The She-Devil in the Mirror by Horacio Castellanos Moya

does. The beach was
lovely, empty, and it was low tide, that’s the good thing about going during the
week: the lower classes can’t get there. On weekends it’s unbearable: all that
riffraff from El Majahual, they simply invade San Blas. They’re all thieves and
whores. I don’t understand why they can’t just fence it off—that’s what papa
says. If you have a place at the beach you have to put up with all that scum
just looking for someone to rob. Horrible. The beaches should be gated to
prevent all that garbage from El Majahual from invading San Blas. But papa says
you can’t do that, legally; I say, to hell with the law. But during the week
it’s peaceful, like yesterday afternoon with José Carlos, we had a wonderful
time at the beach. Though he didn’t go in the water—he was stubborn, he didn’t
want to wear one of my father’s swimsuits; I have some bikinis there so I took a
dip, I went out to the breakwater, it felt so good being tossed about by the
waves. Then we sat under the almond trees, next to the swimming pool, just
talking. I don’t know if I should tell you this, my dear, but now I understand
why Olga María had such a thing for José Carlos, even if he does dress like a
scruffy slob. He’s got a charm all his own, like you wouldn’t believe. But, let
me ask for a glass of water, this wine has made me thirsty. Here he comes. Do
you want some, too? I can’t seem to get Rodolfo’s attention so he’ll come over
here, the cutie-pie. As I was saying, we were next to the pool when the couple
who looks after the house said they were going to the port to do some shopping.
I told them to go right ahead, no problem, we were just staying a few hours, we
weren’t going to spend the night. You remember the house in San Blas, don’t you?
It’s very secure because there’s a big wall all around it. You can’t see the sea
from inside, but nobody can see in from the outside. Like papa says: it protects
against thieves and Peeping Toms. Thank you, waiter. I was dying of thirst.
Let’s finish the bottle. We were alone, José Carlos and I, next to the pool.
Then I said I was going to take a dip, and I wanted to take advantage of nobody
being around to swim naked. There’s nothing better than swimming naked: you feel
free. I love it so much that every chance I get, I swim naked. Maybe because I’d
already had a few beers or because I already felt comfortable around José Carlos
or because the surroundings were so pleasant, whatever it was I wasn’t feeling
shy. I dived in and once I was in the water I took off my bikini, placed it on
the edge of the pool, and started to swim, happy as can be, as if the rest of
the world didn’t exist. That’s what I was doing, swimming on my back, blinded by
the sunlight, totally enjoying myself, when I felt José Carlos next to me. Can
you imagine, my dear? Like getting an electric shock. Everything happened very
quickly. It was amazing. You’ve never done it in a swimming pool? Unbelievable.
That man is a bombshell. He gave it to me every which way. Delicious. His
equipment: it’s off the charts, enough to make you drool. We did it in the pool,
on the grass under the almond trees, in the hammock, in the chaise longue, all
over the house. Just remembering it makes me wet again. That José Carlos, he’s a
darling. He left me utterly exhausted, aching—he does it with imagination. You
should really give him a whirl before he leaves. An expert. Now I know why Olga
María didn’t want to tell me too many details, so I wouldn’t get any ideas about
him. I don’t understand how she let him go. Having a lover like that is worth
the trouble, even if he does fall in love with you, who cares, you just deal
with it. Of course, it’s easy for me to say because I know he’s leaving the
country, so he doesn’t have a chance to fall