. Most prominent was happiness, which she was feeling for the first time, so pure and real that it kept her pulse racing. She slipped out from under Al-Saud’s arm and left the bed. She felt a slight ache between her legs and smiled. She put on his shirt and inhaled with her eyes closed as a wave of A*Men filled her nostrils. She walked toward a small room separated from the bedroom by a lancet arch. The room was circular, and the concave closets, one after the other, floor to ceiling, followed the outline of flower petals drawn on the hardwood floor. It was still dark. She pressed her forehead and hands against the leaded glass and sobbed quietly. Thank you, Blessed Virgin, for protecting me from death so I could experience this happiness with Eliah.
She went back into the room, drying her tears on his shirtsleeve. He was still sleeping, lying facedown, his face obscured by his hair. She walked toward the door that led to the huge bathroom, with three sinks on a marble counter, a large Jacuzzi and a shower with a glass door. There was no bidet. She was drawn to the bottles of cologne on the shelf, A*Men and a few more. She tried them all and spun around with her arms out so the fragrances would swirl around her. Every detail fascinated her, even the Roger & Gallet hand soap. Before she left, she looked in the wastebasket, where Al-Saud had thrown the condoms full of semen. A chill ran through her. Had she really experienced that night of passion?
She went back into the flower-shaped room and saw that it was dawn. The leaded closets led to an Andalusian-style internal patio, decorated with a majolica fountain and palm trees. She went back into the bedroom and discovered another door opposite the bathroom. She opened it. A fresh scent, like pines, rushed out to meet her. She fumbled along the wall until she found the light switch. It was Eliah’s dressing room. If Juana could see this, she thought as she walked into the oblong room. There was an endless number of suits, coats, jackets, shoes, sneakers, pants, shirts, T-shirts, ties and belts. Finally, across from the door, there was a mirror that took up the entire wall. Matilde studied her reflection from various angles, trying out d
ifferent gestures and looks. The shirt was huge on her, hanging down past her knees. She covered her face and laughed when she thought of the things Eliah had done to her. He was so skillful and passionate, he wasn’t afraid of anything, he was unstoppable. He was free and he had cured her. An image in the mirror caught her eye. It was her jar with its little embroidered cap; it was clean and empty. Eliah was saving it among his watches, more bottles of cologne, a few wallets, cuff links of every kind and a silver billfold.
She heard footsteps. She checked that Eliah was still asleep and peeked through the door to the hall and saw a young girl coming toward her with her coat and black gloves and a pile of towels. She darted back just as the girl nudged open the door to come in. They both stood there, silently observing each other. Panic and doubt started to cloud Matilde’s mood until the girl’s childlike smile—showing all of her teeth with her cheeks raised so high that her eyes were squeezed into a squint—shook her out of it. She watched the girl put the coat and long gloves on a chair. The little wave the girl made to usher her into the bathroom made her laugh. Matilde saw that she knew the house and moved around it with authority. She opened the wardrobe that Matilde hadn’t yet dared to snoop inside and put the towels on a shelf. Then she turned around and smiled again. Matilde introduced herself in French, but the girl kept her mouth shut and just looked her up and down, shamelessly. Matilde decided that she was very pretty in spite of how short her ash-blonde hair was cut. The boyish haircut had a dramatic effect on her soft, round features—it looked like a badly positioned wig on a doll. She had a small, straight nose, a small mouth with succulent lips and enormous, dark eyes. Tall and thin, she dressed simply, though her clothes were good quality.