The Girl from Lima Ch. 02

Gregorio briskly made his way back towards Manhattan. En route, he was surprised to find himself more preoccupied with Sachiko than what the rest of the evening might have in store. Maybe it was her abrupt exit and the resultant lack of any sense of closure. Then again, after nearly three years, was there anything left between them to feel closure about?

He was only a few minutes behind schedule when he reached the East River's east bank. On the other side of a small park, he came to a cobblestoned esplanade. It was deserted, save for a solitary five-foot tall figure in a jade overcoat, leaning on the railing and looking out at the water.

"ElephantRider61, I presume?" said Gregorio in English as he approached the railing, employing the generic American drawl he'd mastered for his visa interviews years ago.

"Don't bloody do that!" Serafina chided him, whirling around hand on heart as if she'd just heard a gun being cocked, "Dr Aquino?"

"The very same," he said, happily dropping the drawl.

"What're you doing here?"

"Did I get the wrong time?"

He smiled amicably at her as he waited for the penny to drop.

"Wait, you're El Hidráulico?" she blurted.

Gregorio stifled a self-satisfied chuckle. He was still rather pleased with the handle.

"Did you know it was me?" asked Serafina.

"It was a very good picture of you," replied the Honduran. He just about heard the Indian mumble something presumably profane under her breath.

"So, does this mean you're, uh, okay with this?" she asked falteringly.

"You're eighteen, yes?" he replied.

"Yeah. Since November."

"Then walk this way," said Gregorio, pointing to the Queensboro Bridge looming nearby.

Then, he started walking. It took a few moments for Serafina to catch up to him.

"So, ElephantRider61, huh?" he remarked.

"I have to give some kind of hint I'm Indian. One too many disappointed Arab boys."

"You've been at this a while, then?"

"Yeah," she said guardedly, "So?"

"I just wondered if you're sure it wasn't your choice of wardrobe giving them cold feet?" said Gregorio, glancing at the opening at the front of her jade coat. Beneath it, she was still wearing her school uniform minus the gilet.

"Excuse me for saving on laun-"

"Did I sound like I was complaining?" interrupted Gregorio.

She didn't reply, but the way she nibbled her lip told him all he needed to know. From there, conversation lulled as they made the mile-long trek across the bridge. Most of the questions he could think to ask her weren't the sort of thing he wanted to be yelling.

"You never did say why you were back in New York, Dr Aquino," said Serafina as they stepped off the bridge, regaining the ability to hear themselves think.

"Should I have?" replied Gregorio, trying not to sound too prickly.

"Well, it's a bloody strange destination for spring break."

"This trip was strictly business."

Given his recent track record of bearing his soul to schoolgirls he hardly knew, Gregorio was a little surprised at his sudden caginess. That said, how could he tell a stranger that he'd flown 2000 miles to sign a permission slip for his estranged wife to move in with her boyfriend in such a way that said stranger would still be open to sleeping with him?

Around the corner from his hotel, Gregorio stopped in his tracks and turned to Serafina, asking her to button her overcoat. It had only just occurred to him how walking into a hotel with a young woman in schoolwear on a Saturday night might be misconstrued. As it was, the epauletted doorman didn't bat an eyelid, nor did the bellboy they passed coming out of the elevator.

Once inside his hotel room, her coat didn't stay buttoned for long. In fact, the door was still swinging shut when Gregorio pressed Serafina up against it, unfastened the brass buttons and pulled the jade overgarment off her shoulders. He stooped slightly as they locked lips. Finding her technique and his own enthusiasm both wanting, he let the kiss last only as long as it took to reach the bed.

Gregorio didn't so much as remove his shoes before sitting on the edge of the king-size bed. In the interests of comfort, Serafina kicked off her saddle shoes before straddling his lap on her knees. Leaving her emerald-green blazer on, he focused on her shirt, tugging its tails free of her green-and-white plaid skirt's waistband.

He popped every button but the top one, denied by the red necktie he couldn't be bothered to remove. Beneath the shirt, he found a fuller frame than the unflattering blazer had led him to expect. The generous skin folds around her waist were all but forgotten when he set eyes upon something that prompted him to utter a silent word of thanks to the Almighty: her bra's clasp was at the front.

As the divided cups flopped aside, the breasts unfurled slightly as they spilled forth. Unaccustomed to such a voluptuous bust -- Sachiko wasn't nearly so well endowed - Gregorio's mouth set about them with abandon. Nowhere in the vicinity of her medallion-shaped areolas and umber nipples went unkissed. Unfazed by the necktie still dangling between them, he repeatedly nosed it aside to nuzzle the fleshy mounds.

Meanwhile, his hands ventured under her plaid skirt, disproving his assumption that the pleated garment somehow exaggerated the girth of her hips. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, Serafina began to roll her hips whilst Gregorio massaged her considerable rump through the thin cotton of her underwear.

In no time, her grinding progressed to outright humping. Reminded this schoolgirl was no virginal ingenue, Gregorio withdrew his face and hands to initiate the process of transferring her off his lap and onto her back. Serafina offered no resistance, dismounting and pivoting to sit down beside him.

Getting to his feet, he pressed one hand between her breasts to urge her to lie back. Meanwhile, his other hand tended to his belt buckle. Once liberated, Gregorio had his partner raise her legs straight in the air so he could extend her the same courtesy. Pulling the sizeable magenta panties up and over her airborne ankles, he gaped at the thicket of tight black curls cresting her adumbral womanhood.

"Do I need to put something on?" asked Gregorio quietly, tousling the curls and teasing the moist cleft below with his thumb. Under the unprecedented circumstances, he was prepared to waive his commitment to certain dogmas just this once.

"I have pills for that!" she snapped between quavering breaths, "Get on with it!"

Her wish was his command. Wrapping an arm around each of her raised legs, he made his entrance, relishing the ripple of brown flesh that accompanied his every thrust. It was the kind of spectacle Sachiko's sylphlike body had never afforded him.

Unlike Xiomara, Serafina needed no encouragement to voice her appreciation. Every instroke elicited a moan and then some, thankfully without any of the porn star patter he'd feared from the seasoned booty caller. After a time, he unentwined his arms and pushed her knees up towards her bouncing chest as he ploughed deeper.

The hotel's furniture soon justified its price tag. The recoil of the springs was such that it made his pelvic exertions nearly redundant, not that he let it stop him. With his lover's exultations growing deeper and breathier by the second, with nary a squeak from the ritzy bed, Gregorio was free to savor the real music of the occasion: the slap of flesh against flesh as pelvises collided.

A sudden inability to stifle his own song any longer heralded the imminent crescendo. To bring their groins as close together as physically possible, Gregorio bent over Serafina. He pushed her ankles almost level with her head whilst her breasts danced wildly. Then, he let rip.

Quite literally pumped dry, Gregorio was still inside Serafina when the miraculous reservoir of energy that had gotten him to Queens and back suddenly abandoned him. The Honduran toppled forward, landing face-first in the valley between her boobs, atop a sternum still heaving in the wake of his onslaught.

Alas, even with his head mired the mental fog of postcoital bliss, not to mention teetering on the cusp of passing out, an inconvenient truth made itself known. As satisfactory as this rendezvous had been, it left him in no doubt that he didn't just want any schoolgirl, uniformed or otherwise. He wanted the girl from Lima.