Loving Eyes

Emilio handed Jim a screwdriver and motioned to the intake. He set to work, first with the screwdriver, then with the screwdriver and a pair of vise-grips, trying to loosen the pan heads holding the intake to the hull. Having been painted over and not otherwise touched since the last time the Grande's engine had been replaced, they were frozen solid.

"Come on, you ass-picking motherfucker, move!" he implored. "Back the hell out of there, you stupid monkey-sucking nipple! I have better things to do today than stand here up to my ass in the water and back you out of that dumbass fitting, you son of a thousand fathers!"

He heard a chuckle and looked up. Emiliano grinned down at him.

"And where did you acquire such a fine command of my language?" he teased.

It was only then it dawned on him that he had been swearing in Spanish. "You hear things in Spanish Harlem if the shopkeepers, busboys, and waiters think you can't understand what they are saying, mi capitán."

"When in Rome, eh, my friend? Have you any ideas about pulling these bolts?"

"If I may suggest, Captain, we're going about this backwards. I cannot get enough torque to turn these refugees from the deepest pit of Hell. We should attack them from the other side. Put the correct socket on a ratchet, and three or four feet of iron pipe over the ratchet handle for more leverage. Add a little penetrating oil and you ought to be able to back the nuts off. That was how we busted the nuts loose on an engine we had to get out of the chassis in the last Junkyard Challenge."

"Where would we get such a pipe?"

"There are a couple of hammocks on the patio in iron pipe frames. One of the long floor pipes ought to work. Back the nuts off, whack the bolts out with a sledge, and we ought to be in business."

And so it proved. The additional leverage of the pipe overcame the resistance of the nuts, and a fourteen-pound sledge from the hotel's workshop quickly dealt with the bolts. Julio had been preparing a temporary hull patch, and they installed it. By then, siesta time was approaching and they returned to the hotel. Manuel was on the front desk, with a message for Jim.

"Señor, the Doña is waiting for you in the penthouse."

Leaving his satellite phone with Emiliano so he could call his wife and learn how the search for the needed parts was coming along, Jim went upstairs, wondering what awaited him. Almira greeted him with a kiss when he walked in.

"A quick shower, my darling, and then we are going into the town. You need more clothes; you cannot get by with a pair of shorts, a swimsuit, and a pair of boat shoes; no more can your friends. I've already spoken to Ximena; she has a clothing shop on the far side of the village square. She will open it for us, your fraternity brothers, and their girls during siesta, and I will guide you in selecting some things suitable for our climate that also suit you."

In the shop, Mira looked at her lover speculatively before moving down the racks away from the gaudy club shirts the other Tri-Sigs and their paramours were considering to the loose sleeved, flowing fine cotton solids favored by the local gentry.

"See if you can fit him to some trousers," she tossed over her shoulder to Ximena as she continued to look.

"Si, Doña Almira." The busty shop owner, who had already kitted out her boyfriend and sent him to her apartment over the store to wait for her, looked speculatively at Jim before taking a tape measure from under the counter and measuring him. As she checked his inseam, she whispered to him, "You must have something special, Don Diego. How is it that I missed seeing you?"

"Ah, señorita. You looked at me, but you did not see me. None of you beautiful girls from the town did; but Doña Almira is more perceptive. I owe her a great deal."

"Ah, indeed, Don Diego. Perhaps one day."

"Perhaps, always presuming a blossom so magnificent as you has not already been plucked to decorate the life of another." She blushed, but accepted his compliment in the spirit it was meant. Standing back up, she led the way to a stack of trousers and began pulling several for his consideration.

Jim added a fine leather belt with a solid silver buckle in the form of a Mayan calendar to the pile of clothes by the cash register. As he prepared to pay for it all, he spotted a Panama straw in the sombrero cordobes style, a flat-topped hat with a broad flat brim, a style most familiar to Americans as the hat worn by the horseman known as Zorro. Unlike the Fox's jet-black fur felt model, this one was natural straw and featured a built-in ventilated weave around the sides. He took it off the hat rack and tried it on; it fit perfectly. He turned and looked to Almira.

"Querida?"

She looked at him, considering, then smiled and nodded. "Yes. It suits you." He wore it back to the register where Ximena waited, gesturing to add it into his total as he handed her a credit card. Almira picked out a shirt, trousers, and the belt from his pile and handed them to Jim, pointing to the changing rooms in the back.

When he reappeared, it was like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. The trousers fit closely without being skin-tight, and the belt served to emphasize his narrow hips. The snowy shirt wasn't anything even remotely like a button-down dress shirt; this one was meant for evenings out and nights spent in. With the Spanish-style hat, the outfit transformed the gawk from New York into, if not exactly a lounge lizard, at least someone the local lovelies would look at twice, perhaps even thrice. She nodded with satisfaction and took his arm.

Their next stop was at the cobbler's for a pair of handmade sandals, better than anything Jim had seen in shoe shores up home. After that, they turned for the hotel, but he insisted on pausing as they passed a jewelry shop. A lovely spring-green faceted stone pendant sat on a cushion in the window. The shop was closed, although the proprietor could be seen working inside. Almira rapped authoritatively on the door. The jeweler came up, scowling until he saw whom it was, at which point he beamed and waved them in. After the usual flowery preliminaries, the point of their visit was reached and the pendant fetched from the window display. Examination of the stone, the green of a peridot but with the fire and clarity of a flawless emerald, was made and negotiation followed. The jeweler slanged Jim and received replies in kind, in the fine traditions of the marketplace haggle. Eventually a price for the helenite pendant and a chain from which to hang it was reached, and the purchase was completed. Jim turned to Almira.

"Mi corazón, I hope you will do me the honor of accepting this poor token of my regard for one who has so profoundly changed my life in so many ways."

"It is lovely. I would be honored, mi amor."

He stepped behind her and worked the clasp, fastening it around her neck so it hung in the cleft of her breasts. It flashed green fire in the sunlight all the way back to the penthouse atop the Azul.

On their return to their love-nest, Jim was surprised to see his bags sitting next to the wall by the bedroom door. He looked a question at his lover.

"I had them brought here and your things unpacked into the bottom drawer of the bureau, mi amor dulce. There is no need for us to pretend we are not lovers. Everyone in the hotel must know by now, which means everyone in the village will know before dinner tonight. Are you displeased, my Jim?"

"No, my darling, I am not. Surprised, that's all. And pleased, that you think so well of me." He came up behind her and took her in his arms. She turned her head and kissed him, a kiss that began gently but swiftly turned passionate. She wriggled her firm buttocks against the erect prick she could feel through their clothes; his hands moved to her tits, squeezing her chichis gently. She sighed into his mouth, one hand twining itself in his hair.

"Undress me, querido mio," she whispered.

With trembling fingers, he undid the hook at the nape of her neck and slid the hidden zipper down. He helped her out of the dress and laid it on the vanity stool before turning his attention to her brassiere, fumbling a bit with the hooks as bits of the Monty Python "Upper Class Twit of the Year" sketch flashed across his mind. The bra came loose and he eased it down her arms, dropping it to the floor before his hands again rose to breasts whose pleasing weight filled his hands as he caressed them while he nuzzled his lover's neck and she sighed happily, not resisting in the slightest.

After a bit he dropped his hands to a waist he could easily span, and he slowly slid the silk panties Mira wore down her legs, pausing to kiss her buttocks and behind her knees – an oft-ignored erogenous zone, his reading on human sexuality had informed him. An intake of breath told him his lover was enjoying the attention he was paying them. She stepped out of the panties and turned to him, raising him up again.

"Now you," she said with a tender smile.

She drew the flowing shirt made of soft cotton off over his head, tossing it in the general direction of the vanity before she busied her hands with his belt and trousers, working them down over his hips and off his legs, helping him work his feet through the close-fitting fabric.

"I am so glad that you chose to go commando, mi semental. It makes this easier."

She pulled him close and worked his foreskin back to fully expose his cockhead. Her hand continued to slowly work the shaft as she began to lick it, concentrating at first on the frenum as she felt his bastón de mando grow longer, harder and thicker from her attentions. She used her pointed tongue to probe the slit in the head before she opened her mouth to suck it, her head bobbing back and forth as she tongue-washed the marvelous prick that was really too big for her mouth. Saliva began to drip from the corners of her lips, and she used it to wet the rod she wanted in her pussy until Jim's whole penis gleamed wetly in the light coming through the blinds.

Standing up, she pulled his head to hers, kissing him hard before leading him to the bed by the cock. She let go of him and leaned on the bed, her legs spread wide, looking back over her shoulder at him with eager, lustful eyes.

"Take me from behind, my stud! Fuck your slut doggy-style like the bitch in heat she is! I want your aparato deep in me! Take me, mi amor! Give me your sperm! Give it to me!"

It took Jim a moment to line himself up with her waiting cooze, but when he was in position he did not hesitate. He thrust firmly forward and felt his espárrago sink into her hot, wanton coochie. She groaned as it split her nether lips and filled her valley of delight, delighting in its girth and length as it ravaged her cunt.

"Si! Si! Like that, mi amor! Fuck your little bitch! I want it! I want all of it! You're so good, so hard! Give me what I need, Jim! Follar dura tú putita! Split me open with your wonderful rod! Fuck me!"

Using her hips as handles, he rammed in and out relentlessly, feeling her move with his thrusts as he gave her the hard fucking she so clearly wanted. Leaning forward over her back, he managed to get his hands onto her boobs, finding her nipples, pulling and twisting them. Mira's response was immediate.

"AIIIEEE! Yo estoy culminando, tú magnífica bestia salvaje! AAAAH!"

Her body shook under him with the force of her orgasm, her pussy squirming against his cock as she came. He continued driving in and out of her as he own climax rose in his groin until he could no longer hold it back.

"I'm cumming, Mira! Can't stop! Can't – OHHHH!"

He shot a heavy, powerful load deep into her waiting pussy as she lay sprawled under him, the force of it extracting an answering shudder as she came again. Jim managed to keep from falling on her as his legs turned to rubber by bracing his arms on the bed until at last, reluctantly, he slipped out of her to lie half on, half off the bed. She was exhaling sensuous groans as her body came back to normal, hair sweat-slicked, their juices dripping down onto her legs. When she could, she looked at her lover.

"Oh, my darling. I am so glad that you came to Chicalo, and that I found you. The joy I take from you, and freely give you – this is what life and loving is all about."

"I am yours to pleasure and be pleasured, thou most beautiful of women, whose fairness of face and lush glory of figure put the legendary Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and Marilyn Monroe all to shame. I am happy that my poor skills please you, as I learn from your wisdom, goodness and experience in and out of bed."

She moved onto the bed, patting the pillow beside her as she held out her arms to him. "Come to me now, mi amor. After such marvelous lovemaking, we have earned a proper siesta." Desire for the moment sated, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

They slept through until it was time for dinner. The Tri-Sigs now looked like tourists instead of castaways, and clearly bonds had formed between them and the girls. They were acting somewhere between dates and couples. Jim and Mira were no exception, though they were more reserved. When the college kids and their partners migrated to the cantina, they stayed at the manager's table with liqueurs and pastries. Emiliano came over to return the satellite phone.

"Is there news?" Jim asked.

"Maria says Marco has found all the parts except one; the critical one, the separator. He is going to drive to Puerto Vallarta tomorrow and try to locate one there; he has a couple of leads. Once he has it, he will bring it here."

"Thank you, Capitán," said Mira quietly. "Would you care to join us?"

"Thank you, Doña Almira, but no. It has been a long day, and I would like to turn in. Buenas noches."

"Good night," said Mira, and the captain, trailed by Julio, left for his room.

The thump of club music reached them from across the lobby. She saw her lover's eyes tighten with pain. She squeezed his hand.

"Querido, let us repair to the penthouse. I presume you do not know how to dance?"

"Never learned how," he admitted, pulling her chair out from the table and taking her hand again. "And certainly not the gyrations of the kind of dance one sees in dance clubs. I am not what one calls graceful in body movement, amante mio."

"That may be true," she admitted, as they walked up the stairs, watching him and noting the almost robotic way he moved, "but at least part of that is a lack of training. However, I was not thinking of dance club dancing as in the cantina, but rather more traditional dance – where partners dance in each other's arms, not across from each other without touching. If you would permit me, I would like to teach you that sort of dance."

"With you to teach me, mi amor, I will be happy to learn."

In the penthouse, Almira first went to the bar and poured him a stiff drink. He looked a question.

"Drink that down, my Jim. As it takes effect, it should loosen you up. Part of your problem is you are so tense all the time. First, we release some of the tension, and then you will be ready to learn." He knocked it back, coughed, and looked at her impishly.

"I can think of other ways to relieve tension," Jim teased, taking her in his arms and kissing her firmly while his hands ran up and down her back. She laughed happily against his mouth and gently pushed him away.

"Later, my sweet stud. Right now, social dancing. Let's see ..." She walked to a docked iPod and made a number of selections before she set it to playing and came to him.

"Let's start with the box step. Anyone can do that."

Mira showed him the simple steps and had him imitate her, first dancing next to him and counting, then across from him so he could echo what she did. When the next song began, she came into his arms. She felt him stiffen at first, but subtly guided him through the pattern and explained about the man leading the woman as they danced. Two songs later, he was relaxed and she was satisfied he had this one down.

"Now, we move on to the fox-trot. Again, it is very simple and danced in 4/4 time, like the box step."

She coached him through the basic figure of left step ahead, right step ahead brushing the left shoe, slowly; then left sidestep, right foot together, quickly. They practiced that for a while, Mira reversing her steps to match his; then she taught him the rocking turn and the slide step. When he had those down, she started a long Mexican ballad suitable for fox-trotting and they danced around the living room, Jim piloting them so they did not bump into the furniture. As they repeated the steps, he became surer of himself, and stopped mentally counting, instead paying attention to what his partner was doing. She felt the change in him and smiled, flowing more gracefully as she followed his lead. At the end of the song, she stopped the music and turned to him.

"And now, mi corazón, I will teach you the tango."

The tango is arguably the most flamboyant and sensuous of all ballroom dances. Shown in movies like True Lies and Scent of a Woman, and a staple of shows like Dancing with the Stars, it offers the chance to learn about the level of interest and sexual availability of one's partner without exchanging a single word. Patiently, dancing beside him, Mira took Jim through the basic tango steps and the step tempo of slow, slow, quick-quick-slow until he had some confidence. She then turned into his partner and they danced the length of the great room and back that way. Next, she taught him the corte, a sequence that backs the dancers up for the first two slow steps before resuming the usual sequence with the final three quick-quick-slows.

"It's a simple variation," she explained as they danced side by side, "but it has a practical use in the ballroom. If there are many couples on the floor, they tend to clump. The corte allows you to back out of the crowd and gain some dancing room."

They practiced that variation side by side for a bit, then together. She selected a tango from the library on her device and they danced again, using the corte to back up and turn to go the way they had come. Mira then taught him three showy moves: the dip and its recovery, and the twirl out and in, both done by the woman; and the walking turn at the dip, executed by the man while his partner uses her feet as the pivot. They were both lightly sweating when they were done.

"There are other tango steps you need to learn, the dancing turns especially," she explained, "but what we have practiced tonight will do to be going on with.

"You should also learn how to waltz, mi amor, it is one of the essential dances of the western world. But for that, you should take lessons at a dance studio in Nuevo York. My penthouse is fine for things like the fox-trot and the tango, which move in straight lines. But the waltz is circular in nature, and there simply is not enough room to dance it here. There is a reason it is called a ballroom dance." She tugged him toward the bedroom.

"I thought we were done dancing for tonight?"

"We are done with dance practice, my Jim. But," she smiled with wicked humor in her eyes, "we have una noche de amor before us, and I mean for us to spend it bone-dancing!" He smiled back at her as the door closed behind them.

After breakfast the next morning, there was no sign of Marco the Wonder Mechanic, and Almira had management matters to attend to, so Jim went into town alone. He stopped by Ximena's shop and bought three more shirts, having decided he liked the style, and continued on to a leather shop recommended to him to look for a small suitcase. After discussing what he was after – a bag suitable for weekend getaways commodious enough to hold four changes of clothes plus shoes, a toilet kit, and a bottle or two of booze – and which of the various leathers and types of suitcases might do, he and the shopkeeper settled on a Mexican version of the old B-4 bag, irreverently referred to as an "AWOL bag" by military veterans. The plain molded calfskin bag had a spring-loaded top and a lock, and would just barely fit into the overhead bin of an airliner.