This is a story about a trip I made to Spain three years ago to fill my spirit. I love how traveling somewhere new puts one is a perpetual Zen like state. In this segment I learned that post divorce (or almost post divorce) I still had it as I dabble in the pleasures of a pursuant younger man…
Ricardo falls on the bed, exhausted from his day on the beach combined with a good deal of Cava and red wine. I opt for a bath in the jacuzzi tub first to wash the sand and residual sea salt from my skin. How is it that European bathrooms are so elegant? A sky light, beamed ceiling, cream colored marble surrounding the large tub- it was so beautiful. I pour some shampoo under the running tap as a substitute for bubble bath, creating thick creamy foam once the jets are turned on.
When I am done soaking, I wrap myself in a thick terri-cloth robe which thoughtfully lay waiting on a shelf next to the tub and go into the bedroom to find a very tanned, angelic Ricardo fast asleep. He is glowing with youth, his brown limbs entwined in snow white sheets. I am aching to devour him, inwardly drooling like a fox in a hen house. In my mind I rationalize that he is a gift to me from the gods, a reward for some good deed I performed or perhaps a salve for the suffering I experienced from my divorce. I think, “Who am I to refuse such a gift?” I wake him and begin to relish in his sinfully sensual kisses. He is a Casanova. A lover of many types of women. Age is not an issue for him. He enjoys the beauty in the act of pleasing a woman, the mutual sharing of physical pleasure. He offers the most intoxicating kisses I had yet experienced from at test sample of at least a hundred men. He is an artist. Clear in directing me and eager to follow my direction. It was a night of delectable physical indulgence for both of us working within previously agreed upon parameters (refer to Bill Clinton definition of sexual engagement)- which we respected despite intense temptation.
Though sleep comes to Ricardo easily, I am fitful. There is a lot of noise outside from late night revelers and Ricardo’s snores keep me awake. At 7:30 or so I give up and go into the living room of the suite and start to write. Every now and again I gaze out the window at the lapis blue sea. This is La Doce Vida. I am in the groove. I am so blessed to have a memory of a perfect evening. No complications, no confusion, no neuroticism. Just truth and simplicity which comes from speaking from the heart.
I get a giggle as I watch a lifeguard starting to set up for the day on Port Beach and discovering my black lace panties on top of the stack of chairs where I forgot them following my little moonlit swim. When Ricardo awakes we decide to go down to the beach to sunbath. Lucky for my he has forgotten his glasses and is practically blind. He cannot see the stretch marks on my stomach glaring in the bright sun – a situation my vanity appreciates.
I know that if I stay in the sun longer than 20 minutes I will burn as I have barely had any exposure to the sun yet this summer. But I stay out anyway because it is so nice to be on the beach where people are so comfortable with their bodies. I remove my bikini top a la typical Spanish beach style and Ricardo comments that I am the first American “girl” he has seen topless on the beach. I am amused by the use of the word “girl”.
We enjoy a breakfast of fresh cherries, a chocolate croissant, a nectarine and some water. The cherries, heated by the sun are warm and juicy like the day.
Kirana agrees to fetch us at 2:30pm. At 1:30 or so when I know my skin is fried, we go up to the marina to get ham bocadillos and drinks. Kireana is just waiting when we get back to the hotel. I get my bags and we drop Ricardo of at the station. He gives me a big hug and a kiss on teh cheek. I kiss the other side of his cheek as well saying, “In Spain, Spanish Kisses.” He promises to call when he gets back to the States and he goes with his hot kisses and cute glasses into the station. I am not at all sad but ready for the next adventure which is a concert in the courtyard at the yoga center. I know I will see Ricardo again and it doesn’t matter what happened (or didn’t happen) in Spain, we will still be friends.
It is all good.