Once Again with Feeling

He entered her again, still moaning her name as he moved, slick after slick thrust into her. Finding a home in her with each drive of his hips. He turned his head, kissing her lips yet again. Her nerves retightened as the pleasure mounted. The rhythm of their joining followed her heartbeat. That old red haze washed behind her lids. Her braid was stuck to her damp back. Her body shook, pleasure building...building...

A second climax washed over her, her walls squeezing his shaft. He was still thrusting into her as she quivered, waves of pleasure rolling from between her legs to wash all over her body. Each stroke made her cry out, extending her orgasm. He hardened inside her, twitching, swelling.

Ezequiel grunted, his burning forehead lowering to hers. His eyes closed. Throbbing inside her and holding himself deep, he spilled between her legs. Hot seed filled her. He moaned her name again and again, until his voice faded into silence and the last wave of joint pleasure became recent memory.

Leaning against the stone wall, they breathed fast. Still inside her, his head dropped onto her shoulder. He kissed her throat. She slid her fingers into his thick hair. Just reminding her palms how silky those strands felt.

They stood like that for a few minutes, until Ezequiel raised his head. "You see, don't you?" he asked throatily. "You see why I can't take the job here."

Esperanza frowned. "Whatever we are to each other wouldn't stop you from doing the job if you wanted to."

"Yes, it would. Because if I start working here and seeing you every day, it won't take long before I fall right back in love with you. And I couldn't take it if you hurt me again." His eyes bored into hers. "Do you understand me, Esperanza? I won't accept being kicked away a second time. Unless you give me your word that you won't, I'll leave here first thing in the morning and I won't be coming back."

"I'm not out to hurt you, but you can't ask me to promise anything now. It's been 17 years. We don't know each other too well at this point."

His eyes got harder. "I meant every damn word I said. Now if you don't wa--"

"Listen." She stroked the sides of his face. "I'm not saying no. I'm just not saying yes yet. Take the job. Be here. Let's talk to each other and learn about each other again. Chase me. I won't run too fast, and when I'm sure we've got what it takes to last, I'll be glad to be caught."

He sighed at her. "You're still afraid to be in love? Even after all these years? Even while I'm inside you right now?"

"I'm not afraid to be in love. When I fall in love with you all over again, I'm going to enjoy the feeling. But I won't pin all my hopes on it. I need to know there'll be other things keeping us together."

He rested his forehead on hers again. "There will be."

"Then let's take our time. Neither of us has other obligations anymore. Let's find out what's between us, aside from love."

"And then?"

"And then..." She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him soft. "And then we'll both be satisfied."

*****

Thirty years later

*

Noise.

Today was the first Saturday of September in the year 2015, which meant one certain thing--noise.

Noise, music, noise, laughter, noise, revelry, noise, horse races, noise, motorcycle races, noise, partying into the night, noise.

Here in Cádiz, today was the noisiest day of the year. It would start with the festivities of the Nativity of Our Lady in the town. When they got home to the estate, the jornaleros would start a private fiesta, with singing, dancing and seguidilla music all night. Noise...

This was Ezequiel Galindo's first thought as he woke.

He cracked an eye open to peer out the window. It was still dawn. Still blissfully quiet for now. He closed his eyes and turned over in bed, automatically reaching to hold his wife.

His hand touched an empty bed, but the sheets were still warm, so he opened his eyes and glanced around the room.

There she was at her dresser, already in day clothes and braiding her hair. Her sombrero was in her lap. As usual, she was about to take her dawn stroll through the vines.

His wife was older now. Her face had lines. The hair she was braiding had silver strands with the black. But she was still the perfect creature who had charmed him since his boyhood.

Ezequiel spoke from the bed. "This morning, too? I thought you'd want some quiet time in bed today of all days."

Esperanza looked over at him. She gave that arch smile of hers. That way she smiled whenever she was about to poke fun at him. "Why would you think that? I'm not you."

Ezequiel tried to look annoyed but couldn't help smiling back. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"I mean I'm not a creaky old man who needs his quiet mornings and early nights before he can function." She crossed to the bed and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. "I'm off for my walk now." She patted his cheek pityingly. "Get all the sleep you need, you dear old man. I'll see you when you've gathered enough strength to come down for breakfast."

Ezequiel caught her wrist. "You might want to watch it. Keep needling me and I'll prove just how strong I can be. I proved it last night, didn't I? I can prove it again right now."

She laughed. "Keep your proof to yourself. I'll want it later, but right now I just want my walk. See you at breakfast. I love you." She pulled away. Sombrero in hand, she left their bedroom.

Ezequiel watched his wife go, the smile lingering on his face.

"I love you," she'd said. So casually and easily. Without thinking about it. She was so much better with these verbal expressions than she'd been at one time. But then, 25 years of happy marriage would soften anyone's defenses. Even when that person was Esperanza Torrejón de Mosquera Galindo.

They'd married in 1990, a whole five years after their night of reunion in the courtyard. He'd spent those five years giving her the proof of compatibility that she needed. In return, she'd since given him the love that he needed.

She still didn't trust love on its own. She could still be heard telling her children and grandchildren things like: "Love isn't enough," and "Saint Valentine comes and goes."

Yet somehow, the two of them had managed to give each other what they needed. And as she'd said in the courtyard that night, they both were satisfied.

For Ezequiel's part, he still trusted love. There'd been moments he'd doubted. Such as that first heartbreak and when his fragile Alba had died at only 31. But love had still won. Its journey had taken some twists, but it had brought him here.

All his ports had been bound to arrive at this sea.

As he'd known at 19, Esperanza was destined to be his. He was proven right. Not that the stubborn woman would ever admit it.

He got out of bed and went to the window. Looking over the everlasting vines, his eyes focused on the two figures strolling arm-in-arm. Esperanza and her daughter Raquel. Raquel was 35 now, with a toddler daughter of her own.

At first, Esperanza had taken these dawn walks with her father Don Cipriano. When Don Cipriano had died thirteen years ago at age 81, she'd begun walking with Raquel. A continuation of tradition. His Esperanza was like that. He wasn't that sort, but he'd grown to understand her. The same applied to her.

Ezequiel stretched, taking care with his back. He'd already injured it a couple years ago. While he believed in his strength, he wasn't under the illusion that he was still 19.

He was out of bed now, so he might as well get ready for the day, finish some estate tasks on his to-do list, and brace himself for the coming noise.

Two hours later, everybody in the cortijo was together in the breakfast salon. There were nine of them. Him, Esperanza, his stepson Florentin with his wife Yessica and their two children José-Andres and Ana-Belen, now aged 14 and 9. There was his stepdaughter Raquel with her husband Vicente. Catalina, their toddler daughter, was in her safety chair.

Despite Ezequiel having once resigned himself to never experiencing the joys of fatherhood, this wasn't the case. José-Andres, Ana-Belen and Catalina all called him their grandfather. He'd given a speech at Florentin's wedding, and he'd been the one to give Raquel away at both her weddings.

His stepdaughter had been married twice. Her first marriage had been to a media tycoon based in New York. Esperanza had had misgivings about Raquel marrying the mogul and moving halfway across the world after only knowing him a year, but Raquel had been adamant. They'd all wished her the best, but the marriage had ended in disaster within four years. Hurt by how nastily she'd been treated, Raquel had come back home to Andalucía as a divorcee. She'd nursed pain for a year, but was now happily married to Vicente, a man deserving of her love. And she had a child as she'd always wanted.

Ezequiel could now say to himself that his family was exactly as it ought to be.

Another hour later, they all left the cortijo for the town festival, taking Benito Pedraza and his wife Paloma with them.

The festival lasted through the day, with the parade through the streets of Jerez, the motorcycle races, the hilarious horse dance, the outdoor meals of roasted meats and fish with fresh fruits and fried desserts that filled the air with pleasant smoke. And of course, the drinks. A lot of it, and mostly sherry. Dry finos, drier manzanillas, sweet olorosos, sweeter moscatels, and elusive palo cortados. Not forgetting their own unbeatable Casa Torrejón amontillado. There were also tintos and airén brandies de Jerez.

They returned home at dusk, the children weary from the fun. Catalina was long asleep, Ana-Belen's eyelids were drooping, and even José-Andres was yawning. Benito and Paloma were dropped off at their house, and the rest continued to the cortijo. Catalina and Ana-Belen were settled in their beds. Ezequiel, Esperanza, Florentin, Yessica, Raquel, Vicente, and José-Andres had a light salad dinner before going upstairs.

It was about midnight then. Ezequiel paused at the window before getting in bed. The jornaleros' fiesta was about to start in the worker's quarters, and would last until tomorrow's dawn.

There hadn't always been worker's quarters here. As with other latifundios of Andalucía, workers had lived in nearby pueblos instead of on the land they toiled. Ezequiel knew from personal experience that this lowered their morale, highlighted the already stark class divide, fostered resentment and made it easy for them to leave when other pastures seemed greener.

That was why his first act when he'd become the overseer here 30 years ago, was having worker's quarters built on the estate. The quarters couldn't house every worker--especially not the seasonal drifters who only labored during the harvest--but it housed each jornalero who'd been loyal for 5 years.

It did wonders for employee turnover. But it also meant that during the harvest fiesta, the noise didn't happen far away in the pueblo. It happened here on the estate. Where he had to hear it all damn night.

He sighed to himself.

Esperanza must have heard, because she joined him at the window. "The fiesta's starting." She gave him that teasing look. "Better get your earplugs or you'll be bothered by the noise."

Ezequiel Galindo gazed at his wife of 25 years. He traced the angle of her face with his palm. "Nothing's bothering me now."

Esperanza's smile softened. She placed her hand over his.

They stood like that by their window, together and unbothered. And the seguidilla music began, floating to them from the hills of their fathers, children and grandchildren.

*****

THE END

*****