They sat in uncomfortable silence for several blocks more. 'Are there a lot of good restaurants in Mexico City?' she finally hinted. She was dying to go to lunch, though not necessarily with Julio. Handsome as he was, he was a cold and sullen bastard with her!
'If by good you mean expensive, yes. But we are not going to such a place. Such a place is for people like Ernesto Garcia. We are going to a good restaurant – a little place that has very good food. And it is not expensive. It is for the common people… people like me – and you.'
That was the end of the conversation until they reached the restaurant, a little place in an old section of the city, with a charming outdoor dining garden. What a romantic setting, a perfect place for lovers, and here she was with a man who treated her with callous indifference! Jill tried to drown her sorrow in Sangria, despite Julio's disdainful warning that alcohol was not for children! Oh! She resolved more than ever to make him fall in love with her. She had childish fantasies of having him crawl, having him beg to let him kiss her hand!
The Sangria went to her head very quickly in the high altitude and she found herself babbling, telling all about herself. At one point, he surprised her by asking about her 'boyfriend'.
'What do you mean?'
'This person… his name is Chris, isn't it?'
Jill was shaken. How did he find out? She asked him.
'You talk in your sleep, a dangerous habit. Are you in love with him?'
His candor angered her. 'That's none of your business!' she shot back. 'Besides, you have no right to come into my room when I'm sleeping.'
'It's not by choice.'
'Well, I'm going to tell Don Ernesto that you are not to bring my breakfast any more!' she answered hotly.
'Good. Is this Chris in love with you?' he asked, indifferent to her anger.
'No! I don't know. How dare you ask that!' Her eyes were blazing and she tossed her hair back over her shoulders, raising her head indignantly.
'That's why you went to San Francisco, to mend a broken heart…'
'No, no, NO! It had nothing to do with him. I was planning to go anyway!' she screamed, the cords on her lovely throat standing out. The other patrons were looking at them and laughing. Julio called for the check. When he had paid it, he got up and started for the exit, not bothering to wait for her. She was crimson with embarrassment. What a contrast to the courtly Garcia, who treated her as though she were a noblewoman. Oh, she would make that bearded bastard pay for this!
When she reached the Mercedes, she opened the back door and got inside, ignoring Julio in the driver's seat. Two points for her. Under the influence of Sangria, she slept the rest of the way to Garcia's and awoke freezing cold. Julio had the air conditioner turned on full blast! She tried to get out of the car but the doors were locked. Julio lounged in the driver's seat, chuckling at her discomfort.
'Let me out of here, you bastard!' she screamed at him, 'I'm freezing to death!'
'Haven't you heard the Chinese weather report? Chile today, hot tamale,' he answered insouciantly.
'Oh, I hate you, you… you…'
'Pinche. I think that's the word you're looking for, senorita. Pinche. I'm being a prick.'
'Oohh! And a foul-mouthed one, too! You're a foul-mouthed… flunky! That's what you are – Ernesto's flunky!'
At that Julio vaulted across the front seat and pinioned her with his powerful body. His blue eyes were shooting sparks and he spoke through clenched teeth. 'Listen, you little puta, don't you ever call me anybody's flunky. Before long, you will realize that you are the flunky here. I am the only person who can possibly save you – if I care to, though I'm not so certain that you are worth it!'
Jill blinked up at him. He was pressing into her, and she could feel his massive penis growing against her loins.
'What do you mean, save me? What is there to be saved from?'
He peered into her eyes, assessing in his mind how much he should reveal to her. He was sorely tempted to kiss her. But that could ruin everything, his plan. He had to play it just right; he didn't know if she had brains enough to be made a confederate.
For one moment there was an irresistible current of desire that passed between them. Then Julio got up, releasing her from his grip. He switched off the air conditioner and flipped a switch that released the locks on the rear doors. Then he sprang from the driver's seat and opened a door for her, holding out his hand. Jill hesitated, more confused than angry now, but finally extended her hand to let him help her out of the car.
'Are you in the mood for creating a great work of art, senorita?' he teased.
'Not really.'
'Too bad. I am in the mood for being preserved for posterity on a sketch pad.'
Jill managed a feeble laugh. 'Oh, all right. I suppose I should have something to show Don Ernesto.'
'That's true. After all, he only brought you here because of your potential. The Don doesn't take an interest in every girl he meets on the street…'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Days passed. Jill worked very hard for about four hours each day. Julio proved to be a very good model. She found herself becoming more and more attracted to him. But she could not figure out his behavior. She had tried every tactic to win him over, and the full range of emotions she had used so successfully on Chris and the other boys she wound around her little finger, but Julio seemed immune to her charms. She knew it couldn't be so – she drew considerable attention at La Jacaranda, where she did her portrait sketches for three hours each night. And as she guessed, Senor Valdez couldn't keep her hands off her. She was subjected to frequent ass-pats every time the slimy fat man got within an arm's reach. At one point she complained to Julio that the older man was always trying to 'feel her up', but he infuriated her by suggesting that that sort of thing was no problem for a 'real woman'.
He never repeated his behavior in the back seat of the limousine, never made a pass at her. Nor did Don Ernesto, who, though attentive, was often away from the house for long periods of time. She was thoroughly convinced that the suave Colombian had no other interest in her other than to further her career in the art world, and she found herself feeling actually regretful.
She didn't know why, but for some reason, she sensed that something strange was going on. Sometimes Don Ernesto would go off in the middle of the night, driving his chrome yellow Lamborghini Mura down the winding driveway at dangerous speeds. At other times, Julio would chauffeur him, and she would be left alone for a couple of hours. Once she picked up the phone at three a.m. as she nervously paced in the study, unable to sleep. When she answered, there was a silence, and then a 'click'.
Sometimes, when she was left alone like that, she would go to her 'studio' – a glass-enclosed sun room where she kept her art materials – and work on her self-portrait. Julio had moved a full-length mirror into the room, and she used a high work table draped with cloth as her 'bed'. The portrait was close to completion, and Jill felt personally that it was the best thing she had ever done.
She had met many people, she was even learning a few phrases in Spanish. Basically, she was happy. But there was something missing. She longed for Chris. Or perhaps, she longed for someone to share her experiences with, to do to her what Chris had done, and more. She was hungry for love. She needed a man. Her continued masturbation (usually on the bathroom rug, though sometimes in bed) had only made her more anxious, more desirous for a man's body next to hers. To make matters worse, Julio had taken to posing in the nude for her, and she couldn't take her eyes – or her mind – off his genitals.
She was feeling particularly horny one afternoon as she was doing a sketch of him. It was a wretchedly hot day, and as Julio sat in profile to her, the far leg drawn up to his chest, the other resting on the floor, she was surprised to see him getting an erection! He was perspiring, and the sun glistened on the beads of perspiration that clung like dew to his beautiful body. In frustration and in anger, she threw down her charcoal and stamped out of the room muttering, 'Peon!' She went straight to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, sobbing into
