Chapter 18

Another great show in Barcelona, for a nearly full auditorium, albeit with far less seats to fill.

Backstage after, Alejandra greeted him with a kiss. “That was quite amazing.”

“Thanks.”

She immediately handed him off to Essie, who’d watched backstage. And went to Al, who seemed to be annoying Eddie, not understanding the rock star’s need for quiet. “Come on,” she muttered. “You can be with him at home.”

“Alright Alejandra,” he smiled without affecting his cruel eyes.

Joe was tired, having spent the day touring Barcelona. Gaudi’s cathedral in the morning. The Picasso museum later.

“You up for tonight?” Essie asked.

“Always,” he smiled and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Feeling amazingly revived after. “Definitely,” he added. “Just the two of us from now on.”

“I thought I’d invite Liz. You seemed to enjoy her watching. Another demonstration of your prowess?”

“Uhm ... if you want.”

She laughed. “I don’t. I want you all to myself.”

“Little Vixen,” he smirked.

“Wow. You haven’t called me that in ages.”

“You’re not so little anymore.”

“But I’m still a vixen.”

“Still foxy,” he agreed.

She laughed. Taking his hand, she said, “Let’s go.”

“My stuff.”

“Nate said he’d take care of it. I’d like to walk with my husband.”

“As you wish, my wife.”

The theater was a little over a mile from the house. The weather was balmy. Warm with a cooling breeze. Perfect.

They stopped at a bar/restaurant opened late. For Tapas and local red wine. The place was busy. Essie asked if they could share a table with a young couple. In Spanish. Joe shouldn’t have been surprised his wife was fluent. Eidetic memory and all. But he was. Katrina and José.

The young, handsome man couldn’t stop gazing at Essie. Joe couldn’t blame him. The cute, dark haired woman focused on Joe. “You look familiar,” she said in perfect English, albeit accented.

“I’m a writer,” he told her.

“Joe,” she said. Her eyes widened. “Joseph Solomon!”

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled.

“I was an exchange student.”

“Where?”

“Iowa of all places. Spent a cold year there.”

“Where?”

“Iowa City. I heard about the Iowa Writers Workshop there. I guess I wanted to get some of its effect via osmosis, because I was too young to attend.”

“I actually attended a competing workshop at Grinnell. Planned to attend school there, but didn’t. Just a couple weeks one summer. Not the full matriculation of the Iowa workshop. I also run, or have run, a workshop at Hunter College where I teach. In Manhattan. How the heck did you hear about Iowa all the way here? You’re from Barcelona?”

“Valencia actually. I like poetry. Adventurous poetry. American poetry. I read about a movement. Actualists. Originated there.”

“I’m not familiar with them.”

“Oh. They’re lovely. You have something I can write on?”

Joe pulled out a notebook and a pen from his ubiquitous shoulder bag. Katrina couldn’t help looking inside. “A writer’s notebook,” she explained.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“What’s this?”

“Notes. For the novel I’m working on. There’s poems in the back if you wish.”

“Yes please.”

She turned to the back and paged forward, figuring out which would be his latest. “Oh,” she murmured. An erotic poem he had written that day. About Alejandra. The young movie actress. The pregnant exploited one in porno. The middle aged woman and the sad reverberations he saw in her of her filmed youth.

“Beautiful,” Katrina said. “But very sad.”

“Alejandra,” Joe nodded.

“A lover?” she asked, glancing at Essie.

“Yes,” Essie smiled. “A quite remarkable woman, as all Joe’s women seem to be.”

“But you are married to him, yes?”

“Very happily. But we all learn to share.”

“You have a lover too?”

“Lovers. Our wives. And I have a boy now. A man, but he is a bit boyish. Don’t worry. I won’t seduce your boyfriend.”

“My husband. I believe he wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“Is that a problem?” Joe asked, realizing José knew little English.

“No,” Katrina laughed. “He is handsome, yes?”

“Very,” said Essie.

“He is very shy. We grew up together. It took him years to admit he loved me. When I came home. He was miserable without me. And so,” she showed them her gold band.

“But as good looking as he is,” said Essie.

“He is ... uncomfortable. Though not so much with you.” They laughed.

“Sounds like Stuart,” said Essie. “He’s somewhat autistic.”

“Yes,” said the woman.

Essie returned to talking to the man in Spanish, explaining what they had been discussing. His nods suggested he understood his lot in life and accepted it.

“So. Iowa,” said Joe.

“Yes. The older daughter of the family attended Iowa. The one my age came here. Came to Valencia. A true exchange, yes? The older daughter didn’t study English. She wasn’t a writer. Her major was biology. She wished to be a doctor. But she liked to read fiction. You were her favorite. Especially the two books not the trilogies?”

“No Contest and moms,” Joe nodded.

“Yes. Mine too as it turns out. I very much like them. Especially moms. So you are writing a new novel. It has been a while.”

“Yes it has. I have been writing poetry and plays. I co-own a theater just off Broadway where I produce and direct my plays. It used to be part of the Broadway theaters. Still is I guess, except my plays tend not to be the kind most tourists want to see. It sounds like I have some ego where I can do my own thing. My little showcase. But it’s something I’ve done since before I started writing novels. Or at least publishing them. And by and large my plays are successful for their short runs. Occasionally longer runs for the more successful. Some of my plays have been done regionally. In fact I met a girl who acted in one done in Paris! It’s ironic, but I always worried that my playwriting and poetry would get in the way of becoming a novelist. Mostly getting a publisher interested in publishing my novels. To the point I used a pseudonym to hide my identity with my plays and poems. But now the reverse happened. I’m supposedly a novelist dabbling in playwriting. Even if it’s always been parallel. So people generally don’t take me seriously as a playwright. Except those who do, I guess. We do tend to fill the theater. With locals mostly.”

“And your poetry. The one I read is somewhat conventional, and yet quite unique. Your metaphors have great depth and resonance.”

“I know the woman, the one I wrote about, has my latest collection. Perhaps you wish to borrow it? Though I don’t want you to presume...”

She laughed. “You can if you want. Presume I mean. My husband seems much taken with your gorgeous wife. And fucking a famous author does have its appeal.”

Joe laughed at her bluntness. “Please don’t take this wrong. You are quite appealing yourself. Especially your honesty. But I promised my wife a night together. Just the two of us. I’m on tour playing bass for my best friend. And she’s visiting.”

Essie waved her hand to stop her conversation with José. “What Joe says is true,” she explained. “Even though I find your husband handsome and adorable. And despite appearances, neither one of us has any interest in one night stands. But I have to admit I’m tempted. I believe Joe may be too. Problem is, I could suggest a quickie, to get it out of our system, but Joe tends not to make things quick, and I believe José would need more time as well.”

“I was joking,” said Katrina.

“Were you? There’s a reason Joe has so many lovers.”

“Maybe not,” the woman blushed and bowed her head.

“Let’s blow this pop stand then. Joe can at least lend you his book. If nothing else happens...” Essie shrugged.

“Okay,” Katrina smiled. Hopeful.

Walking to the opulent house, the pairing continued. Spanish and English.

“Tell me about these Actualists,” Joe asked.

Her lengthy response made him interested in reading them. “Sounds like the objectionists,” he noted at one point.

“But even more so,” she replied, and continued her excited monologue.

When they finally arrived at the house, which amazed the young couple, Joe had them wait amongst his various rock colleagues in the common room while he headed up to Liz’s room, noticing both she and Celia were absent at the party. He tapped tentatively on Liz’s door.

“Who is it?” he heard.

“Joe.”

A naked Celia opened the door, her face gleaming with Liz’s juices. “Sorry,” he said.

“Just warming her up,” Celia giggled. Liz hid under her blanket, her shoulders naked, along with the rest of her, Joe presumed. “I thought you were with Essie.”

“Yes. Uhm. I was wondering if my book of poetry is here.”

“Yes,” said Liz, revealing her nakedness when she got up, grabbing the book on the bedside table and handed it to him.

“Is it okay if I lend it to a friend?” Joe asked.

“Ask Alex.”

“Of course. My apologies again.”

“A friend?” Celia asked.

“Tell you later. Liz...”

“Is very horny. Okay,” she giggled and shut the door when he vacated the doorway.

Shaking his head and chuckling, he headed down the hall to Alejandra’s room, having noticed her absence as well.

“Come in,” she said after he knocked. She was in bed wearing reading glasses. She set the book aside and smiled. “A nice surprise. Sit.”

“I...”

“Sit please.”

“Okay.” He sat. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Prefer my own company when I’m not with you or Lizabeth. I asked Al about acting. He said yes.”

“Stipulations?”

“None really. I think he thinks nothing will come of it.”

“A definite possibility. But he’s an asshole nevertheless.”

“He is. I called my photographer friend.”

“When?”

“Just now. He goes to sleep very late. Often calls me in the middle of the night, drunk and stoned and crying about his latest lover leaving him. I don’t often call him. Usually when I need some cheering up. Anyway I made an appointment for Monday. He said he’d have a surprise for me.”

“Any idea what?”

“He does know people in the business, but I won’t keep my hopes up.”

“We are actually visiting a studio when we’re there. A television studio to tape a concert for some music show.”

She laughed. “Just imagining Al’s reaction if I were cast as a regular for a television show.”

“The little box wouldn’t do you justice.”

“Except movies end up on little boxes.”

“True.”

“What’s with the book?”

“It’s why I’m here. A friend wants to borrow my book of poems.”

“A friend?”

“To be honest I just met her at a tapas bar with her husband.”

She laughed.

“It isn’t like that,” he defended himself.

“Isn’t it?”

“To tell you the truth I don’t know.”

“Is she young and cute?”

“She is. But I’d rather be with Esther. Or you.”

“Joseph,” she murmured, opening her arms. He shifted close enough to hug and kiss her. “You should go before I keep you here.”

“Tonight,” Joe said.

“I suppose it is,” she smiled. “You can lend her the book. Have her return it. I wish to meet her.”

“I will,” he chuckled. “You could always come down and meet her now.”

“I will scare her later,” she smirked.

“As you wish milady,” Joe bowed before leaving, chuckling along the way.

Joe returned to the common room and shook his head. Too many weird scenes. A star struck Katrina smoking a joint with Eddie, unaware of the fat blond asshole checking her out. Stuart with Essie and José conversing, Essie translating. Both men looking surprisingly at ease.

Joe decided Katrina needed saving, walking up to her and taking the joint from her hand.

“You never said you played bass with Eddie Frank,” she said.

“You didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure if you knew him.”

“Iowa again. The parents were big fans. Especially the father. I think he took a fancy to me.”

“Who wouldn’t,” said Asshole.

“I prefer men closer to my age,” said Katrina. “An honor to meet you Eddie.”

“A pleasure,” said Eddie, pulling out his Altoids case and handing her a fat joint. “For later.”

“Thanks!”

She moved away, to her husband.

“You noticed,” Joe said along the way.

“The fat pig staring and licking his chops. I noticed.”

“He has a thing for Catalan women.”

“Money,” Katrina muttered.

“Yep.”

“Oh good,” said Essie, leaning against Joe, “Alex lent you the book.”

“She wants Katrina to return it. And for them to meet.”

“You should meet her Kat,” said Essie. “She’s a remarkable woman. Scary at first, but don’t let that fool you.”

“Is she ... the mistress of the house?”

“Married to Al the asshole,” Essie nodded.

“Owned by him actually,” said Joe sadly.

“But ... will he be here?” Katrina said.

“Alejandra is well aware of his proclivities,” Joe explained. “She’ll make certain he won’t be a problem.”

“Okay.”

“Excuse us,” said Essie. “You can translate for Stuart. I hope you stay the night. Perhaps we might enjoy what we discussed. But right now I need my stud husband.”

“Of course,” Katrina chuckled.

Essie led Joe to the smaller room she had been assigned. Her clothes immediately removed, she lay out on the double bed. Cueing in, instantly hard, Joe stripped and joined her, sliding between her thighs where Essie’s hand guided his cock inside her. Once deep, they hugged and kissed.

“Joe,” she murmured.

“I know.”

Love.

He gave her what she wanted. What he wanted. Slow and loving. Lots of kisses. Lots of eyes meeting eyes. Murmurs of pleasure. Quickening when she needed it. Mouth moving to her perfect boobs. Shifting higher to bring the best pleasure inside her. Working her up to climax. Joining her there.

“Joe,” she murmured after, resting against his naked body.

“Esther,” Joe responded.

“I’m feeling rather indecisive.”

“Tell me your choices.”

“I could suck you back to your lovely erection. Ride that cock to at least a couple orgasms. Then have you fuck me doggy for a couple more until you cum. After that some lovely words. Intimate words. Until we end up ending how we started, only with you fucking me for hours.”

“Are we that predictable?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. All ways are amazing with you. And we never have needed silly fantasies or games. I admit there’s much more variety when we have all our woman there to play with. But me and you ... It’s perfect. Not only is it not getting old, but it will never get old.”

“Okay.”

“You agree?”

“Yes Esther. Being with you is perfect. What we do is perfect. The positions we choose ... it’s a pattern. But more a natural progression. What feels best.”

“Yes Joe.”

“Or?”

“Or we toss on some clothes and go fetch Katrina, José and Stuart.”

“Stuart?”

“Yes Stuart. It seems not only is José similarly autistic, but he’s also similarly bisexual.”

“Experience?”

“His first. With another autistic boy. They met in what we call Special Ed. It seems they connected when neither had connected with anyone else. Except José with Kat. José’s parents aren’t the type to accept his homosexuality. But the other boy, it sounds like they’re some sort of swingers or something, so they definitely were okay with it. So with the miracle of connection, José’s parents welcomed their friendship. The sex of course never happened at José’s house.”

“What happened with this boy?”

“Kat happened.”

“The boy wasn’t comfortable with her.”

“Yep.”

“And how does José feel about losing his lover?”

“He’s autistic. It’s uncertain. But he says there’s this emptiness. Like something’s missing.”

“And him with Katrina?”

“She enjoys it.”

“Does he?”

“He’s sort of like you. Which is weird because otherwise he’s completely different. But he gets off on her getting off. Making her cum makes him cum.”

“You think that’s what it was with that boy? Giving each other pleasure as the key to getting theirs?”

“They struggle to get the message. Body language and intonation. So maybe you’re right. When it’s that obvious.”

“Is it that way with Stuart?”

“I suppose it is. But of course, being a man, cumming is more mechanical than with a woman.”

“True.”

“But maybe that’s what makes him such a gifted lover. It’s of paramount importance that he gives me the most pleasure he can.”

“I see two problems with your second choice.”

“Our problem with one night stands.”

“Okay three,” Joe chuckled.

“Interesting that you forgot that one. But she is cute and divertingly honest. Go on.”

“First...”

“You mean second.”

“Quiet, Vixen.”

“Yes Stud.”

“Second,” he chuckled and she giggled, “If Katrina joins the two men, Stuart needs to be comfortable with her.”

“And probably won’t be. Okay. Third?”

“Me.”

“Not being comfortable. With sex between men. Which means if this happens, I won’t be with you.”

“Or Katrina.”

“Hmm,” she contemplated, absently circling his nipples. “There’s a solution for the first problem.”

“Oh?”

“Invite them on the tour.”

“They could do that?”

“They’re both college students. They both aren’t working since their jobs are current with their classes. Kat’s in graduate school while José is struggling to get his first degree.”

“But when you’re gone, who’ll translate for José and Stuart?”

“Maybe Stuart can get used to being with Kat.”

“And Consuela will be joining me. And I’m not even sure I want to be with Katrina.”

“Because you think she doesn’t need you?”

“Yes. You do?”

“Yes. Even though they probably love each other, how much do you think José can express his love, except maybe to give her some nice orgasms? And I bet she wouldn’t mind a shot at Eddie.”

“Some groupie sex. She might object to Rachel’s presence.”

“Maybe.”

“This is important to you. Enough to separate us tonight.”

“It’s that white knight thing.”

“I figured. Stuart does have Charlie.”

“But they’re sort of simpatico, Stuart and José. And it would be like José’s first lover.”

“Let’s go talk to them.”

Essie nodded. A half smile. Ambivalent about the choice.

They went to the room Stuart shared with Charlie and Sandy, the other two still partying. Stuart and José sat close on the bed while Katrina sat across from them on a chair. “Come with me,” said Essie to the two young men.

“Use my room,” Joe said.

Essie nodded and left.

“Follow me,” Joe said to Katrina.

She blushed.

“Take the poetry book.”

“Okay.” A little confused.

More when he took her downstairs to Alejandra’s office. Better when he tapped his lap when he sat on Alejandra’s office chair and she sat on it.

Alejandra had a computer on the desk, and Joe turned it on. Waited for it to open and clicked on the internet. Typed in Actualist on the search. “Show me,” he said.

She found a way to shift things to English and opened a site. “This is the most succinct history,” she said, finding a feature on the sort of web magazine. “It’s where I first learned of them.”

He read through, finding it fascinating. She filled him in on further information. Once done, she steered him to pages that had poems from the poets he had just read about. He printed a couple poems out, and went back and printed a page from the history. It would have the website.

“Joe,” she finally said, and turned around in the chair and kissed him. The kiss became intense, with Joe grabbing her firm full ass to bring pressure and rubbing to their two excited genitals. When she reached down to his lump, he stopped her. “Come on,” he said. “Take my book.”

He led them to Essie’s room where they took the same position, Joe sitting on the edge of the bed and Katrina on his lap. Pussy against cock. Lips crushed together. Tongue against tongue. He pulled her t shirt over her head and reached around for her bra clasp and undid it. “Beautiful,” he said about her full, resilient breasts. She had the hint of fat at her belly which appealed to him. Soft and feminine. He studied her flesh. The weight of her breasts and the smoothness of her abdomen. Before unfastening her jeans. He turned them around and into the middle of the bed where he pulled away the remainder of her clothes. “Beautiful,” he said again. She had a remarkable body. Voluptuous without being too much. Somewhere between Cheryl and Essie. After removing his shirt he began kissing his way down it. Time spent on her breasts and nipples revealed some sensitivity. She could take only some pressure on her nipples. It excited her, but not overwhelmingly. His exploration continued. Lips leading the way. His hands remaining on her breasts.