The Foreign Girls. Sergio Olguin
underwear and her body. Gently she eased the garment down to knee level, where it fell the rest of the way unaided. She had knelt down to do this and was now gazing at Verónica’s pubic area. She seemed to be carrying out a connoisseur’s evaluation. Lifting her head, she said, looking at Verónica:
“I like the way you don’t wax everything. It makes me want to touch you even more.” And she lightly ran the tips of her fingers upward until they reached Verónica’s navel.
Verónica put her hands on Frida’s shoulders and made her stand up. As she kicked off the underwear, she pushed Frida gently but firmly against the wall.
“I like you a lot, but I’m no good at playing the part of innocent little girl. Either you take off your clothes too, 83or I’ll put mine back on and go and get drunk in the garden.”
“Verónica, you bad girl. Then take my clothes off for me.”
“Funny how you seem to be getting more fluent.”
Verónica unbuttoned the shorts Frida was wearing and took them off together with the scanty bikini bottom she had on underneath. She made her raise her arms so she could take off her T-shirt and, while she had her arms up, kissed her. She sent the T-shirt spinning through the air while Frida did the same with her own top half. Verónica’s bra flew to a far corner of the room. In a vortex of kisses they fell onto the bed. At that moment Verónica wasn’t thinking that this was her first time with a girl. Instinct was her perfect guide. She wasn’t a disciple, or a young virgin in need of sexual education. Her hands sought out Frida’s pussy with the same enthusiasm they would a cock. The pleasure of discovering another person’s body, of being able to touch it, satisfy it, wasn’t very different. Frida kissed her mouth, her tits, and she felt that skin sliding over a body was the most spectacular thing that could happen to a person. Frida had gone down, leaving a trail of saliva that went from her navel to her clitoris and then her ass. If she did that for a few more seconds, Verónica would come. She tugged her hair to bring her up and now Frida’s tongue was exploring her mouth with the same dedication. Frida’s body rubbed against her. Her right hand took Verónica’s left and guided it to penetrate her. Frida moved rhythmically, making her caress the labia before going inside her again. Verónica’s face was buried in Frida’s neck. She liked her smell. She would have inhaled her whole body if it had not been that the movement of their two bodies had fallen into an even rhythm that had them reaching climax at the same time, both with a smile. There must have been at least one in her life, but she couldn’t recall a single man who had smiled when he came. 84
III
She woke up at first light. Frida was sleeping deeply. Verónica breathed in the smell of her again. It had been an incredible night. She wondered how it would be when they woke up in the morning. She didn’t like the idea of waking up next to Frida and talking about inanities. Or rather: she was scared to think that Frida might not like waking up next to her and having to talk about everyday things. Better to go now, in the afterglow of their kisses, their caresses. Yes, better to go. She picked up her clothes, or at least the few items she could find in the dark, and went to her room. There was no sound in the house. Was Petra back? Could she have heard them?
Verónica went to her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror: her hair was all over the place, her expression was dazed, as if she had smoked a joint, and there was a bruise under her left breast. She smiled to think that Frida was unlikely to have fared any better. She drank a glass of water, went for a piss and climbed into bed.
At midday she got up. She put on shorts and a T-shirt and went to the kitchen. Petra and Frida were already there having coffee. Petra poured her a cup and they all sat around the table. There was no word or gesture from Frida to hint at what had taken place between them. But this time such behaviour didn’t surprise Verónica, so she concentrated on enjoying her coffee and the musical lilt of Petra’s voice as she talked them through the events of the previous night. She had gone to meet the boy at the house of his parents, who were away in Buenos Aires.
“There’s nothing like young men. They’re tireless. He barely let me sleep. At dawn I had to ask him to call me a taxi because I had nothing left to give.”85
“So what plans have you made with this teenager? Are you going to take him to the zoo, or to a museum?”
“He’s not really a teenager. He’ll be twenty in two weeks. I haven’t made any plans – how could I? I told him I was travelling onwards with my friends, that we were bound to see each other again in the future.”
“So are you thinking of seeing him again?”
“I don’t think so, but he seemed smitten and I felt bad. It’s been a long time since a man looked at me with such love.”
“A man … a boy, you mean.”
“Whatever. He insisted on taking my mobile number and I said it would be better if he wrote to me, that I don’t like talking on the phone.”
The day spun out its usual routine of pool, food and sun worshipping. Verónica observed everything as though taking part in a game, as if she knew Frida was waiting for her to react. She wasn’t willing to give her that pleasure, despite being willing to give her every other pleasure that came to mind. As she dozed on the lounger, Verónica thought that she’d had a very good time with Frida the previous night but that, save for the minor details, it hadn’t been all that different from being with a man. And this difference was nothing to do with the presence or absence of a cock, but with a certain intimacy that she could share with a woman but had never managed to achieve with a man. That was what she had most liked about Frida. That feeling of a shared essence. There was no artifice between them like when she was with a guy. The word honesty came to mind. She wondered if perhaps it was a more honest experience – but that word didn’t seem quite right either. It wasn’t a question of honesty but of comprehension. A woman would always understand another woman better.
For dinner they ate oven fries with hamburgers made by Petra and drank beer before moving on to vodka and whisky. 86They listened to music, went out to the garden to gaze at the night sky and at some point Frida said she was going to bed because she was very drunk, she had had too much. Petra and she were alone again. Verónica asked if she really believed the boy was in love with her.
“At that age it’s all love and sex. And I sometimes feel a bit old for both those things.”
They also went to bed soon afterwards. The next morning Verónica woke up feeling annoyed that she didn’t know what Frida was playing at, so the first thing she said when she saw the girls in the living room was that they would leave for Yacanto del Valle the next day. They both agreed.
Perhaps as a result of this announcement, Frida seemed much more affectionate, at one point walking over to Verónica to give her a shoulder rub. When they crossed paths in the kitchen, she gave her a quick kiss on the lips as she took drinks to the living room. A couple of times she shot her complicit looks, and Verónica imagined they would be together again that night. So she was surprised when Frida and Petra both agreed that they would like to have dinner out that evening. She had expected that they would all eat together in the living room, as on the previous nights, especially since this was their last day in the house. Although she put up mild resistance, Verónica didn’t want to push the idea of staying in. Instead she went off to her room in a bad mood and struggled to concentrate on Hemingway’s stories. Then she had a shower and put on moisturizer and clean clothes. Jeans and a shirt.
As they were about to leave, she asked if either of them could drive so that she didn’t have to be the one watching what she drank again. If not, they could order a taxi. Frida and Petra looked at her with surprise: they both drove and didn’t mind not drinking. It was decided that Verónica would drive on the way there and Petra on the way back. They ate 87in a restaurant that had looked nice from outside, but the food wasn’t great and the wine was very expensive. Petra drank only one glass. At about midnight they returned to the house and Petra opened a bottle of wine in the kitchen. Frida wanted a vodka and went to the study where the drinks were. Verónica followed her there.