Chapter 3

Fabian and Mickey were sitting in a booth at the Last Resort, watching the tireless younger generation thrashing and preening on the dance floor. They'd been there for a few hours, drinking beer and arguing good-naturedly about who was a better guitar player, Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton, when Mickey elbowed Fabian in the ribs and jerked his head toward the door.

"Ain't that the Mexican dude you cut up the other week? One that saved your ass when his homeboys started acting up?"

Surrounded by three husky young men wearing sunglasses, Chico Hernandez walked slowly through the crowded club. He was wearing a shiny form-fitting green shirt and yellow slacks, and had a small bandage over his left eye. The crowd parted to let them through, and Chico nodded impassively at a few people who called out his name.

"Yep, that's him," said Fabian. "Sharp dresser. Think I'd look good in a shirt like that?"

Mickey shook his head and started laughing, and got that look on his face like he was going to come up with a bad-ass put down, and Fabian decided to change the subject. "Maybe I should send him a drink or something. Let him know there's no hard feelings."

Two tables had opened up in the back of the club as if by magic, and Chico sat down at one of them by himself. His friends or bodyguards took the other table and started playing cards.

Mickey said "He knows you ain't got any hard feelings, cause you won the damn fight."

"What if I run into him on the dance floor, or in the men's room? Could be awkward. Maybe we should leave."

"Leave? Why the fuck should we leave?"

Fabian saw the waitress looking at them, and he motioned her over. "I'd like to buy a drink for the guy in the green shirt over there. You don't happen to know what he drinks, do you?"

"Chico? He drinks Bacardi and coke." She gave Fabian a suspicious look. "What do you want to buy a drink for Chico for? If you owe him money or something, you'd be better off just leaving, you know what I mean?"

"Naw, nothing like that. Just a friendly gesture."

She shrugged. "OK, one Bacardi and coke for Chico."

They watched as the waitress brought it over and talked to Chico. When he turned to look at them, Fabian raised his hand in a little wave and grinned.

"You're a real cheeseball, you know that?" said Mickey under his breath.

Chico nodded politely at Fabian and motioned for him to come over to his table.

"Back in a minute," he said to Mickey. He walked over and sat down across from Chico, uncomfortably aware of the stares from the Mexican gangster's entourage.

"Thanks for the drink. Fabian, right?" Chico's face was expressionless, neither friendly or unfriendly.

"Right. No problem. That was a good fight last week, real even. Considering I got about twenty pounds on you, I'd say you were the better fighter."

Chico flashed a quick smile. "The twenty pounds was no problem. I think your reach is like a foot more than mine."

"Yeah, that came in handy too," agreed Fabian.

"You gonna fight again soon?"

"Yup - got one in three days. Some Jamaican guy, I guess. Jimmy says he isn't too tough, gonna be an easy win for me, but what else is Jimmy gonna say, right?"

Chico grinned, flashing a gold tooth. Mimicking Jimmy Vargas's rapid New York delivery, he said "I got one lined up for you Thursday - this guy gonna kick your ass so you better bring a first aid kit." Fabian laughed appreciatively. Chico seemed pretty OK.

"I gotta a wait awhile myself," said Chico, fingering the bandage over his eye. "Couple more weeks for this to heal. You open me up pretty good."

"Sorry about that."

He shrugged. "I always cut real easy. Pain in the ass."

"By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping me out after the fight. Things were getting ugly."

Chico nodded solemnly. "No problem, man. My people come to see me kick some ass, they get a little upset if I lose."

"I hope you didn't like, lose too much status in your gang or whatever."

Chico's face turned hard and cold for a few seconds, then he shook his head with a tight little smile. "Shit, no. My 'status' as you call it don't depend on my winning fights."

Fabian decided it might be a bad idea to ask him just what his gang status was based on. "So you're just in it for the chicks and the money like me?"

Chico threw back his head and laughed, causing the goons at the next table to look over from their card game.

"Chicks and money, man, that's exactly right. Especially the chicks. You win a fight on Tigertail, you get to pick and choose, am I right?"

"Amen," said Fabian with a grin. "Hell, even my manager gets laid after I win a fight."

Chico leaned forward with the easy familiarity of men everywhere when they start talking about women. "I bet you get a lot of those skinny white college girls, the ones that smoke pot and pretend they living in the sixties or whatever."

"Yeah, that's right," said Fabian, thinking Chico was pretty perceptive.

"Me, I go for the Chicas - the Latina chicks. I like a woman with a little meat on her bones, you know? I don't mean fat or nothing, I just like to have something to hold onto. Most of the white chicks, I just want to tell them to eat something, you know? Get a decent meal once in a while."

Fabian thought about the Mexican girl he had taken home the other week. She had been the whole package: nice smile, great body, easy to talk to. He had a nagging feeling he had somehow screwed up big time with that one.

"No offense, man," said Chico, misunderstanding Fabian's silence. "Everybody got they own taste, right?"

"No, I think you got a good point there."

"Oh hey, I almost forgot," said Chico. "I want to get a rematch when my cut heals. What do you say?"

Fabian was a little surprised. "You want another shot at the champ, huh? You figure out a way to get a longer reach or something?"

Chico smiled at the verbal jab, but Fabian could see he wasn't amused. "I had the wrong strategy, fought a stupid fight. Be different next time. I personally guarantee there won't be any trouble from my friends."

"Because you'll win?"

Chico smiled. "Either way."

Fabian shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Me and Jimmy split five thousand dollars last time. If you guarantee your friends will behave, I'm sure Jimmy'll be happy to set it up. "

"Don't worry about Jimmy, I'll talk to him."

Back at his own table, Mickey said "What did you two buddies chat about over there?"

"He wants a rematch."

Mickey nodded. "I thought that might be it. Well, you kicked his ass once, you can kick it again."

Fabian jogged slowly along the winding beachfront path, his breath rasping in his throat and his chest burning like he had inhaled some sort of noxious acid. Mickey was right - he was out of shape, at least by his previous high standards. It was all coming back to him, why he had given up boxing. The pain and humiliation of losing in the ring was bad, but the drawn-out torture of keeping his body in perfect condition was even worse.

A girl on rollerblades skated by, swaying gracefully from side to side, the muscles in her legs working smoothly under her golden skin. He admired the generous curves of her hips and ass, and the cascade of shiny dark hair down her back. She reminded him of the girl he had picked up at the West Club last week, the one he hadn't been able to get out of his head. Lissa something.

Then the girl cut in front of him and turned around to face him, skating backwards, and he realized with a shock that it was Lissa.

"Hey," she said. "Remember me?"

Fabian felt an instinctive surge of guilt. He wished he had a nickle for every time a woman he hadn't called for a while came up to him and said that. But this time it wasn't his fault.

"Yeah, absolutely. I remember you, Lissa. I wanted to call you, but I didn't have your number or even your last name." She was still gliding along backwards, smiling at him and letting him get closer and closer. He had to resist the urge to push her along by resting his hands on the inviting curves where her narrow waist swelled into her hips. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, which was a little surprising considering how much he had drunk that night.

"I know," she said. "I had my reasons. And besides, after what happened I didn't know if I wanted to see you again."

"I don't blame you. I wasn't exactly at my best that night. I felt bad about the way things ended up, me falling asleep like that."

She laughed. "It wasn't what I was hoping for. But not for the reason you think. It wasn't your fault."

He thought about this for a second, puzzled, and said "Maybe there's not enough blood flowing to my brain or something, but I don't think I'm following you." He stopped jogging and started to walk. Lissa rolled to a stop, still facing him, and he had to stop or run into her.

"I've been looking for you, but I'm not exactly sure why," she admitted. "I'm probably just annoying you."

"No you're not," he said, truthfully. "You know, for the past week I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Lissa looked pleased. "Really? Me too. Hey, you think maybe we can go someplace and talk? There's a couple things I should tell you."

As it happened, they were next to a small beachfront park with some shade trees and benches. They found an empty bench and sat down, and Fabian looked at her expectantly.

"Well, the first thing I guess I should tell you... I'm only eighteen."

He was surprised, but not stunned. Without the makeup, she did look a bit younger than he had remembered. "So you don't work at the bottling plant either, I bet."

"You remembered! Maybe I did make an impression on you after all. No, I'm a senior in high school."

"High school, huh?" That didn't sound too good. "So I guess the real reason you had to go home that night was to keep from getting grounded."

"Killed is more like it," said Lissa. "I still caught a lot of shit, getting home at one in the morning."

"So that's it?"

She shook her head. "No, I didn't tell you the big thing yet. Except it's big for me, no big deal for you, I guess."

"What?"

She looked at him, then looked down. "It was my first time."

"Your first... ? Oh, man. I'm sorry, Lissa."

"You got nothing to be sorry about. I was the one who threw myself at you. I wanted it to happen."

"If you'd said something..." He thought back to the way it had happened, and felt sick.

She shook her head. "It's kind of embarrassing. My friends, male and female, all lost their virginity when they were thirteen or fourteen, and I started feeling like a weirdo. That whole thing about guys wanting to marry a virgin is bullshit, as far as I can tell."

"Never saw the appeal, myself," he agreed.

"So finally I decided I just wanted to get the monkey off my back."

"But why me?"

She laughed. "You was in the right place at the right time. Don't worry about it, Fabian. I was a virgin, but I wasn't like totally inexperienced. It didn't hurt or anything."

"That's good," he said, feeling a little better. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. "Anything else you need to get off your chest?"

She thought about it, chewing on her lower lip. She had about the sexiest mouth he had ever seen, and he felt his cock twitch. Then he felt guilty. He decided right then that he wanted to get to know her a lot better.

"Well, no, that's about it. I guess it's best if we just shake hands and walk away, no hard feelings, right?" she asked. "I mean, you're a lot older than me, I'm Mexican and you're white..."

"If that's what you want, then of course," he said carefully. "But I don't know, it seems like we get along pretty well. I mean, before we went back to my place we had a really good time talking and hanging out, I thought. I talked more to you that night than I can remember talking with anybody for a long time. And I've been thinking about you since then more than I've thought about anyone in a long time. So what I'm babbling about, I guess, is no, I don't want to just shake hands and walk away."

"Oh." She didn't say anything for a few seconds. "In that case, I'm actually seventeen."

"Shit." He buried his face in his hands.

"But if you can handle that, and if you're serious about maybe... you know, going out or something..."

"If you're sixteen, now's the time to tell me," he said through his hands.

She giggled. "I'll be eighteen in two months, I promise. I got my driver's license and everything."

He looked up. "That's a relief."

There was a few moments of awkward silence. Fabian spotted a little stand selling fast food on the other side of the park. He nodded towards it and said "Would you like a soda or an ice cream or something?"

She nodded, a happy smile growing on her face. "That would be very nice."

As they walked across the park, he took her hand in his.

Fabian climbed the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. His little place was looking a lot better these days, ever since Lissa had started spending her afternoons here instead of at the library. Colorful prints and hand-woven rugs decorated the walls, and the rattiest furniture had been replaced with inexpensive but tasteful new pieces. A woman's touch.

"Hola, Senorita," he called out in atrocious Spanish.

"Hola, Se"or," answered Lissa, sounding happy and amused. "Como estas?"

She was in the bedroom, sitting Indian-style on the bed surrounded by papers and textbooks, wearing only her bra and panties. Her school uniform was folded neatly on a chair. Fabian leaned against the doorway and stared her with an appreciative smile. "Bien. Mucho bien, gracias."

"It's nice that you want to learn Spanish, Fabian, but I do speak pretty good English. My native language and all..."

"That last one exhausted my vocabulary, so it's just as well. How's the studying going?"

She closed the textbook in front of her with a crack. "Chemistry, ick. Time for you to teach me something that's more fun. Hit the showers, mister."

"Shower?" He brushed at the grass clippings stuck to his arm. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Don't go anywhere."

When he padded back into the bedroom five minutes later with a damp towel around his waist, the books were put away and she was sitting against the headboard with the sheet draped loosely over her body. She had loosened the knot in her hair, and it cascaded down past her shoulders in thick, glossy waves. He sat down next to her and gave her a long hard kiss. The sheet slid away, exposing her full, soft breasts. He kissed his way down her face and neck, inhaling the sweet aroma of her skin, and then took one of her nipples into his mouth. He teased at the soft, warm flesh with his lips and tongue, making it swell and pout.

"That feels so nice," she said, rubbing his neck. She put her arms around his broad, muscular chest, holding him possesively close.

He moved to her other breast, and soon he felt her hand slide under the towel and move towards his groin. She took his stiffening cock in her hand and just held it, keeping it company as it came fully erect. Then she squeezed it gently and started rubbing the underside of the head with her thumb, making him groan.

"Did I teach you how to do that?" he asked. "I must be a damn good teacher."

"Nah, I used the experimental method - we learned about that in school. Tried all sorts of stuff, and watched to see which ones made you squirm." Her thumb slid up over the little slit, smearing out a drop of precome. Using it as a lubricant, she started moving her thumb in slow circles. "See? You're squirming."

"Yep. Bet I can make you squirm, too."

"I know you can," she giggled. "I love it when you make me squirm, Fabian."

He pulled the sheet away from her legs and pushed her thighs apart. Her sex was a symmetric ribbon of dark pink nestled in the glossy curls of her pubic hair. He shifted position, bringing his head down into her lap, and breathed in her faint, musky aroma as he nibbled on her inner thigh. She trembled and stiffened, anticipating the pleasure to follow. Finally he put his mouth over her pussy and teased at her outer labia with his tongue, letting his saliva mix with her juices as she opened up.

"Oh, yes..." she sighed. "Lick me."

"Are you sure?" he teased. "You don't think it's nasty any more?"

"Of course it's nasty, but it feels sooo good," she said. She lay back and spread her legs, inviting him to burrow in deeper.

Fabian lapped away contentedly, stimulating her with long strokes of his tongue, until she was moving her hips in time with his head and moaning. It had taken a lot of convincing before Lissa had let him go down on her - some sort of cultural thing. At first she had been stiff as a board, unwilling to spread her legs and relax. But Fabian's unfeigned enjoyment and the undeniably pleasurable sensations of a probing tongue in her pussy had eventually changed her attitude. Now she was addicted to it, and it was a regular part of their lovemaking.

When he sensed that she was ready, he moved his attention upward, concentrating on the meaty little bump of her clit, circling around it with the stiff tip of his tongue. She gasped and lifted her hips up, and he slid his hands under her ass, squeezing her buttocks.

For a few seconds there was only the sound of her ragged breathing as she focused intently on the waves of sensation coming from her pussy. Her orgasm was a teasing, lurking promise, hovering just out of reach. She needed the stimulation just a fraction of a millimeter higher, just a tad faster... she lifted one knee, shifted her weight slightly, and Fabian's tongue suddenly hit the right spot. Her orgasm blossomed quickly inside her, like fireworks exploding in her stomach, and the pleasure was so unbearably intense that she cried out without even realizing it.

Fabian wiped her copious juices from his mouth and smiled up at her. Her warm brown eyes were still hazy and unfocused, but she smiled back at him lazily.

"Thank you," she said.

"You don't have to thank me," he replied automatically, and they both smiled. "Didn't take as long this time, did it?"

"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention to the time," she said. "It takes a lot of concentration to come that way. Not like..."

"Not like what?" he asked, sitting up. His cock jutted up into the air like a flagpole.

Lissa looked embarrassed. "Like when I do it to myself."

"Oh, so you masturbate?" he said. "You never told me. How naughty. Jeez, here I was thinking you were a nice girl and all..."

"Oh stop," she said, giggling and kicking him playfully. "I *was*a nice girl until I met you."

"But you had these... urges," he said dramatically.

"Yeah, I had urges. Every day after school I had an urge."

"Every day, huh? Interesting. You'll have to show me some time."

"Show you? No way!"

"Yes way. I want to see how you get yourself off. Maybe I'll learn something."

"Hmm. Maybe someday. It's easier that way, but it doesn't feel nearly as good."

He picked up one of her feet and moved it into his lap, and rubbed his cock against the sole. She giggled. "That tickles!"

"Don't forget, I have urges too," he teased. "Not as strong as yours, I'm sure, but pretty strong."