The She-Devil in the Mirror Read Free Page A

proper, needless to say, even though Cheli
and Conchita must have suspected something), and when he ate at the house he’d
whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Until she couldn’t resist and said she would,
she’d come to his apartment, but they had to plan it very carefully, there were
a lot of obstacles to overcome, because he couldn’t pick her up at the boutique
and she couldn’t drive to his apartment—what if Marito or one of his friends saw
her car parked in front of Julio Iglesias’s apartment, how would they explain
that, huh? That’s where I came in, Auntie Laura, who else? Best friend,
confidante, the only one who could make this whole thing happen. You can’t
imagine, my dear, how nervous Olga María was at noon that day; the story was
that I’d invited her out for lunch at a new vegetarian restaurant, so Marito
should pick up the girls and then she’d go straight back to the boutique after
lunch without going home. That was the story. The idea was that I’d pick her up
at the boutique around twelve fifteen, then I’d drop her off at Julio Iglesias’s
apartment, I’d go eat lunch at my cousin’s, and at two fifteen I’d pick her up.
The poor thing was terrified when I got to the boutique—she was still unsure; it
was her first time. But as soon as we got in my car, she relaxed a little. She
was dressed casually—a green miniskirt, I remember it perfectly—but very
elegant, classy, as usual. She stepped confidently out of the car, and I was the
one left biting my fingernails, wondering how things would go, if finally they’d
make love or if she’d only let him kiss her—she wasn’t even sure herself. I’m
telling you, that’s the guy who took Julio Iglesias’s place as vice president of
Marito’s advertising agency; look how the other employees greet him, with such
respect, not at all like they treated that guy from Madrid I’ve been telling you
about. Anyway, at two fifteen on the dot I was parked in front of Julio
Iglesias’s apartment; I honked the horn and saw her come out—happy, glowing, on
cloud nine. I wanted her to tell me everything, all the juicy details,
immediately. She told me she had the best time, better than she’d ever expected:
he’d made a delicious salad and opened a fine bottle of white wine, ice cold—the
way she loved it. He started kissing her the minute she stepped into the
apartment, and he never stopped kissing and touching her, so tender, that’s why
she couldn’t resist, and right there in the living room she let him undress her,
and he kissed her all over her body, so gently, a marvel, dear me—those were her
very words. Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed, but the poor guy
was kind of nervous, tense, so he came really fast, no warning, before they even
got to the good stuff. Then he felt terrible, poor thing, and apologized. But
that’s no big deal, you know, my dear, it being the first time and all and with
a man who caresses you so affectionately. That’s what Olga María told me before
I dropped her back off at the boutique. There’s Sergio and Cuca now. Sergio’s a
handsome devil, I can’t figure out how he ended up with Cuca, even though she is
nice, but she’s not woman enough for him, don’t you think? The problem is that
Julio Iglesias started to fall in love. The second time—I dropped Olga María off
at his apartment another afternoon—not only did he declare his love and tell her
he was thinking about her constantly but also that he wanted her to be his
forever, she should divorce Marito, it didn’t make sense for her to stay with
him if she didn’t love him anymore, he wanted to marry her and give her
everything she could ever want, on the spot, right then and there. Can you
imagine? Men really are brutes, my dear: there he had her all to himself, ready
and willing,