Adios Muchachos Read Free

circumstances, Alicia usually started the learning process by having a dressage on a broad mat on the floor. There was rarely a veteran of Alicia’s corral who did not end up moaning in rhythmic pleasure.
    Alicia maintained that with this technique she, and she alone, had succeeded in getting a German, a Swede, and even a Cossack to swing their hips without looking like a walrus.
    It was a scientific fact that, if a man did not learn how to move his hips and get his butt gyrating, he would never be able to dance the music of the Caribbean with the grace for which it was created. But Alicia had learned that for many Europeans, heirs to a tradition of military discipline, it was quite unseemly and not at all manly to be jiggling one’s ass. They had this complex about it. But according to Alicia, she just had to get them to move it once, just one single session on their backs with a beautiful woman on top clapping out the rhythm or slapping it to them on their buttocks, and voilá … no complex.
    This treatment usually got rid of the complex permanently. They would be uninhibited for life and generally become gifted students.
    Of course, there were always some impossible students who simply could not manage to sway their hips or jiggle their butts. One time, Alicia got furious with a certain fat guy who was stiffer than a log. When she asked him to swivel his pelvis, the only thing the John managed to do was shake his arms with his elbows in the air. When the cadence got to be critical, right at the point of orgasm, the clumsy bastard jammed his elbow into her abdomen.
    Sometimes the more studious ones found it particularly difficult to get the rhythm. They were transfixed by lust as they watched her in the strategically placed mirrors, arching her torso to sway, or twisting to fire the remote at the recorder she used to accompany her classes.
    Despite the dressage, Alicia managed to move and undulate her entire body, except her legs. And if she liked the guy just a little, she surrendered to the dance. She surrendered without faking it and found satisfaction on top of her clients. She did it effortlessly and they loved it. They glowed with pride.
    Alicia had a strong stomach, but she still had her limits. If at the first encounter the guy revealed himself to be gross or repulsive, Alicia never even bothered to get into the car. With most of them, however, her behavior in her home was a standard routine. When she brought them out of the second room, she no longer led them by the hand but leaned on their arm to let them feel the firmness of her breasts.
    Yes, that was it: let them feel the power of her young flesh.
    In the meantime, she confided in conspiratorial tones that the room with the great bed and the indiscreet array of mirrors was not being used by anyone. Two years earlier, it had been her parents’ bedroom, but no one used it any more. They now reserved it for their guests.
    “Ever since they got divorced, Mother has quit using it. Well,” Alicia added with bewitching brazenness, “she doesn’t use it to sleep in, anyway …”
    Then they would stroll out into the backyard, and while they pet the huge dog, which would quit patrolling the property and sit there staring at them with cross-eyed lubricity, Alicia would allow a few quick liberties by the lemon tree.
    As they returned to the living room, Margarita would casually poke her head out of the kitchen door, holding a guitar in her outstretched hand. “Leonor wants to know if you can lend her the guitar again next Saturday.”
    “How can I refuse?” Alicia would respond with a sigh of resignation, while opening the case and strumming the instrument. That was where she sang her first number, always the same one, by Marta Valdes. Then they would have a few more drinks and some of those delicious breaded shrimps. Margarita did her usual number, the same old bolero from the ’50s. “Oh dear, I didn’t realize it was so late.” And then, unfortunately,