I am a writer. Acuario is a tattoo artist. I am American. He is Mexican. We have an interesting relationship. Two creative personalities. Two very different cultures.
If he pisses me off. I don’t yell. I don’t throw things. I challenge his authority. In front of his friends. This both angers and excites him.
If I piss him off, he doesn’t talk. He fucks me. But he makes me wait. This both frustrates me and keeps me wanting more.
It is my differences that he loves. It is his differences that I love.
We are totally into each other. We totally satisfy each other. We drive each other crazy… in both good and bad ways. That's what makes it hot. That's why it works.
I’ll tell you the story of one of our best fights.
It wasn't our first fight. We had been honing our skills for some time, working on our creativity, but I was particularly proud of this one.
The night before, Acuario stood me up. He was supposed to come home. He had asked me to wait up for him. I did. He didn’t show. He wasn’t cheating on me or anything, he just didn’t bother to come home. He was supposed to come home to me. He stayed out with his friends. It was that simple.
I was pissed. Not because he was with his friends, but because I felt disrespected and taken for granted.
I could have filled my time being productive. I could have fallen deep into my work. I could have met my own friends. I could have drunk a bottle of wine, instead of settling for the usual beers that occupied the refrigerator. I could have masturbated! I could have enjoyed myself.
Instead, I sat there like an idiot. Waiting.
He eventually rolled in in the wee hours, all “I’m sorry,” and “Disculpame”. It was bullshit. He decided not to come home and thought he could get away with it. Fuck that.
When he crawled into bed, I turned my back on him, and I didn’t speak to him the next morning. I scowled at him over my coffee. He tried to kiss me and I didn’t move, except for raising my eyebrow and then turning back to my computer. I started writing a story about a hot Mexican guy who gets mauled by a jaguar. It was cathartic. I wasn’t giving in quickly. He had had his fun the night before. I would have mine today.
He had a long session to do that day. It was on a guy he had introduced me to and with whom I had become friends. Guille was cool. We were like two little kids when we hung out. It was cute. He had a great sense of humor, and we had an easy way between us. He got me. This white girl in their brown world. I apologised to Guille in my head as I sat plotting. He was an unwitting player in this game, but I didn’t think he would mind.
They were a couple of hours in when I made my move. Nothing elaborate. I decided to take a bath.
Acuario’s studio was downstairs, but the house was small and I knew they would be able to hear the water running, filling up the tub. He would know exactly what I was doing, and would figure out quickly enough what I was up to. I wanted them both to know I was soaking in the water; which meant that they would both know that I was naked. And wet. And soapy. And languorous.
Game on.
In my mind, I could see them sitting there, both thinking the same things and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Acuario clearing his throat, trying not to get distracted. Guille respectfully looking away from Acuario’s face. Guille had been with Acuario the night before. He had felt the cold between us that morning, when I had looked over my shoulder at my boyfriend, and had instead, given him the hug and a kiss on the cheek. I knew that would make Acuario boil without threatening him too much. He trusted Guille, but he was still a man. And a Latin man, at that.
And now, his woman was naked in the house. And they both knew it.
The water felt good and I took my time. Pupajim was playing on the speakers in the studio and I could hear it coming up the stairs. Acuario had introduced me to Reggae. I liked it. I loved to dance, and that music moved my body. Sensuously. I soaked and swayed, enjoying the feel of the water and soap slipping through my hair and over my skin. I swam in the rhythms, letting the water warm up my body and cool off my temper.
When I was done, I was in a really mischievous mood. I wasn’t pissed anymore. I was keyed up. This would be fun. In our relationship, Acuario was still thrown by my playfulness. He expected me to explode. I preferred to plot. I wanted to get my revenge, but I liked to laugh, not fight.
I toweled off and went to look for something to wear, as well as for my next move.
Oh no, the underwear I wanted was in the laundry. Dear me... I would have to go and get it.
I wrapped my towel around my naked body, securing it just above my breasts, and grabbed a second, smaller one for my long hair. Then, I walked down the stairs and straight through the studio, totally nonchalant, just drying my hair. Nothin’ to see here...
The buzzing of the tattoo needles stopped.
I looked straight forward, holding on hard to my poker face.
I heard Guille snicker and Acuario hiss.
When I got to the other side of the room and through the door, I was trying desperately not to make any noise, but laughing hard. Oh, this was fun!
I wasted some time, making a pretence of looking around, found my clothes exactly where I knew they would be, grabbed my panties and bra and put them on. They weren’t particularly sexy; just a pair of boy-shorts and a halter top. I didn’t want to push things too far with more than that. I put my ear to the door, listening for my cue. The needles were buzzing again and the guys were talking about topics that were purposefully other than me. Good. I gathered my composure, reopened the door, and began my walk back across the room, dragging my towel behind me.
Acuario couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Qué coño haces, mujer?”
He often spoke to me in two languages. I was learning Spanish, but was nowhere near fluent. When he wanted to be clear about what he was saying, he switched back and forth. When he was passionate, whether with desire or frustration, it was “solo Español”.
“What?” I paused and asked, knowing exactly what he had said, but baiting him.
“What. The Fuck. Are You Doing. Woman?”
“Walking through our house.” It was all I could do not to smile.
Guille laughed out loud. Acuario shot him a hard look. “You see I still have these needles pointed at your arm, no?” Guille closed his mouth and tried to sit still. I winked at him. He turned away, clearly having a hard time controlling himself. I cocked my head, lifted my eyebrows at Acuario and strutted out of the room.