Theresa
story codes: MF


Theresa
by Antonio©©

When I first glanced at her, she was the unattainable
platonic ideal: so beautiful, ethereal and
unreachable. The most  beautiful woman I had ever
seen. Every man's dream and nightmare. A woman you
fall in love with and the woman you want to posses as
property, because you want her only for yourself.
Luckily, I was not that person. She was so gorgeous,
sensitive and intelligent. A woman you see at first
sight and want to spend the rest of your life with,
her problems notwithstanding. But had she stayed, I
would have fallen in love with her ("fallen" what a
metaphor. And how appropriate).

********

Last night, at around ten, we were hanging out at the
bar as usual talking about our busy evening and about
the money we made and our customers. I volunteered to
stay on, because I usually would make 20 to 30 dollars
more. Benito was in the Green House and I was inside.
So we were hanging out at the bar when this woman in
her early thirties with long black shiny straight
hair, dressed in a black leather miniskirt, a red silk
blouse and a long black coat, very elegant and
absolutely gorgeous, came into the restaurant. All
eyes gravitated towards her. She was waiting near the
podium. A group of us automatically vaulted up to
help, but Thea burst out from the Green House aware
there was a customer. She saw all of us approaching.

"Down boys. Down," she said aware of our reaction to
her presence.

"You'll have to forgive them. They can't
help themselves," Thea said in her wonderful British
accent that made it all seem normal.

Theresa laughed staring at us ogling at her. We laughed
embarrassed. They headed back to the bar. I had two tables, so I
stayed in my place. She knew she was causing a
commotion.

I passed by Theresa to check on my two tables. I
signaled to Thea behind Theresa's back to sit her in
my section. Thea looked at the chart. She just sat
Benito, so it was my turn. Thea sat her on table 23,
because her back was to the bar. That way she would
not have to witness all those humpless men  (Phil's
term) ogling at her.

I came up to her just when she was taking off her
coat. I gently helped her and gave the coat to
Mohammed to hang up in the closet.

"Good evening. Would you like something to drink while you look at
the menu?"

"Sure. What is your house specialty?"

"Our margaritas are very good. I recommend a Back Bar
margarita."

"I'll have that."

I ordered it and Phil said he would buy her the drink.
He made it special. I took it out and said, "Madam,
this drink is on me."

"What did she say?" Phil asked.

"She said 'Thank you'."

"But she didn't even look back."

"Maybe she gets drinks bought for her by creeps all
the time."

Every time I passed her table I couldn't avoid
stopping to see if she needed anything. Her features
were very delicate: soft skin with a touch of make-up
emphasizing her natural beauty. Big black eyes and
sensuous red lips. She is what they call drop dead
gorgeous. When she took off her coat I could see every
contour of her body. What could a woman this beautiful
be doing here? Alone? She was obviously wealthy and
very sophisticated. She carried herself with elegance.
She ordered another Back Bar margarita.

"Thank you for recommending that margarita. It was very good," she
said.

"She loved your margarita Phil."

"Should I buy her another one?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Yeah. Lets do it."

"Here's the margarita madam. This one is on me also."

"Oh thank you so much. It is very nice of you." She
paused and as I was about to leave she said, "Can you
please stop calling me madam."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, don't worry. You did not offend me. The word
Madam connotes an old lady. Call me Theresa."

Usually when a customer comes into the restaurant, the
waiter and the customer venture into a relationship.

This relationship is objective and unambiguous. The
customer states what she wants and the waiter orders
it: a basic linguistic exchange. Names are rarely
exchanged unless the customer becomes interested for
some reason or another. Once she volunteers her name
the relationship becomes more intimate. The
objectivity of the waiter-customer relationship is
abolished. She is no longer a customer, but a person
in relation to the waiter. Linguistic exchange becomes
complex and more familiar.

"What is your name?" she asked me.

"Alejandro."

"Is that the way you like to be called?"

"Yes. My mother always told me to let people know my
name was Alejandro. Not Alex or Alejo or Al," I said,
but later realized how stupid of me to have mentioned
my mother.

Bill suddenly brought her food. He never helps me with
my food. Especially if his off. She finished that
margarita and I got her another one without her
asking. I came up to the table a couple of times to
make sure she was enjoying her dinner. She was so
exceedingly beautiful that she made me nervous. She
finished her dinner and I picked up the plate and to
my surprise she ordered another margarita on the
condition she pay for it. I agreed.

"I'm going to ask you a question. And please take me
seriously," she suddenly said when I brought her that
margarita.

"Sure," I answered.

"I want to go to bed with you." That was not a
question.

She was expressing a wish, thinking I would
agree. But of course: who would say no to her? I
looked at her skeptically. "I'm serious," she
asserted. I noticed she was a bit drunk. Was it the
alcohol that made her say it, or was it the alcohol
that allowed her to say it? Who cares. The outcome was
the same.

"Where would we go?" I asked.

"How about your place?" That was impossible. I could
not have taken that stunning woman to my little room.
Impossible.

"Well the problem is I live with a roommate. We would
have no privacy," I lied.

"Do you know of any place around here?" she asked.

This obviously meant we could not go to her place. I
went to Avram and asked him. He couldn't believe
Theresa wanted to go to bed with me.

"Never mind. Do you know of a place?"  There were
several expensive hotels, but there was the problem of
checking in and how would I know what room she was in.
It had to be a place easy to check in and close by.

"There is the Travel Lodge on Columbus," Avram said.

That's right. I stayed there when I first arrived to
San Francisco.

"Do you know where the Travel Lodge is?"

"I think I do. The one across Tower Records?"

"That's the one."

"I can find it. At what time are you off?" I still had
two more tables and I couldn't leave them.

"In half an hour probably," I said, although it seemed
more like an hour.

"Well this is what I'll do. I'll park my car in the
lot of the hotel, check in and I'll leave the room
number on the rear window. OK?" I still couldn't
believe she wanted to go to bed with me. We had hardly
exchanged words.

"Sure."

"Are you going to be there?" she asked.

"Of course." I was sure of my presence, but would she
be there? Maybe on her way, doubts would arise. She
would think about it and admit it was foolish to ask
me to have sex with her.

She asked for her coat, but Mohammed (the fucking
busboy) was praying in the closet facing Mecca.
"Mohammed. Mohammed. Please, let me get a coat out.
Please, I'll double your tip," I yelled knocking on
the door. No answer. I had to wait 5 minutes until he
was finished praying. I explained what had happened
and she laughed. She thought it was amusing.
She got up slowly in front of me. God she was
beautiful. I helped her put on her coat. She turned
and we were looking at each other in silence. "I'll
see you soon then," she said with a flirting smile and
walked away. I picked up the check with the money. She
paid with a hundred dollar bill. The check was only
twenty six dollars with seventy three cents.

"What was that?" Phil asked.

They were all talking about Theresa. They asked me if I had, at least
asked for her number. If they only knew. I asked Avram to
help me with my napkins and side work. He looked at me
and shook his head in disbelief. He said he would do
it for me. I was out in half an hour. I grabbed my
coat and my scarf and headed out.

"Where are you going so fast?" Phil asked. Aren't you
going to have your Jager?" So I had the shot. "Are you
going to see her?"

"No, I have something else to do."

He didn't believe me. As I was walking out Mohammed asked for his
double tip. I had already tipped him. I looked at him
sarcastically, gave him my "fangulo" hand movement and
left.

I took a cab to the hotel. Then I realized I had
forgotten to ask her what car she had. SHIT. I walked
from car to car. There was a Mercedes SL that seemed
out of place in the parking lot. Sure enough, it had a
piece of paper on the rear window with the number 201.
There is always the possibility of a mistake or
coincidence, I thought pessimistically to protect my
ego.

I went up to room 201. It was 11:30 in the evening. I
raised my hand praying she would open that door, and
knocked not knowing what would happen next. My stomach
was feeling butterflies, as they say, full of lust for
the gorgeous woman that said she wanted me. I was not
hard, but I knew with just a lascivious glance, my
penis would fly straight up. I heard the doorknob
turn. The door opened a little bit and an eye stared
at me. The lights were off. I thought I fucked up. But
then the door opened completely and there she was,
wearing a red silk nightgown. She let me in, closed
the door and mauled me with kisses. We didn't even say
hello. Her body was tight specially her ass. Really
tight.

She stopped to look at me with loving eyes and said,
"hi." Then turned the lights on. She had bought two
bottles of red wine and then she pointed to a table in
the corner. There was some white powder. I had done
cocaine once before in Colombia. But then I was too
busy studying, so drugs were never an issue. But now
it was different. Sure I would do it with her.
She took off my shirt and touched my chest with her
delicate fingers. I thought about the last time I had
sex. It was in Colombia almost three months ago. Never
gone that long. My penis flew up as soon as she kissed
me.

Then it became clear to me, I didn't know what to do,
because I didn't know how to make love in English. In
Spanish I had no problem, but I didn't know if I would
scare her, so I let her take over and decide and
determine what to say and how to say it and what we
should do. I've been with an American women in
Colombia, but in Colombia. My environment. Now I was
in hers. I did not want her to think I was a virgin or
amateur.

We snorted some coke and laid on the bed. She took off
her nightgown exposing the sexiest lingerie I have
ever seen: a black laced thong with a matching black
laced bra. She then took off my pants. I took the
bottle of wine, but she grabbed it insisting she
should open it. She sat up, took the bottle and showed
me the label.

"Do you approve sir?" she said with her
back arched and the bottle next to her protruding
breast.

"Yes I do. But please don't call me sir. Call me
Alejandro."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you," she said in
that playful sexy voice of hers. She poured me a bit
in my glass. I moved the glass, looked at the colour,
smelt it and drank.

"Great wine."

"Thank you sir. I mean Alejandro," she said flirting
with me.

I cannot write how beautiful this woman
looked serving me red wine in her lingerie on the bed
flirting and teasing. We kissed and drank. I took off
her bra and my body convulsed. They came out from her
lower chest in a perfect sphere then ending in the
nipple only to melt into her upper chest and shoulder.
They were muscular and erect. She moved and they
bounced and wiggled. Her nipples were right on the
peak of her breast, soft and pink. I hugged and kissed
her, slowly lowering myself to her breast. I kissed,
sucked and licked. She moaned and breathed heavily.
They were perfect in density and texture. I went on to
kiss the rest of her body. She had a trace of perfume
all over her body. It was not a strong smell. No. It
was an essence. Every time I kissed her body I'd
inhale her fragrance. I inhaled her. I wanted more and
more of her. I went down to her pussy pulled her thong
aside and stayed there kissing and licking it. She
moaned and screamed so loud that I'm positive the
entire hotel knew in what activity we were engaging
in.

She then pushed me away. We stood there looking at
each other and jumped on top of me kissing my chest
and slowly going down. She took off my underwear and
my penis jumped out. She grabbed it as if to put it
under her control, kissed, licked and placed in her
mouth gently lubricating with her tongue. She knew
what she was doing. She frantically took my penis in
and out of her mouth, then she slowly played with it
while staring at me. I couldn't hold off; after about
10 minutes I came and she swallowed all my sperm. She
continued and my body kept shaking. It had been a long
time.

"Tasty," she said.

We drank more wine and snorted more coke and played
with each other kissing and nibbling our bodies. We
were kissing passionately and I ripped off her thong.
I entered her. Her backed arched and  scratched my
back with her tough nails digging and digging into my
flesh. It was so painfully pleasurable. She stopped me
and got up to look at herself in the mirror. I came
from behind to fondle her breast and kiss her neck
while I gazed at her in the mirror. She asked me if I
thought she was beautiful.

"No," I whispered breathing
in her ear.

"I think you are amazingly and absolutely
gorgeous."

She smiled and placed some cream on her
hands and grabbed my penis to lubricate it. Then
placed my penis next to her anus and slowly moved back
to insert it in there. I don't know if it is because I
have not have sex in such a long time, but I cannot
describe the pleasure I felt entering her rectum. She
moaned loudly with her head tilting back biting my
ear. We stood there in front of the mirror while she
made subtle pelvic movements. My hands were all over
her body fondling and rubbing, while my mouth was
devouring her neck and shoulders. I had total access
to her body.  All this time she was staring at
herself. She knew she was gorgeous and was enjoying me
enjoying her. She placed my hand to fondle her
clitoris with my fingers and she came. She suddenly
moved my hands and placed them on her hips too bring
her ass closer to me. I began to move her hips
frantically making me come soon thereafter. We relaxed
and took a shower together fondling ourselves with the
soap bar.

We dried ourselves and laid on the bed. "Why me?" I
asked her, sipping my wine.

"Because you were my waiter and you were really nice
to me."

"But there are other men nicer and better looking that
you can have at will."

"I don't know. You seem to be very unique to me. Sure
there are nice men and better looking, but you
happened to be at the right place at the right time.
Isn't that the way it is in life and in relationships?
Given the right conditions, things happen. Right?"

"I suppose. But tell me, what were you doing in the
restaurant?"

She took a deep breath staring at me debating if she
should tell me. "I got in a fight with my husband,"
she said.

Oops. I stood up uneasily to listen to her
story.

"He had been fucking my best friend for the
last six months. My best friend happens to be a man. I
found out this evening. I'm leaving him and I'm
leaving San Francisco."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going back to Boston. My family lives there and
I'm flying tomorrow afternoon."

"That fast?"

"What am I going to attain by staying here? Talk it
over with him? Please. I've had enough. I'm tired of
this."

"What are you going to do with your car?"

"My father is sending his chauffeur to drive it to
Boston tomorrow morning."

Tough life. "What do you do?"

"Me? Well, I own a lingerie store in the city," she
said hesitantly. "My husband is the CEO of his own
computer company in Sunnyvale, so I don't really have
to work, but I have it to keep myself busy. To keep
myself from... getting bored."  

She paused and sat straight up sipping her wine
introspectively, "I started it on my own. I looked for the location,
ordered the lingerie and hired the employees. It's
very successful," she said in an attempt to legitimize
her existence.

As if to say she had some value other
than her relation with her husband. She was not a toy
or a trophy. Then her voice became bitter. "I also
existed to attend parties, to raise money for museums
and other institutions. Not even for the poor and the
homeless, who really need the money more than those
fucking places," she said under her breath and staring
at the cup of wine. She took a sip, looked at me and
continued,

"Oh and to have my picture taken for the
society section of newspapers and magazines. I was my
husband's prize. He showed me off to his friends and
business partners to hide his homosexuality." She
takes a deep breath and staring in space she
continued,

"I've had enough of this fucking farce and
all this frivolity and banality. These stupid insipid
people bore me. I'm tired of them."

She then stared at me and said, "Lets fuck all night," and
gave me a long French kiss and grabbed my penis tightly
moving her hand up and down.  She wasn't interested in me
per se.

She needed my body. I wanted to know more about her
and why she asked me to have sex with her, but is was
evident she didn't want to say much. We drank more
wine and snorted more coke. I was really high by then.
She laid on her tummy sipping her wine pensive. I got
on top of her and licked, bit and kissed her neck. I
poured some red wine down her back and I licked it all
off starting with her sublime round tight ass, up to
her neck. She moaned loudly. Then we changed places.
She started with my forehead and slowly slid down to
my mouth kissing, nibbling and licking. She had these
incredible sensuous big lips. She gently went down to
my chest, stomach, penis, thighs and feet, to end up
sucking my toes with her ass moving to and fro facing
me. She sucked my toes. I think I've done almost
everything concerning sex, but I've never had my toes
sucked like that. She was really into it. We made love
one more time, but this time all over the room: on the
table, night table, floor, standing up against the
wall, etc., etc., etc.. We came and laid down gasping
for air.  The structure of the evening was perfect. We
ended the night in one violent meaningless climax. Sex
for the sake of sex itself. Sometimes it is just and
necessary. This would apply to both of us. I needed
her as much as she needed me.

We finished the last bottle and fell asleep at around
6:00 a.m.. But before I fell asleep she stared at me,
caressed my face and tenderly said, "thank you". And
in my state of semi-sleepiness I said, "No. Thank
YOU." I closed my eyes tired and fell asleep. I woke
up at nine and stared at her still sleeping. God she
looked so beautiful, despite the night we experienced.
She was sleeping like an angel, so vulnerable. She
just needed somebody for the night and I happened to
be at "the right place at the right time". And now she
has to go on with her life.

I got dressed and left her a note thanking her,
wishing her well and a good life. I was still drunk
and high when I arrived to my room. Thank god I didn't
have to work today. I found $300 in my pocket. She
placed it there. Damn.

All in all it was a great experience. She needed me
and I needed her. She was so incredibly beautiful. I
am infinitely grateful to Theresa. Aristotle was
right: engaging in sex is certainly a divine act. For
a while I thought nobody wanted to be with me, but
Theresa saved my ego and me.


© 2006 Antonio


Antonio was born in Colombia, South
America, and  for the most part, was raised there. Antonio
travelled to Los Angeles after the woman he was in love
with in Colombia broke up with him. Antonio studied
Philosophy at UCLA where he was a columnist for the
UCLA Daily Bruin.

Antonio returned to Colombia to teach and later travelled to
San Francisco to start a writing. He first began writing essays,
but turned to fiction. Antonio has finished a novel entitled,
"Journal of  a Hedonist" and a collection of Short Stories
titled "To Be In the World", which he is presently trying to publish.
Antonio presently live in  Miami Beach.