Chapter 2
MEXICO STRAIGHT AHEAD-LAST CHANCE FOR U.S., the sign proclaimed, and Lizbeth prepared to turn off the freeway.
"Oh, let's go, Miss Parsons!" Mary Ellen begged.
"Yes, Miss Parsons!" Roberta added. "I want to get some souvenirs."
Lizbeth considered the matter as the van rolled along in the right-hand lane, aproaching the off-ramp. Perhaps they should take a look at Mexico, as long as they were so close to the border, she thought. People went back and forth all the time, she understood, so it had to be safe. Tijuana was just like an American town, she imagined.
"All right," she told the girls, and changed lanes. "But we're only going to stay for an hour or so. We want to take in Sea World this afternoon."
The young girls squealed and clapped their hands at the prospect of visiting a foreign country, if only for a short time.
Lizbeth was a bit apprehensive, because she, like most Americans, had read the horror stories in the newspapers concerning U. S. citizens held in stinking Mexican jails, sometimes being tortured and deprived of due process. But those were just dopers, she reassured herself. Who cared what happened to them? The Mexicans wouldn't bother her and her girls. And if on some odd chance she did encounter trouble, there would be an American nearby to offer help. Why, Tijuana was practically a suburb of San Diego.
The large gates of the border loomed ahead of her, and Lizbeth's nervousness increased, though she considered it foolish. She prepared herself to answer the questions which she believed would be posed by the border guards: Why was she entering Mexico? How long did she intend to stay?
To her surprise, no officer stopped her on the American side, and the knot of uniformed Mexicans on their side of the line simply waved her through.
It was the simplest thing imaginable, just like driving from one American neighborhood to another, and it reinforced Lizbeth's assumption that Tijuana was more American than Mexican.
But as she looked around at the motley assortment of odd structures, dirt side streets, pavement with chuckholes ... and at the dark, sometimes hostile faces that stared back at her ... she had to revise her judgment. She definitely was not in the United States. What amazed her was that the transition had occurred so abruptly, yet smoothly.
The girls obviously were fascinated by what they saw around them.
"What does that sign say, Miss Parsons?" Mary Ellen asked as she pointed to a large billboard just ahead.
French was Lizbeth's foreign language, although she knew a few Spanish words and phrases.
"Well, cerveza means beer," she said, "so I guess that's what they're advertising."
"We know that!" Roberta replied snippily. "There's a beer bottle in the picture."
"How about that little sign ahead?" the younger girl asked.
"Alto? Why, that means ... stop!" Lizbeth recalled just in time to avoid colliding with a rattletrap taxi which passed in front of them, billowing a cloud of acrid exhaust.
Somehow they had gotten off the main route and were in a particularly sleazy part of town. Lizbeth had to steer around holes in the narrow; ragged-edged pavement.
"Look out for that dog!" Mary Ellen cried as a mangy-looking mongrel scurried across their path. They narrowly missed it.
Lizbeth's attention had been diverted by a group of male idlers in front of a bar, who gazed at her with obvious lust. They were dark-skinned and slovenly, and their looks made her shiver. She had read that Latins were especially attracted to blondes. Perhaps it wasn't safe for her and the girls ... particularly young, platinum-haired Mary Ellen ... to be there.
"I think we'd better turn around and go back, girls," she said.
"Oh, no!" Mary Ellen cried.
"Not until we've looked in the shops!" Roberta added.
"Well.. ."
They stopped for a signal at what appeared to ba a main street, and Lizbeth noted some curio shops across the way. She also saw Americans walking into them.
This ought to be reasonably safe, she concluded, and made a right turn after the signal had changed to green. She felt fortunate to find a parking space at the curb, and she headed into it. Surprisingly, the street was broad enough to permit vertical parking on both sides and still allow four lanes for traffic.
"Now I want you girls to listen carefully," Lizbeth said before opening the door of the van. "You're to remain with me every minute. There'll be no wandering away. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Parsons," Mary Ellen dutifully replied.
But Roberta was already hopping out of the van, drawing a glance from a Mexican fellow on the sidewalk as she flashed her bare teenaged thighs.
Lizbeth had never seen so many men just standing around. Didn't they have jobs, she wondered?
"Come along, girls," she said, and herded her two charges in front of her. Her striking bottom undulated in a clingy blue skirt.
She didn't notice the tall, slender Latin, imbeccably groomed, who watched her closely from behind shaded glasses. He turned to a man in cheap pants and shirt and said in Spanish:
"That one, my friend, with the beautiful, plump ass. I would wager that she is a real blonde ... no? And she has those delightful youngsters with her. It is a rare package deal; wouldn't you say?"
The nondescript Mexican in simple garb shrugged and sauntered to the vehicle from which he had watched Lizbeth and the girls alight. His friend, who remained standing on the sidewalk, lit a long, thin cigar.
Meanwhile, Lizbeth and her charges had entered a shop.
"Ooh, look at that baby bull!" Roberta cried, spying a brightly painted plaster toy which was displayed at ceiling height in a corner of the store. She immediately raced up an intersecting aisle, headed toward it.
"Roberta!" Lizbeth exclaimed, but her cry was lost in the mixed hubbub of Spanish and English which swirled about her.
Moreover, Mary Ellen was clutching her arm, calling her attention to a display of leather handbags, so she couldn't immediate-
ly pursue the other girl.
When she finally got free, she ordered Mary Ellen to remain where she was, and took off after Roberta. But the more active one had already moved on to another part of the store, and Lizbeth glanced about in mild panic. She took two quick turns and found herself between sone high rows of cartons, evidently in a storage part of the shop. She seemed to be alone.
"May I help you, seftorita?" an accented male voice inquired softly from behind her.
She turned her head with a start and stared at a handsome young Mexican with dark eyes, who stood very close to her. She assumed he was a stock clerk.
"Well, I'm looking for ..."
She felt his hand. It slowly but very boldly began exploring her buttocks.
Lizbeth's eyes widened, and her lips parted. She was about to cry out, because she felt grossly offended. But the utterly confident look in the young .fellow's eyes, and the sureness with which he went about his shocking business, robbed her of her will.
His experienced palm stroked the shivery half-globes which were clasped by the thin fabric of her skirt, and his deft fingers found the faint ridges which betrayed the elastics of her panties. He traced one panty elastic, then the other, as they arched upward across the springy roundness of her ass. Then he audaciously sought out the crotch-seam of her briefs, which bridged her buttocks just above the very soft center of attraction where those bulges joined her thighs.
That she hadn't cried out or run away by that time was a give-away, Lizbeth shamefully realized. And, God help her, the give-away was true! There was something about being far from home and the cloistered environment of her school that had made her a little wild. She would never have permitted anything like this to happen in Baxter.
The Mexican poked his finger at the crack between her buttocks, and she gave a start.
He was speaking softly, almost hypnotically, "And just what was it you were looking for?"
"Well, I ..."
Evidently not satisfied with the intimacy which his finger was achieving while her skirt and panties were in the way, the audacious man began to pull Lizbeth's skirt up. Still they stood alone, with the murmur of the crowd plainly heard on the other side of the packing cases but separated from them.
Lizbeth's odd blend of excitement and dis-
may increased as the man boldly stroked her bare thighs, above the tops of her stockings. His hand passed back and forth across her garter straps and around the firm columns which tapered to exquisite fullness. The most remarkable thing about all this was that the man looked directly into her eyes the entire time and seemed to command her by the sheer power of his masculinity.
He raised her skirt higher, and Lizbeth began to quiver. The vice of decency, which had been crying somewhere in the background of her mind, became louder, warning her not to let this wickedness continue. But the man's touch on the bare lower edges of her buttocks gave her such a giddy response that she couldn't stop him from stroking up onto her panties and feeling the springy give of her ample asscheeks through the clinging nylon. He patted her on the panties several times, just hard enough to make her buttocks tremble. Then he plucked an elastic away from one of the rounded mounds and insinuated his fingertips underneath her filmy briefs.
Lizbeth gasped as the man's hand glided across her bare buttocks.
"Par favor.. ." he said softly, and took one of her hands, placing it on the protrusion of his pants-front as he slipped his middle finger into the warm; satiny crack of her ass.
Lizbeth's brain was doing cartwheels. Her body was quaking, and she feared that her knees might give way. The man's rigid penis stood in his trousers like a tent-pole, and she gripped it, as if to steady herself.
"Unzip my pants, sefiorita," the man shockingly demanded as his fingertip touched the sensitive dimple of her anus, making it tingle madly.
Lizbeth groped for his zipper. She was panting, utterly beside herself from long-frustrated desire. As the man caressed her throbbing asshole with the tip of his finger, not trying to break through but just teasing her in a totally wicked way, she snaked her hand jnto his pants.
Oh, yes ... his big, stiff cock! she thought as she grasped the rigid member. She pulled it out of his trousers and it speared upward; all brown and bony-hard, but with a velvety outer skin that glided up and down. She stroked the fascinating, forbidden object while he continued feeling between her buttocks, using all the fingertips of one hand now ... gliding along the satiny crevice of her bottom, back and forth across her asshole.
He used his other hand to unbutton the front of her blouse and to caress the loaded cups of her brassiere. When he stretched one flimsy bra-cup down, a milky white breast with a gorgeous pink nipple popped out. Doing the same with the other cup, he managed to bare both her breasts without removing her brassiere.
"Ay, Chihuahua!" he breathed. "What beautiful titties!"
Lizbeth's eyes rolled and she flung her head back while she panted through moist pink lips. Though she could no longer see what she was doing, she continued to roll the man's foreskin up and down on his long, hard penis, causing its plum-colored head to swell with hot blood. He gazed at her half-inch pink nipples as he teased first one and then the other with his plucking; twiddling fingers. Then he palmed her quivery globes.
"OOOH!" Lizbeth exclaimed, and she felt herself coming, just as she did when she was alone in bed and played with herself.
The hot bliss spread through her, and she shook. The man bent and fastened his moist mouth around one of her nipples. As he sucked, her orgasm fully flowered, and she clutched his cock so fiercely that it jerked in her hand.
Thank goodness it was pointed slightly away from her, she thought later, so that his vigorous, musky-scented spurts didn't soil her clothes!
Gathering the scattered remnants of her sanity, Lizbeth yanked her hand away from the Mexican's still-twitching rod, and she extricated herself from his clutches. Her panties snapped back against her buttocks, and her skirt dropped. She feverishly stuffed her titties ... as he so lewdly called them ... back into her brassiere, and her trembling fingers buttoned her blouse.
She turned and streaked stumblingly into the main part of the shop, her cheeks rosy and her hair awry. Her panties, she just realized, were quite wet!
"Miss Parsons!" Mary Ellen cried as she re-joined the two girls who were standing together. "We were so worried!"
"We thought you must have run off with some handsome seen-yoah," Roberta added in her Alabama drawl.
If they only knew! Lizbeth shamefully thought, very glad that they didn't.
Well, did you get your blasted souvenir?" she angrily asked Roberta as she pushed her hair back into place. She blamed the unruh child for all that had happened.
"No," Roberta sniffed. "I don't like anything in here. Let's go somewhere else."
"We're going back to the van!" Lizbeth said firmly, and hustled the girls from the shop.
The still-flustered teacher paid no special attention to the man in shirt and trousers who stood near the front of her vehicle. There were so many males lounging around. She just wanted to get out of Tijuana and back on the U. S. side of the border.
She unlocked the van and said; "All right, girls, get in!"
Un momento, sefiorita."
Lizbeth turned quickly and looked at the man who had spoken. He was the one who had been standing near her car.
"Yes?" she said, then, "I don't speak Spanish. Uh ... no habh es ..."
"Very well. We will speak English. Is this your car?"
"Yes! Well, I mean I'm using it. It belongs to my employer. Why do you want to know?"
The man in plain clothes produced a badge. "Lt. Louis Sanchez, police."
Lizbeth tensed. "Well, what is it? Did I violate a parking law or something?"
For answer, the man turned and reached inside the van's fender. He extracted a plastic packet which contained white powder and had tape attached to it. "I watched someone place this," he said. "I am quite sure it is dope."
"But... but..."
"Perhaps we should come along to the station." He gripped Lizbeth's arm.
Terror filled her. "Now, wait!" she exclaimed, bracing herself. "If someone put that in my car, I don't know anything about it. You've got to believe me!"
The two teenagers were watching and listening apprehensively.
"You may explain to the capit&n, Miss uh »
"Parsons. Elizabeth Parsons. I'm a schoolteacher from Baxter, Alabama, and these are two of my students. We're on a vacation trip. Now, really ... do we seem like the sort who would ..."
"What is the problem here, lieutenant?" a well-dressed man in dark glasses inquired as he stepped forward.
Sanchez answered him in rapid-fire Spanish, none of which Lizbeth understood. The other man's reply was brief, after which he turned to the frightened young woman and gave a courtly bow.
"Arturo Reyes, attorney at law. I am at your service, Miss Parsons."
"But I don't need an attorney! I haven't done anything!"
"That may be, but a court must decide. Now, if you wish to await that decision in jail
' "Jail!" Lizbeth exclaimed. "Oh, my God!"
Americans were passing on the sidewalk, some of them glancing her way. But none moved to intervene.
Arturo smiled reassuringly. "Nothing so drastic need happen. Bail can be arranged. I will attend to the details if you wish."
"Well . .." Lizbeth was anguished. She didn't see why she had to be subjercted to any of this ... but jail was unthinkable. "Will it be expensive?" she asked tremulously. -
Arturo shrugged. "For a young American schoolteacher ... no charge. I have many wealthy clients. Let's just say I wish to be of service to you."
Lizbeth smiled despite her predicament. "Well, that's very nice!"
The fact that the lawyer had turned up at the scene of her arrest had made her suspicious of him at first. But since he wasn't asking her for a fee, he obviously wasn't out to take advantage.
He spoke again rapidly to the plainclothes policeman, who nodded. Arturo turned to Lizbeth.
"I have made arrangements for bail to be posted without your appearance, Miss Parsons. In that way, you will be subjected to no embarrassment. It is only required that you remain in the country until your hearing comes up, in about a week."
"Oh, but that's impossible!" she exclaimed. "I have these two girls to take care of."
"Yes . .. yes." Arturo glanced at the frightened adolescents. "I quite understand. They may remain with you."
"But we have no place to stay down here. My funds are limited and ..."
"I was about to offer the hospitality of my rancho. It is nearby."
"Oh, I couldn't let you do that!"
"I am afraid, Miss Parsons, that you have no choice, if you wish me to stand good for your bond. I couldn't accept the responsibility if you were free to return across the border at will. Surely you understand that."
"You mean ... I'll be under arrest, even though I'm not actually in jail?"
"No, of course not. You simply will be remanded to my custody until the hearing. In other words, I shall vouch for your appearance. Of course, if you prefer to stay in jail..."
"Ooh, no!" Lizbeth cried.
"Then it is all agreed?"
"I guess so," she said weakly, seeing no other way out.
Arturo spoke again to the man who had identified himself as a policeman, and Sanchez withdrew.
"Uh, I must make a phone call," Lizbeth said, glancing anxiously about.
"You may do that from my hacienda." Arturo took her arm.
"My car...!" she said as he began to guide her away, the children following.
"That will be attended to."
Lizbeth looked at the two young girls who had been entrusted to her care, and she thought:
Oh, why did I bring them across the border to this awful place? Their parents will never forgive me. I'll jyrobably lose my job!
It didn't occur to her, at the moment, that she was in danger of losing much more than her employment.