Souvenir

Even after disembarking, it still felt like Mary was aboard ship. The other passengers milled around, flitting from shop to shop, checking out the stalls that were set up all along the dock, buying everything from maracas to blankets to giant bottles of Dos Equis. Everywhere she looked, she saw somebody that she recognized from the ship.

Mary set her sights on the far end of the dock and started walking fast. It was her first time in Mexico and she was eager to see some of the real country, not just the shops that lay in the shadow of the cruise liner. She also wanted to put some distance between her and the other passengers, if only for the afternoon. Not that they were all bad, of course; as Mary walked, she saw the Perfect Couple, both of them impossibly blonde, tall and with brilliantly white teeth, each of them trying on oversize sombreros. Mary had been seated with them for dinner on the first night, and they had seemed very nice while struggling to find something to say to her.

At the next shop, Jim and Jamie waved to her through the glass as she walked by; Mary waved in return although the couple's relentlessly chipper mood was, frankly, a real downer. Or perhaps it was the way they had been trying to fix her up with every - any - member of the ship's crew ever since they had left port.

Mary snorted. Like I can't go on a cruise by myself, she thought as she stopped to look at herself in a storefront. There, among the reflections of the brightly colored piñatas hanging above her, she looked somewhat pale and very much alone.

Well, maybe they have a point. It is a couple's cruise, after all. As a single woman, I must stick out like a sore thumb. She turned and kept walking, trying to put the towering cruise ship far behind her. But then it's not like I planned it this way.

In fact, she had planned just the opposite: when she had booked and paid for the cruise, her life had been very different. But three months and one cheating, no good son-of-a-bitch fiancé later, she had found herself suddenly single in the middle of an icy Minnesota winter. The thought of a cruise, even one that had been planned in happier times, seemed like the perfect antidote to the short days and long nights; ever since she'd decided to go, she'd been dreaming about the golden sun, warm breezes and washtub-sized margaritas.

Though she'd had all of that, the cruise had still turned out to be less fun than she'd hoped. It was impossible to pretend that she wasn't a third wheel; every activity on board had been designed for couples, and at times it seemed that her sole purpose was to make life difficult for the ship's activity counselors. She was an odd number ruining their evenly-numbered plans. By the time they'd arrived in Acapulco, getting off the ship for a while had sounded like the best idea she'd ever heard.

She looked up at the large sign that loomed above the final shops at the end of the pier. A huge arrow led away from the ocean, toward the cobblestone streets, polished from years of use, that led into town; the arrow bore the words "Zona Dorada".

Zona Dorada. The Gold Zone. If she remembered right from the guidebook in her cabin, this was where the "real" Acapulco began - at least, it was more authentic than what she'd find if she hung around the dockside shops with her fellow passengers. Mary half-turned and caught one last glance at the pasty Americans milling around, then followed the arrow into the Gold Zone.

Within only a few blocks, the entire atmosphere seemed to change. Gone were the sombreros, shot glasses and t-shirts; the entire tacky, cheap-but-expensive vibe of the pier had dissipated and been replaced with weathered brick storefronts and towering palm trees that lined the broad avenues. The signs in the windows stopped shouting English slogans and instead quietly advertised in Spanish; the passers-by no longer called out to her trying to sell something and instead only smiled and murmured "Buenos días" as she passed. Mary's mood rose the further she walked, and shortly she could have forgotten all about the mess that her life had turned into back home. Beneath the swaying palm trees that lined the sidewalk, she let herself become submerged in the sights and sounds of this foreign street.

As she passed an art gallery, a painting on display caught her eye, and she stopped to look more closely. The artist had painted the face of a smiling young woman with clear dark eyes and cascading waves of brunette hair. It's like looking in a mirror, she thought as she stared, then let her eyes refocus on her own reflection in the glass. Well, except for the smile, anyway.

She turned to look around. The street was lined with similar shops and galleries, all of which looked pretty much alike. Guess this one's as good as any. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

~ ~ ~

The sound of the bell over the door caught his attention, and Miguel raised his head to see her step inside and pause for a moment to look around the shop before coming in any further, as if she weren't sure she wanted to be here. The woman was petite, with dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders down to what he guessed were perfect breasts. Of course, he couldn't be sure. There was much more to the perfection of the female chest than could be indicated just by the shape and size, especially when everything was hidden beneath the fabric of a blouse like she was wearing just now. There was the color of the skin to consider, of course. The responsiveness of the nipple as a tongue rolled across. Even the taste could make a difference; he'd known some women who seemed to exude honey and sugar, while others gave off only bitter tonic. This one, however, looked as sweet as could be. Muy, muy dulce.

"Buenos días," he called out to her.

The woman flashed him a small smile and softly replied "Good morning," before turning her attention to the onyx carvings that lined the front shelves. Now that's a surprise, he thought. Most tourists never make it this far into town. He glanced at the clock over the door. The town's port was just large enough to handle one cruise ship a day, and it was about the time when the passengers flooded the dockside businesses. Normally, however, the gringos usually preferred to stay in sight of their ships, like chicks sticking close to the mother hen. Must be something special about this girl.

Miguel set down the brush he'd been using, taking care not to let the bristles touch the surface of the counter, and took a closer look at the woman. She was young - probably in her early twenties, he guessed. Perfectly balanced between youth and maturity. As she walked along, checking out the brightly colored stone carvings and blue-tinted glassware that filled the front of the store, Miguel could see that she was more than just a pair of probably-perfect tits. Her skin had a warm tone - nearly golden, as if she were Latina herself - and her face was so beautifully innocent that it made his heart ache. So many things I'd love to do to a girl like that, he thought. So many naughty, naughty things.

She caught him staring and threw another smile his way, as if by reflex. Her gaze dropped back down to the items in front of her as she picked up a brightly colored carving of a toucan - one of the ones that were supposedly carved by hand, although they arrived in crates from some factory somewhere and were all exactly, perfectly alike - and then she looked at him again, as if drawn to him.

He held her gaze, and now her smile was no reflex, but a real smile, broad and true. Miguel felt two things at that moment: a thrill in his chest and a stirring between his legs. Whoa. Now it was his turn to look away. He picked up his brush and the tile he'd been painting before the woman had come in. He managed to add another line of shading to the figure he'd been working on before he dared to look her way again.

She had moved around the shelves and had her back to him now. Her skirt hit her mid-thigh, and he took advantage of the opportunity to get a good long look at her. She was wearing a delicate gold chain around one ankle, but a body like this didn't need any adornment. His gaze slid up her calves, hugging the outlines of muscle - he briefly imagined her in Spandex, sweating through a Zumba class - and then gliding over the softness of her thighs before they disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt. Her ass was as perfectly formed as two scoops of ice cream, and Miguel smiled at the thought. What I wouldn't give to have a taste of that, he thought. A pulse ran through his groin, and he felt himself begin to stiffen as a grin formed on his face. Sweet and creamy.

Then, as if she'd felt his stare hot on her back, the woman turned and caught him looking.

~ ~ ~

The store was poorly ventilated and the lone ceiling fan didn't seem to be moving much air. That, however, was not the reason that Mary felt so suddenly warm. Instead, it had been the look on the man's face as she'd turned to ask him a question and found him staring at her. It was a look she hadn't seen in a while, but which she recognized easily. It was a look of lust.

He looked away quickly, staring down at the tile he held in his hands, but not before Mary saw the fire in his eyes and the hint of tongue slipping out against his lower lip. She felt a quiver in her tummy. Well, isn't this a nice surprise, she thought. He was drilling a hole in the counter with his eyes, not daring to look her way again, which let her stare openly at him for a moment. He was a bit older than she was, and very fit; he had the lean look of a man who was less interested in food than in…other appetites. His shirt sleeves were turned up, and as he dabbed the brush at the tile, she could see the muscles dancing in his forearms. Looks like he knows how to use his hands. She felt another quiver.

"Is this your store?" she called out. She turned to the side slightly while she stood up straighter and sucked in her tummy.

She caught his eye for a long moment, then he let his gaze slide down her body. A smile formed on his lips before he spoke. "Lo siento," he said. "My English…no es bueno."

"You don't speak English?"

That much, at least, he appeared to understand, as he shook his head sadly.

"That's a shame," Mary said. "I was going to tell you how much I liked your store. There are a lot of nice things to look at." Including the owner, she thought. She started walking down the next aisle, keeping one eye on where she was going and one eye on him. "I used to know some Spanish," she said. "Back in high school. That was a couple years ago, though." Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Let's see…me llamo Mary. Mary Howe."

He grinned at her. "Mary, mucho gusto," he said. His voice was smooth and warm, slipping around her like an embracing arm. "Me llamo Miguel."

"Miguel," she repeated. "Good to meet you too." She looked down at the display case in front of her. "These are pretty," she said. "Bonito."

"Gracias." He came around from behind the counter and stood next to her. "Estos son de Oaxaca," he said, pointing through the glass at the trinkets on the shelf.

"These are from Oaxaca?"

Miguel nodded and smiled, giving her a warm feeling that ran all through her. She let her eyes linger on his face for a moment too long before tearing her gaze away.

"Is this your shop?" she asked.

"Sí," he said. "Soy el dueño…pero también soy artista."

Mary had to think for a moment. "You're the owner and the artist?"

A smile broke out on his face, as if relieved that she understood. "Sí, sí," he said. "¿Quiere ver mi arte?"

"Do I want to see your art?" Mary could barely contain a giggle. "Sounds like a come-on."

His brow furrowed as she watched him. Come-on or not, she couldn't deny that she was a bit flattered. More than a bit, actually. Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome wants to show me his art? Who am I to say no? It's not like I have a better offer waiting for me on the ship. "Okay," she said. "Let me see it."

His grin returned, and he led her to an ornately carved wooden door in the back of the shop. Before he opened it, however, he turned back toward the shelves of knickknacks that filled the store. "Todo esto," he said, throwing his arm out to wave at the touristy junk, "nada más es negocio. Business. Money," he said, rubbing his fingers together. "¿Entiende usted?"

"Yes, I understand," she said.

He laid his hand on the door. "Pero esto," he said, pushing it open, "es por amor."

"But this is for love," she said quietly, letting things sink in. Miguel, it turned out, was more romantic than she had imagined. The room was his workshop, and it was full to bursting with different pieces that he was working on. A large easel on the right held a canvas that showed two stylized figures on opposite sides of a chasm; a bright flame soared up from below as if to accentuate their separation, but they held hands across the divide, apparently bothered by neither the heat nor the distance. Work tables scattered around the room showed sculptures, all of similar themes: a woman's face, her eyes closed and a small smile across her lips, as if dreaming of her beloved. The back wall, however, held the most fascinating piece, and Mary was drawn to it like iron to a magnet.

From a distance, it had looked like a ceramic heart the size of a dinner plate; the bright red was what had initially caught her eye, but as she got closer she saw that its surface was covered with slender silver bands. The edges of the heart looked rough and uneven, as if it had suffered some flaw during the sculpting or firing, but when Mary looked closely she saw that there had been no such problem. Instead, she realized that the piece had been shattered. This heart must have been broken into a thousand pieces, she thought as she looked more closely at it. The pieces had all been rejoined with countless tiny silver straps and bolts. And he put it all back together. Her gaze slowly drifted away and she saw another, smaller version of the same work off to the side. And another. And another. Mary realized that the entire wall was covered with variations of the same theme, as if Miguel had been unable to let go of the idea, as if he hadn't been able to rest until he'd healed all the hearts he could find.

She could sense him at her side. "Lo que está roto puede repararse," he said quietly. "Hay que recordar eso."

"I'll remember," she said. That which is broken can be repaired. It wasn't until that moment that she realized how desperate she was to believe that. She had thought that the painting of the woman with the dark hair had resembled her, but perhaps the truer reflection was here in Miguel's studio. Perhaps she was more like one of these ceramic hearts, shattered to bits. Today she was in pieces, but it wouldn't always be like that.

There was a stinging sensation behind her eyes, and she realized that she was on the verge of tears here in this workshop, in front of a gorgeous stranger who would probably think she was not only a loser but crazy besides. She could hear his breathing -- she could nearly feel the heat of his body, in fact --but Mary kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to will away the tears that were welling in her eyes.

When Miguel's hand closed around hers, warm and strong, the tears leaped out and she turned to him, letting him wrap his arms around her and burying her face in his chest. His body was hard against hers and he smelled faintly of soap and cologne.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "You must think I'm out of my mind."

He lifted her chin so that she was forced to look at him. He said nothing, only shaking his head softly as his eyes drilled into her. Mary held his gaze for a long while. She felt almost dizzy there, as if she could fall into the depths of those dark eyes, and she realized that her breath was coming fast now. Her breasts were pressing against him and her eyes slipped down to his mouth. He would know how to kiss, that much she was sure of. Guess there's only one way to find out, she thought, then raised her mouth to his.

~ ~ ~

The girl was sweeter than he could have imagined. Of course, he hadn't dared to imagine that he'd end up with her in his arms -- the cliché may have said that girls liked sensitive, artsy guys, but Miguel's ex-wife had pretty much killed that idea. He had just thought that she might like to see his "real" work, then she'd be on her way and he'd have yet another woman walking out of his life forever.

When she'd entered the workshop, however, he had seen something change in her. Out in the store, she had seemed flirty. Fun. Sexy as hell. Here, though, once she had taken in what his art was all about, she had turned more serious. Sad, in a way. But even sexier than ever. She looked like she needed to be close to somebody then, and when he took her hand, he was surprised at how quickly she had come to him.

It was an awkward position. This girl must have gone through something horrible, and here I am, just thinking about how good her body feels. Miguel let his eyes close for a minute and just held her, trying to ignore the deliciously soft curves that were pressing against him, the sweet scent of her hair, the stiffness between his legs. He couldn't help but imagine her beneath him, clutching at his back as he drove himself inside, each thrust forcing a gasp out of her. Damn. He held her tighter and felt her do the same.

Do I think you're out of your mind? No way. He didn't let his eyes stray from that sweet little face as she watched him, and finally she seemed to accept what was only natural for the situation. She lifted her mouth to his and thrust her tongue inside.

Miguel felt himself go hard immediately. Granted, it had been a while since a girl had kissed him, but even so, kisses like this didn't come around too often. Mary brushed her tongue over his softly at first, teasing with a light touch that made a thrill run through him.

He gave up trying to fight against his most natural desires, and let his hands slide over her body, dropping down to cup her rear before rising up her sides. He took her face in his hands as he kissed her, sucking on her tongue, and felt her hands tighten on his waist. Miguel could hear her breath quicken and felt her chest heaving against his. He let his hands slowly fall, dropping over the ridge of her collarbone and onto the swells of her upper chest. Her breasts were firm and he felt his cock pulse as he cupped them.

She broke their kiss only to let out a soft moan. She laid her head against his shoulder and began to kiss his neck, gently sucking on the tender skin of his throat.

Goddamn, he thought as he felt himself pulse again. It had been a while since he'd been this turned on, and he breathed deeply as he lowered his head. He got a subtle, sweet touch of perfume as he caught her earlobe gently between his teeth.

"Eres tan bonita," he said quietly. "So pretty."

He could feel her breasts against him, the nipples like hard berries pressing through his shirt, and he let his tongue trail lightly down the side of her neck. She tasted just as sweet as he'd guessed. Miguel let his hands glide down her sides and over her hips, pulling her to him, letting her feel the swell of his cock.

She pushed herself against him in return, and he heard the faintest, most arousing moan drift from between her lips. He slid his hands slowly downward, leaving her hips and caressing her thighs, so firm and full under the thin fabric of her skirt. He could feel the hem under his fingertips, and he stopped for a moment, just letting his fingers trail back and forth, passing from fabric to flesh and back again, unsure of whether he should press on past this border.

Only one way to find out, he thought, then let one hand drop low before sliding up the inside of her thigh, rumpling her skirt as he cupped her between the legs. Her panties were warm and damp beneath his fingers, and she trembled as he rubbed her. A soft cry - -a whimper, almost -- slipped out of her throat, and Miguel froze. She was quivering in his arms. Must be going too fast, he thought, and he slowly let his hand fall away.

He felt her fingernails dig into his skin. "No," she murmured. "Don't stop." She pressed her thighs against him and he slid his hand back to the warmth between her legs. He gently slipped one finger under the thin fabric and pulled it to the side, then let his hand dip into the wetness. He stroked her softly with his middle finger; she began to rock her hips, riding his hand as he let himself slowly inside, sliding into her bit by bit until his finger had been enveloped by her flesh.

Another moan from Mary, this one quiet and contained in her throat, made his cock tremble as he began to work her pussy, sliding his finger nearly all the way out before driving it deep within again. She pressed her face against his chest and he could feel the heat of her breath against him.

"What are you doing to me?" she whispered, and he could feel her weight pressing down, as if she wanted to take his whole hand between her legs. "I can't believe how turned on I am."

That makes two of us, Miguel thought, and he lowered his mouth to hers for a deep kiss. Mary broke it almost immediately and put her mouth against his ear.

"I want you, Miguel," she said. "Right here. Right now."

~ ~ ~

Her pulse raced faster once the words had escaped her mouth, as if she had revealed a secret that even she hadn't known. She backed away a step and stared at him; the fire that had grown in his eyes showed that he must have had a pretty good idea of what she said.

Am I crazy? I'm not that kind of girl. But then, she'd never thought of herself as the kind of girl who would get dumped a week before her wedding. She wasn't the kind of girl who would go on her honeymoon cruise alone. Maybe it's time to try something new.

She quickly pulled her blouse up over her head and dropped it to the floor, then raised her hands to the clasp on the front of her bra. She undid the clasp but held the ends close together, only giving him a hint of the rounded flesh beneath.

A hint was enough. She watched as he swallowed hard while he stared at her, and she could practically feel the heat of his gaze on her chest. His hand dropped from his hip to the front of his jeans, and he rubbed the stiff outline of his cock as if subconsciously. Mary let her bra fall open and slip off her arms.

He let out a breath in a low rush, like a man overwhelmed. "Qué tetas más bonitas," he murmured as he stepped close. His first touch wasn't to cup her breast - instead, he let his fingers slide against her cheek, but it sent an electric charge through her just the same. Miguel lowered his mouth to hers again and kissed her, softly biting her lower lip as his hand slowly drew a path down her neck and across her collarbone. She could feel goose bumps forming on her arms as his fingers slid across her upper chest and finally pressed against her.

She sucked hard on his tongue as he slipped his free arm around her and pulled her tight. There was nothing to hide anymore, and she could feel his stiff cock pushing against her. Mary grasped him through the front of his jeans, squeezing him hard as she rubbed all along his length. It made him tremble just a bit, and she felt a thrill herself as he tightened his grip on her.

Miguel began a trail of kisses down her cheek and over her throat before stooping to quickly slip one nipple between his lips. Mary's breath raced out; he sucked very hard at first, then let his soft tongue swirl all around her stiffening nipple. She ran her fingers through his hair, pressing his head against her breast, then gently pushing him to take the other nipple into his mouth as well.

It felt like her blood had become electric, zipping through her veins like lightning and filling her with energy. God, that feels fantastic, she thought as she watched Miguel's tongue flicker over her nipple like an artist's brush. It's been too long.

She reached behind and unzipped her skirt, then wriggled her hips and let it slide down her thighs and drop to the floor. Miguel's hands were there immediately to replace the now-fallen fabric. He pulled her close and dipped one hand behind, sliding under the waistband of her panties and over her ass. His touch was warm and she could nearly hear her heart beating as his fingers ran over her skin, tracing the edge of her buttocks before he hooked his thumbs in her underwear and began to pull it south. Almost before she knew it, he had dropped to his knees and kissed her tummy as he continued lowering her panties until he had pulled them off and dropped them next to her skirt.

He only raised his head slowly, taking a long look, and Mary lowered one hand to cover herself. "Miguel, don't," she said. "It's embarrassing."

He reached for her wrist and gently twisted it away. "Eres preciosa," he said quietly, then kissed her hand before he stood. As he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, she could see a look in his eyes that she had seen many times before, though not too recently. It was the look of a man hungry for a woman; it was the kind of look that only made her pulse race even faster with anticipation.

Miguel turned to the large work table behind him and swept everything off in a flash. Tools and scraps of wood went flying; the clatter of the items on the tiled floor echoed in the large space. He whipped a cotton sheet from atop an easel - revealing the unfinished portrait of a woman with eyes and hair as dark as Mary's - and snapped the sheet out into the air, letting it settle gently over the table.

Without a word, he lifted her under her arms, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, and deposited her on the table. She scooted her hips back a bit, and Miguel laid his hand gently on her chest, pushing her to lie back.

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Miguel lowered his mouth to her breasts, kissing all around her nipples before slowly starting down her body. His tongue was sinfully hot on her as it trailed over her skin.

His hands cupped her hips, holding her firmly as his mouth dropped lower. He paused here and there to suck gently, to nibble softly, and kissed her tummy as if he didn't notice - -or didn't care - -about her little belly. Instead, he only murmured "Tan dulce…so sweet," as he moved below. He kissed her softly and gently, letting his lips linger on her skin for a long while, then let his tongue plunge deeply within.

A gasp sprang out of her throat. She had already been growing wet, but now she was soaking, and it was impossible to say whether it was more due to her own excitement or Miguel's tongue working her pussy. A minute ago he had acted like a true romantic, going slow and letting things build, but once he'd tasted her most secret place, he had turned into a different man, one who was not interested in going slow anymore.

She ran one hand down to tangle her fingers in Miguel's thick, dark hair, and dropped her chin to her chest to watch him. His gaze flitted to hers and she saw a brief smile crinkle his eyes before they closed and he went back to work.

Miguel wasn't shy about going down on her; there was nothing tentative or hesitant about the way he ran his tongue along. He tasted her like a lover would, pulling her hips tightly to his face and drinking from her as if he couldn't get his fill soon enough.

Mary tried to hold on, to put off the sweet end that she knew was coming, but it was far out of her control now. Miguel was too good at this; he had fallen into a rhythm of slow, strong strokes across her clitoris, with an occasional dive deep within, and it was driving her crazy. She let her hands drift across her tummy and up to her breasts, squeezing herself and capturing her stiffened nipples between her fingers.

Her body felt like it was afire now, and every swipe of Miguel's tongue fed the flames. Mary had the strange sensation that she was rising up, riding a wave that was building within her, and everything he was doing only pushed her higher. His hands were warm on her, holding her thighs apart gently but firmly, as if to make clear that she was his for the moment, and she could feel the tickle of the short scruff on his cheeks, grazing her skin.

She watched as he quickly sucked his middle finger and then began to stroke her, teasing apart her pussy lips before easing inside. As he started to pump his finger in and out, slowly filling her only to draw away the next moment, Miguel let his lips surround her clitoris and rhythmically brushed her with his tongue.

Her breath shot out in a gasp. It was no use trying to hold back anymore; Mary felt flooded with a rush of pleasure that brushed aside everything, overwhelming her like a tidal wave sweeping over a beach. She had rarely come as hard as she did at that moment, and never because of a man. But she couldn't deny that Miguel had done something incredible to her; it really did feel like she had entered a foreign land where they did things…better. She was unable to control herself. Her fists were clenched in his hair, making sure that his mouth wasn't going anywhere; her thighs shook and trembled like she had a nervous condition; her head was thrown back and a gasping cry shot out of her throat to echo in the workshop. Her life - -her real life, with a tiny cabin waiting for her aboard ship and a tiny apartment waiting for her in Minnesota - -seemed to be the dream now, and the only thing that truly existed was this pleasure, right here, right now.

After what seemed like several minutes, she drifted back to herself and realized that she still had Miguel trapped between her legs. He placed a final kiss there as she loosened her grip on him. She pushed him away gently and tried to catch her breath; as she closed her legs together, he leaned forward and rested his head on her trembling thighs.

That was fucking incredible. Her first thought was quickly replaced by another: what am I doing? It was so unlike her. Totally out of character. Her friends back in Minneapolis wouldn't have believed it, but there it was. Here, on an artist's table in Mexico, Mary had gotten the best pussy-licking of her life from a beautiful man she'd only met thirty minutes before.

She dropped a hand low and stroked his face. As she traced his mouth with her fingertips, she could feel his lips still sticky with her juices. "You're amazing," she said. "And unbelievably sexy."

He turned his head to look at her. His eyes held an expectant look, as if he were hoping for more than he'd gotten so far.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked.

His gaze clouded slightly. "Condom," he repeated softly, then a grin burst onto his face. "¿Un condón? ¡Claro!" He went running out of the room and Mary heard him rummaging around out behind the front counter. In a moment he jogged back into the room with his hand held high, holding a small foil wrapper like it was a winning lottery ticket.

Mary wasn't sure whether it was due to the way he was running or because of the enormous grin on his face, but she burst out laughing. She hopped down from the table and pressed herself against him, loving the feel of his naked chest against her own and the bulge of his cock against her belly. "Before we get to this," she said, taking the condom from him, "I have something I want to do to you." She squeezed him hard through his pants and Miguel's breath shot out in a low rush.

"Ay, nena," he muttered.

Mary smiled as she slowly got down on her knees. "Am I your nena? Am I your baby?" She unbuttoned his jeans and began to slowly unzip him. She could feel a tremor run through Miguel as she began to pull his jeans off, leaving his cock swelling behind the fabric of his boxers.

"My baby," Miguel echoed. His accent was light, but it was enough to give Mary a warm feeling inside and bring a small smile to her face. She leaned close and pressed her lips against him as she blew warm air through the fabric.

She could feel him pulse, and Miguel dropped one hand down low, cradling the back of her head. "Kiss me there," he said quietly.

Mary giggled. "I see you know the important words," she said. She hooked her fingertips in the waistband of his shorts and slowly pulled them down, letting Miguel's cock leap out like an animal freed from a cage.

"Oh, my," she whispered. He was…beautiful. There was no other way to put it. She took him in her hand. His rich skin tone even extended to his privates, and it was like she was holding a warm piece of caramel. A treat just for me, she thought. She encircled him with her fingers and stroked, letting her hand slide over his entire hard length; although Miguel sighed contentedly, Mary was the one who felt a thrill surge within her.

The feel of a hard cock in her hand - especially one attached to a man like Miguel - was a delicious conundrum: smooth and soft, hard and strong all at the same time. Velvet and steel, silk and iron. She had always had a fascination with men and their intimate parts, and today was no different.

Mary leaned close and softly, gently kissed the tip. She could feel him throb as her lips touched him, and she stroked him hard as she teased him with her tongue. "Now that's sweet," she murmured. "Dulce." Then she opened wide and let his cock slide into her mouth entirely.

~ ~ ~

He had to close his eyes. It was far too exciting to watch her mouth wrapped around him, to see her lips slide over his slickened cock like that; Miguel was sure that he would blow his load in only a few seconds if he saw any more of that. The girl was so pretty, so innocently cute, yet here she was doing something so naughty…yes, he would definitely come too soon if he kept watching, and he wanted to make things last today.

He let his hands drop down to her hair and he held her gently as she bobbed her head. He didn't watch her going down on him, but as he caressed her, letting his fingers slip through her hair and over her skin, he could picture her perfectly. It was the artist's gift, to be able to mentally recreate every detail as if looking at a photograph. Even blind to what she was doing, he could still see the tiny freckle on her cheek. He could still picture the deep brown of her eyes, as rich as mahogany. In his mind he could see her perfectly full lips wrapped around his cock, gliding smoothly over his flesh.

Fuck, she's amazing. He allowed himself a quick peek before slamming his eyes shut again. She still looked too beautiful. He had to avert his gaze, like a sinner who had caught sight of an angel.

Mary let him slip out just so she could swirl her tongue over the head of his cock, and as a tremor raced through him, Miguel groaned. He heard her giggle softly before opening her mouth and taking him back inside. Another shiver went through his body, and his breath rushed out. It's useless, he thought. I can't take much more of this.

Mary paused the back-and-forth motion to slowly pull her mouth back, sucking hard as she went and encircling his cock with a tight grip. Miguel clenched his jaw so hard he heard his teeth squeak. This was more than mere lust he was feeling, more than just a sex act. It was like they had passed from the merely physical into something almost…spiritual. He'd been lucky --very lucky - -with women in his life, but he'd never before been with a girl like this; he had never had such an instant connection with another woman.

He realized that there was no way he could take another minute of this without releasing everything he had into her waiting mouth. Ay, por Dios. I would absolutely love that, he thought. It would be so easy to just let go, to just hold her tight and let himself spill down her throat. But after tasting that sweet little pussy, I have to have it.

He fought his urges and gently backed away slightly. "Basta," Miguel said, slowly easing back and out of her mouth. He stood there gasping for a moment, just staring at her with fire in his eyes. "Basta ya."

Mary kept her eyes locked on his. "Are you ready for me?" She reached for his hand and he helped her up. She pressed herself against him and grasped his cock hard. "Take me now, then."

Miguel took her face in his hands. "Tú eres tan linda, tan bonita…so beautiful." He kissed her gently, letting his tongue flicker over her lips, then laid his hands on her shoulders. In a flash, he had turned Mary around and she found herself bent over the work table.

~ ~ ~

Miguel's hands slid all over her body, taking in every curve from her hips to her breasts, and she felt his mouth hot on her back as he moved close to kiss her. He couldn't have known, of course, that the spot at the base of her neck was such a turn-on for her, but it sure seemed like he knew what he was doing. She shivered with pleasure at the touch of his tongue along her spine, and her nipples stiffened beneath his hands.

"Eres la más bella," he murmured, and his hands slid down her body to her ass. She could feel him nuzzling against her backside, and she backed her hips to press against him. His entire body was deliciously hard against her: she could feel nothing but tense muscle, from his thighs to his arms to the thick cock that was nestling between her butt cheeks. She reached behind and took him in her hand as she spread her legs a bit and bent forward, then rubbed him against herself.

"Take me," she whispered, then pushed back against him. Mary couldn't contain a cry as he entered her; the sheet crumpled in her fingers as she clenched her fists and held on. Miguel was very thick, and after months of abstinence it was a tight fit as he slid inside. She could feel him moving one hand up her back, gliding across her skin before reaching up to gently squeeze her shoulder. He rocked his hips slowly, letting himself enter only bit by bit, but always driving himself in deeper.

His other hand was on her hip, warm and strong, gripping her firmly but tenderly. He was filling her slowly, deliberately, as if he wanted to make sure she was feeling every inch of him as he slipped inside, and he paused briefly at the end of every stroke to bury himself completely in her pussy.

She had never had a man do her like this. Mary had almost entirely lost control of herself and was splayed out on the table, her breasts mashed against the sheet, her fingers clawing at the fabric as Miguel's cock worked its way in and out of her. Her breath was racing and she could hear herself panting like a dog in heat. As he let himself slip out to briefly nuzzle against her clitoris before driving back inside again, an odd thought popped into her head: I've wasted so much time. So many other men who had thought that lovemaking was a sprint, not a marathon; so many other men who had seemed like boys compared to Miguel. I should have taken a cruise a long time ago.

He leaned close and kissed her shoulder; she could feel his teeth gently scraping the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. "Tan buena estás," he murmured after a long groan. "Casi me corro ya."

"Not yet," Mary whispered, her teeth clenched. "Hold on a little longer." This feels too good, she thought. Please don't let it end yet. She clenched her muscles, trying to hold him in, and got another moan out of Miguel.

"Qué rica, nena," he muttered, and his grip on her tightened.

She would have given anything to stay like this, but she also wanted more. She wanted to feel closer. Mary reached behind to slow his thrusts.

"Wait, Miguel," she gasped. "I want to see you."

He pushed himself in for one last long, delicious thrust, then slowly pulled out, leaving Mary with the sensation that something was missing. She hopped up onto the table, turning and spreading her thighs wide apart, and Miguel climbed atop as well.

He leaned close to quickly slip his tongue into her mouth, then let himself slide inside in a rush, giving her his full length all at once. A gasp leaped out of Mary's throat as she gripped his arms, the muscles forming hard ridges under her fingertips. Miguel supported himself with one hand as he began to rock his hips, filling her with slow, strong thrusts; his free hand ran over her chest and up to her face to trace her lips. Mary surprised herself by taking his fingers into her mouth and sucking hard.

"Ay, nena," he muttered. She could feel a shiver run through his body, and she slipped one hand down to his hip - -not that he needed any guidance.

"I love watching you do that to me," she whispered, and a half-smile appeared on his face as he pressed himself into her again. "Oh God," she murmured. "I love feeling you do that to me."

Miguel held on for a moment longer before a gasp shot out from between his gritted teeth. When he came, Miguel let out a long throaty groan and dropped down to the table, pressing his chest against hers and grinding against her. Mary wouldn't have guessed that she would be able to come again, but as he drove himself inside, one hand cupping her ass cheek for leverage, she felt herself being pushed to the edge once again. He held her almost painfully tightly as he filled her, like this was more than just sex. It was like he was finally satisfying a hunger, like he was getting what he needed at last. With a final thrust between her legs, Miguel both gasped through gritted teeth and gave Mary another deliciously sweet and short orgasm.

It was some time before she could even remember her name again. She lay there trembling against him, too weak to move - -not that she would have wanted to leave his side just then anyway. She could feel a sheet of sweat covering them; it was the only thing separating them now. Mary listened as Miguel's breath slowly grew calmer and deeper, and felt a twinge of regret as he reached down to grab the lip of the condom and let himself slip out.

She wouldn't have been surprised if he had jumped off the table and gotten dressed immediately, if he had turned into Miguel After the Act and escorted her out of the shop the first chance he got. Men were like that.

Miguel, however, was not. He pulled her close and slipped one arm around her, holding her tightly to him as he kissed her deeply. It didn't feel weird or awkward. It felt just like it was supposed to. As the glow receded, it was like Mary was getting back the use of all her senses. She could feel the table hard beneath them and a current of cool air was streaming over them from the vent overhead. One side was covered with goose pimples, while the other was warm against him. She took a deep breath, once again taking in a trace of Miguel's cologne, then reluctantly slipped out of his arms and got off the table.

Her clothes were a wrinkled mess, but she dressed quickly. Miguel was less hurried - as he lay there watching her, he stretched like a cat enjoying a nap in the sun, but then also got up and pulled on his jeans and shirt.

Now what? It wasn't like she had ever done anything like this; she didn't have the first clue as to what one was supposed to do. Oh well. You can't go wrong with a hug. She stepped close and slipped her arms around him, loving the feel of his muscles against her as he did the same.

"Miguel, I…." she trailed off, then swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Don't ruin this, she told herself. This was just a fling. Don't make more of it than it was.

He hugged her tighter for a moment, then backed away slightly so that he could look at her better. It was as if he were going to say something, but he stopped himself and only raised a hand to caress her cheek. Mary couldn't keep herself from shivering at his touch, and she took his hand quickly, holding it against her skin. I have to remember this, she thought as she pressed her lips against his palm. I will remember this.

~ ~ ~

She walked across the long dock without noticing her fellow passengers who had made it no further into town. She didn't see the couples hunched over umbrella drinks at the streetside bar, nor the woman trying to bargain in English to save a couple of bucks on a piñata; Mary was in her own world, nearly blind to everything else. The only thing she noticed as she boarded the ship and made her way to her room was how her lips still tingled with the memory of Miguel's last kiss.

She entered her room and flopped onto the bed, letting her eyes close and her mind flood with a swirl of memories. There, in the tiny room with its tiny porthole, she could still imagine that she was in Miguel's workshop, holding his body to hers. Mary could still sense the heat of his skin. She could still taste his kiss. She could still feel him thrusting inside as he ground himself against her.

She lay there for a long while, enjoying her fantasies and memories, when she realized how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten all day, and her stomach had begun to grumble unhappily at her.

She had just changed clothes and was touching up her makeup when there was a knock at the door. Mary opened up to find a crew member standing there, holding a package wrapped in brown paper.

"Miss Howe, this is for you," he said.

"What's that?"

"I don't know," he said. "But a man just paid me fifty dollars to make sure you got it. He was quite insistent. He wanted me to tell you it was a gift from Miguel."

She felt her cheeks flush, and for some reason she felt like crying a little. I can't believe he did this. "Okay, thank you," she murmured, taking the package and closing the door. She unwrapped it on the bed, and before she had removed the last layer of paper she knew what she would find: the ceramic heart, bolted back together.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, and as she lifted the piece from the wrapping, a scrap of paper fell to the floor. She picked it up and saw that it was covered with neat handwriting:

My Maria - I want you to have this piece. Remember, when something is broken it can always be put back together again. It won't be the same, but sometimes it's even better.

P.S. I studied English in college. Sorry I misled you; I was just having some fun. If you ever get back this way, you know where to find me.

Miguel

She glanced at the clock. It was quarter to six. The ship was due to depart in fifteen minutes. She would sail away, endure a few more days alone on the cruise, then fly back home to icy Minneapolis, where the wreckage of her love life awaited her. Things would be just as she had left them. There would undoubtedly be gossip at work for a while, and the apartment would seem especially empty, with nobody there to warm her against the chill and hold her in the darkness. Sooner or later, though, she would get used to the new normal. She would learn to be satisfied with less.

Unless she wouldn't.

Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds later, she was again on the dock, pulling along her hastily-packed bags. The ship's horn blew suddenly, making her jump, and she turned to see the walkways being retracted. Guess it's too late to change my mind now, even if I wanted to. She turned and started walking again, headed to the Gold Zone.

A taxi driver, leaning against his cab, called out to her. "Taxi, señorita?"

"No thanks," she said. "I can get there myself."

# # #