Self-deprecation is worth its weight in smoldering phoenix-ashes and baby unicorn tears.
or; more Spain stories for you to suffer through.
Published on March 17, 2008 By SanChonino In Sex & Romance

Another installment of "I'll tell you guys but I'll never tell my parents, least of all while I'm over here!"  You know you want to read!  It's just one big chunk of one night's activities and it is quite . . . salacious . . . today.

--

14 Mar 2008.  11:14 am.

Only in Tarragona.

Last night I went to a concert for the Tarragona International Dixieland Festival.  It was good to get out of the house and away from my roomie.

It was a warm, clear night as I strolled down deserted roads, drawn to the distant lights of the bar.  I stepped up to the doors, hesitant to enter, but I finally walked in.  Finding a small table near the back of Cerveseria Highland.  The band was just starting to set up, and a pretty young server came and took my order.  (Gotta love over-priced bar Coke - at least it comes in a glass bottle . . .)

She brought me the Coke as the 4-piece band started, playing an odd mix of early Dixieland jazz infected with a bit of latin rhythms and flamenco flair.  They sounded really, really good.  I sat, sipping on my drink and enjoying the groove of the group when she walked in . . .

(Don't you love how I use ellipses as a transitional point in these journal posts, to go between writing about past activities to making it all present tense?  Present tense just feels so much more . . . alive.)

Marina.

She works at the school in the International Relations office, as well as being a grad student in the anthropology department.  I've spoken to her a few times, and she's the one who helped me with my registration.  I've always thought she was pretty, but nothing could prepare me for the mankilling beauty that just stepped through the door . . .

Her legs are perfectly toned, rippling with taut muscle in perfect harmony, twin pillars of dark marble.  Her floral print one-piece dress flows subtly, tight and loose in all the right places to both entice and reveal.  The tight kinks of her dark auburn hair brush her slight, skinny shoulders, set against the sharp line of her jaw, and her thin lips part with a slight smile as she scans the room with her huge, earth-swallowing eyes.

It looks like she's here alone.  What is a girl like this doing by herself? I think.

She continues to look around the crowded bar, searching for a place to sit.  She sees me hidden in the corner by myself, and the slight smile bursts into a toothy (and yet still incredibly sexy) grin.

She works her way through the crowd towards my table, and asks, "Is anyone sitting here?"  I answer in the negative, and invite her to sit.  She does so, inquiring, "Where is Hillary tonight?  She mentioned that you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately."  I redden and explain the dirtbag boyfriend situation to her, while she smiles in a predatory way.

The waitress comes by and takes her order - some froofy girly drink.  Marina explains that Hillary had done something similar with a Czech boy the previous semester, and that she had intended to hell me about it the next time she saw me.  "Guess I don't need to now," she finished, flashing that grin again.

Oh crap.  This one is a maneater - I can tell.

But such a beautiful maneater . . .

The band continues to play, and the rich juxtaposition of Latin and Dixieland is infectious.  She drinks her froofy girly thing fast, and I head back to the bar to get us each another.  (I'm still only drinking Coke, whoever's reading this.)  Her eyes follow me as she softly chews on the tip of her straw, seductively.

Trouble brews, and I stir.  Stir like I mean it.

We continue to talk as the band plays.  Our conversation flows and ebbs, flipping intermittently from Spanish to English and back again.  I go back to get us another round, and when I return, her chair has mysteriously moved closer to mine.

The band finishes their set and we clap enthusiastically.  It's late; I should go home, but she mentions that there's another band playing in five minutes down the street.  After a moment's hesitation, I reply, "Lead the way."  She grabs my hand with her elegant and surprisingly strong fingers, and we walk up the hill three blocks and squeeze our way in, finding another abandoned table just right of the stage.

She's not drunk, but I can tell she's a bit tipsy.  Consequently, I order us both sodas this round and as the server leaves, she scoots her chair closer, ever closer.

Trouble brews, and I stir.

I put my arm around her as the band starts their set, and she rubs her shin along the back of my leg.  Her breath is hot as she whispers something in my ear.

I think back on the breakup advice I'd gotten from an Australian friend of mine.  This is pretty much what it entails.

I mention to this dark, beautiful Amazonian goddess that she doesn't hold her alcohol well.  She answers by laughing, a deep, husky, sexy sound, grabs my chin, and kisses me.

Hard.

Trouble brews, and I stir.

I kiss her back.

This band is much less interesting than the first (thus, I imagine, the 1:30am set time) so we spend more time talking.  It turns out that Marina has a little piso with a roommate, but her parents live up the coast a bit in the town of Sitges.  Her father, she explains, is from Morocco - thus the deep brown Amazonian skin.

Her deep, dark flesh is warm and soft to the touch.

The group finishes, I pay our tab, and we're out in the clear dark night again.  I volunteer to walk her home, and we quickly arrive at her building.  She invites me in, and I accept.  (I really shouldn't - I have class in less that six hours - but Amazon woman . . .)

Trouble brews, and I stir.

I sit on her couch as she steps into the small kitchen.   She asks, "Do you want something to drink?  I'm putting on the coffee pot."

"Just water," I reply.  She gives me a funny look as I explain that I don't drink it.  She fills a cup for her and grabs me a bottle of water.

"That's boring," she retorts.  "No alcohol, no coffee."  I answer that it's actually pretty good - me and water are best friends.

We continue to talk as  she sips her little taza of coffee and we inch closer.  She puts it down, turns to me, and smiles.

I figure now is as good a time as any, and we kiss.  Hard.  These are not the passionate, feverish kisses Hillary and I shared - these are full of ferocity, deep, heavy, and predatory.

My hands do that roaming thing they do so well, all over her taut, toned body.

Trouble brews, and here I am, stirring it like my life depends on it.

Her hands leave my body, and she reaches behind her for the clasp of her dress.

Gulp.

I stop her, and say, "No, no, no, Marina, I'm not that kind of boy.  You're a bit on the inebriated side, and I'm not going to take advantage of you like that."

She looks at me, disappointed.  I continue, "What happens when we see each other at school tomorrow?  Nothing but awkwardness.  This, as much as I hate to say it . . . just isn't right."

She finally smiles and says, "Braeden, you're a nice guy."

"Too nice," I respond.

She walks me to the door and kisses me again.  As I turn and walk away, she sticks her gorgeous head back out and says, "Thanks for not 'taking advantage' of me when you had the chance, I guess."

I get home and lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling.  I'm too wired to sleep, but I'm equally exhausted and have class in five hours.

Only in Tarragona.


Comments
on Mar 17, 2008

on Mar 17, 2008
Love your posts, SanCho.
on Mar 17, 2008

Wow.  Good boy for walking away.

Wow.

on Mar 17, 2008

Man-whore.  That's all I have to say.  Oh, and I can't believe you gave me such a crappy abbreviated version the last time.

 

Man whore.

on Mar 17, 2008


For those of you who wonder where all these death-oriented comics come from, check out my number-one new favorite webcomic of all time, Buttercup Festival.

Seriously. Number one.
on Mar 17, 2008
In one particular way I'm glad you end the narrative there, but I do hope that ending was faked for the good of your family's reputation (in a very old-school traditional way).

An Amazonian princess and you don't let her take advantage of you? You're a man of linguistic science, right? Think of all the discoveries you could have made!

If it's for religious reasons I guess I can understand, but still!
on Mar 17, 2008
If it's for religious reasons I guess I can understand, but still!


It was. And it was the ONLY thing that kept me from making those discoveries.

You have no idea.

I wonder if I'll run into Marina outside of school again or not . . .
on Mar 17, 2008
What's the point of not drinking coffee/alcohol if you go have sex outside of marriage? It reminds me of the Catholics who don't eat meat on Friday during lent but haven't been to church for 50 years. Why bother at that point?

So good on you for not discovering.
on Mar 17, 2008

Wow, mate, you're certainly a man of your convictions.  Still, an Amazonian princess, a warm, Spanish night and good music...  Potent!

on Mar 18, 2008
Man-whore.

on Mar 18, 2008
She comes along
She gets inside
She makes you better than anything you've tried
It's in her kiss
The blackest sea
And it runs deeper than you
Dare to dream it could be

[Chorus:]
With teeth [x4]

Wave goodbye
To what you were
The rules have changed
The lines begin to blur
She makes you hard
It comes on strong
You finally found
The place where you belong

[Chorus]

I cannot go through this again [x8]

[Chorus]

She will not let you go
Keeps holding on
She will not let you go
Keeps holding on
This time, I'm not coming back
She will not let you go
This time, I'm not coming back
She will not let you go


Nine Inch Nails, "With Teeth"
on Mar 19, 2008
Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light!
put on the red light (Roxanne)
put on the red light (Roxanne)
put on the red light (Roxanne)
put on the red light (Roxanne)



heh heh heh
on Mar 23, 2008

Part of me knows you did the right thing, the other part wants to scream, "Get your ass back there and take advantage of everything!!!"

Nice read, SanCho.

~Zoo

on Mar 23, 2008

good boy SC! 

Now....that's temptation! 

on Mar 23, 2008
Now....that's temptation!


This is nothing. Wait until I post my Good Friday happenings.

Meta
Views
» 334
Comments
» 15
Category
Sponsored Links