A Farewell Celebration

Online Reprint

Originally printed in issue #77 (May 2016) of Blue Skies Magazine.
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“Of course I’ll be there, dude! No way would I miss your goodbye party! Especially if it’s the Spanish brunch!”

He had been my DZ chief pilot for the last year and a half, so I would have made the celebration regardless. He’d not only become a close friend of mine, but he’d also informed me he had a beautiful friend in town looking to be entertained, so I intended to let the mild hangover I was suffering through fade and soldier on like a real trooper.

It took a bit longer than it usually would have, but I managed to get myself showered and cleaned up, dressed in my best tailored summer suit, and hopped into a cab to grab the boys. “RS,” the guest of honor, and Alan, a close friend, slid into the cab and off we went toward the Spanish brunch that was known to get up to quite a fever pitch, fueled by great tapas, rivers of sangria, and of course fantastic salsa music. Both of them being married, they were in jeans and tees as they’d decided the wives would let them get away with it, which made me a bit self-conscious, but I’d rather be over dressed, and I knew damn well that when a Spanish lady shows up for a party she’s usually in heels and a dress to kill …

“So my friend here from Spain is looking to have herself quite a good time, and I have told her that you are just the man for the job, my friend! The only problem is, she doesn’t speak a word of English, but I’m guessing you’ll figure something out! This will be one brunch you’ll NEVER forget!”

Great, I thought, I’ve got nothing but a nice suit and seven lessons of Salsa to do the job, huh? Well, I hope the sangria is strong today!

As we walked up to the table, the traditional Spanish greetings began. Hugs and kisses all around to all who knew each other, and even to those who didn’t. Passionate lot, the Spanish … When it dawned on me that the handshake I’d just given out, instead of the two-cheek kiss, was to the very beautiful lady I was to be entertaining, the confused look on her face made a whole lot more sense than it had before RS told me who she was. Oh well, I thought, if anything I just came off as aloof, although I’d probably just insulted the shit out of her …

By the time the party was in full swing though, RS, his wife and a few other conspirators had managed to edge the lovely lady right next to me for the majority of the feast, so by the time the dancing started, we were an obvious pair. The lessons I’d been taking weren’t exactly making me the most amazing dancer on the floor, but I managed to hold my own—although I’m sure the sangria had a whole lot to do with it. There was no doubt about the physical flirting going on, but anyone who knows salsa dancing knows it could be really easy to misinterpret, so I was treading lightly and avoiding getting too overzealous.

The drinking, eating and even dancing had turned out to be pretty easy if truth be told, but the conversation was one hell of an effort, to say the least. I know all of about a dozen words in Spanish and she knew even fewer in English, but somehow we’d managed to muck our way through enough of a conversation to find out she was divorced with no kids, wasn’t in town for long and wanted to make the most of it (wink wink). According to RS, in both English and Spanish, she was going to be spending the remainder of the evening with me.

Next thing I knew, we were on our own. I knew this for two reasons: First, RS told her flat out in Spanish that she was going with me, and second, he told me he’d put the address where she was staying in her phone so she could get home in a cab if need be.

With nothing more than a “Have fun, brotha!” from RS, we were left to our own devices and in a cab on our way back to my place. Up ‘til this point I’d managed to do a pretty good job of playing the gentleman, holding out my arm for her as we walked, opening the car door, etc … But when she tried shoving her hand down my pants in the cab, I dropped any illusion that this was anything other than her vacation swing with the foreigner. I was actually really happy when the cab got close to my building and I was able to get her to slow the pace a bit, as believe it or not, I’m not really into the whole public display kind of thing.

On the stroll down the hall toward my place I had the chance to take complete stock of the lady walking next to me. She was flat out gorgeous. 5’4”, long dark hair, Spanish features and a figure to kill. This was gonna be one fucking great evening! I opened the door to my apartment, allowing her to walk in first which meant that my dog Diego trotted around the corner greeting her first. The instant she saw my little old man walking up to her with his old man/puppy eyes, she burst into tears … Oh fuck, I thought. What just happened?

Google translate let me know she also had a dog, who, unfortunately for her, had stayed with her ex after the divorce and she desperately missed the dog. I actually completely understood her reaction, and tried to take the whole thing in stride, figuring it was fueled more by alcohol than actual emotion. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly, and with a fresh glass of wine in hand, we got back to the painfully slow conversation which lasted less than 15 minutes before we were back on point.

She had most certainly decided to take the lead for the evening, and was spectacularly naked on my couch before I was even aware she’d unzipped her dress! But the heels though were still on, which I had to admit showed some serious style … Let the games begin!

Everything got quite passionate quite fast, and damn if this woman wasn’t twice as hot outside that dress as she had been in it! Before you knew it, one of the few English words in her vocabulary made its appearance in the form of a question.

“Condom?”

“Si señorita.”

Two of my only Spanish words were my quick reply, and within a few minutes, said condom was being put to very proper use. The living room of my apartment was quickly getting knocked all to hell, and I couldn’t have cared less. By far the BEST brunch I had ever attended, bar none!

Right up until she lifted her face to look at me with a literal river of tears streaming down her face and across my chest …

“Holy SHIT! Are you OK??”

I quickly but gently rolled her off me so that she was now sitting on the edge of my couch with me kneeling in front of her. She had begun to cry so hard now that she was visibly sobbing, and all I could do at this point was put my arms around her, pull her face to my chest and let her get it out …

Ages. She cried full-blown heaving sobs for fucking ages.

About five minutes into it I decided the condom I was wearing (which was currently a whole lot stiffer than I was) would be of no further use, and with an audible “SNAP,” I pulled it off. (What can I say, tears aren’t my idea of good lube … ), and continued to do my best to get her to calm down a bit.

I’d managed to grab a blanket off the couch to toss over her shoulders so she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, put my underwear back on so I wouldn’t feel so vulnerable, and waited for the storm to pass. It took about 30 minutes before she finally came up for air. By then my entire chest from my neck to navel was covered in black streaks of mascara, and when she finally managed to look up at me, it looked like a 4-year-old had been at her face with a Sharpie for hours, and her poor eyes were so puffy she could barely see through them …

“You first,” she said. I had no clue what she was talking about, and it clearly showed, so she said it again and again until I finally figured it out.

The one small detail that my good friend RS had failed to point out was that this fucking gorgeous, highly sexually charged woman currently naked on my couch had only VERY recently been divorced. Divorced from a man who apparently had been cheating on her, and I as it turns out, I was the first man she’d been with since …

Three cups of coffee, a whole lot of Google Translate and many “I’m so sorry, if I’d only known I wouldn’t have’s” later, I finally had her calmed down and laughing a bit. By the time I dropped her back off where she was staying, it was at least with a smile on her face and a proper kiss to each cheek. Well, RS was certainly right about one thing: It is without a doubt one brunch I will never fucking forget!

Why is it skydivers always seem to leave out the most important details about what’s coming up? Congrats on the new job, RS! I owe you one, fucker!