Juanita ‘n Dito Ch. 16-18

Birthday

Dear reader,

One comment that keeps coming up is that I switch so often suddenly between past and present. That has a reason. As my mind is sometimes playing tricks with me, giving me flashbacks all of a sudden, and because I think it is not a unique thing, I thought it would be more realistic to write it this way.

Well, that said:

Enjoy!

D.

16 In a shed

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

Clandestino by Manu Chao

“After about two months,” she went on, “it must have been early June in the afternoon, we left on Pablo’s bike to do a little roadtrip. We had stopped along the side of the road in a rural area and were enjoying the sun. There was a lot of traffic on the road and we laid against a slope. He was kissing me passionately and his hands were restlessly exploring my body. Both Pablo and I had had no significant sexual experience. He wanted to, but he didn’t dare ask me. And I wasn’t really ready for it yet. So it stayed with kissing and feeling a bit.

Suddenly he stopped kissing me. He leaned on his elbows and asked: “Juanita, do you want to pose for me?”

Of course I said yes. Posing was always a challenge. He often knew exactly what he wanted and I tried to follow his instructions as well as possible.”

Juanita looked at me: “You know what I mean, Dito. A leg a little more forward, an arm a little more bent, your head a little tilted. Those kind of things. I thought it was an honor if he indicated that I was doing it perfectly. Then I felt great and very proud.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that, Juanita, would you really like to pose for me.”

I looked at him not quite understanding what he implied.

“That’s what I said.” I parried. What he had meant to ask was if I was ready to take more daring pictures. I looked at the road and then at him. His face looked serious and I hesitated a bit before answering:

“As long as you don’t ask me to pose naked.”

He shook his head. No, that was not his intention, but I always wore those oversized jerseys with jeans that he often felt that he was photographing clothing and not me. The pictures he had taken of me by the sea had made him think. He said he thought I was at my best at the time: in my bathing suit. Now he wanted me to put on a blouse and a skirt.

“But, but I never wear that kind of clothes. I don’t feel good about that,” I replied, in the meantime pulling my slumber shirt tightly.

“Would you like to give it a try? I want to see if I can take other photos of you. Whether I can make you another Juanita. “

I indicated reluctantly that we could try if I only had such clothes. He said nothing but got up, went to the motorbike and took a white plastic bag from one of the side cases.

“I was forward and bought you something. I would like you to put it on,” he said as he pressed the bag into my hands.

“Behind the slope there is a farmer’s shed. You can change there.”

I said A before, so I might as well say B now. I stood up and walked up the slope. On top I saw a shed just some twenty yards from the dyke. The door hung half out of the hinges. I walked towards it and carefully opened it. It squeaked.

The shed smelled musty and it was filled with cobwebs. I scanned the inside, there was not much in it: some rusty tools, a scythe and a metal jerry can. There was also a stool with three legs and a chair without a seat. The light of the sun fell through a window.

“Well there we go” I addressed myself. “Hoping for the best.”

I opened the plastic bag and took out a black skirt and a red blouse with silver buttons on the front. It looked nice. Not what I would buy myself, but certainly not something that I would not wear, I thought to myself.

“Where shall I put this?” I looked around for a suitable spot, but everything was covered with dust. So I put the plastic bag over the stool and laid the skirt and blouse on it.

I pulled my shirt over my head and stood there in my bra, loosening the button of my jeans, when I saw a shadow go past the window.

“Hey Pablo, stay outside, okay?”

I heard some stumbling after which his voice at the door said: “Take off your bra please Juanita. It will shine through the red fabric of the blouse. And that looks strange on the photo.”

For a moment I hesitated. Would I dare? I looked at the blouse that lay on the stool in the sun. Well, Pablo would know. Before I took off my bra I first looked through the window, but there was nobody to be seen. As a precaution, I turned my back to the window and released the hook.

Did I hear something? I pricked my ears, with the bra in my hands, but it remained silent. I quickly grabbed the blouse.

Shit, all the buttons were closed. While I was fiddling with the buttons I carefully watched the window. Finally I got them all loose. I shot into the blouse and hurried to close the buttons.

Now my jeans! I kicked my legs and suddenly realized that it wouldn’t ever go over şişli escort my sneakers. I bent down to loosen my shoelaces.

Did I hear anything there? I got up. The window offered the same view as before. I took the skirt from the stool, sat down and pulled off my sneakers. With the skirt in one hand, I tried to get my pants over my feet with the other. It did not work. So I stood up and with one foot on the trouser leg, while lifting my leg, I got the pants off.

The light in the shed changed and I looked at the door where Pablo was standing with his camera. “Are you ready?”

I stood there. In the brand new red blouse that barely covered my panties. I still held the skirt in my hand and my face was red with effort.

“Wait Pablo, I’ll be right there.” I looked at him anxiously. Apparently this had been a signal for him.

He quickly brought the camera to his face and pushed the button.

“No, no, don’t, not like that.” While I held the skirt in front of my face, it clicked again.

“In this light, Juanita, you look like an angel. I had to take a photo of you right now.”

“But, but I’m in my underpants. Go away!”

Pablo looked at my bare legs and then up as if he just noticed for the first time that I was only wearing a blouse. He grinned, but he wasn’t about to leave.

“All the better. Wait a second!” I wanted to put on the skirt, but he came forward and stopped my hand.

“Wait a second!!” It suddenly sounded like an order. “Don’t put on that skirt yet.”

He took the skirt from my hand and put it over the chair. I felt nailed to the ground and he stepped back.

“Stay that way. No, put a hand against the window frame. Now look outside through the window as if you see something indescribable in the clouds.”

He had the camera in front of his eyes again and continued to give me instructions. I heard the click of the camera but remained focused on his voice. I did what he asked of me. He kicked the stool toward me and told me to put one leg on the stool.

“No, Nita, your back leg. Yes, that’s how you do it right. Now put your elbow on that leg and put your head in your hand, but keep looking outside. “

Click, click, click. The camera kept clicking.

“Great, this will be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever made.”

Juanita looked at me. “Well, I didn’t wear the skirt that afternoon.”

“Didn’t he try anything else?”

She had made me curious. Such a boy who didn’t try to be in her pants right away, what kind of a boy was that?

“No, no Dito, he wasn’t like that, well, I didn’t really get it either.”

She looked at me and whispered: “Much later I understood why he wasn’t trying anything.”

She shook her head as if to remove the memory from her mind.

“What do you mean by much later you understood? What had happened?”

She cleared her throat, played a little with the spoon in the sauce, and lowered her head slightly so that her locks fell before her face. She looked at me from under a lock of hair and looked for something. I had been looking at her encouragingly all the time. She found my eyes and put hers down.

“I don’t know if … …” she stopped, unable to finish her sentence. I sat still, the tension was palpable. Again she shook her head, but now more as if she had made up her mind.

“What I am going to tell you now must stay between us. I only tell you because I think you will understand.” I saw her eyes scanning the wall behind me.

I nodded “Of course dear, everything that is shared here remains between us.”

And to dispel any doubts, I said: “There is no other person with whom I would want to and can share it.” For a moment she let her eyes touch mine and I saw doubt again. Did I say too much?

17 In a grip

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

A hundred million suns by Snow Patrol

“Three weeks after he took the photos in the shed …” Juanita suddenly continued “… Pablo came with a gift. Unwrapped, it turned out to be a book. On the black linen cover was only my name in silver letters. It was held shut with a black velvet ribbon.

I loosened the ribbon and wanted to open it when Pablo put his hand on the cover.

“Juanita, this is your album. I made it especially for you and you should know that I did it with the greatest respect for you. So please don’t be mad at me.”

I had looked at him in surprise, why should I get mad at him. He had never given me a reason to be angry.

He slowly took his hand off the cover so that I could open the book. The matting sheets were also black. On the cover page there was only my name in silver and in the small part at the bottom of the page it said June ’08.

When I turned the cover, I was confronted with a portrait of me. A portrait that he had magnified. I looked straight into the camera and only my eyes could be seen. I remembered he took that photo a while ago when we were in town.

“Oh mecidiyeköy escort how beautiful. I can hardly believe this is me,” I said, looking at him admiringly. He stood looking at me with a serious face and bit his lip. I looked at the album again.

The following photo was a silhouette of me on the beach as I watched the sunset. The sun was right behind my face and made my hair shine like a halo. I was stupefied.

The following photo was also taken on the beach. Another silhouette, where I stood in the sea to my knees and shook the water from my hair, while the sun sank into the sea halfway.

I flipped the page and saw myself standing in front of the window of the shed while I looked outside with my hand on the window frame. It was a half portrait, the bottom of the red blouse was not visible. The swirling dust gave a shimmer in the sun beams, suggesting a soft focus idea. Wow, I had only seen such photos in magazines. And here I stood and someone I knew had taken such a picture. The last words of Pablo lingered in my head. How could I ever be mad at that boy? I turned the page.

A portrait full face, my hair fell for the most part over my face and bare shoulder, the collar of the blouse was just visible. I had held it anxiously so that it would not sink over my breasts.

Because of this I had accentuated them, and because I was not wearing a bra, there was also a slight curve where my nipple was covered by the cloth. There was a trace of sweat on my shoulder that ran into the blouse. It had been hot and I had probably perspired. Here too dust and sunlight played an essential role in creating an erotic atmosphere. I got hot, just looking at myself.

Again I turned the page. I saw my bare legs all over the page. One leg almost straight and the back with my bare foot on the stool. Sunlight flooded between the space where the blouse fell open on my white panties which reflected. “What the fuck!” I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut. Don’t get angry now, it’s not too bad. It was a beautiful artistic photo and it could have been anyone’s legs. BUT IT WAS MINE! Why did he do that? I looked at him and the tension was visible on his face. As if nothing was wrong, I looked at the picture again. Dust, sunlight and naked skin, it was a beautiful pic.

“Nice” I said as naturally as possible, but my voice was trembling.

He suddenly put his hand over mine. “I think that’s enough for today.”

I looked up in surprise. “But, but I want to see the rest …”

“Enough!” He ripped the album from my hands and put the bow back on.

“Pablo, isn’t it my album? Let me see those photos. What else have you done? Give it back!” I wanted to take the album out of his hand, but he pushed my hand away.

“No, not now Nita. Not until you are ready.”

“Why am I not ready now? What are you hiding? Did you secretly take photos of me?”

He changed color and I took the opportunity to get the album back again. Somehow I had to laugh at his embarrassment. He had taken those photos anyway. And if he had secretly done that, I would have been curious about what he had photographed.

“Nita, please, don’t be mad at me.” He sank on the couch next to me and held his hands to his face.

I loosened the bow again. I needed to know what other photos he had taken and opened the album. It fell open on a page I had not yet seen.

A dusty window and behind it was me, half in the sunlight, my head bowed, in my bra, concentrating on loosening the button of my jeans. He had made it from outside when I heard something, I suspected.

The next page. A photo in which I was lying on a towel on the beach in my bathing suit. My eyes were closed. Was I asleep? At least I couldn’t remember that he had made it. At first glance it looked like an ordinary photo, until I saw what the focus was on. My nipples protruded straight through the fabric and cast two small but indisputable shadows on my bathing suit.

I flipped the page. A cut-out of my thigh with the edge of my bathing suit as a dome over it.

A photo of me in a white shirt, with the light shining through the fabric, showing the contours of my upper body.

Another photo of my bathing suit and upper thigh, now more from the front. A few hairs were visible on the edge of my bathing suit.

A photo of the barn door, Noooo, that couldn’t be true. In the light of the window I stood pontifically, without a bra, about two meters behind the narrow opening of the door. I got hot.

After that another one, but now I was fiddling with the buttons of the blouse to get them loose so that I could put it on while the sunlight showed my right breast in full glory.

Slowly I closed the album and looked at Pablo. He still had his hands over his face. Because I didn’t say anything, he looked up.

“They are photographed very nicely.” I whispered. I was unable to say that they had excited me.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” He looked at me hesitantly. istanbul escort

“Of course I am angry with you, photographing me without my knowledge. Especially those on the beach. Was I sleeping there?”

He nodded. “But what about the others? The one in the shed? Didn’t you find it worse?”

I shook my head. “The only thing I thought was that I didn’t know anything about it. And I think that if you had asked me, I certainly would have said no, but they have become so beautiful that I doubt that if I had said yes, and I would have posed, they would have become this beautiful.”

He raised his shoulders. “I think so, you are a beautiful model and you follow my orders well.”

He looked at his hands and spoke softly: “We could try. I can take better pictures of you, I know that for sure, but then you would have to trust me completely. Do you dare?”

His eyes focused on mine and he waited in silence for me to respond.

I said nothing but opened the album again. The dusty window with me in a bra busy loosening my button from my jeans.

Oh, here’s a new one: made through the doorway but closer. And I only saw my bare legs, the red fabric of my blouse and the white of my panties, which reflected the sunlight while I was loosening my laces. My butt was so high in the air that it almost looked like there was only a lower body. Because the sunlight that came through the window fell on my butt and my white slip, the background was dark. It was a beautiful and exciting photo. I observed Pablo, next to me, looking at the photo and licking his lips. So it excited him too.

She wanted to take another sip of beer but her bottle was empty. Then she looked at her hand, my fingers over it. She looked at me.

For a moment longer I held her hand in mine and then stood up. “I’ll just get two beers, or do you want something else?”

She looked at her watch. “Ooowww, it’s almost five o’clock. I have to go get Tomàs from my babysitter.”

I apparently looked disappointed.

“I can also ask her if he can sleep at her place tonight.” She said to herself and then to me: “May I continue to talk to you tonight?”

She turned to me expectantly.

“Please. Juanita your story intrigues me. I will take you home now, you will make sure you get your things straightened so that you can tell me how this story continued. But let’s make a deal: I will come and pick you up and bring you back home, understood?”

I turned around without waiting for her reaction and shouted as I walked to the kitchen: “Chittie, I ‘m gonna prepare the bill, we have to go.”

Xochitl was already halfway out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron “But Doña Delgado, I was counting on you to stay for a nice dinner.”

I quickly gave her a kiss. “Very sweet of you Chittie, I will come to you very soon and I will probably bring Juanita with me. Now we have other plans,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Will she be your …”

I put my finger on her mouth. “Too soon, Chittie, too early to say anything about that.”

I winked at her.

18 In anticipation

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida by Iron Butterfly

She didn’t want me to come and get her, so I was waiting now. Chittie had given me a doggy bag and had added some tortillas and sauce extra. That would come in handy for you tonight, she had said. After that Juanita stepped into my Starlet and we drove to her house. She lived in an apartment complex somewhere in the poor part on the outskirts of the city. I was glad that I could get away quickly. This was not part of my life, I thought as I was driving out of town.

When I got home I had dived into the kitchen and had put the tortillas and sauces in the fridge and checked if there was enough of chilled white wine. After that I prepared plates, cutlery and glasses on a tray, so that I could later take that to the library. Because that’s where we were going to spend the evening. It had become my living room for the last thirty years, occasionally my bedroom and my dining room. However, there was one thing that I had never done so far. I had never admitted anyone else.

Why Juanita now? I walked out of the kitchen and into the library. On the cabinet next to the door I turned on the light, while I let my hand go over the back of the female body, the key tingling against her ass for a moment. Then I walked behind the door and also turned on the second light. For a moment I felt whether the keys were still hanging there. In the doorway I turned around and checked if everything was ready for tonight.

I walked back into the room one more time to the desk to turn on the desk lamp and then left the library. I went up the stairs and walked to my bedroom, loosening my blouse.

What should I wear tonight? I stood in front of my wardrobe … and in the meantime the thought was haunting me: Why Juanita now?

I had no suitable answer. There was no logic in it. It was a kind of feeling. It was as if the library had been waiting for her all this time. As if this library was there especially for her. As if all those literary treasures were not meant for me but for her.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir

WC Captcha 9 + 1 =