Siesta

The air was hot and bright in the narrow street. Eyes closed, Lena wandered, her fingers tracing over walls, frayed pasted posters, corrugated iron doorways, and blue-washed adobe walls until her hand skipped and lost its place. Lena opened her eyes and looked into the dark entranceway beside her. Then she turned and carried herself up the steps.

It was Antonio’s bar, she found as her eyes adjusted. There were several men sitting at a few tables, Miguel, Eduardo, Enrique, a couple other men, and Antonio behind the bar.

Lena walked across the floor and leaned against the bar.

"Gimme a chela," Lena said, pointing at the beer taps behind the counter.

"You know I can’t do that, Lena."

Lena looked up at the wall behind Antonio’s shoulder.

"Please. I’m thirsty."

Antonio leaned into her vision. "The baby. Think about the baby."

Pushing herself from the bar, Lena turned. "Think about the baby," she mumbled as she found a seat at an empty table. She crossed her arms on its top and dropped her head into them.

The room became quiet.

"Women," announced an old man’s voice, "are not permitted here."

Lena groaned and looked up toward the voice. It had belonged to an even older looking man seated with a newspaper to her right.

"This is a men’s club." He added.

The men were waiting. Lena looked at each in turn. Then she turned her gaze back to Antonio.

"A juice, then, Antonio. A little juice."

"Please go home," Eduardo softly asked from his chair.

The old man folded and placed his paper on the table.

Lena closed her eyes. And for a moment she didn’t move. Then pulling herself to her feet, Lena crossed around the table and leaned back against its edge.

"I am a man, then."

There was a sudden roar as the men yelled at her. And there were more than a few laughing glances in Enrique’s direction.

"You are not a man," one of the men finally yelled above the rest.

Lena crossed her arms.

"I am not?" She asked.

The men fell silent again.

"Definitely not," spat the old man.

"No, priest?" Lena replied, noticing the old man’s collar for the first time. "I will show you!"

But before Lena could grab the hem of her skirt, Enrique shot out of his chair and practically leapt toward Lena’s table. He grabbed her by the shoulders with an obviously tortured expression. Lena ignored his hands and bent down between them, pulling her panties down from beneath her skirt.

Stepping out of them, Lena wadded the raspberry-colored fabric in her fist and threw it at Antonio behind the bar.

Then men sat shocked.

Before any of the others had sense enough to speak, Enrique pushed himself against Lena. No convent girl, Lena pushed back. But Enrique’s weight did prevent her from pulling at her skirt. It also pushed uncomfortably against her slightly swollen belly. So, Lena let go of her skirt and, instead, looked up into Enrique’s pained face and gave him a wicked grin.

"Stop it." Enrique whispered.

Lena reached up around his arms and placed her hands behind his shoulders.

"Go home."

Lena playfully scratched him with her nails.

"Now."

Sighing, Lena dropped her arms. Enrique relaxed his grip but didn’t let go. Something else had tensed in its place. Her eyes turned serious, and as she held his gaze, her fingers slipped up the front of his shirt and undid the buttons. Enrique stood motionless, little beadlets of sweat growing above the bump of his nose.

The world seemed motionless as well, as Lena parted Enrique’s shirt. Leaning forward, she kissed the little gold symbol of their spirituality dangling around his neck, then she lowered her lips and followed the line of hair down his stomach with tiny kisses. At his navel, Lena paused and dragged her tongue around the depression.

Enrique, no longer frozen, stepped back and let Lena’s mouth slide over the buckle of his trousers. Her teeth bit into the bump of dark leather and tugged.

Reaching down, Enrique eased Lena away and unbuckled himself. Lena leaned back and rested her bottom on the table edge. Enrique stepped up, pulling himself free. Hopping a bit, Lena pulled her skirt over her hips and then wrapped her legs around Enrique’s.

Lena was ready. It didn’t take much to guide the head Enrique was thinking with into her.

Enrique leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her waist. Lena moaned and lifted her legs. She urged him in again. Enrique complied and began thrusting mechanically yet enthusiastically.

Lena rocked with the motions. She lifted her hips, squeezed his retreat, lifted her hips, and squeezed. Enrique grunted. Lena moaned. The men were gone. The bar was gone. Everything vanished to the rumble and thump of an internal physics Hawking and Heisenberg never dreamed of.

And then she was gone. She dipped in the halcyon surge and rebounded just in time to feel Enrique stiffen and unload.

Panting, she lowered her legs. Limply, she hung under Enrique until he pulled himself out and tucked it back into his trousers. Lena slid back onto her feet and stood. The men were still staring, Smiling, she pushed down her skirt and smoothed it out.

Out of somewhere, a hand offered her a club soda. She took the bottle and walked back to the doorway. Then taking a final look back at the men, Lena uncapped the top, took a swallow, and stepped down into the brightness.

"Enrique, your wife is a better man than you!"