THE CONQUEST

The clock reads 4:02. Rudy invades my consciousness. Fabiola was in the middle of her most significant affair between her divorce and our encounter. Eric was a drummer from Monterrey whom she had met at a club in Matamoros. She told me that she had felt the same instantaneous attraction for him that she had felt for me. "Rudy was Eric's friend," she told me during our love-making, her words working their magic as I grew harder and harder. "Eric had been flirting with one of my friends and I decided that two could play his game. The previous weekend Rudy and I had gone into the bedroom of a friend's house, but we didn't have sex. The following Friday Rudy and I were together again and he took me to the bedroom. I was hot and I wanted his dick in me. When he unstrapped my bra, I took off my clothes. He lay on the bed and I sat on top of him. Then he pulled me down on the mattress and told me that he couldn't believe that he was inside of me. We came at the same time." For the first few weeks of our fucking frenzy I was too madly in love to require any other stimulation other than Fabiola's naked presence. We had met in early summer at the apartment complex where we both resided. It was a typical South Texas humid afternoon and I descended to the pool. There were two small children swimming and this gorgeous gal was sitting at a table paging a magazine. We exchanged "holas" and I dived into the water. I kept glancing at her. She bore a striking resemblance to Iliana. Her hair was black, thick and long; her eyes were brown, big and round; and her mouth was full with teeth straight and white, but it was her nose, fine and delicate, that caught my immediate attention. She had large breasts, but as I swam my laps I wanted her to stand in order to scrutinize her butt and legs. Her son climbed out of the water, ran to his mother and planted a kiss on her lips. "How I would like one of those!" I told myself. I left before she stood, but over the next six weeks we would cross paths at the water's edge and a polite conversation became commonplace between us. And she more than exceeded my expectations when I saw her standing. I wanted her, but I proceeded cautiously. I knew that I could never have Fabiola and keep her hidden from Iliana. I wanted to love again. I could fuck different women to my heart's content, but I would never have a healthy relationship as long as I remained attached physically and emotionally to Iliana. Not that I assumed anything would come between Fabiola and me. Quite the contrary. I didn't allow her to go to my head. I wasn't desperate. I had diversity without responsibility. change my situation. Moreover, I feared a final split between Iliana and me would cause a rupture with my sons. Iliana, whose mother refused to permit her husband to see his children from his first marriage, possessed the same cruel temperament. I had no doubts that she would seek her revenge through the boys. I had an uneasy confidence that César, 15, and Octavio, 13, would be old enough to handle the crisis. I was a superb father and they had to recognize my commitment to them. "Divorce is a part of modern life," I repeated to myself. "It's no big deal. When I was their age, I didn't spend much time with my parents though I loved them dearly. They'll step up to the plate. They know their daddy loves them." My apartment overlooked the pool. Whenever I saw Fabiola and the children bathing, I would slip into my shorts and join them. She'd dangle her feet over the side while Adriana and Adrian splashed in the shallow end. She divulged few details about her private life and I didn't grill her as was my professional wont. I did learn that she was a teacher, 28 and divorced. She learned that I was 52, a journalist and divorced. I had no idea if she had a boyfriend and she had no knowledge of my personal life except that I had two children. In the latter days of July she informed me that she was going to Monterrey to spend two weeks and would be leaving the following morning. I put her on the backburner, but after ten days I'd glance at the water in anticipation of her return. A Saturday evening in the middle of August I was walking to the jacuzzi when I spotted a familiar figure. "Fabiola! Fabiola! When did you get back?" "Two days ago," she answered. Attired in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse, she stood at the top of the stairs carrying a basket of laundry. "How are you?" "I'm fine. Did you have a good time?" "It was great except for the weather. Monterrey is hot. What are you doing?" "I'm headed for the jacuzzi. I don't want to detain you. I'll see you at the pool." "I'm sure you will." She waved good-bye and disappeared into the apartment. I walked to the jacuzzi shaking my head in disbelief. I had seen a sparkle in her eye. She was drawn to me. I could feel it. I eased into the bubbling water and went through 15 minutes of stretching. I was in good shape. I ran, I hit the weights and I played tennis regularly. Though I drank too much beer, I hadn't lost the battle with the belly. I thought about knocking at her apartment on my return to mine, but I didn't want to act precipitously. But I was ready to act. The next night I went to Estanislao Contreras' house. He lived a mile from the apartments. We had started our journalistic careers together at The Brownsville Herald, he as a photographer and I as a sportswriter. He was presently in charge of public relations for the South Padre Island Chamber of Commerce, but his true love was pillorying local politicians on his blog. He had dozens of anonymous contributors and averaged 2,000 hits a day. He combined news, sports, opinion and gossip, many times writing four or five pieces at a single sitting under a variety of pseudonyms. I occasionally submitted a piece, but I was a newspaperman. I liked the feel of the fresh ink on my fingers. Since I was five when my father would send me at dawn to the corner store for the San Antonio paper, I need to have the hard copy in my hands as if the words were etched in stone. "What's up, bato?" said Estanislao. "Same old shit. Got any dope, cabrón?" "What kind of question is that? Do you have any beer in the sack?" "What kind of question is that?" By the time we had smoked a joint and finished the beer, I had decided that I was going to knock at Fabiola's door that very night. "Got to go, cabrón." "Not so fast, bato. I'll twist another one." "Love to but I can't. Got shit to do." Buzzing, I ascended Fabiola's stairs. Except for her divorce, I had no inkling of her love life. Did she have a boyfriend? Might he answer the door? What would I say? I'd say that I had lost my keys at the pool and I was wondering if Fabiola or one of the children had picked them up. I didn't give a shit. I was going to go through with this and nothing was going to stop me. If I discovered that she was compromised, I would exit this door and wait for the next one to open. I knocked and her befuddled son answered. "Hi. Is your mother here?" "Who is it, Adrian?" shouted Fabiola from a back room. "It's the pool guy." Fabiola, with her head titled to one side and an amused grin on her face, appeared. "What a surprise! What are you doing here?" "I thought I would stop by and visit. Do you mind?" "No. Come in. Please excuse the mess, but Adrian plays here. I'm usually in my room." We chatted for two hours. By the time I departed I knew I was in trouble. I returned the next night, stayed four hours, the last two at her side, hugging and kissing her. We talked about love and trust. She was as excited as I was. She had sent me careening. I needed to be free to pursue romance. I called Iliana the following morning. "I have something to tell you." "What?" she gasped. "I've met someone and I'm going public with her." I had no idea if Fabiola would open her door for me again, but I could no longer be fettered to Iliana. "Who is she? How long have you been seeing her?" "I'm not going into the details. I need to go." I wasn't worried about Iliana. Fabiola had eliminated her from all considerations. That night I was with Fabiola. "Where are the kids?" I asked. "They've gone to my parents for the night." I couldn't believe my good fortune. Sound the bugles! Assemble the troops! Prepare for attack! I had to have her. Now! She led me to her bedroom and fucked me with gusto. The next morning was her first day of classes. "I'm starting this school year with a bang," she giggled.