Postcards from Havana, page 3
“I have friends that would love to join us. I’ll give them a call later.”
*****
I’m a true sightseer as we wait at the bar for drinks. The beach is crowded, and beautiful bodies are snuggled close on blankets or dancing seductively in scant bathing suits.
After breakfast we went back to the hotel, where Josie and I changed into our bathing suits. Mia refused to leave the bedroom in her suit and decided to wear shorts and a tee-shirt. The woman’s self-esteem is shot to hell and I can’t make her see herself differently no matter how many times I say she’s pretty.
Anyhow, the guys Vince called to join us are equally as hot as him, and they speak some English. Josie seems to have hit it off with Pedro. Of course, he is her type with his dark skin and natural hair. They are happily playing in the crisp blue waters of Santa Maria del Mar. But Mia is struggling to let herself be in the moment. Manny, her date, appeared upset with Vince as he walks with Mia to one of the thatched huts set up to protect fair-skinned beachgoers from the hot sun.
Vince and I walk along the shoreline. My heart is pounding the whole time, a voice in my head is screaming at me not to fall for him, but I can’t stop myself from feeling the romance. His arm is wrapped around me. I smell the sweet scent of his cologne as the breeze drifts off the water. So romantic. These are the things you only find in romance novels.
We end up at the bar. I watch Vince run a finger around the collar of his shirt. Despite the heat, I resist the urge to shiver. He hands me a cup filled with Cuban sangria, and a sugar-dusted churro. I’ve been to many places, but never have I been to a place where food and drinks start to flow so early and go all day long. Maybe Las Vegas is that way.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the drink and treat. I take my ponytail and hold it off my neck. “God it’s hot.”
“Cuba in August,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt and then removing it completely. “Do you want to go for a swim or just sit by the water?”
I swallow hard. His chest is tanned, taut, and smattered with dark hair. “Maybe a swim later.” I lick my lips.
He looks at me, his face splitting into a knowing smile. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving mine as he leans against the bar, posing like one of those male models on the cover of a romance novel.
He pins me with an amused glare. “Like what you see?”
“I do.” I’m not one for tattoos, but I don’t mind his. They aren’t overdone.
“Good.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s cool off by the water.”
I tilt my head and bat my eyelids, flirting with him. “Lead the way.”
I drop my sundress on the sand, revealing my fire-red bikini. Unlike Mia, I have no reservations about my body, which is thick in the right places, with no jiggle. I sit down and immediately jump as the hot sand burns my ass cheeks.
“Ow!” I scream.
Vince is laughing at me. “Sand a little hot for you?”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“I’m sorry.” He takes the blanket from the beach bag and spreads it out for me to sit. “Is that better?”
“Much better, thank you.”
I lay back crossing my legs at the ankle. The breeze from the ocean is so relaxing. The music allows the locals to show off their dance skills. I stare at one couple moving with fluidity to the music. This dance was different from the dancing last night. “What are they doing?” I ask.
“Oh, that is called Kizomba.”
I raise my brow, confused. “What is that?”
Vince moves from the hot sand and sits on the blanket with me and says, “Kizomba is an African dance, not Latin. The music is slower, as you hear, and the dance is very sexy. But we enjoy the romantic, sensuous, rhythmic Angolan semba dance as well.”
“Oh, I like it. Can you teach me?”
He stands up pulling me with him. “I can teach you what I know.”
He wastes no time taking me in his arms. I look at the other women and attempt to mimic their moves. I understand why he said the dance is sexy. You have to really know your partner to dance this way.
The people are so friendly to tourists. A woman doesn’t hesitate to show me how to move my hips while Vince watches. Thinking I’ve got it, I attempt to do it on my own. I don’t have all the moves, but enough to be confident in myself and let Mia record me with her phone.
Shortly, I see Josie and Pedro prance over to where we are and start dancing. Josie is extra with her moves, as usual. She might spend a lot of time with me hanging in the clubs, but her rhythm is naturally off. During a spin, I’m shocked to see Mia and Manny. He is showing her how to do the dance also. I already hate that this vacation will come to an end in four days.
Chapter Four
(Vincenté and Arlene)
I look at this woman and think, is fate coming for me again? For years I have lived in the United States, working for NASA. My job as a propulsion engineer took me by surprise, as that was not what I was aiming to do. I attended university in Cuba to become an engineer to help my country better itself. However, an American exchange student suggested I obtain a student visa to continue my education in America. On a whim, I applied and was accepted at Stanford in California. I graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. NASA immediately saw my abilities as more valuable to them than Cuba, and the money offered made me agree. However, there are disadvantages to working for an American company and not being American.
But I put that aside and left Cuba to begin my adventures, using a work visa until I can become a legal citizen. Though I’m allowed to travel with NASA, I’m based in Miami. The Florida community feels more like home to me than California. Though California has a large Latino base, it is mostly Mexican. Also, living in Miami is convenient to travel to Cuba.
The first year was hard, as I had to learn the American way of life. I spoke some English, but a lot got lost in translations resulting in confrontations with frustrated people. Eventually, hard work and determination paid off. It wasn’t long before I was able to send money home for my family to take care of my ailing abuela. Her health has since worsen and she needs medical attention that Cuba cannot provide. I don’t know if she’ll survive waiting for a visa, since I am not an American citizen yet. I have to figure out something else, and I tend to get what I want when I set my mind to it.
My abuela is important to me. She raised me and my siblings. Even with her failing health, she still takes abandoned neighborhood kids into her home when drugs or violence take away the parents. My parents fell into that group, leaving her with four of us to tend to. I was the most studious of my hermanos. They worked to survive the hardships of Cuba, and I studied hard to make a better life for us in the future.
I sit with Arlene on the beach; we watched the sun set over the ocean earlier and now watch the moon sit high in the sky. For all the hate and fire Cuba has come under during the centuries, it is a beautiful place, with vistas to die for. One of my hobbies is painting and photography. I’ve photographed and painted my country in many stages in my thirty-six years on this earth. But this is not the part of Cuba where I grew up. This is for the tourists.
“It’s so beautiful, Vince. I dread going home, where I can’t see a beautiful sun setting over the ocean. And that moon—it looks so big and bright as it reflects off the water.”
“Before you leave, I’d love to paint you sitting on the beach, or at another location in Havana.”
We are sitting close. I can feel the humidity sticking to her body. Or maybe it’s me that’s too warm from being close to her. My heart pops around in my chest, something that hasn’t happened to me before.
There are some women in the office that consider me smooth and a player because I’m Latin. What they don’t know is that I’m none of that stereotypical bullshit. I suspect I’m tagged that because I am not married and date many types of women.
The reason for that is I have not met my match, and won’t settle for the first woman willing to throw herself at me. That doesn’t mean I’ll turn down offers for other services—I just won’t commit. Sex doesn’t automatically connect me to a woman. She has to stimulate me in other ways besides physical attraction. I’m a genuine man with a big heart. However, do not confuse my kind heart with weakness. I don’t have a problem getting in the ass of anyone who attempts to degrade me. Arlene stimulates me.
She looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes that capture the glow of the moon. “I didn’t know you paint.” She shrugs. “I guess I don’t know anything about you other than you’re a fantastic dancer and a nice person. Tell me about yourself, Vince.”
I’m not usually good at talking about myself, but for some reason, I feel compelled to open up to her. Stretching my legs out on the sand, I lean back to rest on my elbows. The mellow music playing in the background is perfect.
“Where do I start? I’m thirty-six, born in Cuba. But not from this part of Cuba.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is where Americans and other tourists come to see sunsets and moonlit nights such as this. I’m from a part of Cuba no one wants to see.” I see her eyes lower. But I’m not ashamed of my background.
“I see. Are you here to have fun with Americans or other tourists?”
I chuckle. “I enjoy the beach and scenery here also.”
“I’m going to leave that alone. But it is beautiful.”
“Havana has its bad areas. Obispo Street is lively for a party, but there are parts I would not advise you visit,” I say.
“I understand the financial hardships of Cuba. It’s sad.”
“I grew up where poverty is still a big issue. We are proud people and are incredibly friendly, but don’t expect to see us crying in a corner. We make do with what we have.”
She scans me, and I know exactly what is on her mind. “Um, I guess I don’t see that on you, compared to some people,” she says, obviously sidestepping what she wants to say.
I tuck my arm around the curve of her waist, drawing her closer. “Don’t be embarrassed to say what you feel. I don’t look as poor as my fellow citizens. I do have a job that pays well. I’m able to live above the poverty level and help my family at the same time.”
“Are you an artist?”
I shake my head. “No. My work in Miami is not related to art.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Isn’t being an artist considered a starving career? I don’t need to be in America to starve,” I joke. “I’m on a work visa, unless I meet an American woman to marry.”
“Is that one of your goals?”
“I’m joking with you. I came home to check on my abuela. She’s not well.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. You should be with her instead of me taking up your time.”
“When I’m not here, I check on her constantly. Even when I’m with you. You just haven’t seen me do it.”
“I saw you on the phone. You’re just a softy, aren’t you?”
I smile to keep myself from kissing her. “Familia is everything. Tell me about yourself.”
She bites down on her lower lip. It drives me crazy. “I’m from Ohio and teach second grade. I won the trip to Cuba through a radio station.”
“Do you have a novio—I mean, a boyfriend back in Ohio?” She might as well live oceans away, since I’ve haven’t ventured outside where NASA sends me, which has only been to Texas and Arizona for a few days.
“No boyfriend for me. I’m afraid to ask about your status.”
“Why?”
She draws her knees to her chest and crosses her arms around them. Soft strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and move with the gentle breeze. “Look at you. You work in Miami, where beautiful people enjoy the nightlife. Plus there is a large Latino population for you to mingle with.”
“Arlene, are you implying I work all day and party all night with the beautiful people of Miami? Remember, I am thirty-six, not twenty-six.”
Her long lashes cover her eyes. I touch her on the shoulder and she looks at me. “I really don’t have a right to know if you do or don’t. I’m sorry.”
“See, I don’t like it when people assume things about me. You asked me a question I don’t mind answering. I just need to know the reasoning behind it. Do you believe the rumors about Latino men?”
“I do believe some.”
“What?”
“I hear the passion in your voice when you talk about your grandmother. So the love for family is true.”
I smile, and get a beautiful one from her in return. “You saved yourself.”
“Dealing with second graders, I’ve learned to think on my feet.”
I take her hand in mine, examining it. Her nails are painted a pale beige. Her fingers are long and dainty, with a pearl mounted on a gold band gracing the ring finger. “You have pretty hands. I bet you give good massages.”
She entwines her fingers with mine. The contrast in skin color sends a shock straight to my core. My penis hardens when she tilts her head to one side and licks her lip. “I do. Too bad I won’t be here long enough for you to find out how good they are.”
The hours have escaped, and it is two in the morning. I’m stone sober and don’t want the night to end. What I want is to take her in my arms and kiss her. “We have now. Your friends have all gone and left us alone.”
She looks around. “They did leave. They could have said goodbye.”
I caress her shoulder. Her dark skin is soft and supple. “Pedro is a charmer, and Manny has a way with shy women.”
“They won’t take advantage of my friends, will they? Mia is recovering from a really bad divorce, and Josie… well, she can handle herself.”
“No. They aren’t aggressive. I’m more of an aggressive type than them.”
“Is that right?”
“Si. Well, it is getting late. I should get you back to the hotel before your friends call the policía.” It sounds like a joke, but I am dead serious. Americans are quick to call the authorities when they presume someone is missing and a desperado Cuban may harm them.
I help her up and brush the sand off her legs. So soft. She is just looking at me. I am in no way shy, and just go for it. My body slides up the length of her. I take her hand in mine and then kiss her.
*****
I close my eyes, press my lips to Vince’s mouth. I kiss him with all the fire and desire raging in my body. His lips melted into mine. My heart flutters. The kiss starts slow, increasing in pace as his tongue explores my mouth.
He tastes like sangria, and I savor every damn delicious thing about him. Vince pulls back. My stomach flips. When I open my eyes, he’s grinning. Warm relief spreads through me.
“For a minute, I believed you didn’t want to do that,” he murmurs.
I shrug flirtatiously. “I’ve been waiting all night for that.”
He brings our joined hands up between us, settling my hand on his chest. I can feel the pounding of his heart as it resonates through my body. Then his hands go to my face, his fingers gliding to rest just beneath my earlobes, on my cheeks. He angles his head, his lips hovering less than an inch above mine. A current of desire that I have never felt anything like before rips through me as he holds me there, an inch from the kiss that I want more than my next breath. His nose brushes mine as he looks at me, his eyes glassy with heat. He’s freaking teasing the hell out of me, and I hate it.
In slow motion, his neck bends to press his lips to mine. My eyes flutter shut and a rush of sensation floods between my legs. My mind is screaming to break away, but I can’t. I’m totally captivated by his tongue opening my mouth to every stroke, pull, nip, and bite. Holding my head in the cradle of his hands, he owns the damn kiss.
Vince slows, but his lips never leave mine. He wedges my legs between his own, and in one swift, strong movement, he swivels me, reversing our positions so that my back is pressed against a palm tree, his hard body pressing into me. I don’t have time to think or catch my breath as the kiss keeps getting better. Deeper.
Our first kiss, and it is everything. My head spins as I try to keep up with him. He’s insistent and soft. I lose myself in him, my mind blown. He’s as good a kisser as I thought he’d be. With lips like his, I didn’t expect anything less.
Vince is incredibly sexy and confident without being overbearing. Yes, the kiss is his, but that means I’m his focus. I grasp his forearms, my fingers digging into his bare skin as I hold on for dear life.
I don’t want to fall for him and leave in a few days. This is just a kiss, I tell myself. It’s just one kiss that we won’t remember as time passes. Still. The rush between my legs whispers to me, telling me this kiss, and nothing about Vince, is ordinary.
He breaks away from me. “One last dance before we go?”
I fold into his arms, moving as the music and the waves of the ocean mix together. I have to stop myself before I fall in love with a fairytale.
We arrive back at the hotel. I’m careful not to let my emotions take over and stay at the door. If I let him in, that will be all she wrote. We kiss again with the same hot passion. I break away.
“Thank you for a wonderful day,” I say. “Good night, Vince.”
His lips are slightly bruised from the kissing. I get a chill knowing I caused it. He touches my face and says, “Buenas noches, Arlene.”
*****
Saying good night to Arlene was hard. It took everything in me not to ask to spend the night. Too soon, I know, but I am a man with needs, and have never wanted a woman the way I want her. When she leaves Cuba for good, I can only assume it will be devastating for me. My furlough from work is only for a few days, but I cannot go back to the United States before her. Every minute we spend together is precious.
I touch my lower lip where she accidently nipped me with the kiss at her door. Our chemistry is electric. I knew that would be when I saw her seated at the table alone. I also knew she was American by her style. Cuban women aren’t hung up on high-end designer labels and those types of clothes are not affordable for most.
