Chapter 10
The following day, J.B, showed Dean around San Miguel, as she had promised to do. They walked the cobbled streets for several hours, and Dean found much of interest, especially the open-air market, where peasant families arrayed their colorful wares on makeshift stands or on blankets laid on the street. He found himself growing fond of the girl, but some instinct warned him not to become too deeply involved. She was, after all, living with Tom. Besides, there was her openly independent attitude toward love relationships. Dean had always been accustomed to having the upper hand, accustomed to being the free one, and her disposition disturbed his sense of the game.
They were standing by the outdoor tortilla factory, watching the small, flat cakes being turned out along a short assembly line. "Say," said J.B., "I've got a groovy idea. Feel like going for a ride?" Dean grinned. "Sure," he answered, "What's the surprise."
"You'll see," she replied, looking at him secretively with mock seriousness.
A few miles out of town, they came to a fork in the road. J.B. instructed him to take the left one, and they continued on in silence for almost half an hour over the bumpy,, ill-paved road. Then they came into a small village that seemed to consist of nothing more than a few adobe huts and an ancient cathedral arranged around a dusty square. Dean swerved to avoid a cow, pulled off beside a hitching rail, and shut off the engine. "Is that it," he asked, "the cathedral?" J.B. jumped out and closed the door. "That's it, all right," she said. "Follow me."
The inside of the church was cool and dark. It was like entering another world after the sun-struck dustiness of the village outside. Scattered among the pews were a few people in ragged clothing, kneeling reverently in prayer. From the left came music and a shaft of light. A group of nuns sat in a side section, singing in the haunting style of a Gregorian chant. When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the sanctuary, Dean could see the pulpit with its adornments. There was the usual array of chalices, candles, and crucifixes that one finds in any Catholic church. But as he approached more closely, he could see that the walls around the pulpit were covered with ancient, cracked murals. The scenes they depicted were a far cry from those seen in most religious murals. Each panel showed demons, fire, and unfortunate sinners caught in the horrors of hell. Dean stood transfixed by the sight until J.B. took his arm and led him forward until they were standing by the altar. "They used to sacrifice people here," she whispered. "It was right after the Spanish conquest, and the Spaniards had a hard time persuading the people to give up some of their own religious customs. See there are traces of bloodstains on the stone." Dean looked closely at the altar, and saw dark portions that did indeed look like bloodstains. The dream in the hotel room in Tijuana flashed through his brain, and fear shot like electricity through his whole body. He steeled himself against revealing his inner torment to J.B., and soon the feeling passed. Then she spoke again, still in a whisper. "This place is full of secret passages. Want to go exploring?" Dean nodded enthusiastically. He was glad for a chance to get away from the weird altar.
They chose a small doorway that led into a dark, musty tunnel. The passage twisted and turned, and Dean stumbled a few times in the darkness. Here and there, empty candle holders projected from the walls. When they had walked for several minutes, they came upon a place where the walls widened a few feet on either side, creating a small chamber. J.B. took his hand and drew him off to the side, where there was a stone bench. They sat down together on it, and Dean was very conscious of the warmth emanating from the beautiful girl's body. He turned and kissed her, and she responded immediately, parting her lips and nibbling at his questing tongue. He began unbuttoning her shirt, but suddenly stopped. "What if someone comes?" he whispered.
She laughed softly. "They won't," she assured him. "All the people are superstitious about these passageways. They think the ghost of their patron saint is still lurking around here somewhere, and, as much as they dig the saint, they're not very anxious to meet his ghost."
Reassured, Dean cupped one of her breasts in his hand. The nipple rose quickly to his touch, and he felt her heart beating beneath the warm flesh. He finished unbuttoning the shirt, and began to slip it off her shoulders. "Leave it," she said, "it's kind of cold in here." Then, with the shirt still hanging loosely about her, she stood up and removed her Levi's. Though he could barely see her in the gloom, Dean became giddy with passion as he smelled the hot, musky scent of her cunt a few feet from his face. She sat down again, this time straddling the bench, then reclined away from him on her back, her legs hanging over the sides to the floor. In a voice husky with lust, she demanded his attentions. "Eat me," she implored, "eat me out, right now!"
Dean slid down until he was kneeling at the foot of the long bench. He applied a warm, moist kiss to the inside of her knee, and slowly, painstakingly, traced a hot line of desire with his tongue up the inside of her thigh, nearer and nearer to the source of the exciting odor that sprang from the crux of her smooth thighs. At last, he fastened his mouth over her eager cunt and dipped his tongue deep inside the entrance to her vagina. She moaned in pleasure at the sudden contact and ground her hips against his face. Dean ran his hands up and over her body, brushing aside the open shirt to caress her breasts and the flat, smooth planes of her stomach. Even as she came, making low noises in her throat, he continued to lap at her spending cunt until her body vibrated with sensual ecstasy. As soon as she had finished, they exchanged places, so that Dean was lying on the bench as she had done. She immediately straddled him, sinking slowly down on his anxious cock, balancing herself on the balls of her feet. He reached up and played with her bobbing breasts as she moved slowly up and down on his prick. Her motions increased in speed, and he could tell that she was close to another orgasm. "Hold it in," she pleaded hoarsely, "I want you to come in my mouth." She had scarcely finished the sentence when the orgasm took her, and she threw her head back in wanton delight and rocked wildly back and forth above him. He could feel her vagina contracting powerfully around him, and it was all he could do to keep from coming. But his efforts were momentarily rewarded, as she lifted herself off him and slid down to where he had kneeled previously. Immediately, she took his throbbing organ into her mouth and sucked down hard, meanwhile fondling his balls. He felt his explosion coming, and just at that moment, she inserted her finger into his anus. It was as if she had turned on a hot water tap at full blast; he spewed his lust into her mouth and throat, and she greedily swallowed every drop. When they had rested, they rearranged their clothing and stumbled hand-in-hand out of the cathedral into the blinding light of the hot, Mexican afternoon.
Later, sitting alone on the balcony in the sunset, Dean counted out his remaining money and realized that he had barely enough to eat on, let alone to rent an apartment or a house. So when he sat down with Tom and J.B. to the excellent Mexican dinner J.B. had prepared, he asked them what he might do to earn money while he was in San Miguel. "Well, man," said Tom, between mouthfuls of the spicy food, "you could always do some sculpture and sell it."
Dean shook his head. "No," he replied regretfully, "I'm just not into that right now. I haven't had a single goddam artistic idea for weeks. Besides," he added, "I'd have to have a studio or a place of my own to work in, so that's out. How about a job like washing dishes or something. They got anything like that around here?"
Tom laughed. "Are you kidding, man? They barely have enough jobs like that for the Mexicans. As an alien here, you're not allowed to take a regular job."
Then J.B. broke in. "Hey, Tom -I know what he could do he could hustle!"
Dean laughed disbelievingly. "C'mon, J.B., the people here are so poor that they have to send their daughters out to hustle. Who's going to pay for me?"
"J.B.'s right," said Tom, "there are quite a few well-heeled women connected with the art school. If they were in Acapulco, they'd be making it with the slick studs who hang out there. But even though San Miguel is a tourist place, it's no vacation wonderland. So there's a stud shortage, right?" He grinned at Dean and returned to his meal.
J.B. added a word of encouragement. "If you decide to try it, Dean, we can turn you on to some good prospects. How about it?"
"Give me a chance to think it over," Dean smiled. "We can talk it over later."
That evening found them sitting together at the restaurant, where Dean had first met the painter and his friends. The place was a gathering spot for young people, both Mexican and American, and it was much more crowded than it had been when Dean had first stopped in. Groups of teenagers filled the tables, drinking beer and listening to the jukebox blasting out
Beatles' tunes in Spanish. Tom had resumed trying to talk Dean into becoming a gigolo. "Listen, man, all you have to do is make the scene at the art gallery down the street when they're having an opening. You can always tell who the rich chicks are, because they're the ones who are pricing the stuff instead of just discussing it. Then you just kinda get friendly with them over the martinis. Let 'em know you're a starving artist. It eases their consciences, not to mention their pride, to pretend they're putting out that money for the sake of art."
Dean puffed at his cigarette thoughtfully. "Okay," he said. "I'll try it. When's the next opening?"
Tom looked pleased to have convinced him. "Tomorrow night, man. Tomorrow night."
In a few moments, Tom and J.B. got up as if to leave. "Hey, where are you two going?" Dean asked.
"Home to smoke some good grass and listen to music," Tom answered. "Are you coming?"
Dean scowled. "Not without a chick of my own to keep me company, I'm not. Why don't you sit back down for a couple minutes and I'll see what I can do?" Tom laughed. "Fair enough," he replied, sinking back into his chair, while J.B. fished a dime out of her pocket and headed for the juke box. Dean got up and began circulating among the young people at the other tables. Within minutes, he was back with a tall, slim blonde who looked about fifteen years old. "Tom and J.B., " he announced, "this is
Suzanne. Shall we go?"
Back at the apartment, they sat and talked for awhile. Tom was busy rolling marijuana cigarettes in brown paper. Old Rolling Stones albums were stacked on the portable stereo, and the room flickered with candlelight. Suzanne said she was a student at the art school. She was impressed with Dean's being a professional sculptor. "Could I see some of your work sometime?" she asked him.
"No, afraid not, honey," he said. "I left everything I've done in San Francisco, and I plan to start all over here in San Miguel. But as soon as I do some new stuff, you can take a look at it."
When Tom had finished rolling several joints, he lit one and passed it around. Dean had not smoked any pot in a long time, and the weed tasted and smelled good to him. Even Suzanne took her turn at the joint, dragging deeply and holding the smoke in like an expert. Apparently, thought Dean, the kids at the art school were pretty sophisticated. He was really surprised when, an hour or so later, Tom and J.B. began rolling around together on the floor, and Suzanne turned to him and said "let's fuck" in a matter-of-fact voice. They were all very stoned by then, and their intoxication had the obvious effect of lessening inhibitions. Dean looked over at the other couple. Tom had opened his girl friend's shirt and was sucking her breasts. They were definitely not self-conscious in front of their company.
When he looked back at Suzanne, Dean saw that she had stripped off her clothes and was waiting for him to do the same. Her long blonde hair fell gleaming to her shoulders. Her breasts were smallish and firm, the pink tips standing out with excitement. Dean felt the familiar pulse begin to beat in his groin as he surveyed her slim, lovely body. He smiled and reached for his belt buckle.
Soon they were fucking on the couch, and his slow thrusts were accompanied by sighs of appreciation from the young girl. He looked over at the couple beside him on the floor. J.B. had Tom's cock in her mouth, and he was gasping with pleasure as she sucked down on it. Inspired by this scene, Dean pulled out of Suzanne and moved up to straddle her, presenting his wet cock to her mouth. She sucked it in eagerly, cupping his tensed buttocks in her hands. Moving in and out of the soft, young mouth, he soon spurted his lust against the back of her throat, as her fingernails dug rhythmically into his flesh. Dean withdrew his still hard, glistening cock, and looked over at Tom and J.B., who were resting nearby on the floor.
"Hey, why don't we all do something together?" Tom suggested. The others nodded their assent, and in no time at all they decided upon a configuration. Dean lay on the couch, with his legs dangling over the edge to the floor. J.B. knelt in front of him, sucking his cock, while Tom fucked her from behind. Suzanne sat on Dean's chest, presenting her dripping cunt to his mouth. In this position, they all moved together, squirming in erotic abandon. When Tom and J.B. reached their orgasms together, they drew away, their lust sated. Dean shivered, and pummeled the girl's teenage clitoris furiously with his tongue, as he felt J.B.'s lips slide off the end of his cock. Then he lowered Suzanne to the floor, and, placing himself between her slim, pale legs, he shoved his throbbing organ deeply inside her. The young girl planted her feet firmly on the floor and slammed her pulsating, hot cunt against him again and again. He felt J.B.'s warm tongue suddenly lapping at his anus, and then he and the girl exploded together and collapsed on the rug. After a few minutes, the candles were blown out, and the couples retired to their separate beds. Dean lay awake for awhile with the lovely young blonde asleep in his arms, wondering what it would be like to do this kind of thing for money.