Anonymous Pornographer

Digging through the pile of mail Paddy picked out one, printed with the masthead of the 'Southern Star'.

Dear Paddy

Ros Weavers says I'll be a fool if I don't offer you our arts editorship. Being a former cadet under her abuse, I've always heeded what she had to say and prospered by it. The position is yours if you want it, I have an editorial writing vacancy for the current incumbent.

Cheers

Roy Smart

Editor-in-Chief

Paddy was chuffed, so decided to be smart.

He sent Roy a one-worded reply, 'Accepted'."

Two days later Roy's reply arrived.

'Confirmed. Monday week, my office, 10.00'.

Paddy fitted in well and eventually purchased an apartment, fortunately a large one because six months after, much to his delight, his daughter arrived unannounced and declared that she wanted to live with him until she settled in a found a nice man who would offer her a home.

Paddy was the happiest he'd ever been, well one tends to forget the intensity of other momentous times, like the day of one's marriage.

"This is the happiest day of my life," Paddy said to his daughter, toasting her return to him.

It really did make him a happy daddy: he'd come to believe that she'd forsaken him forever and this was an instance where Paddy, a pretty meticulous person, was delighted to have been proved wrong in his assumption.

Chapter 7

Heston and Catalina had finished their meal, both choosing the local cold soup speciality of gazpacho and then mainly fish dishes, finishing with coffee. It was just before 10.00 and Heston noticed people silently drifting into the room and standing around the perimeters of the restaurant interior.

"What are they here for?" he asked, and noticed Marino and Josefina enter the room, followed by their two neighbours who'd dined with them.

"It is the custom of this restaurant to allow local people to come in quietly and watch the entertainment. Very nice don't you think?"

"A splendid idea," Heston enthused.

The proprietor came out carrying a stool, which he placed at the side of the dance floor. He went out and returned with a guitar which he began to tune when sitting.

"Diego was once a famous concert guitarist in this region," Catalina whispered.

The entertainer of the evening, a young woman, came out to warm applause. She danced quite well, though not brilliantly in Heston's view, and the audience thought so, too. The applause was lukewarm.

Another dance followed and after some time she made a mistake, recovered and then made another and ran from the room.

Several of the diners booed, but the standing guests mainly remained quiet.

Diego then played a really forceful but at times delicate piece of music and at the end was applauded with much foot stomping.

The diner from across the room who'd earlier pointed out Catalina to his all-male dining companions, strode across to Diego and said something to him. Both men looked at Catalina who lay back in her chair, very relaxed.

The restaurant proprietor, came up to Catalina and they conversed with much gesticulation and at one time Catalina pulled at the hem of her dress in apparent disgust.

Eventually the exchange ended, both smiling.

Diego walked back to the dance floor and made an announcement. There was loud applause and everyone turned to look at Catalina.

"He says that table of businessmen from Cordoba at that table have offered to pay much money to my selection of a charity if I will dance for them and you other people."

"I must leave you for the moment."

Before Heston could reply she was gone.

He rose and went to Marino and Josefina.

"Is it right for a village dancer to be asked to do this? he asked.

Marino snorted and turned to his neighbours to translated Heston's comment. The three of them turned and looked at Heston as if he didn't know what he was talking about.

Josefina place her hand on Heston's arm.

"My daughter-in-law started out dancing in her home village, as dancing is a tradition in this country. But she was good, very good, and influential people from Seville came and took her away to an academy."

"They turned her into a great dancer, and she travelled many times with a small national dance troupe to places such as Cairo, London, New York, Cuba and even to Sydney."

Josefina looked at Heston with genuine warmth.

"Those men wanted her to do her version of our great national dance, the Flamenco. But instead she has chosen to do Ravel's most difficult Bolero. She will dedicate this dance to you, Heston. It is a great honour."

Marino spoke.

"She wishes to seduce you through dance, my friend."

Heston was shocked, and this showed in his eyes. Josefina's grip on his arm tightened.

"Just let it happen, Heston," said Marino.

"But's she's your daughter-in-law, wife of your son," spluttered Heston.

"These things happen," Marino shrugged.

"Her husband my son is not here and my hot-blooded daughter-in-law has decided she wants to have sex. So why shouldn't she?"

Heston, close to panic, looked at the door.

"Stay," said Josefina. "Do not disappoint her. We owe her so much. Ten years ago, when we were struggling for survival, she arrived into our midst and gave us a great sum of money earned from her dancing. She is a wonderful girl."

"But I know the music of Bolero. It will be most difficult to dance to and she had not had practice and is not dressed to dance."

Josefina released her grip to pat his arm, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"She'd danced the solo version of Bolero a thousand times. She'll not need the practice although her fitness level will be, how do you say it, put under the microscope."

"Put to the test," corrected her husband.

"Ah, yes. Please excuse my poor English."

Heston reacted appropriately.

"But you speak English beautifully, I understand you perfectly. But how will she dance in those shoes and that dress she has chosen to wear tonight?"

"Diego lives near here," answered Josefina, "and his daughter dances." The two women are of similar statue. He will bring back the dress that will certainly be appropriate in size and it is hoped that the shoes will be okay."

"Go back to your table, Heston," said Marino gently. "Catalina will be expecting to see you seated there, and her dance tonight is for you."

He laughed, and slammed Heston on the back with his hand.

"As they say in England, 'Go get it old boy!'"

Heston walked back to his seat in great expectation, feeling that he was a full inch taller than usual. He realised he was amid the most outrageous and yet romantic moments of his entire life.

Words went through his head, imagined with a plummy British accent.

"Go get it old boy!"

"Roger, over and out!"

Diego walked out, now dressed in a tight black and silver suit looking a few sizes too small for him. Obviously, it was a suit he'd worn when working as a professional performer.

Loud cheering and foot stomping greeted him.

He sat down and began to quietly strum his guitar. It was unmistakably the opening of Maurice Ravel's famous Bolero.

The tempo of the guitar lifted slightly, then came the click of castanets sounding louder and louder.

The music lifted in pace slightly and in swept Catalina to a short, rowdy welcome of cheering and foot stomping.

She was a classic beauty.

Her black hugging dress was mainly lace, and a similar piece of lace encircled her head. The hem of the dress at the back fell to just below her knees but the front lifted and was cut away to reveal the bright red inner lining.

Catalina's face was powdered white, her lips contrasting in vivid red moved gracefully, with exceptional extensions of her trailing leg as called for in the chorography of one of the most graceful romantic dances ever created.

The hypnotic and erotic rhythm of the dance left Heston watching like most others around him in almost a trance.

The steady rattle of the castanets and Diego-led bursts of occasional shouting of men in the audience.

Although virtually transfixed, Heston was aware of the occasional twirls by the dancer which left her staring at him momentarily in deep intensity, sending shivers down his back.

Noisy applause signalled the end of the dance. Diego was quickly at Catalina's side and led the exhausted dancer from the room. It was obvious that there would be no encores.

"What do you think of my not particularly attractive country girl performer now?"

Heston turned and found Josefina standing beside him. He'd be waiting for Catalina to re-appear through the door.

"She had enormous talent, she dances like an angel," he replied.

"Well spoken, Mr Don Juan Mason," said Josefina, with a sly smile.

"You men always expect to see beauty in the face, in the physique of the body. But I feel that tonight you have become aware of a sensual beauty not readily apparent. Am I, how do you say, spot on about that?"

"Yes, absolutely, Josefina."

"Well, that is good. Good night, then. I guess we will see you sometime tomorrow or perhaps not until sometime the next day. Whatever."

Heston jumped to his feet and kissed her.

She looked please about that, and really delighted when he solemnly announced, "This is becoming the most remarkable evening of my entire life."

A soft body moulded itself into his back, and a hand came over his shoulder and snaked under his shirt to come to rest over his heart. He didn't have to look to know it was Catalina.

He'd caught the fragrance of her perfume several times earlier in the evening; now it was overpowered by the smell of sweat from strenuous dancing, the very stimulating smell of her hot body.

"Let's go," she whispered.

"There is no bill to pay, Diego sends his compliments."

She carried a big basket.

"Bottles of water, bread and sliced meat. I get hungry after sex," she said casually.

"Also, two bottles of wine and a big selection of fruit."

In the carpark, they had their first real kiss. Firm and lingering.

The second kiss was a lovers' kiss, her tongue snaked into his mouth and their bodies pressed their flesh into a virtual sandwich.

"I don't think I can wait to travel the ten kilometres back home."

She smiled.

"We have not far to travel, less than one kilometre to my brother's house. He and his wife will sleep at my house for the next two nights as it is not my desire to commit adultery in my own home. Can you understand that?

"I do, but please may we go? We've got so much to do."

Conversation was scarcely necessary on that short drive to their home for the night. Even before Heston had started to drive off, Catalina was undoing his shirt buttons, slowly. She tweaked his nipples and ran her hand across his belly.

"You seem to be in favourable condition. Do you go to the gym or is it you just make love a lot?"

"Just a bit of this and that."

"Huh?"

But Catalina didn't wait for the clarification. She began licking his chest.

"I very much prefer the smell of a man," she murmured.

"What?" he said, in surprise.

"Do you make love to other women."

"Yes, sometimes, but not for a long time now."

"When we travelled internationally as a troupe, we were mostly women, and in many countries, one is uncertain whether safe-sex is more or less guaranteed.

"Therefore, we tended to pair up together, even if it meant with another woman. Mostly it was fun and a successful way to ease the build-up of sexual tension."

"Good gracious, but couldn't you have managed to do that by yourself, you know."

"To masturbate? But that really is not fun, it's too lonely. Being with another person triggers all of those wonderful emotional moments. Well, if everything goes all right."

She said softly, "Have you tried it with other men?"

"Hell no, how disgusting. But I can't say I regard two women coming together in the interests of safe-sex as being disgusting, now that I've heard your explanation."

"I'm pleased you think like that. Do you have a favourite position?"

Heston swallowed, struggling for a suitable reply. A yes would suffice, but that would only lead to a debate on respective merits of positions or head the conversation down some other track.

"Look, we New Zealanders tend to do it, rather than talk about it. We obviously have inherited the reservedness of our British ancestors, so I must apologise for my reticence. Perhaps it would be a good idea if you went back to licking my nipples. I rather liked that.

"Okay, but before I do are your sure you have got the right impression about the British. I worked as an au pair there for a number of families and almost two out of three of the husbands wanted to have sex with me and I accepted some of them."

"The randy bastards!" exclaimed Heston.

Catalina burst into laughter, and Heston joined her.

"Oh-oh," said Catalina. "We've come too far. We'll have to turn and go back."

"We have started talking too much. Now, let me see what's down here."

Heston felt her unbuckling his belt and closed his eyes with a smile, only to suddenly open then. He was driving the bloody car!

He accelerated and came to a gateway before she'd managed to get his zip fully open.

"Is this it?"

"This is it," she replied happily. "Why don't we finish this investigation inside."

"Good idea. Now you go ahead and unlock the door and I'll lug in the provisions."

"What are you doing?"

Catalina had taken a rug off the back seat and was spreading it on the ground outside the car.

"You've got me primed and ready to start with all that sexy talk," she said.

"If we go inside you will want to wash or shower and look around. It's a lovely evening and I thought we should start here and move inside later. Now, let's get those clothes off you."

She was lovely to deal with and Heston hoped his attention to detail was appreciated. It seemed to be and before long he found she was a gusher, fluids everywhere.

Then he thought she'd died and called to her.

Catalina did not answer. He shook her but there was no response. With pseudo-medical precision he ignored going over her exposed global left breast to feel for a heartbeat. Instead, he went for the throat and was relieved to feel a pulse, not that he really thought she'd died.

It was just that he'd had such a good workout he'd not been thinking straight. He now concluded, correctly, that she'd simply flaked out from an evening of liquor and exhausting activity.

The solution was simple. Carry her inside to the main bedroom.

He went to the front door and tried it. Locked of course. He looked under the door mat and under the five nearby flowerpots, but failed to find a key.

He went back to the car and found Catalina's handbag.

The biggest item was a fat pack of tissues. Then and he counted them, there were twenty condoms in a pharmacy sales bag, which was flattering but probably a gross over-estimate unless she had a few tricks up her sleeve about re-stimulating him and powering up his endurance.

There was a small bottle of what appeared to be vitamin pills although he wondered what the word Viagra was in Spanish; probably Viagra he concluded.

There was also lipstick, powder, various tubes of creams, a small pair of scissors, a nail file, two combs, a brush, two handkerchiefs, a wallet containing credit and other cards, banknotes and receipts and finally there was nothing else to remove. But no keys.

Heston, grateful the night was warm as he was still nude, looked at the pile of items that now seemed to be far too much to fit back into the handbag. How could that happen?

He sighed and tried to get everything back in.

Miraculously he achieved that goal, in fact with room to spare. He was simply amazed and wondered if handbag designers knew something about physics outside of his knowledge.

He looked at Catalina, sleeping peacefully on her back and then thought he should clear away some of those fluids streaked over her lower body. It seemed the decent thing to do.

His shirt was easy to spot in the moonlight, so he wet it under the tap and began to attend to his lover.

Heston wondered what Margie would think if she knew he was on a lawn in the moonlight well past midnight in the countryside, surrounded by millions of olive trees. And knowing that he was cleaning the remains of sweat and mutual sexual deposits off the mid regions of a woman who rated him as a ten-condoms a day man.

Margie, dear Margie, would probably not think any of that information had any relevance to her, but might ask what brand of perfume Catalina was wearing and had he noted in the moonlight whether she showed stretch marks from having had two children. Those were the kind of things that interested Margie, not condoms.

Looking at the body stretched out before him, Heston admired its shape and muscular development. Some flab was evident, but surprisingly little really. Her breasts, though spreading somewhat because she was on her back were proportionately overly large for her body, but he didn't mind that.

He wondered if Catalina would be embarrassed of being examined like this, and annoyed that he'd not at least covered her midriff after washing her.

All in all, it was an evening to remember and it might not even be over yet if she was simply taking a rejuvenating nap.

Continuing to allow his thoughts to drift from his mind, Heston tried to imagine whether another other person, while washing the remains of adulterous sex from the body of their lover, would have casual thoughts about their spouse.

How would one become knowledgeable about this? There was no recording centre for the deposit of such information or government or media surveys to elicit such information?

Did it matter? Yes, it did, thought Heston. To selectively collect information was to leave gaps in the total knowledge of mankind, gaps that could have significant consequences.

People engaged in advancing behavioural sciences may well be intrigued to learn of the extent of one's compassionate thoughts about one's spouse when committing adultery, or even engulfed in malicious thoughts.

Such people with compassionate thoughts would be considered marginally better citizens than people with malicious thoughts or no thoughts whatsoever for their spouse when engaged in acts of infidelity.

He'd committed adultery tonight, thought Heston, cross-examining himself.

"Does it make me an evil person? No, I don't think so."

"Does it make me an immoral person? Ah, that depends on whose set of morals that this alleged act of immorality is measured against."

"Does it strengthen my marriage? A good question. Only time would tell?"

Continuing to talk aloud, he said, "In my case, I'll go home thinking that I've found two different women whose approach to sex and the execution of it is very different to my wife's, but at the end of the day could I really say my marriage should fail because I have stepped outside the square?""

"No way."

"And who of those three women is the best partner for sex for me? Well, I should think the one that chooses to lie next to me for the greatest amount of time and being prepared to indulge in sex at mutually acceptable occasions would be my preferred partner. In fact, absolutely."

"And because I've had two recent affairs, should my wife be entitled to use those indiscretions to announce the ending of our marriage? I think not as she has, I believe, been many more times proactive in extramarital sex than I've been."

"This musing is making me feel thirsty. I need a drink. All these questions and contestable situations involving sexual activity between people certainly could turn some people to celibacy."

Heston uncorked a bottle of dry white wine and drank two glasses before recorking the bottle. It was three o'clock.

An hour later he awoke, to feel something creeping up his left leg. He lifted his head and saw it was Catalina, now just past his knee, licking and kissing her way up his leg.