Cilantro and Onions

"Angel, I'm old enough to be your mother."

"You're not that—"

"I'm thirty-six, honey. It's not outside the realm of possibility."

Now it's my turn to stare at the floor. This is the part where she tries to let me down easy. Explain how it could just never work out between us. I sigh.

"But, I've given it some thought," she says, as she lets my hand slide from hers.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, never looking up.

"Angel. Some things in life are worth the risk." She pauses. "You're worth it. So I'm willing to give this a chance if you are."

My entire body lurches, as if I've just put my finger in a live electrical socket. "Um, you're—?"

"Yes, Angel." She takes my face in her hands and gently coaxes me to move my gaze to hers. "I don't pretend to think that it will be easy for us. Different ages. Different cultures. Some things will be—"

"You make it sound like we can't possibly—"

"I'm saying it will be tough, that's all. But I'm willing to try. Are you... my Angel?"

"Yes."

And for the second time in so many weeks, our lips meet. But this time when we part I am treated to Gabriela's smile, and those cute little crinkles around her eyes. It is as if everything stops for me, and my only perception is of those eyes—nut-brown eyes, with flecks of amber around the outsides—and the thudding of my own heart.

We fall together in a long embrace, hiding out back there in the depths of the kitchen, until finally, reality sets in. There is a customer at the counter. I glance at the clock on the wall. Four o'clock. Things would be picking up from here. I let Gabriela slip from my embrace and move to find an apron.

*

Business is Good

It seems that the never-ending line of customers is the way I'm defining my life these days. I'm hustling plates out to customers as quickly as Gabriela can put them together. 'Ah, here comes my Angel.' That's what the regulars have started saying when I show up at their tables. I always smile when I hear that.

My own mother even came in one evening. I was a little embarrassed that she ordered her tacos with cheese and sour cream, and she didn't exactly come out to say that being a waitress was not the way she thought I should be spending my gap year, but the undertones were there.

Thankfully, she only stopped in the one time.

Mostly it was just Gabriela and me hustling to keep things moving as more and more people seemed to be drawn to her restaurant. And at closing time, after everything was cleaned up and put away, we would linger at the front door, longer and longer each evening.

It always started out the same. Gabriela would offer me a ride home. I would assure her it wasn't that far, and besides where would she fit my bike in that little car of hers. Then we would kiss. She would hold me close and tell me to be careful going home. I would assure her that I would. Then we would kiss some more.

Parting, as they say, was always such sweet sorrow.

Until Saturday night, that is. It was a particularly busy night, and the stream of customers seemed almost endless—until, finally, they trickled off just before closing time. I had been running all night with orders, and I still had quite a bit of pent up energy, as did Gabriela.

"My Angel," she says, and latches onto me, whirling me around in her arms, right there in the center of the dining room. She's grinning, and it's infectious.

I give her a peck on the lips.

Gabriela pulls back, reaches into the pocket of her apron and presses something into my hand. I look down. It's a wad of twenties, maybe two or three hundred dollars at first glance.

"What's this?" I say.

"You didn't think I was going to pay you in tacos forever, did you?" She squeezes my hand to close my fingers over the bills. "Take it. Business is good. You're a big part of that."

I drop my gaze to the tiles under my feet. I can't look at her. I don't know why. Suddenly I'm shaking, like when we first met, when I would admire her from a safe distance.

"It's not... I don't work here for the money."

"Shh," she says. "You've earned it."

I feel her finger under my chin. I know her well enough to know that she always does that when she wants me to snap out of my funk and look at her.

I gaze into the dark pools of her eyes. She reaches to touch my cheek. I am moving my hand to the back of her neck as her eyes begin to narrow and her lips part slightly. I can feel the warmth of her skin under my fingers; hear the quickened rhythm of her breathing.

And then it happens—I press my lips to hers. We stand in the center of the dining room, that only moments ago was utter chaos, and it seems to me that we are the only two people in the world. We are hot and sweaty, both still wearing our aprons, and most definitely smelling of onions and grilled meats.

I feel her fingers searching for mine. She takes my hand, tentatively, by the fingertips.

"Shower?" she says. "I mean, you could always take one at home, but—"

"Yes." I take her face gently in my hands and quickly cover her with fumbling kisses. "Yes."

We stumble from the dining room, into the kitchen, still locked together at the lips. She guides me to the back, near the emergency exit, the same place where we had that tense conversation that seems like centuries ago. I am shuddering again, but for a very different reason.

Gabriela is urging me through the doorway, but not to the exit this time. She pulls me along, up the stairwell that leads to the apartment above. There is a locked door at the top and we stand just in front of it while Gabriela digs for her key and I wrestle with the butterflies in my stomach.

"It's a little messy," she says.

"I'll close my eyes."

"Oh, Angel." She unbolts the door and we tumble in, lips locked together, and sucking breath at a fever pitch.

If there is any mess in her apartment, I don't see it. I have only one thing on my mind, and that is the warmth and tenderness of this woman I am standing with, the woman whose touch is both exciting and new, and at the same time, familiar and reassuring.

Though there was no mess to start with, we are most certainly making one now. First to go is my apron. I wonder why I didn't take it off downstairs when I feel it hit the floor. Gabriela's is next to go. Then, slowly, my t-shirt is lifted up over my head and her mouth is on my shoulder, nipping and sucking at my skin. Her breath on my bare skin causes me to shudder.

Our trail of clothing is leading us to the bathroom. True to her word, Gabriela really did invite me up here for a shower. I'm staring at her feet as she reaches behind to turn on the tap. Underpants are the only things that are not part of the trail on the floor, but they soon join in.

I am intrigued to see that she keeps herself completely bare, and I'm a little embarrassed at my own wispy hairs that she brushes her fingers through while her tongue is gliding over the side of my neck.

I open my mouth to say something, though exactly what it is that's on my mind escapes me at the moment. Gabriela takes it as an invitation to guide my open mouth to hers and begins exploring me with her tongue. I wrap my arms around her waist and enjoy the moment.

"I was serious about the shower." Gabriela gently nips my lower lip. "Sweaty girl."

Gabriela grins, and pulls me by the hand until we're stuffed inside a shower stall that looks like it was designed for one, maybe one and a half, tops.

"You know, I wouldn't be sweaty if you didn't work me so hard."

"Mmm," she says. "I can think of so many ways to respond to that." But instead of a snappy comeback, she straddles my thigh while at the same time cupping my sex in her hand.

My power of speech has left me. All I can think about is the feeling of her smooth mound grinding on my leg and the way she touches me. I feel her finger wiggling, softly pressing against my entrance, parting me. I take two helpings of her marvelous behind in my hands, and she begins to ride my thigh even harder.

"You like that, Angel?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Me too."

I get the feeling that Gabriela is either extremely confident tonight, or that I am not the first woman to share her shower. I am not bothered by this. In my mind, an experienced woman who knows what she does and doesn't like is exactly why I always seem to be lusting for someone who, as Gabriela would say, is old enough to be my mother.

"I want to put my mouth here, Angel," she presses in with her finger, parting my sex, and filling me quickly. "But it'll be better if you let me shave you first. Would that be alright?"

"Mmm-mmm," is all I can seem to construct for a reply. Gabriela's found a truly magical place down there, and she's letting me know it.

"Is that a yes?"

I nod. It's the best I can do under the circumstances.

I feel my body begins to sag, my composure leaving me. I grab onto Gabriela's shoulders to steady myself, while she just grins. She guides me so that my back is pressed against the shower wall and continues grinding on my thigh. The tile wall is colder than the water, and I suck a ragged breath. My blood is hammering in my temples as she works her magic with her finger.

Soon things begin to even out for me, and I bend forward to pull a dusky nipple between my lips. I swirl my tongue and Gabriela moans as her flesh stiffens in my mouth.

"Mmm, Angel," I hear whispered to me.

Inside my chest, my heart hammers harder. My thighs begin to quiver, and I'm having trouble keeping to my feet again. I lose her nipple from my mouth. This seems to amuse Gabriela somewhat, as she presses me harder into the wall, while still managing to hump my leg and rub me into a nearly rabid frenzy.

"Gabriela." I suck a great quivering breath. "Oh... my..."

"Yes, Angel?"

"Oh, fu—" My entire body convulses. There's a shuddering that starts somewhere deep inside, welling up and traveling down my thighs, to finally manifest itself in my heel pounding uncontrollably on the shower floor.

For a moment, all I can think about is, thank goodness there are no downstairs neighbors to complain. That thought quickly fades as a warmth passes over my entire body and Gabriela steadies me by drawing me into her arms.

I have no capacity for speech.

"Ready for a little grooming?" Gabriela is holding a pink triple-blade disposable razor in her hand and grinning. "I mean, I'll still do it—lick you that is—but it's so much better when—"

"Yes." I touch her wrist and guide her hand downward—the hand with the razor. "Yes, you can do whatever you want with me."

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah." I lean my head back and spread my thighs so she can go to work.

*

"I texted my mom," I say. "Told her I was staying with a friend. It's true in a way, I guess."

We stand at the foot of Gabriela's bed, both nude, but toweled off to a mild dampness instead of dripping wet. I am feeling a little self-conscious, but mostly at being freshly shaved, I think. It seems like every little stray air current in the room is enough to get my motor racing. Or maybe it's because I'm standing here with Gabriela, the woman whose image I have held in my dreams for so long, knowing what we are about to do.

"Are you sure about this, Angel?"

"Yes."

"If you ever feel uncomfortable—"

"I know." I take the fingers of her hand in mine and give them a reassuring squeeze. "I won't."

Gabriela holds my face in her hands and presses her lips to mine. The kiss she gives is long, and gentle, and full of warmth. I press in with my tongue and she presses back. We battle for a while until I feel her hands on my shoulders, pressing downward, encouraging me to be seated on the edge of her bed.

From my new vantage point, I have to raise my eyes to meet her gaze. Gabriela smiles down upon me, and when she does, the corners of her eyes crinkle just a bit.

She goes down on her knees, and I sigh as she presses me backward, telling me to lie back and relax, that tonight is all about me. Gabriela presses her tongue to the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. She tells me that she's going to take care of me, and I believe her. She begins sliding her tongue higher and higher, swirling and meandering as she goes.

I have no choice but to give myself over to her. I seem to be incapacitated, paralyzed, completely under whatever spell she has cast over me tonight. All I can do is watch as she inches ever closer to the patch of skin she laid bare only minutes ago in the shower.

Finally, I manage to move my hand from where it lies at my side, to find the fingers of Gabriela's hand. I give her a squeeze. She squeezes back and begins weaving her fingers in with mine, all without ever moving her tongue from my thigh and the warm, slippery trail she seems so intent on leaving.

"Mmm," I moan. Gabriela's mouth is getting closer, and I clench my ass a few times in anticipation, causing my hips to bounce rhythmically. This elicits a soft snicker and a playful nip of her teeth that almost sends me through the roof.

She's close now, close enough that I can feel her warm breath on my sex.

I feel her nipple, hard as diamond, brushing against my thigh as she makes her approach. Quivering almost uncontrollably, I gaze down, between my thighs to peer at her face.

Gabriela seems to enjoy this drawn-out tease, and raises her eyes seductively as she shows me her tongue, slowly sliding it over her top lip before extending it further to make contact with my skin. I lurch as she takes a swipe at my sensitive nub, my back arching almost painfully.

I feel her hands now, scooping my buttocks and tilting my hips. And then she starts in with a long, slow lapping at my folds—starting nearly at the crack of my ass, and drawing up over the area where she suggested I let her groom me earlier. All I can think about is that I'm glad I said yes.

There is a constant moaning sound that fills the room now, and it's not all coming from me. Gabriela seems to really enjoy her work. I know I'm a fan, particularly since she's got her finger rubbing again at that really nice place she found while we were in the shower.

But just as I feel as if I'm going to start coming apart again, like I did with my little foot pounding dance, she slows the pace. I groan and buck my hips, but it does me no good. I heave a sigh of frustration, and I swear I hear a little tisk-tisk from below, or maybe I hallucinated it—that really wouldn't surprise me in my current state.

Though after I'm done huffing and begin relaxing instead, Gabriela dials up the intensity a little more. Soon, I am riding a continuous wave of ups and downs, nearly peaking, but not quite.

I'm shuddering almost constantly now, and probably speaking in tongues, as my eyelids go from being clamped shut to fluttering in anticipation and back again. My hips are probably grinding a bare spot into her sheets by now, I've been pitching them back and forth for so long—all in an attempt to get this wonderfully maddening woman to take me over the edge.

"Gabriela," I cry out.

"Soon."

A guttural sound bubbles up from my diaphragm. "Nooow!"

I hear Gabriela snicker, but she grants me my wish. Her finger is... wow! And her tongue is choreographing some magical moves at the same time.

My eyelids begin to flutter and my eyes are rolling back into my skull. I can't stop the tidal wave. I don't want to.

"Oh... My... Gabriela-aah!" My head thrashes against the mattress as the heavens open up with a shower of stars just for me.

Gabriela lifts her head and I watch as a big, cheese-eating grin spreads over her lips. She's apparently very proud of herself. And she should be. I have never felt anything like what I just experienced. Nothing even close.

"Mmm," I moan, not having the energy to do much else.

Gabriela lays her head on my thigh and hugs my leg in her hands. Somehow, in all of that, she manages to sneak out of bed, get me cleaned up and tucked in under the blankets. I'm still naked as the day I was born. Gabriela is nestled up behind me now, spooning me gently, as her finger traces the length of my arm under the covers.

I shiver despite the warmth.

"Okay?" she asks.

"Mmm-hmm." I reach back and pull at her knee so that her thigh is covering mine. "More than okay. Incredible."

"You've got a lot of stamina. I teased you for quite a while."

"That was cruel." I doubt my own validity as soon as the words cross my lips.

"Was it?"

I think about the waves I rode for longer than I can recall, nearly reaching the peak ten, maybe fifteen times before I demanded release. And what a release it was.

"No," I say. "It was perfect."

I wiggle around so that my lips are near to hers. She gets the message closes her mouth on mine, cupping my breast as she does.

"Thank you, Gabriela. You're wonderful."

I drift off into sleep with that thought on my mind. Beautiful Gabriela, the woman who made me scream out her name and demanded nothing in return. I sigh. I think I'm in love.

*

Inevitable Doubts

I wake up the next morning, hoping to return the favor and maybe even have Gabriela screaming out my name.

Or not.

I roll over to find an empty spot in the bed where she once lay. I sit up and notice a light from under the bathroom door. That explains it. I sink back into the pillow. But when Gabriela emerges, my jaw drops. She's not just been sneaking a quick pee, she's dressed to the nines. Gone are the usual jeans and athletic shoes. In their place is a beautiful, form-fitting dress and heels even.

"Hey," she says. "I'm going to mass. Want to come?"

"Um." Where do I start?

"I've probably got something in the closet you can borrow, but you're going to have to be quick in the shower." She gently touches her finger to my arm and smiles. "You need a shower. You stink of sex."

I think about the shower, and the bare patch of skin between my legs, and everything that happened here last night.

"I don't know."

She lifts her finger from me and then runs her hands down the length of her body. It's probably to straighten any stray wrinkles from the dress she's wearing, but all I can think about is the beautiful curves underneath.

"After last night..." I pause to collect my thoughts. "I mean, aren't we, like, sinners or something?"

She shrugs. "I always go to mass on Sundays. When I was a kid, I always went with my parents. Still did even after I got my own place. And after Dad died, Mom and I would always go together. It's just the way I was raised. I am my mother's daughter."

Gabriela moves to the head of the bed and cups my cheek. "You're welcome to stay," she says. "I'll only be a couple of hours. But if you don't, make sure to go out the back. It'll lock behind you." She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Remember to disable the alarm first."

The apartment door clicks shut and I am alone. And the longer I am alone, the more the disheartening thoughts begin to creep inside my head. I fell in love with you last night, Gabriela. Okay, so I didn't exactly verbalize it, but it sure felt like love to me. So, what exactly am I to you? I honestly didn't know. And if it's not love, then what was last night all about?

I think about it for another twenty minutes, by her bedroom clock, before I decide to get cleaned up and sneak out the back. As I am getting dressed, I find the wad of bills in my pocket, the twenties that she had so insistently pressed into my hand last night.

I toss the money on her dresser and stomp to the door, muttering an oath under my breath to never let anyone treat me that way again. I am not your whore, Gabriela.

*

The restaurant is closed on Mondays, so I had one more day to avoid confronting Gabriela, and stew in my anger instead. Probably not the best idea. I really should have come around to see her. It's not like I don't know where she lives.