“That is Diablo Cojuelo,” Ildaria shouted into his ear to be heard over the merengue music a small band of costumed men wereplaying.
“A vampire?” G.G. turned to ask in a shout. Even in dreams he wouldn’t shout the word immortal out loud.
“No.” She laughed and explained in a yell, “This is Carnaval. He is the Limping Devil. He was banished to earth because ofthe childish pranks he pulled. But his leg was injured when he landed, so he limps. At least, that is the official story.My grandmother used to say that he really represented the Spanish who invaded the island and enslaved the native people.”
“What is that he’s carrying?” G.G. asked, eyeing the balloon-like thing the Limping Devil was carrying. It really did looklike a pale sort of pinkish skin-colored balloon, but G.G. was pretty sure that was what the howling man had been hit with.A balloon wouldn’t make a man shriek in pain like that.
“His vejiga. A dried and inflated cow bladder, cured with ashes, lemon, and salt. It is very hard. Come, he is getting too close. Ifhe hits you with his vejiga it hurts and you will be bruised for a week,” she warned, and began to pull him away.
G.G. nodded, but glanced back over his shoulder as she pulled him along and thought he caught a glimpse of a naked woman withlong black hair, or maybe wearing a dress of long black hair. Only there was something wrong with her feet. Turning back toIldaria, he yelled, “What—?”
“La Ciguapa. Like a succubus. She walks naked, her long hair her only cover. Her feet are backward to confuse anyone who follows her footprints. She comes out at night and enchants men,” Ildaria explained, as they made their way through the crowd.
“Is this where you grew up?” he asked, catching glimpses of other costumed figures. A man in a woman’s dress carrying a chicken,a woman shrieking hysterically, a large group dressed in attire that looked almost native American but with much more intricateand colorful beading than he’d ever seen.
“Si. It is my village during Carnaval,” she yelled, and then paused and took a quick look around. Seeming satisfied that theyweren’t near the Limping Devil and his vejiga, she turned her attention to the street scene and smiled faintly. “This was how the Carnaval was when I was young. Now itis as commercialized as Christmas, with sponsors and concerts and . . .” She shrugged unhappily. “It is not the same anymore.”
“You sound like an old woman,” he teased lightly.
Ildaria turned to him with a crooked smile. “I am an old woman,” she pointed out, and then grinned at his stunned expression as he realized she was right.
She had said she was born in 1812. That meant she was over two hundred years old, older than any mortal alive. She shouldbe a shriveled old prune. But the nanos kept her young and beautiful. G.G. knew about immortals, and intellectually he knewthat most if not all of them that he met were older than him, but for some reason he didn’t think of them that way.
“Oh, G.G., you are dating an older woman,” Ildaria said suddenly, with wide eyes. “A cougar.”
G.G. snorted at the claim. “You’re no cougar.”
“Si. Lydia, my friend from university, said an older woman with a younger man is a cougar. I am a cougar,” she assured him.“And you are mi perrito.”
“What is that?” he asked suspiciously.
“My puppy.”
“My puppy?” he gasped with disbelief.
“Well, it’s better than my kitty. That just sounds wrong. I could call you Osito.”
“Which means?”
“Cuddly teddy bear.” When he scowled, she said, “Semental? It means stallion.”
“Yeah, well that’s not what it sounds like,” he said dryly.
“Or polla grande,” she offered, and then smiled wickedly and explained, “It means big cock.”
G.G. felt the grin spread over his face. Yeah, he was a guy. He liked that name.
Ildaria burst out laughing at his expression, sidled closer, and he felt her hand slide up his leg, toward his groin. “I likeyou in this outfit, polla grande.”
“Naughty,” he said softly, catching her hand. It might be a dream, but it still felt like there were hundreds of people around them. Unfortunately, as usual, one touch and he was ready to go. Hell, one look and he was usually ready to go. Ildaria was like a drug and he was addicted. Still holding her hand in his, he slid his free hand to her hip. “And I like you in this dress, Angel. It makes me want to slip my hand under your skirt to see what you’re wearing under it.” He let his hand glide down over her bottom and urged her closer as he squeezed gently. “But I really think you look even better out of it.”
Ildaria smiled slowly, and then pulled away and tugged him along behind her, leading him through the crowd, moving towardthe edge of it until they broke away and escaped into an alley. It was narrow and dark, and felt isolated from the celebratingvillagers behind them, the music, laughter, and chatter muted a great deal. G.G. was just wondering where they were goingwhen she stopped and turned to face him. Before he could ask what they were doing, she leaned back against the wall, and tuggedher top down, revealing her breasts.
G.G. stared for a moment, awed by the sight, and then moved forward, reaching for the perfect round globes even as his lipsfound hers. She greeted him warmly, her mouth opening at once to welcome him, and her body arching into his touch. G.G.’stongue thrust and hips surged as he cupped and squeezed the breasts on offer. Her skin was so soft and warm, and she feltso damned good in his hands. He toyed with her nipples as he kissed her, plucking and tweaking them until she moaned, andthen one hand fell away and dropped to tug up her skirt. Catching the cloth between them with the pressure of his
