Kristiana Pt. 01: Discovery

The Hotel Dos Hermanas was not large, more of the boutique variety. As I walked into the lobby, I was impressed with the décor and furnishings. Normally, I would have gone to the front desk to ask for my contact. In this case, I wanted to interact with the concierge. He was off to the side and standing at a desk in front of an office.

"Señor, I have an appointment with Señor Baamonde. Can you direct me?" I asked in Spanish.

"Right this way, Sir," he said immediately, leading me down a corridor to an office door, opening it for me and bidding me to enter.

"Gracias," I thanked him and walked to a woman who appeared to be a receptionist.

"I am Richard Barton and I have an appointment with Señor Baamonde." She looked down at an open booklet in front of her and nodded.

"I will announce you," she said with a smile.

I liked what I saw. Very professional and courteous staff. The office was as well appointed as the lobby, but not at all ostentatious. I had a good feeling about this hotel.

"Señor Barton, will you come with me?" the woman said as she returned.

I followed her to another office and was shown in. Behind a modest desk stood a middle-aged man, slim and well dressed, like so many Spanish businessmen. I continued to speak in Spanish.

"Thank you for seeing me, Señor Baamonde."

"You are very welcome. Please sit," he smiled politely.

I nodded and sat in a chair at the front corner of his desk.

"You have inquired about the concierge position. What was it that made you contact me?"

"I have a friend whose parents own a hotel in Switzerland. I have recently completed my degree in languages at the University of Sevilla. I am fluent in five languages and can manage some conversation in three others. My friend suggested I think about a career as a concierge."

"Ah ... if it were only so simple," he sighed. "I'm afraid that to be a successful concierge takes years of experience. While your knowledge of languages is very useful, the role of the concierge is very ... complex. It requires maturity, knowledge beyond your years. Most of these people have started in lowly jobs in small hotels. They begin as bellmen, or work at the reception desk. There is no rapid way to that position."

"I see. In your experience, sir, is there any career that you can think of ... besides that of translator ... that would suit someone of my skills?"

"That is a difficult question. You certainly present yourself well and with your education, I think you would do very well at this hotel, but it would mean beginning at quite a lowly job and working your way toward your goal. In the tourism industry, Sevilla is not yet on the big map, as they say. A young man like you would be valuable in the big resorts. Malaga, Marbella, Ibiza are full of young people like you from all over Europe. Perhaps there is an opportunity in Barcelona or Madrid. Who can tell?" he shrugged.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Señor. I appreciate your honesty. I must think about what I want for my future and move toward that."

"You are very welcome, Señor Barton. I repeat myself. You present yourself very well. I think when you find what you really want, you will do well. Good fortune to you."

I shook his hand and left, feeling somewhat let down, but not totally. I knew that I wouldn't just fall into a job at the snap of my fingers, but I was hoping to get a bit more encouragement that the usual "start at the bottom" speech.

I had yet to phone Kristiana. I'm not even sure I wanted to. Considering the impact that she had on me, I was at a loss to understand why. I had given no thought to what we might do if we were to date again. For whatever reason, it didn't seem important. Considering how I felt about our first time together, that made no sense. In the back of my mind were warning signals and perhaps I was listening to them. Was I headed for headaches if I got too involved with her? She would be easy to fall in love with. Almost too easy. Was her beauty only skin deep?

I put Kristiana to the back of my mind and renewed my search, this time looking beyond Spain. Why not Vancouver ... or Whistler. Vancouver was a world class destination. True, many of the visitors came from Asia and I had no knowledge of Asian languages. When I thought about it, my languages were almost exclusively of European origin. I had a smattering of Dutch and Polish, along with some Russian, but I wouldn't call myself skilled in any of the Slavic based languages.

However, one of the growing tourist industries was river cruises in Europe and Russia. Several companies competed for business on the Rhine, Main, Danube, Rhone and other central rivers. That had some appeal and I began to look at the various companies and see what their job offerings were. Every one of them seemed to be looking for staff, which told me they might have a high turnover. I would investigate.

I began to collect information and realized that not all river cruise operators were the same. Some, with the larger boats, held 150 guests. Others, offering more exclusive tours, would hold as few as eight or ten. The idea of some of the more exotic, private, and likely expensive tours was more appealing. I assumed that the crew would be few and have to be "jack of all trades" to the guests. When I looked at the prices, I could see that only the well-off could afford them. However, they might find my particular talent useful.

It seemed inevitable that I would expand my search to larger cruise companies. The Mediterranean had endless numbers of them, most of them large international corporations, but some smaller, more exclusive operators. I had a fair amount of sailing experience with my high school friends back in British Columbia, so I knew I wasn't prone to sea sickness. It was another possibility.

It was Saturday evening and I was sitting in a Tapas bar not far from our house when my cell chime rang.

"Hello?"

"Do you not wish to see me again?"

"Kristiana?"

I paused before I answered.

"You asked me to call you on Monday. This is Saturday. I thought you would be working today," I explained.

"I am working. This is my rest time. I wanted to hear your voice. I thought you might want to hear mine." She sounded somewhat chastened. Perhaps she was feeling ignored.

"I didn't have your cell number. I have it now that you have called."

"How would you call me Monday if you didn't have my number?"

"I would look it up ... or call you at your work and leave a message."

"Mr. Smart Man has all the answers," she said with a display of petulance.

I decided to make nice and try to put an end to her attitude.

"It is good to hear your voice, Kristiana. It brings back fond memories of us together. I couldn't forget that."

That seemed to be the tone she was hoping for.

"I have good memories too." She was almost whispering.

"Is there someone near you don't want to hear our conversation?"

"Yes," she whispered again. "Can I call you later?"

"Of course."

"Where are you? I can hear people and sounds."

"I'm in a tapas bar only a few blocks from home."

"I love your home. I wish we could be there alone."

"What if we could? What would you do?"

"I would swim naked in the pool and lie on the rug in front of the fire."

"And?"

"We could make love all day."

I was grinning as I heard her wishes. "There could be a chance for that."

"There could? When?"

"Easy girl, it hasn't been decided yet, but my parents are talking about going to Madrid for a few days. My father has a business meeting and I'm sure my mother would rather shop in the big city than sit home alone with me."

"Wonderful!" I could hear the excitement in her voice. To her, it was a done deal. "When?"

"If it happens, they'll be leaving next weekend. Can you get some time off?"

"No ... I'm sorry. I am just a temporary worker. I have no holidays. Only my two days." She sounded regretful but not down.

"No matter. Two days is better than no days. I can pick you up from work on Sunday and take you back on Wednesday morning. That would give us three nights instead of just one."

"Hah! You are Mr. Smart Man. I can dream of it now. Will we make love in the swimming pool?"

"If you wish. I've never done it before, but there's always a first time."

"I will dream of that, too," she said, sounding energized.

"Is your break almost over?" I asked, realizing we had been on the phone for over ten minutes according to my phone.

"Yes. I must go back now, but I am happy I called you. I feel very good now. I will call you when I am finished here."

"Good. I'll be waiting for your call."

I didn't hear from her until almost midnight. She worked a split shift with a break from three until seven-thirty. They weren't ideal working conditions, but she told me they were common since people ate so late at night compared to North America or northern Europe.

"I am very tired, Richard. I think I will say goodnight to you and go to my bed now."

"I wish I were there with you," I said quietly. "Sleep well, my dear. I'll talk to you soon. Call me when you can."

"Yes, I will. Good night, Richard."

I lay back in my bed and thought about her once more. She seemed to be a different person, from one time to another. She had a temper, of that there was no doubt. But it wasn't an explosive one. More like one that would simmer and then bubble up from time to time. I suppose I could live with that if it got no worse. I had already experienced one hot tempered girlfriend and I wasn't prepared to go through that again. I'm not fond of conflict but Shannon had thrived on it. We were a short-lived couple.

I heard my father ask my mother if she would like to come with him to Madrid. My mother loved Madrid. It was shopping heaven for her. I was sure that Kristiana and I would have two full days together here, and better yet, three nights. I was already looking forward to it.

I patiently waited for Monday morning to arrive so I could leave for Osuna. I thought about driving there on Sunday night, but rejected the idea. Kristiana would be tired from work and there would be nothing gained from it other than the delight of waking up in the same bed.

When I arrived at her apartment just before eleven, I knocked on the door and waited for her to open it. It took a few moments before she arrived and I got a rather unpleasant surprise. She looked quite bedraggled and unhappy. She had an old terry housecoat wrapped around her and while not greeting me, she stood aside to allow me to enter.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, Richard. I am having my monthly cramps. I feel terrible. I'm not going to be a happy person for the next three days."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Kristiana. Is there anything I can do for you?"

She shook her head. "I am used to this. I had forgotten it was due and I should have warned you. I'm sorry you drove all the way down here to see me for this."

"It's only a half-hour, so don't apologize. I understand completely. But if it cheers you up, I can tell you my parents are going to Madrid next Saturday and will be gone for the week."

That brought a smile to her face. "I am so glad to hear that. I will feel much better by then and we can have some nice times together. I will dream about it, I know."

"Will you be able to go to work on Wednesday?"

"Oh yes, the worst of it will be over by tomorrow night. I will feel much better by then."

"I'm glad to hear that. Well, I'll go now and you can get some more rest." I leaned toward her and kissed her softly and she smiled slightly. That would have to be enough for this week.

I spent the rest of the week preparing my tissue-thin résumé to be included in my enquiries about possible job opportunities. I had a number of summer job experiences, but none in the hospitality industry. I'd been with my father's crew in Gerena for two summers and worked at glass works for one horrible three-month period. I didn't think Dante's Inferno could be any hotter than that. I stuck it out, but vowed never to set foot in another glass factory as long as I lived.

One other work experience was at a local newspaper, a supermarket giveaway where I did a number of menial tasks as a general gofer. It was a fairly modern shop with photo-typesetting and offset printing. Once in a while I would be asked to write a story, but that was very infrequent and other than helping with some translation of English to Spanish stories, my obligations hardly stretched my skills. I spent three summers there, right after high school and after my first two years at the university. The glass factory paid far more, but the environment was a once in a lifetime experience, not to be repeated.

My most recent experience was as an intern at an ancillary office of the Andalusian government, working on translating insignificant documents. It was tedious, boring work and, other than the fear of making an error, held no excitement whatsoever.

So, as I sent my résumé out to various cruise operators, it became a matter of sitting back and waiting for whatever response might come. I didn't expect miracles, but I hoped there might be an opportunity somewhere in the mix.

~*~

Kristiana was able to get away an hour early on Sunday evening and I picked her up just before eleven o'clock. I got a nice, warm kiss as a welcome. She put an overnight bag in the back seat and we set off for Bormujos. There was little traffic on the road and I stretched the speed limit to the maximum likely tolerance level, arriving at my house just thirty minutes after leaving Osuna. We walked into the house hand-in-hand and I led her up to my bedroom.

She wanted to change into something more comfortable than her working smock, so I left her for a few minutes. She took the opportunity to shower, then put on one of my sleeveless t-shirts that she must have taken from a drawer. Her pale blue panties completed the ensemble and she joined me in the living area in her barefoot, semi-clothed state.

"There, that feels so much better," she smiled.

"You must be one of the most beautiful women on the planet," I said, meaning every word.

"I am more than just pretty I will tell you," she said with some authority.

"I know that, but for a man ... I can barely be around you without wanting to make love to you."

"You see ... I am just a sex toy for you."

"Now don't get angry, Kristiana. You know me better than that."

"I don't know you very much at all," she complained. "I know you are handsome and smart and you want a new profession, but I don't really know you,"

Kristiana was a study in contrasts. Her exterior was soft and almost unbelievably pristine. Inside, she was more complicated. She was sitting beside me, but not so close that we were touching. I most desperately wanted to touch her.

"What do you want to know about me?" I asked.

"Now, you are thinking how you can seduce me."

"No," I said levelly. "I'm thinking you want to know more about the person you've decided to spend your time with."

"And you will tell me what you want me to hear so that you can seduce me," she frowned.

"Kristiana, are you unhappy with me? Is coming here a mistake?"

She looked surprised at my questions. "No. That is not what I am thinking. Oh ... Richard ... I am sorry. I don't know what I am thinking. You make me confused. I feel like a little girl sometimes when I am with you."

"Do you think I am not sincere?" I asked, wanting to know the truth.

"No ... I do not think that. Listen to me, Richard. This is important. All my life, since I was a little girl, I have been told I am beautiful. My father called me his princess. He still does some times. I liked being pretty when I was young. When I was in school, I liked all the attention I got from boys ... even some men. But for many, that is all they see. My pretty face and hair and breasts. They cannot see anything else. I want to be someone else now. I want to be Kristiana, the woman ... not the princess."

I reached for her hand and she gave it to me.

"You can't change being beautiful, but as you get older, people will see past that. I can see past that, but I will be honest. You make me weak when I am with you. You make me want to give you anything you ask for. When we made love, it was so wonderful that I couldn't begin to describe it. It was a fantasy that became real life. That doesn't mean I don't see the real you. I do."

"What is the real me? I don't understand," she asked, squeezing my hand.

"The real you is hidden. Trying to decide what is right for you and your future. You need to talk about that. You need to be honest with yourself and decide what you want from your life, not what you think others want."

"How old are you?" she asked, her brow furrowed once more.

"Twenty-four."

"You seem older. I think you are more than smart. Perhaps you are wise, too."

"You're giving me too much credit. Maybe I should tell you all about my life since I was sixteen and I lost my virginity."

"Oh yes, please," she said, clapping her hands together and sitting up, wide-eyed.

And so I did -- in all its gory detail. I hid nothing. I left out nothing. I bared my soul.

"My God, Richard. You have lived the life of a much older man," she said in awe.

"It's nothing I'm proud of, Kristiana. I took advantage of my looks and my station and now ... looking back on it ... I'm not very proud of myself."

"But you were young and not mature. How could you know what you know now?"

I was shaking my head. "That's no excuse. I broke a lot of hearts along the way just to get my own satisfaction. I had to learn not to look back and be immune to what people might have thought about me. I'm not proud of it today, but it is the past and that's not who I want to be any more."

She moved to me and embraced me. "Richard, you are being very honest with me. It is only fair that I be honest with you. You already know I am not a virgin. I haven't been since I was fifteen. When you told me about your past, I thought how it was like mine. We were two of a kind, were we not? Live for the moment, as the popular saying says."

"I'm trying to be better, Kristiana. I'm trying to stay constant and look to the future. Someday I will settle down and marry and have a family. I want that to be a constant. If I marry, I want it to be forever. I will be very careful in choosing a wife."

She smiled. She kissed me briefly, then returned for something more passionate. I held back giving her my opinion that she seemed insecure at times.

We lay beside each other after our lovemaking, our thoughts kept to ourselves. I did have a question that had been rolling around after Kristiana had told me about her life over that past seven years.

"Has any man ever asked you to marry him?"

"Yes," she answered instantly. "Two times."

"The same man?"

"No. One was a boy I was with when I was sixteen and he was eighteen. He was in love with me, but I was too young and I knew my parents would never permit it. We thought we were in love, but I know now that was not so."

"And the other?"

"He was an older man ... thirty-one years. It was last year. He was very nice, but I was not in love with him. He worked at our hotel, but left soon after I said no to him."

"I think it would be easy to fall in love with you," I said quietly.

"Are you in love with me, Richard?"

"I don't know. Not yet, but ... perhaps when we get to know each other better ... it might happen."

"Yes ... when we get to know each other more, it could happen for me too. I am older now and not so foolish. I can be hurt, but I will be careful. I am more wise now, I hope."

I had to keep telling myself that this twenty-two-year-old was not that far removed from being a teenager and even though I was only a couple of years older, my experiences were far different than hers. Perhaps I was more mature than my years. I know everyone matures at a different time in their lives. As an only child, I was given more freedom and more encouragement than many others of my age. My father never pushed or directed me outwardly. He was far more subtle than that. My mother, however, had great plans for me. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't playing according to her rules.