Como siempre, para mi mama. (Like always, for my mother.)
I did not want to be there, especially with the guitar weighing me down. The crowd made me uncomfortable as soon as I opened the door. I had made a decision though; my discomfort meant nothing. I looked around the off-campus hangout; it was surprisingly large for a non-franchise coffeehouse. Every seat was full, so people lined the walls or sat on the floor between tables. The faces were mostly Latin because the Images House sponsored the monthly get-together. They called it a talent show for young Latin artists that attended the university. There were stands with paintings and sculptures on them to the left of the front door. On stage, a particularly bad political poet was lost in the general apathy of college socializing.
I spotted Dacia in the front row. The table was reserved for her, or at least no one dared sit there. Dacia could be vocal in her displeasure, almost as loud as with her pleasure. A couple of guys sat at the table trying to grasp and keep her fleeting attention. I sighed; even if Dacia made me feel, I had to wonder if this was worth it.
I walked to the stage making sure not to bump the guitar case against anything. The case cradled my father's guitar, the last thing he gave me. I climbed the steps onto the stage slowly. A girl was speaking into the microphone announcing dates for other Latin events in the area. She grew quiet when she felt my approach. Her head turned so she could stare at me. It had to have been in my eyes because she backed away slowly. I grabbed the stool the poet had pushed aside and placed it in front of the mike. I drew my father's guitar and sat down. The microphone was too high; I looked around the room as I adjusted it. The conversations stopped as people turned to watch. They could sense the approach of ghosts three years dead, and it chilled them.
I touched the guitar strings looking at Dacia.
"Only this one time," I said into the microphone. "For you, Dacia."
It did not take a long search to find the songs that said what I wanted to. She would never know the real reasons for my selections; those were for my heart, soul, and voice.
"Dejaria Todo (I'd leave everything)," I whispered.
I don't know how other singers do it: there are songs that I sing and songs that I live.
'Lo dejaria todo porque te quedaras' (I'd leave everything for you to stay.)
I met Dacia at my job in the computer labs during the summer after my freshman year. I was an emergency hire when they could not fill shifts during the spring semester. One of the female supervisors adopted me as her little brother, so I got hours during the summer session. Dacia was a junior that I noticed around the lab but never worked with. She got summer hours too; because the lab was only open a few hours a day, we worked together a lot.
Dacia had dark-honey hair and mischievous brown eyes. Her curves were a danger to moving traffic. She always wore dresses and confessed they made her feel sexier. I think she teased me as a way to relieve the boredom of our shifts. With my inexperience, I made a good target.
To be honest, she seduced herself.
Dacia enjoyed her provocateur games and flirtations with me. I took her up on an invitation to meet for lunch before our shift one day, which became having lunch together every day. After a while, we ate dinner together after our shifts too. I was still surprised when she invited me to her house. The girls she shared it with made eyes at Dacia when they caught sight of me.
"Robbing the cradle, dear," the boldest teased.
They laughed when I blushed. Dacia took my hand and guided me to her room.
"Don't mind them," she told me closing the door loudly. "They're jealous. None of them have ever seen a cuter boy."
Cute was not what I was hoping for, but wisely kept my mouth shut. I did that a lot around Dacia.
'Mi credo, mi pasado, mi religion' (My creed, my past, my religion).
She was wearing a light summer dress that drifted freely around her legs when she moved. It clung to the curve of her bosom and hips almost as tightly as I wanted to. Dacia walked to the radio and popped in a CD while giving me a wicked smile. I knew the worst of teasing tortures was coming, but Dacia was an anathema to male resistance.
Music was a part of Dacia's soul. She played it constantly in the lab and walked around with an iPod permanently attached to her ears. Sadly, she had neither the voice nor the instrumental talent to be a musician. Dacia could dance though! She danced for me, and I felt no pain. Her hips swayed gently with the first notes of the guitar. She forgot my presence as the music lifted her body from the ground.
Dacia danced herself into my arms.
She toppled on top of me after the third song. Her breathing was deep, and a light layer of sweat covered her skin. I wanted to know if she tasted salty or sweet. Our faces were inches apart. I watched a bead of sweat crawl onto her upper lip. She moved her hips on me tracing the outline of a painfully hard dick.
I licked the drop of salt from her lip.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me hard. My lungs burned with the desire to forget about breathing while we kissed. Dacia moved on top of me as the kiss deepened. I pushed my groin against her stomach; she danced on it as if I was already inside her.
I put my hands on her ass. The desperation to have her grew too fast for me to control. I grabbed fistfuls of the dress and pulled it up. I almost came feeling nothing between her skin and my hands. I moved my hand between her ass cheeks to check for a thong but only a gasp of pleasure met my touch.
She grabbed the dress and ripped it over her head. My heart hurt as it drummed an impossibly fast beat. Dacia was naked underneath the dress. I had worked an entire shift with a thin layer of cotton between her skin and my fingers!
I wanted days to worship Dacia's body, but my dick was on the brink of a massive explosion. Dacia smiled as she undid my jeans; she knew that she was the focus of my existence. She got off the bed to pull my pants and underwear off. My dick strained to touch her, to drown in her waters. She took my dick in her hand and spread the pre-cum on the head with her thumb. Trying to hold on, I closed my eyes. I wanted to cum, but it had to be inside her. I opened my eyes when her grip shifted.
Dacia was on top of me. I felt the touch of her pussy. I gritted my teeth fighting away the pleasure as she impaled her body on mine. She settled me inside her with a sigh. Her hips rotated to find the perfect fit between us. Her body moved up my dick and slammed down. I groaned pushing away the desire for release.
"It's okay, baby," Dacia whispered leaning down so her lips almost touched my ear. "Let it go inside me."
'Mi nombre, mi fuerza, hasta mi propia vida' (My name, my strength, even my very life.)
I grabbed her ass and guided her almost off my dick. I let her go, and she dropped suddenly. I wanted to last long enough for her to peak with me but could not hold on to forever. My fingers dug into her ass cheeks, and I lifted her up again. She gasped as I retook her body with a thickened dick. Both of us were amazed that the feel of my cum jetting into her set Dacia off.
She collapsed with her forehead on top of mine. I flipped us over, pulled my hips back, and thrust into her. Dacia grabbed my sides in surprise. My dick had not softened; it felt like it never would as I thrust into her again.
'Y que mas da perder, si te llevas del todo mi fe' (What else is there to lose, if you took my faith in everything.)
I stared at Dacia as I sang. I let her see in my eyes, what I should have said every night we were together. I sang about everything I was giving up to sing for her. Her face was stunned when the last notes of the guitar faded. Everyone's eyes were on me; inside me, what stirred grew in a crescendo.
My father called me Stringbreaker the first time I clipped the strings on his guitar. I couldn't make it sing the way he did when I emulated his motions on the strings, but they made almost as good a tone when I snipped them. I always wondered if he knew the fate he sealed me into with that name.
Everyone clapped as soon as they recovered; people do not come to college talent shows expecting to find talent. A few people moved closer to the stage. Eyes moved between Dacia and me. The boys at Dacia's table got up and walked away. They must have known her well enough to accept there was no competing against someone whose life had been built on music since the day he was born. There were also the five years I hated, during which I played and sang for hours every day. I had hoped I would never sing again, but I could not let Dacia go. No one knew about those five years, and I did not feel like talking about what I learned during that time.
I pulled a small bottle of water out of my pocket. I took a sip looking around the room until my eyes settled on Dacia again.
"Next from Alejandro," I said to her. "Aprendiz(Apprentice/Pupil)."
'Tus besos saben tan amargos' (Your kisses taste so bitter)
Six unspeakably glorious months followed. I was happy for the first time since I turned eleven. Initially, I did not believe we were going to be more than a night I cherished. I woke up to find Dacia studying me the next morning.
"Why am I here?" she asked.
"I don't know," I told her honestly. "But I hope you never leave."
.... There is more of this story ...