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Daydreams
By
Camincha
Oh, yeah! at Geary and... Yeah! I had to meet a friend there the other night, he had said.
In the Tenderloin? A friend? Is a hooker David met at Banana Bar & Lounge on Geary, Lola thought.
The B B & L is dimly lit. But the worn out floor, cracked walls from the not so distant earthquake, scratched doors GENTS & LADIES falling off their hinges and the odor they exude reaches out to all newcomers. Specially tonight, in this muggy night.
Some homeless types keep warm on stools at the counter doing their best to make their drinks last. A solitary man sits at the farthest table in the back, holding a cigarette, nursing a long neck, exhaling angrily into the already polluted atmosphere.
The grey-hair-man with the ponytail pushed his glasses back into the bridge of his nose shifting his cheeks on the stool, the way Lola 'seen him do when sitting in front of his computer. He rubbed his thighs and swayed his shoulders side to side shaking his ponytail. It undulates on his back like a cat’s tail.
A short oriental stern-insecure-looking bartender his head just above the counter paces back and forth surveying the door where a couple 'girls in two sizes too small mini skirts are teetering on their platform shoes trying to keep themselves warm. Trying to keep the first drops of a rainstorm from drenching them.
I hate this... husky redhead.
I know, brunette, absently.
No need to say more. They know their clients will be short tempered. In a bad mood. Rushing to get to their warm homes, wives, children, apartments, girlfriends. Just to negotiate prices will turn into a battle. Rain makes the men impatient. The fat man who laughs at everything shows up. Not laughing. He has sour-smelling-breath and blood-shot eyes.
David turns to the tall blonde clad in tight shorts, halter, platform shoes. Another one? he smiles.
Tall blonde leans over to let her breasts half spill out of the halter. Her hand pushes his away to take firm hold of his left thigh, let’s just go big boy, she whispers.
David gets up, stretches...
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
THIS IS THE kind of day in San Francisco that they like to shoot movies in, sunny, warm light breeze. Then around the world people say: Oh! that’s California for you. And tourists flood in leaving their jackets and sweaters at home to find the more familiar cold, foggy, windy weather. But a sunny day in San Francisco makes no difference here in Union Street. Is not the reason for the sidewalks spilling with people and cars filling the street. No. Union Street is always like this.
Lola is enjoying all this, the traffic, the people, the sun reflecting off cars, bouncing off windows when wearing a bright smile – in case anyone who wants to know how she is doing – walks into Prego on Union Street with tall-blond-green-eye Anton and in the royal-blue-suit $200 from Macy’s with the hand embroidered yellow-silk-blouse. The crowd almost exclusively in black takes notice. The good looking couple talk and smile as if they were alone.
The grey-hair-man with the light blue eyes and ponytail in the khaki suit, black tie and shirt looks down at his succulent steak sandwich. Hands on each side of the plate. His fingers open and close as he talks intently to the man across the table. His light blue eyes dart back and forth from his companion’s face, stray to the window, survey the street without really seeing it and back.
Lola and Anton follow the waitress to a table for two. The enormous menu with dozens of dishes amuses them. There are pages and pages of SIDE ORDERS JUMBO ORDERS and VARIETY plates.
The energy that followed them to their table makes the grey-hair-man with the ponytail turn. He stares.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
WHEN LOLA OPENED her eyes she felt his presence. His hands. Before she was awake her entire body was in a frenzy of hot moist desire. Between her legs it was pulpy, opened, enticing. were on her. Turned her over on her stomach. She feels him lifting himself. Undoing his ponytail, shaking his head to let the long strands lose. He is on his knees. Lifts her nightgown. Deliberately with careful, measured movements picking the edge curled around her feet he rolls it back. Places the thick ring around her hips and comes close enough to let his stem give her a little peck between the lips. Yes. Yes. Ohhhhhh...
He penetrated her slowly, very slowly. His hands tenderly massaged her hips, her stomach, lovingly placed his right index in her navel. Murmured beautiful, beautiful woman... Lola you’re a beautiful woman and wraps his arms around her as she opens up further to accommodate him. With his tongue teases her right ear, her left ear. Rocks her gently.
Suddenly. He screams Ohhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhh... Yes! Yes! Turns her on her back and peels the nightgown off her. His lips soft on her skin wherever they alight.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
AS SHE FINISHED reading her last poem the applause rose above the street traffic, people talking and laughing, the clanking of dishes in all the many restaurants in the nearby blocks, sirens of police cars and fire engines and for a moment, even over the jazz-band-notes. Cameras flashed, Hector poised to capture her smile. His lips a tight line, his eyes covered by the camera, his expression unreadable. A sharp contrast to big smile of KDTV man which even half of camera can’t hide. Legs spread apart precariously supporting himself. As Lola returned his smile her eyes went past him and locked on the grey-hair-man just a few feet from the stand. Well, she just knew it was him, his height... he had cut his hair.
I’m thinking of cutting it he had said as she caressed it with her lips, her dark nipples brushing his back. His white skin crisscrossed by the sun coming through the blinds on the windows facing Anza St. So he had cut it.
The gray-hair-man turned and his light blue eyes met hers for a second. He smiled. She turned to answer to the weight of a hand on her shoulder and found Richard’s smiling green eyes .
And she asked herself, once more, why not him? I would hear from him everyday and most of the night. He would write me long letters. He would write me poems. He would edit my work, he would nurture me. He would spend holidays with me. He would take me to dinners, exotic, elegant in San Francisco’s North Beach Poetry Stage restaurants with fiery Flamenco dancers. Richard does all that for me now and I have never even kissed him. Why not him?
Lola hugged Richard and nestled in his arms for a moment. The applause rose again as people recognized the North Beach Fair organizer. She joined in the applause, and stared at the crowd with an impish smile. People smiled back, some nodded.
You are wanted over there, Richard whispered. She looked. Two men sat leisurely at one of the tables set in the middle of the cordoned off street next to the beer kiosk located next to the JAZZ MUSICIAN’S PHOTOS by Jay kiosk that was next to the SUBMARINE SANDWICH kiosk, that was next to... in well pressed jeans, crisp-white-shirts and blue blazers.
They are from Dalton.... Richard’s eyes were dancing. He felt her surprise, her delight.
Are these people reliable? Lola asked.
Reliable? he laughed and set his eyes into the distance. Long pause. She could see his eyes darting, looking for clues, his hand go up to scratch the bald spot on top of his head and then relaxed and just pat it....
Yes, reliable. Assertive now, smiling, yes. You know what I mean....
The Dalton guys went straight to the point, squinting their eyes, just so, to better assess her, we love your poetry they said in unison. Very good. Call us... Here, our cards.
She smiled trying to read their faces, looking into their clear eyes, noticing their sandy hair. Almost twins, she thought.
She walked back the half block to where Richard was waiting. Although it was well past four o’clock the sun was still warm.
How about a café latte?
Yes. He said.
Other readers joined them. The word was Vesuvio’s.
The gray-hair-man turned and his light blue eyes met hers for a second. He smiled. Was that David?
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
THE FILLMORE STREET Fair was in progress. It was deliciously, perfectly hot, with just a soft breeze that came around when least expected going from Washington Street to Fillmore as they turned a corner or crossed an alley between buildings. When they reached the crowd she felt welcomed by the laughter, the pungent smell of mustard, hot charcoal,
Poême by Lancôme from a beautiful black woman passing by, a whiff of a diaper that needed changing as a couple went by carrying a baby. Overall prevailed the wailing saxophone from the amplifiers doing a good job. A loud, soulful moan spreading far away....
Lolaaa, Lolaaaa.
She turned. Mariano!
He was looking down at her from his six four height, smiling. The crowd packed against them. He was wearing all white again like at his last party. It emphasized his dark eyes and their perennial thirst for lust. She remembered the
Etoile. A coffee & Amoretto for her a red wine for him lounging in the soft velvet sofas. Cuddled by his left arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Mariano’s sensual strokes on her back tracing her bra ever so, so gently. She felt steamy hot, deliciously heady. Felt his testosterone flowing on the surface of his fingertips, of his tongue as she watched him enunciate words. It was, she concluded, what enabled him to function in many spheres, to travel between continents always in well paid jobs of prestige, Director of San Francisco State University, in western Europe’s home office in Madrid. Had been there for a year. Attending conferences in Latin America. Presentations in the United States.
His last birthday party comes to mind now. He had said on the phone, nine. This time she avoided the mistake of being on time, so when she arrived at eleven the rooms that as other years had been empty of furniture for the party, were full. Close to a hundred people filled the house.
Lola left her coat and purse in a corner of an overcrowded bedroom and found Mariano in the kitchen. He turned from mixing a drink when she tapped him on the shoulder and in seeing her he exclaimed: Lola, woman. You, you, you look beautiful. His voice cracked. Woman you look, you look...
A petite brunette approached them. She stood next to Mariano sizing up Lola with curious eyes. He made a special show of introducing her.
He took her hand and reaching for Lola’s brought them together. His eyes intent on the woman’s face he said, this is Lola. As she watched him Lola remembered a night of passionate lovemaking, both deliciously exhausted, drenched in perspiration. Mariano murmuring in her ear: have you ever done it with another woman?
Lola paid attention to the petite brunette. Pretty, big eyes shadowed by long lashes, heart-shaped full red lips and lots of hair. Bushy, thick, long, curly hair. As the party continued, the salsa, merengue, some jazz and rock and roll kept most everyone on their feet. Lola loved to dance and was delighted with the guy who had become his dancing partner.
But her eyes kept looking for Elsa. She intrigued her, all the more when to her amused surprise observed how Elsa ignored Mariano while he danced in passionate embrace with every woman there except the fat one who preferred to sway by herself from side to side in a corner of the living room and the two that ate nonstop most of the evening and left without saying a word to anyone.
Yeah! Elsa continued to ignore Mariano while kissing, caressing, rubbing herself against the woman with whom she was doing a tight, passionate, dance. The two in a space and time of their own.
So when Mariano pulled Lola playfully away from her partner with a smiling: Excuse us. After a couple of turns she didn’t mind at all that his left arm held her tight against his chest and that her head rested on his shoulder.
And then she saw the tall grey-haired-man. His light blue eyes smiling. There, in the back of the hallway. Was it David? There, there, in the hallway. The man that just walked across the narrow space from one room to another.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
SHE WAS STANDING in her bright, colorful living room surrounded by books, gigantic philodendron, a towel wrapped around her, fresh out of the shower. Her hair had started to dry, flighty, pushing in all directions, sticking to the nape of her damp neck and shoulders. Had already rubbed her body with
Sunflower & Silk. Placed a dab of estrogen on her clitoris spreading it to the lips and now felt deliciously moist between her legs.
Lola turned to him smiling, lifted her dark-brown-eyes to his light-blue. David put his arms 'round her waist and pressed his fingers against her back gently. For Lola his body was exhilarating. Intoxicating. To smell, feel him, strong, muscular towering above her trembling in her arms.
Big hands. Big feet. Big eyes. Big... Big.... Lola loved his size, his strength, his muscles that felt like soft-silk-ropes when they wrapped 'round her. Their clothes fell off their bodies. His hands disposing of hers. Might as well have been tissue paper. Now held her away from him. Just a foot. No words. He was facing the full size mirror, feasting on her reflection. The full moons of her buttocks giving in to a slender waist supporting strong shoulders covered by clusters of hair in disarray sticking to her skin or hanging freely swaying as she moved. She lifted her eyes to his. He made a gesture. She followed his eyes, then lifted them to his again with a playful smile on her lips.
In answer he started to pull down his blue briefs... The stem showed its head pink, thick, nacre, blond with some vibrant red strokes. It was bursting with strength. Looked vivid, forceful, fancy. Lola pushed her fingers deep, gently making contact with the warm skin. Her fingernails tangling with the hair. The strands blond and light brown reaching out eager for her touch. Tenderly she reached till she held the heavy mounds in her hands. The stem free trembled under the fire in her eyes.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
THE DAY WAS rainy and cold, well not quite cold but she felt cold, that made the difference. She felt cold so the rain felt cold to her. She had the heater on. And she was thinking about the César Vallejo’s poem she had translated that she wanted David to edit for her. I need to know if it sounds alright in English.
David had said, send it to me. Send me a copy. But as she thought about it. She thought, well is one page but is single-spaced, quite wordy. And then she thought, you know? there is something really wrong about this relationship if I have to think about something like that: Would he read it? He hadn’t read her personal-point-of-view piece, or her short story that was published in the anthology HARD LOVE. In other words I don’t trust him So, doesn’t that say a lot?
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
WEDNESDAY MORNING AT the Hall of Justice in San Francisco Lola was asked to report to the third floor, department 26, Superior Court,
They need you to interpret for the witness said the clerk.
But they were not quite ready to start so Lola went out to the corridor and was sitting on a bench when she noticed the group of men a few feet away engaged in conversation. Was that David with them Why? What is he doing here?
The guy was wearing a light coffee colored suit like she had seen him wearing. With a black shirt. Fashionable colors. He liked to be trendy.
She looked away. Had just finished talking to Steven. It felt good to start the day working with a great lawyer who was also a friend. My client’s Spanish is a mix of Mexican and Texas bad English. He shook his head apologetically.
Don't worry. I’ll listen to him, get acquainted with his way of talking. His accent. She smiled. You know we all have an accent.
He squeezed her hand fondly and walked away saying, relax. He won’t be here for another half hour. Meantime, I have to be in 18, motion to suppress. Be right back, he added hurriedly.
From the bench Lola was sitting on she could see the backs of the men. They were talking animatedly.
Waiting for Steve could take a while. No traffic on the hallway. No distractions. She took her pad of paper and pen from her briefcase. A voice. Colleen’s, called out to her in a loud voice in that Argentine accent that Lola will always wonder where did she get it,
vení, vení.
Lola alarmed, hurriedly dropped on the bench the erotic story she was scribbling and rushed to her friend. Colleen was walking towards her so they met half way. She was quite upset. Burst out a tale of horror about a lawyer accusing her of some misdeed. He was saying she had been unethical, or something. Colleen didn’t even remember the case. What she remembered was that this particular lawyer had been trouble all along. Had constantly interrupted her while she interpreted for his witness.
Mrs. Lomas, said sí. He had shouted at one point. She said yes, your Honor.
I was so mad, frustrated. I had to explain Mrs. Lomas had said if. She had said:
Si yo hubiera ido al mercado. If I had gone to the market. Not:
Sí, yo fuí al mercado. Yes, I went to the market. Colleen had tears in her eyes.
Lola put her hand to her face, caressed her cheek, smoothed her hair, pushed it back from her forehead. No. No, don’t, don’t, don’t. She didn’t just know what to say, finally, don’t cry! Colleen smothers a sob in her throat.
She knew the men’s eyes were on them. And then Lola let herself drift. Drift. Allowed herself to remember their last conversation. It had been in December. David had talked about a bar, BANANA something, a bar on Mason Street. In the very heart of The Tenderloin and she started thinking, What was he doing there? And why and how come? And I don’t know what. So she came up with the idea that he had gone there to meet some woman that he had connected with through the Internet. Looking for something unusual which is what he likes in sex. Something like a threesome or foursome. Or several women and together and at the same time. And that kind of thing. And she started to wonder and she felt ah... was he planning on including her? what a thought! What a thought! So then she remembered that he had said let’s go out and she had said, when? and he, well, I’m busy the next two weekends and he had kind of chuckled, the next two Saturdays. And she... it got her, got her mad and so she said, so am I. You are
not the only one. And he said, well, I didn’t say that. So now it came down to, was it just her imagination or had it really happened?
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
STORMING ANGRILY Steven had gone to get his client. Are you through? he had said, are you through saying hello to everybody? Lola averted her eyes so he wouldn’t see how she was taking it.
She, thinking him totally unfair, had replied in a low, very low voice, I wasn’t saying hello to everybody. A couple of persons came by to say hello. He was silent. She looked up to see his eyes full of guilt, puppy’s eyes, that said you are right. I apologize and I’m sorry. And suddenly he blurted out putting his heavy briefcase on the
floor it stands by itself he had said some months ago when she commented, oh! that is
big and extending his arms grabbed her by the shoulders, I got jealous, he blurted out.
The group of men were still there. Was that David with them Why? What is he doing here?
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
LOLA WAS TRYING to sort it all out. What was it with Steven? They were friends! When she heard
bonita, bonita, bonita. Didn’t pay attention, because you know! It could be someone high on heroine and or drunk or something... Then some low voices and then: Lola? so she thought, well that’s close enough. She looked up. It was the transsexual who is always getting in trouble but had never seen her in Superior had always been in Municipal so had things, escalated?
The three of them were there. The two short ones and the tall one all exhibiting signs of their change-of-sex operations, big high-up boobs, full lips, unlined cheeks. But close up Lola could see one of them had a stubby chin and the others were clean-shaven or maybe their HRT was really kicking in.
Lola said, what are you doing here? to the tall one. Her? His? last name had just come to her, Carrasco. What are you doing here, Carrasco?
Oh! I had some problems.
Lola looked closer to better see lately had considered stronger contacts
her face very close now. What is it? What, what happened to your face? One side was purple. The eye heavily made up still showed swollen, half closed. The other was tearing.
He looked down. Oh! I had. I had problems.
Lola said, if you aren’t careful you are going to end up in the Pen, I bet your lawyer has told you that. You have to be careful and she stretched her hand to touch the swollen side gently with her fingertips.
Lola returned to her bench. The group of men were gone. Was that David? Had that been David with them?
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
IS A WARM summer day, for a change, in San Francisco. High 70’s maybe even 80’s and she is reading at the North Beach Fair Poetry Stage. For blocks and blocks in Kearny, Grant, Columbus, Broadway, people and more people. She loves it. All ages, sizes, languages. Gets off the 15 at the corner by the park in front of Saint Peter and Paul’s Church, walks to Grant, two blocks to Poet’s Stage. When she’s called reads and reads with all her heart and with all her passion and she’s good. She is very good, not only her physical presence but also her writing is good and it comes through. So every body is applauding after each poem. And cheering and laughing. Prolonged applause after her last, her signature poem,
People. And tells the crowd, thank you, thank you for coming. Without you there would be NO poetry readings.
She wants to get off stage. Go be with her friends. She sees her group still vibrating, celebrating. The steps to go down are blocked. Lots of people, people pressing on all sides. She goes to the side, how is she going to get down? because its like four feet to the ground. But doesn't have to think about it. A pair of strong arms lift her and she lets herself go. And she is down and again the crowd cheers because at this moment she can’t do no wrong. OK?
Lola thinks of his arms, David's. Feels his arms from her shoulders down covering her back to her waist.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
IT WAS ONE of those buildings on Broadway Avenue in San Francisco. From the outside looked like one more, one more ugly, unimaginative building but as soon as you walked into the flat it was magical.
Light flooded in from skylights that shined on a courtyard with a fountain in its center made of mosaics in bright blues: blue azure, lapiz lazuli, blue forget-me-not. And reds. Red like bright strawberry red. And greens. Green like mint green. And yellow. Yellow like mango yellow. Like the mango when ripen. Varie-gated, pink to red, soft cream streaks with 'couple of darker cream pencil thin lines. But this is yellow and there is white and the white is so white Š And the walls also covered with mosaics of the same hues. And palm trees that set it all off and is beautiful. It reminded Lola of El Alhambra de Granada, that magnificent, exotic arabesque palace in Spain.
There are people all around talking and eating. Yuppies. In perfectly pressed blue jeans and white shirts. White is in fashion for that particular "look". Blue jeans and white shirts. The women wear them too. And now that the women are coming out with the high platform shoes the men also wear them but not these men, other men. But not these particular men so you can tell when they don’t who they are. They aren’t yuppies.
Some women are in summer dresses. No underwear. You can tell because if they wore anything underneath there would be lines. Nobody wants lines. At the moment is suppose to be like perfectly straight, shoulders to thighs or calf. Depending. I mean not straight without curves, straight as in no lines. No lines at all. The women don’t wear anything underneath, believe it. They don’t. I don’t. So no lines. No bulges.
It was warm, sunny, cheerful, sultry. Some people had glanced in their direction when they walked in and kept their eyes on the woman and some smiled, some waived at John. Most in that crowd knew him. Lola noticed to one side the tall-grey-haired-man with light blue eyes. He was talking with a short man stocky, bearded in sandals and glasses. As she looked at them a woman who had been standing by walked away and the two men paying no attention continued talking. Lola knew that very soon he would turn around and look. Look at her, push back his glasses that didn’t need pushing back and shake his head, just so as if to readjust it on his neck. Then with his fantastic memory for names and faces he would know that it was John Sayles she had walked in with.
Do you know how much I need you?
Do you know how much I want you?
A TSUNAMI. A VOID. She didn’t breathe. An eternity contained in a second of passion, of feeling so intense when she opened her eyes she didn’t know how long it lasted or when it started. A moan, hers.
I love you. Her voice low, husky with passion. I wasn’t going to say that anymore. It hurts too much these long periods when you stay away. It hurts that you let me know I’m not the only one. He didn’t release her. She didn’t move. Feeling his arms coming from her shoulders covering her back down to her waist. Her body pressing against his enjoying the power he exuded, his strength.
Then I should go, he said.
She didn’t move. He brought down his mouth seeking hers. His arms tightened, lifting her. Their lips met. He pushed his tongue wet, soft, long. She sucked it desperately standing on tiptoe stretching, pressing against him. He moaned. She felt her vagina contracting. It was hot in the room. Very hot. Her temperature rose. Felt herself tender, flexible allowing the shield she had hidden behind the last months to drop. All her resolutions to dissolve. The hours brooding her responses, her answers evaporated.
She had rehearsed over and over. Driving up or down 280 or 101, or whatever: No. No. I’m not going to be home. No. I. No. No. She wouldn’t apologize. She would be short and to the point, No.
She sucked his tongue. A thirsty animal quenching its fever in the water pool of a deserted stretch of her journey with intensity, with desperate force. He responded.
The seasons changed. Winter gave way to Spring. The lilies in the yard opened and bloomed multicolored. White Calla lilies their bright yellow pistils erect trembled in the breeze. Peruvian lilies, Tiger lilies red and orangey undulated coquettishly and the virginal Easter Lily of multiple pistils felt called upon to spread pollen in different directions to cover as many neighborly petals as possible. Red and white geraniums multiplied. Mint, parsley, jade, honeysuckle welcomed the humming birds, mocking birds, blue birds and there was but Lola and David in the universe. Bodies pressed against each other holding on to their pleasure.
Pleasure in each other, their bodies, its forms. His, strong, tall, big boned giving support to her petite frame her dark, long curly hair, her brown eyes now closed that when opened showed admiration, desire for his body, his mind, his spirit, his jokes, his confidences. Her brown eyes that like to watch his changing from grey to light blue, to azure. Feeling weightless, everything around them disappeared and as the moment registered among the great moments in history as the molecules and atoms rearranged themselves and a few blocks down the street the Pacific’s high tide reversed. Retreated. Low, very low. Left the sandy beach covered with small variegated polished shells and crystals. A carpeted jeweled case for their delight.
That moment is remembered by Lola and David as their being totally alone. None others. Just Dave and Lola in the universe. And perfectly still. Nothing stirred, not even the night wind outside. It stood still among the pine branches and eucalyptus on the front yards, back yards, on the hills around and along the border of Sharp Park Boulevard and in the sloping greens of the Golf Course at the edge of the Pacific with its salt-water lagoons where not long ago people fished for salmon.
That moment, that kiss they relished forever in the knowledge of a full moon in the sky. Lola and David bathed in its silver glow. It shone in the middle of the sky, eerily wearing the night as a crown. Shadows danced around her and in passing left her craters naked, open, seductive. At one point there were so many they obscured her completely. Leaving to Lola’s and David’s imagination what could be going on behind them. When it finally cleared, the roundness of the sovereign, that perfect succulent disk, the moon, shone as never before and whispered to the lovers: We were watching you. My lover, the sun and I. We conspired on your behalf. We suspended time. We made the winds still. The tide low just for you, for your kiss.
Copyright © 2006 Camincha
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