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Havana Club Ch. 01

By: strickland83



Chapter 1 – A Dangerous Proposal

The desk phone rang. I knew the extension number by heart. It was Ross Crider, the company president. I picked up the handset and heard Ross' strong voice.

"Chris, get up here right away. I have something to discuss with you."

"I'll be right there," I answered. I hung up the phone and saved the spreadsheet I was working on. It wasn't unusual to be called up to Ross' office. The company, in spite of its size, was run on a very informal basis. I took the elevator two floors up to where the partners' offices were located. Ross, being the company president, had his own secretary and reception area. I was used to walking right into his office. Today, his door was closed. That was unusual. It was a rare thing for him to close his door. I looked over at Agnes, his secretary.

"You can go right in. They're expecting you," Agnes told me with her usual smile.

I was curious, but not apprehensive. I tentatively opened the door as I knocked lightly. When Ross saw my head peaking in, he told me, "Come on in, Christopher. Have a seat."

I entered, closing the door behind me. My boss, Mike, was seated on the sofa. One of the two chairs in front of the desk was occupied by William Hanes, the corporate attorney. Ross was directing me with his hand to the other chair. Now I was getting apprehensive. This did not look good. I was summoned to the president's office to meet behind closed doors. My boss and the company attorney were waiting for me. I took my seat warily, sinking into the fabric but still remaining on the edge of the chair.  

Ross leaned back in his maroon leather chair and looked at each of us in turn. "I want to make it clear right now that everything said from this point on is privileged information. Nothing said here is to be discussed with anyone except the people present. This is for the protection of everyone present."

His words did nothing to comfort me. I was sure I was in big trouble. I just didn't know what I had done. Instead of waiting for condemnation, I took the initiative.

"What did I do?" I asked in as level a tone as I could muster under the circumstances.

My question caught Ross off guard. He looked confused. "Do? You haven't done anything wrong, if that is what you're worried about."

"Then what is he doing here?" I asked, pointing to William.

"Bill is here to answer any questions that come up. Let's get right to it. We've called you here to make an offer. I realize this is going to catch you off guard, but it has to be done this way."

"An offer?" I asked.

"Yes, an offer. Your record with the company is exemplary and we want to be sure you stay around. You are valuable to us and we want to use you to our greater advantage. We, I, have a special request to make of you. If you accept, there will be benefits. First, you will be groomed for a branch manager's position."

I relaxed. I hadn't been called in because of something I had done wrong. I was being offered a promotion. A big one.

"We need someone to do the legwork in preparation for opening an office in a country we don't currently serve." Mike grunted at these words. An alarm went off in the back of my mind. Something wasn't right with this. Ross continued. "I want to send you. There is a risk involved. I can't deny that. You are the best man for the job. If you take the assignment, you'll get the manager's post when we can open that office. In addition, you'll be offered a partnership when you return from the scouting trip." Now something was really wrong. The risk would have to be substantial to merit such an offer. "In light of the risk, we're going to do things a little differently. Your service will be considered in lieu of the price." He saw the look of confusion on my face and explained with a smile. "We're giving you the piece of the pie. You will buy in by doing this for us."

"OK, what's the risk? Where do I have to go? The Middle East? Haiti?" I couldn't think of any other dangerous places where we didn't have an office. The single word Ross spoke next marked the moment when everything changed. From that point on, things were never again the same.

Ross said, "Cuba."

I was stunned. There was silence in the room. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. This wasn't a joke. They all looked too serious. I took a deep breath, then another. The sound of my breathing seemed amplified because of the silence.

"You want me to go to Cuba?" I asked, unsure I had heard him correctly.

"Yes. You're perfect. You speak the language. No close family to ask questions, you have experience in –"

I cut him off. "You can't just go to Cuba. It's illegal, isn't it?"

Ross looked to my left and asked, "Bill?"

William spoke up for the first time since I entered the room. "Technically, it's not against the law to enter Cuba. It is illegal to spend any money there. Unless you have a license from the Commerce Department, or have all your expenses paid by a foreign national, then engaging in any monetary transaction is a crime."

"So I just don't buy anything. Is that it?"

"It's not that simple," William continued. "You have to eat. You have to rent a hotel room. You have to pay the exit tax to leave the country. You can't go to Cuba without spending any money. That puts you in violation of the Trading With the Enemy Act."

I asked the obvious question but I already knew the answer. We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise. "Do we have a license?"

"No," Ross answered. "We made some confidential inquiries. We were told in no uncertain terms that licenses were not issued by this administration for the purposes we had in mind. No license, period. So you'll have to sneak into the country."

"Sneak?" What the hell did that mean?

"Yes, sneak. You can enter covertly through Mexico, posing as a tourist. The Cubans will let you in and you can do the research. At the end of the week, you return to Mexico, and then reenter the U.S. posing as any other tourist returning from a week in Cancun."

"Tell me about this 'risk'," I asked, not feeling any more relaxed.

William took over again. "It isn't all that risky." Mike snorted again. He must be there to look out for my interests ... and he didn't sound like he had much confidence in the plan. "As long as the U.S. government doesn't find out about your little trip, you come home without incident."

"And if they do find out?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

"They won't," Ross said.

William continued. "If they would – and it is very unlikely they will – then you could be fined or possibly even arrested." His voice trailed off as he said the last part.

"Arrested?!! I don't like the sound of this."

Ross leaned forward in his chair. "Bill can explain it better, but it is easy to get in and out of Cuba without being noticed."

"You want me to sneak in! Don't people try that all the time and fail?"

William spoke up again. "People have trouble sneaking out. The Cuban government will welcome you. They'll even issue you a visa. They want American tourists to come in and spend dollars."

"And what about the Cuban stamp on my passport? Do I just hope customs won't look at that?" This was sounding like a really bad idea.

"They won't stamp your passport." William was trying to sound calm, but I could hear a note of alarm in his voice – not a good sign. "Our government issues about 20,000 licenses a year for citizens to enter Cuba legally. The Cuban government says they admit over 200,000 American citizens annually. A lot of people are doing this."

"So, if it is so easy, what is this risk you keep referring to?" I wasn't convinced.

Ross again took the floor. "First, you have to do this quietly. Nobody knows where you're really going. Nobody. Second, no paper trail. Everything is done with cash. Finally, you must not get into any trouble in Cuba. No run-ins with the police or the government at all. You have to be very careful. If you get into trouble, you don't want to call in the U.S. government for help. If our government even finds out you're there, when you do get out, you can be arrested at the border." Now, Ross looked me right in the eye. His expression was the most serious I have ever seen him use. "I give you my personal word. If anything goes wrong, I will personally go down there and get you out. We won't leave you there. Whatever it takes, you're coming home."

That made me feel a little better. Still, there were risks. "So I slip into Cuba and look into opening an office there. Then I get back home. For this, I get to be a partner? The reward is big. Why is this so important, and why me?"

Ross answered my questions. "Cuba is an untapped market. We want to be postured to move in when things change. Castro is old. He has to die someday. In the meantime, there is a lot of pressure on the President to change our policy towards Cuba. Either way, soon it will be possible to do business there. We want to walk in with the groundwork already done. We want to setup shop – fast. Cuba has potential as a vacation spot, exports of agricultural commodities, cigars, music. Cuba is a market that is waiting to explode. In return, they need just about everything. That's the way we see it. You will be our eyes and ears. You will find out for certain. Why you? Because, as I started to say before, you speak the language. You can make a covert trip because you don't have any close ties to ask questions. You already do a lot of business in the Caribbean basin so you know what to look for. You really are the best man for the job. You are our best option for heading up the Cuban office. When things open up, we want you on our side, so we're making you a partner. Do the job. Be careful. In a week, you'll have earned your share."

Mike spoke up for the first time. I jumped when I heard his voice. I had forgotten he was still back there on the sofa. "If he doesn't get caught. He's taking a hell of a risk. He could face a big fine, loss of his passport, or even jail time. He –"

Bill cut him off. "No, jail time is only for repeat offenders who are trafficking in Cuban goods."

Mike broke in with, "Let me finish. He can never get a government clearance. Do you realize how that will look on your record, Chris? Going into Cuba without permission. For God's sake, what if you do something, anything, that gets you arrested? You might serve years in a Cuban prison, then face jail time here when you get back. I think this is too risky. There has to be another way."

"There is no other way," Ross responded. "We've looked into this as well as we can from the outside. We need someone on the street. Someone we can trust to do a good job. Chris is the man for the job." Now Ross shifted his gaze from Mike directly to me. "How about it, Chris? Will you do it?"

My mind was awash with the possibilities. If I got caught, I could lose everything – even my freedom. If I pulled it off, I would be a partner. My future would be set. "You made an attractive offer. I need some time to think about it. Can I give you an answer in a day or two?"

"Sure," Ross smiled. "Think it over. Feel free to talk to any of us about it. Just remember, talk to no one else. This is mostly for your protection. Let us know what you want to do. You're a valued employee and we want you on our team, whether or not you make the trip."

"OK, I'll think about it." I stood. I felt a little unsteady. So much had changed since I sat down.

Ross stood and walked around his desk to clap me on the back. "I'll be waiting for your answer."

I nodded and headed out the door. Agnes looked up as I closed the door behind me. She looked concerned.

"Christopher, are you alright? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine. I just... I need some time to think, that's all." I hurriedly left, returning to my office. I sat down and thought. I couldn't even talk this over with anyone. This was a once in a lifetime chance. I knew I should take it, in spite of the risks. It was a great opportunity, not just the promotion but the experience in Cuba as well. I would have first hand knowledge. This would help with my dealings in the other markets in that region. While I was thinking it over, Eudora chimed. I had a new e-mail. I pulled up the window and saw it was from Ellen. She was inviting me for dinner tonight. She had been trying to get me to see her for a few weeks. She was cute – she just wasn't someone I wanted to have a relationship with. I hadn't been able to find anyone I wanted to have a relationship with for a long time. I didn't want to take a chance. Thinking about the situation with Ellen made me think again of Ross' offer. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sure there was risk, but the rewards were immense. If I didn't take this chance, would there ever be another? If I didn't take this chance, would I spend the rest of my life wondering What if? That did it. My mind was made up. I bolted from my chair and headed for the elevator. I punched the up button and it lit up. I was hoping the elevator got there before I changed my mind. I didn't want to back down. I wanted to do this. I needed to do this.

After what seemed hours, the door opened. I got in and pushed the button for Ross' floor. The doors closed and I felt that heavy sensation as the car moved upward. The only other person in the elevator was Hank Jenkins. He was babbling about the basketball game some of us had gone to see last week. I tried to be polite but I am sure it was obvious I was preoccupied. I guess it was good he was there because he kept me from dwelling on what I was about to do. I felt the elevator stop. The door opened. The desk where Agnes sat was opposite. I got out and marched to the office door, ignoring Agnes entirely. This was not like me. I always at least acknowledged her with a smile. I stood in the door to Ross' office, my left hand on the doorframe. Ross was sitting behind his desk, reading a paper. I took a deep breath.

"I'll do it," I announced.

Ross looked up, saw it was me and broke into a grin. He quickly got up from his chair and walked around the desk to where I was still standing, still being held up by the doorframe. He put his arm around me and pulled me into the office, closing the door as he said, "Come in, Chris. Let's talk about this, partner."

There. I had done it. I had committed myself. Maybe I needed to be committed. Ross didn't give me time to dwell on the darker aspects of what I had just done. He sat me down on his sofa and sat next to me.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I'm in. When do I do this?" I hoped I didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

"I'd like for it to be as soon as possible. There are a few external forces we can't control. First, our current president has been hinting he might start seriously enforcing the travel ban. We need to get you back before that happens. Then, and this is the main reason we're doing this now, there are rumors that Castro is sick. He might have Parkinson's Disease or other problems. Once he dies, the game changes. There will be a power struggle. Who comes out on top can determine if the country opens up to us or not. I'd really like our base to be established before that happens – so we can be first in. Do you follow me?"

"Sure, Ross. So, when do I go?"

"How about Friday?"

I stared at him. This Friday? He saw my reaction and countered with, "Is that too soon? Do you need more time?"

"No, I might as well get this over with. I'm just surprised. I thought it would take more time to set it up."

"We need to start briefing you with the procedures. Whatever you're working on, pass it on to someone else. For the rest of the week, you're focusing exclusively on this project. Oh, and no one – I mean no one at all – is to know where you're going. We'll arrange a cover story for the other employees. It would be best that you don't talk about this, even when you get back."

I noticed that he said "when" and not "if". That served to reassure me a little.

"Bill has already been doing some research on how to do this." Ross, as if just realizing that I had agreed, reached over the arm of the sofa to the telephone on the end table. He hit a button, then said into the receiver, "Agnes, I need a first class ticket for a flight to Cancun on Friday morning. No, it's for Christopher. Returning the next Saturday. Call me back when you get it setup." He hung up, then hit another button. "Bill, he's agreed to do it. Bring the file in here so we can start working on strategy." He hung up and turned back to me. "You're flying first class because you'll be hassled less that way. It helps to get you through customs easier."

"Thanks," I said with a lump in my throat. I was still nervous. I had just agreed to commit a federal crime.

William Hanes came right over, carrying a thick brown folder. We spent the rest of the day sorting through all the material that had been collected. Agnes picked up lunch and we ate in the office. The door had stayed closed the entire time, except for Agnes bringing in lunch. I was somewhat nervous about the whole idea. It seemed that I made more trips to the bathroom than usual. Ross made his executive restroom available to us. I guess that is one of the privileges of becoming a partner. I just hoped I returned and got to be a partner a little longer than the rest of the week.

During the afternoon, Agnes called in to say my ticket had been delivered by a courier. Now it was official. I was going to Cuba. William had done a lot of preliminary research. There were basically two sets of documents. One was how to safely get in and out of Cuba. The other was about doing business there. We focused the first day on how to get me in and out. Maybe that was to relieve my stress level. To his credit, Ross seemed as anxious as I was about my safe passage.

By the end of the day, the plan for my arrival was set. I would meet a travel agent in a village south of Cancun. He would make all the Cuban travel arrangements. At the end of the day, William pulled a battered copy of Frommer's Cuba from the folder.

"I found this at a used bookstore. I didn't know they made one, and it's a few years old. Still, it's a pretty good guide. Take it with you."

I leafed through it. There really was a guidebook for Cuba. I planned to spend a lot of time reading it over the next few days. I had to keep it concealed. I felt like Winston Smith in 1984, carrying The Book in my briefcase.

By 4:30, we were worn out. The stress was taking its toll. Ross told us to call it quits and start again in the morning. I went back to my office to turn off my computer. When I sat in my chair, I saw the e-mail from Ellen. I decided that I shouldn't pass up any opportunities that presented themselves. If things went badly, she might be the last woman I would be with for a long time. I called Ellen at her office. She was delighted to hear from me. I asked if she wanted to get together that night. She invited me over for dinner and a movie. I told her that it sounded great and I would be over after I showered and changed. With that, I turned off my computer and left the office.

At home, I cleaned up and dressed very casually. With any luck, I wouldn't be back until morning. I was out of the house and on my way to Ellen's place in about half an hour.

I pulled into the parking lot of Ellen's apartment building and parked next to her car. The night was warm and muggy. The crickets were singing as I walked to her door. I didn't feel like singing. I still felt like I was on my way to my execution. First things first – I was going to enjoy this. After all, it might be my last. No regrets. Onward and upward from here. I stretched out my hand and rang the doorbell.


Havana Club Ch. 01



It took Ellen a minute to get to the door. She opened the door, looking lovely in a blouse and jeans. The blouse was low cut (that looked promising). She hugged me as I stepped in. I had been here before. We had dated in the past, but nothing serious had developed. At this point, I felt I had nothing to lose. After shutting the door, she led me to the kitchen where she was finishing a meal. She confessed that she had picked up most of it at the market.

"That's fine. I'm amazed you had time to do any of this when I called you so late," I reassured her.

"I was so happy you called. I've wanted to get together with you for so long. You sounded like you had a rough day at the office," she said.

"I did. We're working on plans for a new office," I half lied.

"Do you think you'll get a shot at the manager's post?"

"Maybe. There have been a lot of hints." That part wasn't a lie.

"I hope you get it. You deserve it. You've worked hard for it. Do you think you will have to move?"

"I don't know yet. There are a lot of details to work out before we get to that point," I answered.

By then, dinner was ready. We dined by candlelight. She looked radiant in the softly glowing light of the candles and I told her so. She accepted the compliment graciously. After dinner, we took our wine glasses into her living room. She had picked up a DVD of Like Water for Chocolate.

"I know you're good at Spanish. Maybe you can explain the nuances to me," she suggested. I smiled.

We started watching the movie. She curled up next to me and I put my arm around her. She smelled wonderful. She always smells wonderful. It's not just perfume. Her shampoo, her clothes, they all smell wonderful. I hoped to find out if she smelled that nice beneath her clothes. I bet even her sheets smelled nice. Before long, she laid her head on my shoulder. I was getting more interested in her than in the movie. By the time Gertrudis took her shower, I was ready to see more of Ellen. She was into the movie, but her body language indicated she was being swept up by the romance. I kissed the top of her head. She moaned softly and lifted her face up to mine. I leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. She put her arm around my neck and pulled me down. As we kissed again, I felt her tongue on my lips. I opened my mouth and our tongues met. As we parted to take a collective deep breath, I glanced at the screen and saw Gertrudis being carried away naked by the soldier on horseback.

"Mmm, I'd like to do that to you," I suggested.

"That's so romantic," she said in a dreamy kind of way. She looked from the screen to me as if coming to a decision. Then, "Do it." It wasn't a command or a request. It was simply a statement. I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that.

Ellen stood up in front of me and began undressing. I watched, mesmerized, as her blouse drifted to the floor, followed by her jeans, then her bra. By the time her panties softly settled to the top of the pile on the floor, the movie was forgotten in the background. Ellen was backlit by the screen as if she was glowing. She took two steps back and looked at me suggestively. I stood and took her in my arms. I kissed her deeply, inhaling her scent through my nose. She pressed her body against mine in such a sensuous way that I was sorry I was still wearing my clothes. I longed to feel her skin against mine. I reached down and put my right arm behind her knees, my left behind her neck, and easily lifted her slim body off the floor. As I carried her in my arms to the bedroom, she kissed me. I could see her nipples becoming even more erect. I hit the light switch with my elbow as we entered the bedroom. I bent over the mattress and delicately set her down. Her slight weight barely dented the soft surface. Her eyes lit up as an idea was suddenly born.

"Wait here," she said. "I'm going to get the candles. Take off your clothes and wait for me on the bed." With that, she got up and padded off to the kitchen. I undressed and slid onto the sheets to await her return. I was hard, anticipating the feel of her body. I heard her returning. Just before she entered the room, she reached in with one hand and turned off the light. Instantly, the room was illuminated by an orange glow as she entered with two candles in each hand. She set them down on the dresser and nightstands, surrounding the bed with warm light. Her naked body was so erotic in that light. Her dark blonde pubic hair looked darker in the light, but still it was apparent she was a natural blonde. Her breasts rose and fell as she took in deep breaths. I was breathing heavy as well. We were awash in anticipation.

Just before she got into bed, I noticed a slow trickle of fluid down the upper part of her left thigh. She was so wet for me that her juices could not be contained by her lips. I was mesmerized by the sight.

Ellen broke the silence as softly as she could. "You are so excited that I can see a trickle of your precum flowing from the end of your dick." Her whisper was as if she was breathing instead of speaking the words. I just smiled. We wanted each other so badly.

She bent one knee and crawled onto the bed, on top of me. As her body grazed across mine, she bent my dick back to my stomach - first with her mouth, then her neck, then my dick brushed the skin between her tits. Next, the smooth skin of her stomach rubbed me. Finally, her soft pubic hair brushed across the center of my excitement, signaling the completion of her movement. She was lying on top of me now, kissing me deeply. I encircled her slender waist with my arms, letting them wander of their own accord down to her ass. As we kissed, my hands roamed down to the tops of her thighs, up across her ass and lower back, then back down again. I reveled in the feel of her warm skin. Between kisses, I drank in the vision of her face illuminated by the soft glow of the candles.

After six or seven kisses, she smiled a little broader as if she had a secret. I felt her body begin to slide down mine. She didn't get up and move down. She slid across me, her nipples grazing my skin, her mouth kissing its way down my torso. All the while, she maintained eye contact. When she arrived at my dick, she looked at me with an impish smile. Then her mouth gingerly kissed the head and shaft. I was leaking so much precum that strands of fluid were connecting to her lips as she moved back from each kiss. The strands shined in the candlelight. My dick was starting to throb. I couldn't take too much of this and she knew it. Once she had bathed the entire surface of my dick with her lips, she started at the base and ran her wet tongue in long strokes to the tip. She only licked upward. As she pulled away from the tip to move back to the base, strands of the mixture of her saliva and my precum remained connected for a moment before breaking away. All this was revealed in the golden glow of the candles. Only when she had completed licking all around me did she return to the tip. Planting an open-mouthed kiss on the head, her mouth opened as if in a French kiss. Her mouth descended, taking my dick into her. The feeling of warm wetness was all encompassing. I knew I was going to cum in her mouth. There was no avoiding it. She watched me as her mouth moved down over me. Her cheeks pulled in as she sucked on the upstroke. I felt powerless to break the eye contact. I watched as I was helplessly drawn to my impending climax.

When I felt my dick start to throb to announce the arrival of my orgasm, I saw her eyebrows move upward slightly in sync with the ends of her mouth. She was smiling, but my girth prevented her face from completing the gesture. I rested my hands lightly on her head, then ran one hand down her cheek. I pushed my hips upward as I felt the first contraction. We looked into each other's eyes as my sperm was forcefully splashed into her mouth, the invasion aided by her suction. I saw her neck delicately swallowing, my erection filling her mouth too much for there to be space to contain my ejaculate. Once my orgasm was complete, she lifted her mouth gently off me, not wanting to over stimulate me when I was most sensitive. We didn't say a word, just smiled at each other in the light of the candles. She again slid up my body. As she approached my face, I could smell my sperm on her breath. When she leaned to kiss me, I didn't resist. I was too captivated by her spell to resist tasting my cum in her mouth. We kissed, my tongue exploring her mouth even as I tasted myself. It wasn't a turnoff. Instead, it added to the sensuality, reminding me of what I had just done in her mouth.

As the kiss broke, I slowly rolled her onto her back. "I'm going to return the favor," I breathed. "Then, after you've cum and I'm hard again, I'm going to fill you with my hardness." She gave a little moan. I kissed my way down her body, the sensitive spot below her ear, her neck, the top of her shoulder, each of her breasts (holding each nipple in my lips as I pulled away, watching the base of each nipple stretch), her stomach, exploring her navel with my tongue, until I was brushing my face against the hair around her pussy. Her hair was so soft, only slightly abrasive because of the curls. She was wet, her juices flowing past her lips to start forming a small puddle on the sheet beneath her. I could smell her before I could see the gloss on the bottom of her lips. Pushing my nose through her hair, I enjoyed her smell. As I pushed lower, I extended my tongue, parting the hair that grew on her lips. My tongue ran along her slit, wet with her arousal. I tasted her here first as I ran my tongue along her outer lips. Finally, I settled between her legs as she eagerly spread them to make room for me. I reached down to each knee in turn, dragging my tongue along the smooth inside of each thigh as I traced a wet path back to her pussy. Finally, I used the fingers of each hand to gingerly open her outer lips, revealing her pink wetness. I could see her hole oozing her special wetness. I also easily found her clit, erect now and sticking out from under its hood. I extended my tongue to touch the tip to her clit. She jumped, her hips trying to pull away from the sudden touch. I extended my tongue to remake the contact, now sliding my tongue across the sensitive nub of flesh. She pushed her hips against my mouth this time. I looked up through her bush to her face. She was watching me and it seemed that she was not even breathing. After a minute, I finally saw her breasts rise and fall as she took a breath. I slid my tongue lower to her opening and she took a deeper breath. I lowered my mouth further. I rolled my tongue to make it stiff and pushed it inside her. I was rewarded with a big taste of her juices. The smell and taste were overpowering. I breathed into her pussy and she let a moan escape her lips. I began licking her pussy in earnest. The middle finger of my right hand entered her fully. When it pulled out and reentered, it was joined by my index finger. On the next trip, my ring finger joined in. Each time, her moan was louder as I stretched her and rubbed against the sensitive ridges of her entrance. Her eyes were closed now and her hands were clasping her nipples. I watched as her first orgasm of the evening washed across her face. Her legs closed against my face. I concentrated now on her clit, my fingers caressing her from the inside as well. I felt her hips lift off the bed and she gave a moan that became a scream. I pushed all three fingers inside her as far as they would go and held them there, feeling her pussy contract around them as she came.

When she could open her eyes, I moved off her cunt, gently removing my fingers from her slick hole. I rested my chin on her mound, her soft hair around my chin. I smiled and she returned the gesture.

"Oh, wow. That was so incredible," she said after swallowing hard and licking her lips.

"I was just returning the favor," I said slowly with a grin.

She reached down and pulled my face to hers. She kissed me, tasting herself in my mouth. Then, she held my face in her hands as she licked her juices from my cheeks. When she had finished, she kissed me again.

"I'm hard again," I said loudly.

She smiled a little broader. "Is that a threat?" she asked.

"I'm just trying to warn your neighbors that it's going to get noisy."

"You're so smug when you say that. Do you really think you can make me scream?" she asked.

"I didn't do so badly a moment ago – and that was with only a few fingers and a tongue. I'm saving the most devastating weapon for last."

"Devastate me," she offered as my sides felt her legs spread further.

I lifted myself up, looking down at her pussy. I guided my dick to her slit, using my hand to rub up and down her lips and spread her ample moisture. She was starting to softly moan as I dragged the head of my dick across her sensitive flesh. It looked as if she was just about to protest having to wait as I positioned my dick at her portal and pushed. She was so wet by now that there was almost no resistance. She was tight. It was only because she was so slick that I easily slipped through the tightness to stretch her enough to admit my cock. In one stroke, I felt the hair at the base of my shaft pressing against her lips. She gasped.

I lay on top of her, feeling her hard nipples against my chest.

"You're so big," she breathed.

"You made me so hard. I want you so bad," I explained.

"Take me," she offered.

With that, I pulled my dick out until only the head was still captured by her lips, then slowly but firmly pushed my way in again. Seeing the look of ecstasy on her face, I knew she was able to take more stimulation. I knelt at the juncture of her thighs, still embedded in her. I lifted her legs and placed them over my shoulders. Then, I leaned forward until my chest was against hers, separated only by her thighs. I pushed harder and my dick penetrated her as far as was possible.

"Oof," she grunted. Then, catching her breath, she softly spoke. "I think I can feel your dick pressing against my cervix."

I tried to press harder, but I couldn't go any further. Instead, I pulled out fast and pushed in just as fast. My flank thumped against her pussy. She let out a small yelp.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked.

"I don't think so," she assured me.

I did it again.

"No, that doesn't hurt – yet. Don't stop," she urged.

I complied. With each thrust, her yelps became a little louder. Before they became full-fledged screams, I needed to stretch my cramping leg muscles. I moved up again and let her legs slide off my shoulders. She took a deep breath and focused her eyes on me.

"Need a break?" she asked. "I can get on top."

"Sure," I said, sliding around to the pillow next to hers. She deftly mounted me, sinking that blonde-haired snatch onto my shaft. Now it was my turn to gasp as she forcefully impaled herself on me. She was truly a vision of loveliness, the bouncing of her breasts delicately illuminated by the candles. I watched her face as she concentrated, now fully in control. I intended to lie there and rest, but my body reacted to the stimulation of her pussy and began thrusting up to meet her downward thrusts. The bed began issuing forth rhythmic squeaks as our pounding intensified. Tiny beads of perspiration were forming on her chest. I could feel that I was sweating as well, making the sheet beneath my ass damp. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the alarm clock on the nightstand. I knew that I would last a long time after that blowjob she just gave me. Ellen was athletic so it would be a race to see who gave in first. We both made modifications to the position as time passed – she adjusting the angle of her hips to rub her clit against the base of my dick or sitting upright and rubbing her clit with two fingers, me leaning up on my arms to capture one or the other nipple in my lips, or reclining to watch the vision of her riding me as I let her nipples rub up and down against the palms of my hands. Not wanting to relinquish the position of control, Ellen even got up and turned around for awhile, facing my feet as she rode me. In this position, I could fondle the globes of her ass. If I sat up a little, I could just about reach around her waist and let my fingers explore the top of her hairy slit to search for her clit. She turned back around and I could see sweat on her temples now. Her hair was getting damp. I looked at the clock. We had been in this position for twenty minutes.

"You must need a break by now. How about a change?" I suggested.

It was apparent she wanted to continue, but she was getting tired. She managed to pant out, "OK... doggy?"

I nodded. She lifted off me. The hair around the base of my dick was saturated with her juices. She leaned over and moved onto all fours. I got up on my knees and thrust my erection through her slippery lips, seating myself in one stroke. She leaned forward on her elbows as I started thrusting. I reached around to encircle her waist, then slid my hands up her body until I gripped a breast in each hand as a handle. I squeezed the nipples to put extra pressure there as our thrusting caused me to tug at her sensitive cones. She was beyond moaning now. She was screaming. In this position, her entrance was putting pressure on the bottom of my dick and I knew I couldn't last much longer. I was ready to cum. I was getting tired. I was also worried that she was getting sore. I thrust harder to push her over the edge. She lost her balance on her elbows and fell forward, now fully face down on the mattress. I moved a little further over her. I put both hands on her ass cheeks to rest my weight there. Now my dick felt as if it was going straight down into her body. I knew the head was rubbing against her G spot. She couldn't speak intelligibly now. Her words were muffled moans verging on screams. Regardless, I could tell she was enjoying this as much as I was. I crossed the point of no return and thrust into her particularly hard. My hands tensed, the fingertips digging into her ass. I felt myself erupting inside her, adding to the already ample slickness. I shot five or six spurts really hard, then the tension eased and I leaned more over her. The eruption of sperm inside Ellen's body was now a dribble as I moved to rest on her back, my softening dick sliding out of her channel. She let out a slow groan as I slid free of her confines. I held my dick against her pussy as I rested my face against the back of her neck. I could feel that her hair was wet with sweat. I could also feel a flood of warm fluid bathing my dick. I knew it was the combination of lubrication my dick had held inside her pussy mixed with the sperm I shot in her. We were making one enormous wet spot on the sheet. I knew she would be feeling it as well, against her front. Neither of us moved, whether because we were basking in the glow of what we had just done, or out of sheer exhaustion. The only sound in the room was our heavy panting as we each caught our breath.

After a few minutes of this, I rolled off her. I didn't want to move away from her warm flesh, but I knew she must be uncomfortable with my weight against her. I slid to the side, one leg still between hers, an arm around her waist, and my side against hers. I turned my head to her and kissed her cheek, right in front of her ear. She shivered.

"Ooh, you know I love that. I'm so sensitive there," she said in a voice that told me she still wasn't fully there.

"I'm sure you're sensitive in a lot of places right now," I responded. She gave a happy grunt of agreement.

I held her like that for a time. Her heart was still beating so hard that I could feel it with my arm on her back. At last, she turned over. The hair around her pussy was matted with our juices. I could see that she had been lying in a wet spot. It must have been a puddle at first, until the bedding soaked it up. She looked at me sleepily and grinned. I smiled back. Her smile turned to a frown.




Havana Club Ch. 01



"I need to pee, but I don't want to get up."

"I'll help you," I offered.

"Ordinarily, I'd be too embarrassed to accept, but I don't think I can make it there without your help."

I helped her into a sitting position on the side of the bed, then helped her stand, supporting her with my arm around her waist and her arm around my shoulder. Together, we shuffled to the bathroom. I eased her onto the toilet seat. I turned to leave.

"Stay," she said. "You've come this far with me. I don't have any more secrets."

We both smiled. I leaned against the lavatory, the porcelain feeling cold against my bare butt. She looked at me as she peed. When she was done, I helped her back to bed.

She spoke. "I am going to be so sore tomorrow. Stay here with me. We'll both call in sick and spend the day in bed."

"I can't," I told her. "I have an important meeting tomorrow that I can't miss." She pouted. "I really can't miss it. Sorry."

"OK," she said as her pout softened. "Then come back tomorrow night."

"You're already sore. I'll do real damage."

"No, you won't. I'll just walk funny tomorrow, then I'll call in sick the next day to rest."

"I'll spend the night. Maybe you'll be up to another time in the morning."

"You can have me now, but you'll have to do all the work. I'm worn out."

"That's alright. Rest now. Maybe I'll wake you up during the night." With that, I got up and blew out the candles. In the darkness, I pulled the covers over her and crawled into bed next to her. "I'm tired, too. Later, we'll do it again."

We were both asleep in minutes.

It was early morning when I woke. She was still face down next to me, breathing deeply in the sleep of the fully sated. The sun had not yet risen. I had a morning erection and I wanted to use it. I felt a little guilty because I knew her pussy would be sore after last night's marathon session, but not that guilty. I pulled back the covers and gently rolled Ellen over until she was on her back, then spread her legs. She looked so inviting, even though she was unconscious. I slid one, then two fingers into her. She was very wet, lubricated from the mixture of her juices and my sperm. I leaned forward and tasted her pussy. When my tongue passed over her clit, she gave a slight moan, but it didn't disturb her sleep. I grinned, thinking about what I was going to do. I crawled over her, supporting myself on my arms and positioned my dick at the entrance of her pussy. I used one hand to guide the head into her and very slowly worked my way inside. I was fully seated and she was still asleep. This felt so naughty, like I was stealing something from her. I wanted to just stay there, inside her for a while and watch her sleep, but instincts got the best of me. My dick was hard and inside a warm, wet pussy. I started thrusting and managed to keep it slow and gentle. My eyes were fully adapted to the darkness so I could just make out her face from the glow of the clock. After about five strokes, she started to stir. It was fascinating watching the feeling of pleasure cross her face, mixed with confusion. She must have been unsure if it was a very vivid dream, or she was really being fucked. Her eyes remained closed as she moaned louder, accompanied by a movement of her legs. It was like she was positioning herself to intensify the pleasure of the penetration. Then, realization hit and she opened her eyes. She tried to focus, then reached out and touched my face. Recognition showed on her face as she smiled.

"Wow, what a way to wake up," she said very quietly, very softly.

"I was worried you were still sore, but I couldn't resist your naked body," I confessed.

"I'm not too sore for this," she said, squeezing her pussy muscles around my cock for emphasis. Then, she squinted. "Ow. Maybe I'm a little sore." Barely able to see my concerned expression, she continued, "I'm OK, we just need to take it slower than last night."

"Yeah, last night was wild. I'm surprised your neighbors didn't complain."

"Me, too." She giggled.

That was the extent of the talking as we now concentrated on fucking. It was a slow, gentle fuck. The feeling of her skin, the look of her face (what I could see of it), her gentle breathing were all so sensual. We came together, joined at both ends, kissing as sperm was passed from one to the other. After, I pulled out and she hugged me. We fell asleep like that, our bodies wrapped around each other.

When I woke again, it was barely daylight and I knew I had to get up. I needed to shower and change before I went to work. She woke up as I was dressing.

"Don't go," she called, mournfully.

"I have to," I answered.

"Then come back tonight."

I thought about that. I was tempted to refuse. I thought about commitments. I also thought about my decision to not pass up opportunities. "OK, I'll be back tonight."

"And the next?" she asked.

"No, I have a business trip."

"Oh. Where are you going?" she innocently inquired.

"Cancun."

"Ooh, sounds nice. Can I come?"

"No, it really is business."

"Aw," she complained. "When will you be back?"

"Probably a week – if everything goes alright." Yeah, if.

"Well, we have to make tonight good enough to keep you satisfied for a week," she mused.

"If it's any better than last night, I'll be dead," I teased.

She smiled. By then, I was fully dressed. She got out of bed and hugged me. She followed me to the door, completely naked. I kissed her, a lingering kiss. Then I turned and opened the door. Just as I felt the chill of the morning air, she turned me around and kissed me again standing in the door.

"You're naked," I warned.

"It's OK. Almost no one is up this early. The worst I'll do is give some jogger a hardon." She gave me one more quick kiss, then waved goodbye as I walked to my car. I blew her a kiss as I buckled my seat belt. She closed the door as I drove away.

When I was getting in the shower at home, her juices drying on my dick reminded me of last night. I was going to miss Ellen - after tonight.

When I got to the office, I spent the day with Ross and William again. We were discussing what I needed to look for in Havana. This was full preparation for opening a branch. I needed to evaluate the business opportunities. I needed to scout locations for the office. I also had to try to look for office staff. This was difficult because I didn't know if we would open the office in weeks, months or a year or more. Either the U.S. would change its position about doing business with Castro's regime, or Castro would no longer be in power and a new government would be more palatable to our government. Either way, a change would necessitate rapid action. Once things changed, I could expect to be back in Cuba in days. The day flew by. Before I knew it, I was back at Ellen's apartment.

We decided to go out for dinner. It wasn't anything fancy, just a quiet meal together. After, we went back to her place. The sex was more subdued, in deference to her soreness. It was loving, tender. We enjoyed each other's bodies. The touches, the tastes, the smells were each savored. Finally, we joined. We made love a few short times instead of one long time. Each time, I pushed myself deep inside her to shoot my cum. I loved looking into her eyes as I came. Looking into her eyes as my body tried in vain to impregnate her added to the thrill. We finally fell asleep around midnight, with Ellen's legs wrapped around mine. The next morning, we made love again. I had brought along a change of clothes so we showered together before I left. I loved the feeling of our soap slicked bodies sliding against each other. We parted, both fully satisfied.

As I was driving to the office, I thought how (if things turned out badly) she might have given a last meal to a condemned man. She might be the last woman I would be with for a long, long time. At least I had superb memories to carry with me.

The last day at the office before my departure was spent going over the procedures for entry and exit. I had my ticket to Mexico. A credit card had arrived, concealed in a stack of papers in a FedEx envelope from our small Ontario office. One of the managers had opened a credit card account in my name. I held the Scotiabank card, its glossy red surface and gold printing glistening in the light. I hoped I didn't have to use it. It had a credit line of $5,000 and it was for emergencies if I needed more money. My credit cards were drawn on U.S. banks so they wouldn't be accepted in Cuba. I would also be carrying $2,000 in cash. I would be keeping in touch by telephone with our Ontario office. We had setup an elaborate code so I could appear to be making a routine call while I was in fact reporting on the progress of my mission. There was an awful lot of cloak and dagger to this trip. I kept trying to bury my nervousness.

My flight was early on Friday morning, so I left the office early Thursday afternoon to pack. Word had been leaked around the office that I was going down to Cancun for a week of checking on business conditions and contacts. A few people kidded me on my luck at landing such a sweet assignment. The time I spent hidden away making preparations kept them from seeing how nervous I was. Only the four of us who were in the meeting in Ross' office knew what was really going on, along with that one manager in Ontario who would be receiving my telephone calls. Agnes probably had an idea something else was afoot, but she was used to seeing things she couldn't talk about.

Following my instructions, I emptied my suitcase and checked the lining for anything that may have slipped in there. I needed to be sure of what was in the bag in case I was inspected in Havana. I decided to rely on casual clothes—shorts, jeans, polo shirts. I figured tropical colors would fit in better. I avoided t-shirts with printing. I certainly didn't want to call attention to my U.S. citizenship. I also went through my wallet, leaving behind most of its contents. I wasn't comfortable carrying so much cash, but travelers' cheques were useless where I was going. Once I got to Mexico, everything I did would be on a cash basis to avoid leaving a paper trail of evidence.

I didn't sleep well that night. I kept waking up. Finally, I got up and showered. I ate a small breakfast—I was too nervous to do more. I got my bags together. I wasn't bringing too much with me. At 4:30, I heard a knock on the door. The driver was there to take me to the airport. I took one last look around the house. I seriously wondered if I really would be back in a week. It was too late to worry now. I was on my way.





Havana Club Ch. 02



Chapter 2 – The Back of a T-Shirt

I checked in at the airport and waited for my flight. I tried reading a book I had brought along, but I was too nervous to concentrate on the story. I had to relax. The flight into Mexico was uneventful. When the plane was taxiing to the Cancun terminal, I saw a Soviet-built Cubana Air jet parked nearby. At a different time, I might have been fascinated by seeing one. Today, I knew that was probably what would be taking me away from the free world.

Mexican customs was very slow. The airport was packed with arriving vacationers. I stood in the "line" – really just a mass of people – for about half an hour without moving much. I noticed a glassed in office to the right, with a large portrait of Presidente Fox hanging on the back wall. I finally got through Immigration without a problem. I told the agent I was there for a week's vacation and he believed me. At Customs, I pressed the button on the traffic light and it lit up red. I had won the lottery and had to get my bags inspected. A nice lady politely went through all my bags, then helped me close them. I was in Mexico.

I found the shuttle bus going to the Hertz office and rented a car. It was a small car that blended in with all the other cars on the road. Perfect. With few hassles, I was on my way to my hotel out on the strip of sand. I checked into the hotel and put down my bags. Up to now, I was just another tourist. Now it was time for me to take the next step. I went back down to the parking lot and got in my car. I worked my way back through traffic to the coastal highway and headed south. I had noticed in the hotel lobby that the travel agent offered "Excursions to Cuba", but I had been told to use a certain travel agent in a little village south of here. He was well known to a friend of Ross and trustworthy. He was also very discrete. I drove south away from Cancun. The highway was incongruous. It was a modern 4-lane divided concrete road. The speed limit was about 80 MPH, but dropped to as low as 25 MPH in front of each of the numerous resorts along the coast. I found the traffic light and turned left. Now I was on a two lane road passing through what looked like marsh. I wondered if I had taken the wrong road. Finally, I arrived in the tiny village. As described, I found the main square, and its Catholic Church. On the other side of the church was the travel agent I was seeking. I parked and went inside the air-conditioned office. It was also a little out of place. On one side of the tiny room were computers connected to the Internet that could be used for a fee. The other side was the travel agency. I asked the receptionist for the name I had been given. She picked up a telephone and spoke to someone, then told me in Spanish that he would be there in a few minutes. I had a seat and leafed through the brochures on the table. One was about Cuba – big surprise.  

A short, dark man walked into the back of the office and looked at me with a smile. I introduced myself and his grin widened. He had been expecting me. Unlike his secretary, he spoke English, though heavily accented.

"You want to go to Cuba, sí?" he asked.

"Yes, uh, I want to see Havana."

"Don't worry. I will take care of everything. You have your passport?"

I pulled it out and he handed it to his secretary.

"We must fax the first page to the Cuban embassy to get your visa. You can leave on Monday. When do you want to return?"

"Friday," I answered, hoping this would hold true.

"Very good. I will book you in an excellent hotel." He opened a large book on the secretary's desk and flipped to a dog-eared page. He reached over her and picked up her telephone. Dialing a number, he spoke in rapid Spanish to someone, then someone else. I marveled at how easily he had called Cuba, as he made my reservation. When he hung up, he continued with, "You have a room at the Hotel Nacional, an excellent choice." He opened a desk drawer and withdrew some forms. You will fly Cubana Air, OK?" I nodded. "The cost will be $250, US. You should pay in cash to avoid questions."

I nodded and took out my wallet. I counted out $250 and dropped it on the desk. He handed it to the secretary who tucked it away in a drawer. He started filling out forms.

"You can come back tomorrow afternoon to pick up your travel documents."

I asked, "What can you tell me about Cuba? Is there any chance my passport will get stamped?"

"No," he reassured me, "they will not stamp your passport. They know not to stamp U.S. passports. Don't worry about that."

"Can I bring my camera?"

"Sure. You can take pictures and they won't bother you. Just don't take any pictures of military installations, soldiers or policemen." He thought for a moment, then continued with, "You are a tourist. Ask no political questions. Be careful of what you talk about. You don't want to get into trouble, and you don't want to get anyone else into trouble."

We talked awhile and he made me feel better. I drove back to my hotel. I had the weekend to hang out on the beach and relax. I tried not to think about what I was going to do on Monday. I got some sun and enjoyed the sights, especially the female tourists. Remembering that I didn't want anyone to notice I was suddenly missing next week, I avoided getting friendly with anyone. On Saturday afternoon, I returned to the village and picked up my travel documents. Back in my hotel room, I just stared at the visa with my name on it, issued by the Republic of Cuba. I had reservations for a flight to Havana and a hotel room there. I was going to do it.

Monday morning came. I was nervous as soon as I woke up. I locked everything I wasn't taking in the room safe. I called for a taxi to the airport. It would be less obvious to leave the car in the hotel parking lot rather than the airport. Before I left, I called the Ontario office and left the rehearsed message that, when relayed to Ross, would tell him I was leaving for Havana.

The taxi dropped me off at the Cancun airport about midmorning. My flight was for high noon – a nice bit of drama. I walked into the airport and looked for the Cubana Air desk. I found the Cubana sign and walked up to the person behind the desk. First looking to my right and my left, I told the person I was there to check in for the flight to Havana. I spoke so quietly that she couldn't hear me over the din in the terminal. Gathering my courage, I repeated myself a little louder. She politely told me I was at the ticket office. The check-in desk was at the other end of the terminal. Embarrassed, I sought out the check-in desk.

There was a line at the desk. I waited my turn, feeling very conspicuous. When I got to the red Formica counter, I handed over my ticket. My one bag was checked. I watched it being tagged for Havana. I was given a boarding pass that was in Spanish and English. Some of the English words were misspelled.

I went through security and walked down to my gate. I felt even more conspicuous waiting at the gate. I stared at the overhead monitor. Listed along with more "conventional" destinations of Chicago, Houston and Miami was my flight going to Havana. My stomach was tied in knots. I was really going to do this. A lady came around and asked me to take a survey. I started to fill it out, then left blank anything that identified me. I remembered No Paper Trails. As the time to board neared, more people filled the waiting area. Adults, children, young couples all going to Cuba today; it was surreal. A large Marlboro sign in Spanish was on the wall above the waiting area. A trio of Mexican immigration officials moved in behind the desk and the passengers formed a line. I took my place in line, feeling as if I was shuffling toward my execution. As I had been briefed, I slipped a twenty dollar bill in my passport along with the Mexican tourist visa before I handed it to the agent. I smiled and said, "No stamp, please." He grunted, removed the twenty, pointed toward the door and handed my passport back. Good. There was no proof I had left Mexico. I had also just committed bribery. My first of several crimes today. I walked through the glass door. There was a brown bus waiting to take us to the plane. I was sitting on the bus facing the door to the terminal, and I noticed there was no handle on the outside of the door. It was clearly exit only. There was no returning to Mexico. No turning back. I was going to Cuba.

The wait on the bus seemed like hours. Finally, all the passengers were processed and aboard. We took a short ride to the waiting Yak-42, which looked strangely like a 727. The two big differences were the wheels and the Cuban flag painted next to the door. As I was getting off the bus, I noticed the word ESCAPE painted over the door. That is just what a part of me wanted to do. I forced my legs to carry me to the base of the stairs.

We had to wait to board the plane. As I stood there, I kept looking at the Cuban flag painted on the side of the plane. Once I boarded, I was going to Cuba. The smell of jet fuel was thick in the air. The aluminum handrail of the stairs felt strangely cold in the tropical sun. The whine of jet engines blocked all other sound. Finally, an arm clad in a white shirt stuck out the door and waved us aboard. My feet left Mexican soil and climbed the stairs. When I got to the top, I saw how short the door was. I had to stoop over to climb through.

Immediately, it was apparent I was the guy from out of town. Everything on the plane was labeled in Russian. Most things were also labeled in Spanish. Some things, as an afterthought, were labeled in English. The seats were three across on each side, labeled according to the Cyrillic alphabet ABVGDE. I peaked into the cockpit as I passed. It looked fairly modern. The electronics were dated, but appeared to be functioning. I sat down and buckled up. Looking forward, I noticed that the cockpit door had been reinforced with metal. I found this strange. I thought the changes were mandated by the FAA after September 11. This was one plane that was never landing in the United States.

I paid special attention to the safety briefing. I had never flown on a plane like this. First, the briefing was in Spanish. I was glad I spoke Spanish because the English version was not nearly as detailed or understandable. Another difference was the lack of a ban on smoking. Cigarette smoke quickly filled the cabin as passengers and crew lit up.

We were soon in the air. As the wheels lifted off, I felt my last contact with the free world lost. When we touched down, it would be on Cuban soil. I watched the coastline of Mexico pass below. Ahead was water, and Communism. On the plane, I drank a Cuban Tucola, realizing I would not see a Coca-Cola until I returned to Mexico. If I returned to Mexico, I reminded myself.

The coast of Cuba appeared, looking beautiful. I was glued to the window, getting my first glimpses of the forbidden land. I was fascinated by the lush greenery of the crops and the red soil. Everything looked so fertile.

We flew over what looked like an abandoned airport, then a few minutes later descended towards a modern airport. There were a few sparse palm trees growing along the runway. There were planes on the ground. Many of them belonged to Cubana Air. The name on the building was Jose Marti International Airport. From the outside, everything looked just like any other airport. Our plane taxied to a building set apart from the others. As the plane turned into position to meet the portable stairs, I saw the first sign that the "embargo" was a farce. This was one of many signs I would be seeing. There were two jets parked on either side of our plane. One was American Eagle, the other Continental. After all I just went through to get to where a flight going to Havana would leave from, I saw two U.S. planes on the ground. Then I noticed something that made this airport look different from any other I had ever seen. A soldier with an automatic rifle was guarding each plane, probably to prevent anyone from stowing away in the wheel wells or sneaking aboard. The underside of each plane was patrolled, and an armed soldier also stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the plane. The soldiers wore mint green fatigues, lighter colored than I have seen soldiers wearing in other countries.

As soon as the plane stopped, the passengers crowded the aisle—just like everywhere else. The door of the plane opened and the passengers exited. I bent over and moved through the hatch, stepping onto the portable stairs. I looked around. Except for the soldiers, nothing else seemed different. My stomach told me differently. There was a knot in the bottom, a reminder that I still had to pass through Cuban customs. If my passport got stamped, I was doomed. I tried to push that fear to the back of my mind but it wouldn't budge. It was time to fish or cut bait and I hadn't brought my knife. I was going fishing. We were herded into the building and into lines. There were booths at one end. A door unlocked and it was my turn to enter. I entered and the door closed behind me. The door locked on its own. The other end of the booth was also a locked door. A glassed-in office was to my side. Behind the glass sat a woman with curly black hair. She was dressed in mint green fatigues. I passed my visa, landing card and passport through the slot at the bottom of the window. She took it and smiled. I did my best to smile back though I was so nervous that I wanted to vomit. She put my paperwork on the desk that was below the window and out of my sight. She asked if this was my first visit to Cuba. Her English was excellent. I croaked out that it was. She asked me the purpose of my visit and I lied, "Vacation."

"Who are you traveling with?"

I answered, "No one. I'm alone." I felt very alone at that moment.

She picked up a rubber stamp. I heard her stamp something on the desk but I couldn't see what she was stamping. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. Shit! Three stamps! I had handed her three pieces of paper – my landing card, my visa and my passport. It was too late to do anything about it. I felt weak. She, however, smiled and told me to enjoy my visit to Cuba. There was a buzz to my left. The door had unlocked. I gathered my passport and visa, then exited through the door.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I nervously leafed through my passport, my hands shaking. I didn't see any new stamps. I went through it a second time, page by page, front and back. There was no new stamp on my passport. She hadn't stamped it. She must have stamped something else. There was sweat on my forehead, but I felt the relief washing through me. I was still alright. I had made it through immigration. I took a deep breath, then a few steps towards baggage claim. I heard a buzz behind me to one side. I looked back and saw another of the passengers exiting a booth. He was also nervously looking through his passport, a U.S. passport. He broke into a smile as he realized there was no stamp in it. I understood his relief. He looked up and our eyes met. We both smiled.

In baggage claim, I saw the second sign of the farce. Over the belt was a lit sign that said, "Need money in a hurry? Call Western Union." The familiar black and yellow sign was very out of place in a country that wasn't supposed to be able to do business with American companies. I was still pondering this as the belt rumbled to life. I collected my bag and moved towards the inspection queue. That was when I noticed the dogs. Blond haired cocker spaniels were weaving through people's legs, moving through the crowd. I followed one for a minute or two with my eyes and noticed that they all were returning to a dark-haired man in a uniform who was crouched down. As a dog returned, he petted it, then pointed to someone in the crowd. The dog obediently bounded off to "inspect" that person's baggage, returning when nothing unusual was found.

The line moved a little slowly. As I got to the head, a woman in fatigues bent down to my bag. I waited for her to inspect it, maybe even disassemble it. She was merely removing the airline tag. Then she stood and waved me on to the street. That was so easy!

I now found myself on the street. I looked for someone holding a Havanatur sign. I wandered through the crowd for only about two minutes before I found him. I showed him my paperwork and he escorted me to a van. A new Ford van. He ushered me inside. There were other passengers already in there. He left to find a few more passengers. I looked around and recognized all of them as Americans from my flight. We chatted about our trips. One family was from California, another was a group of young college students on an adventure. I peered around the driver's seat to be sure I wasn't imagining the Ford name on the back of the van. The Ford logo on the steering wheel confirmed it. Even the layout of the dashboard was familiar. I looked out the window and immediately discovered another icon of Cuba, American automobiles from the 1950's. There were many of them, painted bright tropical hues of turquoise, red, and yellow. All appeared to be in excellent condition, restored to showroom perfection. It would have been like the set of a movie about the 1950's, except for the Russian Ladas and Japanese Mitsubishis, along with a scattered Mercedes or two.

The driver returned with two more passengers. After they were onboard, he got in the driver's seat and we drove off. I started questioning him. He spoke no English.

"This is a Ford van?" I asked in Spanish.

"Sí."

"A new Ford van?"

"Sí," he answered, now with a big toothy grin.

"How is this possible?"

His answer was obvious once he said it. "From Canada."

So that was how the Cubans were getting new American goods. Over the next few days, I would learn just how extensive this practice was. We drove out of the parking lot onto the road to Havana. Immediately I saw that none of the billboards advertised goods or services, except for one about a place where you could swim with dolphins. Every other one extolled the virtues of Cuba and the revolution, praised Castro, or reminded that the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution (CDR) was watching. One caught my eye and filled my heart with unease. It was a sketch of Jose Marti and Che Guerva flanking Osama bin Laden. The caption was "Anti-Imperialists". I tried to shrink further into my seat and look less conspicuous.

I was trying to look everywhere at once. I wished I had more eyes to take it all in. I was absorbing the conditions of the housing and social services. I saw the construction equipment rusting away, decaying buildings, ancient cars sharing the road with horse-drawn wagons, bicycles and motorcycles with sidecars. Anything that moved was utilized and the smaller the better. I saw these yellow scooters that looked like football helmets built onto three-wheeled motorcycles. I noticed a trailer that looked like a bus, pulled by a tractor trailer. It was packed with people until not another could be squeezed in. The driver told me it was a camel – their version of city bus. We drove down a narrow street. In the distance was a grand hotel. As we got nearer, I saw it had a palm-tree lined driveway, immaculately maintained. The vision was incongruous alongside the decaying buildings. There was a statue of a woman field worker in front. The marble façade was engraved with Hotel Nacional de Cuba. So this was my hotel. Wow!

The van pulled under the covered entrance and a uniformed doorman helped me out. I got my bag from the driver and walked inside. The stairs and the handrail were carved from blocks of marble. The lobby was grand. The ceiling was carved wood, the floor inlaid tile. The travel agent was right. This must be the grandest hotel in Havana. After what I had seen driving here, I never expected there was such a building as nice or as clean as this in the entire city. I checked in (in Spanish), signing the register and nervously scrawling my home address. Now there was a record, in my own handwriting, that I had been to Cuba. A bellman arrived and took my bag, leading the way up to my room.




Havana Club Ch. 02



The doors were louvered, but solid behind the louvers. Perhaps they were a holdover from before the building was air-conditioned. Now, the windows did not open. The room was spacious, but dated looking. It was like out of a brochure from the 1960's. The bellman, who spoke English, proudly showed me around the room.

"You can watch American television. We get it by satellite." I nodded, a little surprised. He opened the mini-bar. "Would you like a cold Coca-Cola?" OK, now I was stunned. I took the offered can and checked the label. Canned in Mexico. He pointed to the telephone on the nightstand. "On that telephone, you can call anywhere in the world."

"But not the United States. You don't have telephone circuits connecting there," I countered.

He heard the first part and ignored the second, instead looking upward in thought. His fingers touched imaginary keys as he thought aloud, "For United States, dial 223 ... area code ... and number," now smiling at me. With that, he left me to my dizzying thoughts. I sat on the bed, trying to absorb all I had just seen and heard. I couldn't believe that I was in Cuba. The nervousness returned as I realized the ramifications of my trip. If I got into trouble, I was screwed. If I didn't, I might have big troubles returning to the United States. I took a deep breath, realized I had a mission to perform, and stood. I went to the window and looked out. To my left, the blue water of Havana harbor beckoned. In front of me, a Soviet-era apartment building was decaying. Beauty and the beast.

I put away my things, then made a telephone call to Ontario. I knew Ross would be waiting to hear that I had arrived and entered the country successfully. I called the number. It rang (a funny ring) a few times, then a voice answered. I asked for Robert. A pause, then he came on the line. I ordered ten crates of chestnuts. This request, when relayed to Ross, would tell him where I was. He confirmed my request, sounding like he understood, then ended the call. Next, I set off to begin exploring. I wasn't sure where to start. I went back down to the lobby, carrying my passport (which wouldn't leave my body) and my digital camera.

I walked down the driveway to the street. To my left was a taxi stand of sorts, filled with more of those yellow scooters. I walked up to the group of young men standing around, apparently awaiting fares. I asked in Spanish if I could rent one of the scooters for the afternoon. There was some discussion, and some shuffling from the back of the group. The men in the front turned around to see, and moved aside. It appeared that the shortest of the men was trying to turn around a scooter and walk it out to the street. A few of the others were helping him. As he looked up, I saw he was a she. A lovely she. She looked at me with a sheepish grin and I nearly fell into her brown eyes. Her hair was long, curly and chestnut brown – almost a reddish hue. She looked about nineteen or twenty. Apparently, she was next in line at the taxi stand. With difficulty (and assistance), she got the scooter away from the sidewalk. Jumping on the starter, she coaxed the engine into starting. It made a kind of fast put-put-put sound. She waved me to the seats in the back and I took the left one. She sat in a seat but steered with motorcycle handlebars. After I was seated, she gunned the throttle and we put-putted down the street. I sat back and looked around, but my gaze kept returning to my driver. I could catch glimpses of her face as she looked left or right, checking for traffic at intersections or making turns. Like all the scooter drivers, she wore a white t-shirt that advertised Havana Club, the local rum. I figured out that, since billboards were reserved for extolling the virtues of communism, the businesses had to turn to other methods of advertising. While I'm sure it was equally effective on the male drivers, I found it very attractive on this nymph. I know all the clichés about love at first sight. I guess I was experiencing lust at first sight. All memories I might have had at that point about my last few nights with Ellen had been banished. In the breeze made by our passage, wisps of her long hair would trail behind her, glowing brownish-red in the tropical sun.

She drove for several minutes, maybe longer, before she spoke to me. I guess this was standard practice for tourists. It was a good way to see the city. The open carriage afforded an excellent view. I quickly noticed the policemen in bluish-grey uniforms and soldiers in mint green fatigues at every street corner. Occasionally, there would be another patrol in the middle of the block. Security was tight. Probably a low crime rate as a result. I'm sure it also was very effective at preventing public displays of disapproval with the current government. At a point some time into our drive, the little pixie turned around and asked where I'd like to go. I asked if she spoke English and she shook her head. I was starting to realize that English was not very common. It was now mid-afternoon and I was feeling a little hungry. Remembering where I was, I asked her to take me somewhere that I could get a good Cuban sandwich. She nodded and made a U-turn. We put-putted along a wide street, finally stopping in front of an open-air café. The sign said Bienvenidos Pan.Com. I wondered if that was a web address. Pan probably referred to the bread. She pointed to the restaurant and told me she would be back in 45 minutes to pick me up.

"I want to hire your scooter for the entire afternoon. I don't want to wait when I am ready to leave. I will pay your fare for the entire time. Come in with me."

She looked at me with a quizzical gaze. My request seemed very strange to her. I'm sure it was a very strange request. I didn't like eating alone, we would be able to talk about where I wanted to go next if we were away from the noisy engine (and its gasoline fumes), and I wanted to spend some time with her face-to-face. I related the first two of these reasons to her and assured her I would pay for the meal. She looked like she was unsure if it was a good idea. Then, she looked at me and smiled. With a nod, she shut off the engine and we stepped through the arched front of the establishment.

It wasn't very crowded, only four or five people eating. There was a patio off to the right, not under the roof, where Cuban music was playing on a stereo of sorts. An old man wearing sunglasses sat near the stereo. Near the entrance to the left, a table had been setup covered with a canvas umbrella. The umbrella advertised Tucola. I almost snorted as I saw it, now that I knew how easily a Coca-Cola could be acquired. We had to walk to the very back of the dining area to where the counter was. As we were standing there, waiting to be served, I absent-mindedly noted that most of the restaurant equipment was Canadian. I asked my driver if she would like to eat, and she readily agreed. I ordered two Cuban sandwiches and two Cristal beers. The entire meal cost me about as much (in U.S. currency) as two large Cokes at a convenience store. We watched as the sandwiches were made and pressed, then took them to a table. I noticed that the driver was looking hungrily at the food as I was purchasing it. I sat across from her and realized that I didn't even know her name. I explained this and introduced myself.

"My name is Felicita," she responded.

"What a lovely sounding name," I told her. Felicita – a name that meant great happiness. That held promise. She smiled a little and looked down. "Eat," I told her. "Don't let it get cold." Not that anything would get cold quickly in this heat.

With that, we started eating. The food was very good and Felicita ate with a vengeance. I wondered how regularly she got to eat. She must have sensed this because she began explaining after two bites.

She wiped the mustard from her mouth with a paper napkin, took a sip of the beer, then began, "I don't get meat like this very often. It is hard for us to buy. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I am glad to be able to share."

We ate a little more in silence. Felicita shyly looked my way from time to time as she ate, clearly enjoying the meal. After we had satisfied the worst of our hunger, the conversation picked up.

"This sandwich really is wonderful. You picked a great restaurant," I complimented my lovely dining partner.

"The tourists love this place. I've never eaten here before."

My expression conveyed my unspoken question.

"They only take dollars here," Felicita explained. "Even if we could afford the prices, they won't take our money. Locals don't eat at places like this."

I looked around. Except for the workers, there were only one or two people who I might take for Cubans. Felicita saw me looking around and continued with her explanation.

"People in the government have access to dollars. Working in the tourist trade gives some dollars, like for tips. The dollars I do get are too valuable to waste on luxuries like restaurants."

"How do you get to work in the government," I innocently asked.

Her eyes grew a little larger. She looked to her right and left, then leaned over the table to whisper, "Not here."

It took me a moment to comprehend. Then I got it. You never know who is listening. I was asking a political question. I looked around the restaurant again, this time sizing up the other occupants.

The old man sitting on the patio saw me studying him. He got out of his chair and walked over to our table. It wasn't until I realized he was heading straight to us that I panicked. Great! My first afternoon in the country and I'm going to be picked up by the secret police. I felt the sweat appearing on my face. It wasn't the temperature, though it suddenly felt a lot warmer. Why wasn't I more careful?

The old man stopped at the edge of our table and looked down at us. He was carrying something in his hand. His voice was old and raspy.

"I heard you speaking English," he said, then paused. He spoke as slowly as he walked. I was trying to decide whether to answer when he continued. "American, yes?" I nodded. No point in trying to deny it. "I was wondering if you would be interested in buying some music?" He held out a few CD cases. I took them from his outstretched hand. They were audio CDs. The labels looked like photocopies.

"Thank you, but I won't be able to take them through customs. I can't bring anything back from Cuba."

"Open the box," he urged.

I did. Inside each was an unlabeled CD-ROM, with a brand I immediately recognized. He had pirated the music on a computer. The discs could pass through customs as data. I thanked him, but told him I wasn't interested. Relief spread through me as a breeze cooled my face. I told him I might return another day to buy them. He was satisfied with that, and slowly returned to his table.

"What was wrong?" Felicita asked. "You didn't look so well."

I gave a little laugh. "I thought he might be secret police or something. I was worried he might had been eavesdropping on our conversation."

She laughed at that. "Him? No, not him. Don't worry. I'll tell you when you have to be careful. There are some things we don't discuss in public, though."

By then, we were both finished with the sandwiches and the beer. I stood.

"You are ready to leave now?" my companion asked, looking up at me with those lovely eyes.

"Yes, I have a city to discover. Will you show it to me?"

"Yes, let's go. I just... well, people usually like to take a siesta after a meal." She was starting to figure out I wasn't just any tourist.

"I want to take my siesta on your scooter." It was a half-hearted attempt at a lie. She didn't seem to be concerned.

Before she started the engine, she asked where I wanted to go. I told her I wanted to see where the locals bought and sold goods. She looked quizzically at me, then shook it off. The tiny engine putted to life and we pulled onto the street.

We drove back towards the Malecon. Near the waterfront, she turned off the main road to what looked like rows of ramshackle huts. We were maybe two blocks off the main street. She parked the scooter. When I got out, she took my arm. I felt a thrill as I felt her pressed against my side. "Pretend you are with me," she urged, then led me along the stalls. Here, you could buy books, photographs, paintings, clothes (some looked used), cheap cookware, almost anything. In the states, this would be called a flea market. It was quickly apparent I was the only person who looked like a tourist. Everyone else on the street and tending the makeshift shops was Cuban.

"What do you want to buy?" Felicita inquired.

"Nothing. I want to see how Cubans live."

She looked directly at me. "Oh," she said. Then, "You are not like any tourist I have ever met."

"I can explain that. Later."

She didn't look too surprised at my remark.

I bent down to speak quietly into her ear and asked, "What do you call this place?"

Her answer shocked me. "Black market."

I thought about that for a moment. I looked around. There were no soldiers or policemen around. "Here?" I asked, a little stunned.

"Yes, here."

"Doesn't the government know about this place?"

"Of course they do. Some of the shoppers are soldiers and policemen." She could see my confused expression, so she continued. "There are some things we need that we can't buy in the stores. We have to get them somewhere. These places are allowed to operate. Tourists never come here, only locals. There will be more people here as it gets dark. We should talk about something else, I think. Later, you can ask more questions."

I nodded. We walked along with her holding onto my arm. I was making mental notes of what was being sold and, when I could overhear, the prices being charged. I learned a lot about what goods were in short supply. We walked around for maybe half an hour, then I told her we could return to her scooter. We did and I asked her to show me a beach.

"There are no sand beaches in Havana. Those are outside the city. We have rock beaches I can show you."

"That will be fine," I answered.

We putt-putted along the waterfront. On the left we passed the U.S. Interests Section, located on the site of the former U.S. Embassy. It was strange to see the seal of the United States displayed on a Havana building. When I realized what it was (and how close it was to my hotel), I sat back in the seat as we passed. It was a weak attempt at concealing my face. After awhile, she pulled into a parking lot. Some teenagers were playing soccer. She led me to the seawall. We crawled over it to the "beach". I had seen rock beaches before, but nothing like this. I expected beaches of pebbles. This was a solid section of sharp rocks jutting into the water, with surf breaking over the rock.

"We can talk here. We can't be overheard," she reassured me.

"I have many questions."

"Ask them. I will answer as best I can," she offered.

"You said earlier at the restaurant that you don't often get meat. Is it hard to find food, or is it just too expensive? What kinds of foods do you usually eat?"

She nodded and began explaining, "Meat is a luxury. When we get meat, it is usually pork or maybe chicken. Beef is a special treat. I can have meat for the evening meal. Usually, I don't have meat for the other two meals. It is expensive, and often in short supply at the store even if you have the money. The quality of the food you can buy with nonconvertible pesos is not the same as what you can buy with dollars. I am lucky that I work for tourists. I get tipped with dollars, so I can sometimes shop in the better stores." She paused for me to comprehend this, then continued, "Is everyone in America rich like you?"

"Why do you think I am rich?" I asked.

"You spend money so freely. You fed your taxi driver. You dress in nice clothes. Do you do this always in America?"

"My taxi driver in America is never as pretty as you," I told her. She put her head down. When she looked up again, she was smiling and blushing.

"I think the difference is because of the economies. What you think is expensive here is not expensive in America. It is very different." I felt I could trust her, so I decided to break the biggest rule of my preparation. I would ask political questions. "The biggest difference I see here is the lack of freedom. I am not used to having to be careful about what things I talk about." I took a deep breath, then came out and said it. "Do you feel oppressed by Castro?"

She tried not to react, but I saw it in her face. There was a concern, or maybe a thrill of venturing into dangerous territory. "We are afraid of Fidel. There is nothing we can do about it. We just have to live with him. After him, we are afraid Raoul will be worse."

"You call him 'Fidel'. Does everyone address him by his first name?"

"Of course. He wants us to think of him as a brother. A cruel brother, I think." She gave a hard laugh. "I shouldn't be talking like this."

"You don't have anything to fear from me. I will not hurt you. Let me tell you why I am here."

I told her my story – the real reason I was there. She listened attentively as I explained about my company's plans for when relations between our countries changed. I said how we wanted to help improve the Cuban economy by opening trade, but the American government opposed that. I told her how I had come illegally. She could not understand that. She thought all Americans were free. I told her that there are some things that are not free, even in America. I reassured her that there really was freedom in America, and that very few things were forbidden. When I finished, she asked me questions about life in America. The emotion in her voice as she asked about living free, about being able to shop in any store, about buying as much food as you wanted, or going to school touched my heart. I wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to change, but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. I just wanted to hold her.

We talked for a few hours, until it started to get dark. The sound of the crashing waves had protected us with privacy. We compared lives, and she touched mine. I knew I would never be the same after that conversation. I didn't want to be the same. I had come to peek in a window to see how the Cubans lived. Instead, she invited me in to experience her life. She understood what I was looking for. I asked her if she would be my guide for the rest of the week. I offered to hire her scooter everyday, if she would take me outside of the tourist areas, introduce me to her friends, show me what it was like to be Cuban. The look in her eyes as I explained this scared me a little. I was seeing in her expression the feelings I was starting to experience for her. It wasn't lust I was feeling. It was something deeper and that scared me. I hadn't felt like that for a long time, if ever. I knew my time here was limited, but I couldn't help myself. I knew I had never felt like this about anyone else. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I had decided not to pass those up anymore. I wasn't about to change that new rule now.

I took a chance. Again. I had risked a lot telling her all this. She had taken a bigger risk by speaking openly with me. I was going home in a few days. She wasn't. If I couldn't be trusted, I could ruin her life. Maybe I could be the cause for ending it. She had only known me for an afternoon. She saw in me what I was seeing in her. I put my arms around her. I wasn't sure how she would react. I knew what I wanted to see, but I was prepared for a different outcome. She looked into my eyes. Those big brown eyes of hers glistened with unshed tears. Were they tears of joy, fear, love? She put her arms around my neck. I felt her warm skin touching mine. I hugged her. I could feel her slight body beneath her thin t-shirt pressing against me. Her breasts flattened only slightly as she pressed herself against me. My face was in that brown hair I had admired all day from the back seat. My hands ran over the back of a t-shirt, my fingers passing over her bra strap. We held each other, as I stared out to sea. Ninety miles away to my right was all I had ever known. Here was all I had been searching for. I just hadn't known it until that moment. I pushed her back. She looked quizzically at me, wondering why I was pushing her away. I tilted my head, and I kissed her. She met the kiss with such passion that the half erection she had given me became full. Our mouths intertwined. Two tongues, one free, one oppressed, met. I held her and felt her holding me. My heart was racing, my erection was pulsing. I wanted to slip my hand into her pants or at least cup her breast. I had been admiring the way her tits looked through the thin fabric of the t-shirt all afternoon. I wanted to go further, but I didn't want to go too fast. I didn't know the cultural rules. I restrained myself, content to hold her and kiss her.




Havana Club Ch. 02



When our lips parted, we were both smiling.

"I have never kissed a capitalist before," she said with a grin.

"And I have never kissed a communist. I think I want to do that again." I matched her smile.

I became aware of how late it was becoming. "Felicita, would you join me for dinner tonight at my hotel?"

I thought I was making a gracious invitation. I didn't know about the cultural rule I was breaking.

"I can't," she said, looking down. My heart felt like it was tearing. She saw it in my face and quickly explained. "The hotel does not let locals inside. I would not be welcome there."

"Not even as my guest?" I asked.

"Dressed like this, I am a worker. Your hotel is not for the working class."

"What if you changed first?"

She thought for a minute, then smiled. "I can take you back and go home. When I come back, maybe you can meet me on the sidewalk and we can go in together. I would like that, Christopher."

"How will you get back?"

"I can take the bus. It will take me about an hour or so to get ready and return."

"Then take me back to my hotel and go get ready. I would like you to show me what Cubans do in the evening."

I was referring to dinner and dancing. Her embarrassed look indicated she thought I meant something else. She nodded, then we got up and walked hand in hand back to the scooter. As we drove back to the Hotel Nacional, I noticed couples sitting on the seawall along the Malecon. They were in each other's arms, embracing and kissing. Felicita dropped me off a short distance from the hotel entrance.

"I don't want them to recognize me," she explained. "Meet me here in an hour – on the sidewalk. I have to turn in the scooter, then go home and clean up."

"I'll do the same and be waiting here for you. Until later."

I paid the fare and gave her a generous tip.

"You don't have to tip me," she said.

"It is so you can have meat three times a day."

We both smiled at that.

"Thank you, Christopher. I will see you soon."

With that, she putted away. I stood there, watching the red lights crest the hill and disappear. Then, I went back to my room and showered. I dressed for dinner and went down to stroll along the front of the hotel until Felicita returned.

I had to wait about twenty minutes for her to arrive. When she did, I was taken aback. The young girl in the Havana Club t-shirt and shorts had been transformed into a lovely young lady in a dress. She was beautiful earlier today. Now, she was elegant. When she recognized me, her face lit up. I am certain mine did as well. I kissed her, enjoying the feel of her lithe body against mine.

"You must be hungry. I know I am. Let's go have dinner."

She nodded. I took her by the arm and we walked up the palm tree lined walk to the entrance of the hotel. I could tell Felicita was nervous. I whispered, "Don't worry. You are with me now." She gave an almost imperceptible nod. The doorman opened the door for us, not giving her a second glance. We walked into that elegant lobby with its carved wood ceiling and marble appointments. As always, the photographic display of the revolution caught my eye, but we turned instead to our right and headed down the corridor to the Comedor de Aquiar. The glass door with its etched title and hotel crest filling the archway might have impressed me earlier. Now, I only noticed how it reflected my partner's lovely figure. We entered and were shown to a table. Contrary to Felicita's earlier misgivings, she had no difficulty entering the hotel.

After we sat and were alone again, she leaned over the table, took my hand, and said to me, "It is because I am with you."

My expression showed my confusion.

"It is because I am with you," she said a little louder. "I passed this hotel many times, wondering what it was like inside. I thought I would never get to see the inside. Now, I am here. I am only allowed to enter because I am with you."

"I am the fortunate one," I said. She shook her head.

"Yes, I am. I get to dine with you."

That made her blush. I liked making her do that. She looked so sweet, so vulnerable, when I made her blush.

The waiter returned to take our drink order.

"You must have a mojito," she said. "It is the national drink." I nodded. "Two," she said to the waiter. He nodded and was off to the bar. "This is fun. I feel like a princess. An American princess."

"We don't have princesses in America. No royalty."

"Really?" she asked with astonishment.

"Really," I replied. "Sometimes, fathers call their daughters 'Princess' to make them feel special."

"I feel special being with you," she said with much emotion.

"I feel very lucky being with you," I told her.

The mojitos arrived. I took a sip of the cold mixture of sugar cane juice, sugar, rum and mint. It was delightful, but potent. She saw the look of approval on my face and smiled.

"It is good, yes?"

"Yes," I answered.

"They use Havana Club here. It is a very good rum."

"I like it. The flavor of the sugar cane is very strong."

Remembering her earlier admonishments, I kept the conversation along these lines, not daring to venture into political discussions. I was no longer worried about bringing harm to myself. I didn't want to do anything to put my lovely Felicita in any danger. It wasn't that I didn't have questions. I had hundreds. There would be time for that later.

Dinner was wonderful. She introduced me to Ropa Veija – old clothes. I made a face at the name, but tried it on her recommendation. She said it was a traditional Cuban dish. It was delicious. The name comes from the appearance of the skirt steak that is cooked until the fat dissolves, leaving the edges of the meat looking like ragged old cloth. After the mojitos, she suggested another Cuban drink – the daiquiri. I laughed and told her we had daiquiris in America. I didn't know they had been invented in Cuba.

After the food and the drinks, I was feeling very happy. She looked the same. As we walked out of the restaurant, I suggested she take me to a club for dancing. She turned to me, putting her arms around my neck and pulling me closer to her. I was so excited that I knew she could feel my erection through her dress.

"We can do that another night. I have to go to work early tomorrow. A rich American wants to rent my scooter for the entire day. Let's go to bed early tonight."

I couldn't even hope she was implying what it sounded like. I knew I was mistaken, my brain in testosterone overload. "But, I'm not ready to say goodbye yet." I tried to say that with as much emotion as I could.

Felicita smiled sweetly, pulled me towards the elevator, and said, "Not goodbye, just goodnight."

I raised my eyebrows. She nodded. We boarded the elevator.

"Forgive me. In America, it is unusual for a lady to sleep with a man the first time they meet."

"But this is the second time," she answered. Then she continued, grinning broadly, "In Cuba, we have a saying. Sex is the only thing Fidel cannot ration."

If I hadn't been so horny, I would have been shocked. As it was, I almost came in my pants. We held each other close as the elevator ascended to my floor. We walked in silence to my room holding hands. I was reveling in the warm softness of her hand. Once in my room with the door closed behind us, I pulled Felicita to me, a little more roughly this time. I could see she liked feeling her body pressed so tightly against mine. I liked it, too. We kissed. This time, my hands roamed freely across her bottom. She moaned softly as I felt her ass. Her hands were around my neck, then holding my face as we kissed, our tongues in each other's mouths. My hands strayed up to her neck and my fingers found her zipper.

"Close the drapes first," she pleaded. "It is not good to be seen doing this." I complied, then returned to her. Holding her in my arms, I reached behind her and found the tab of her zipper. We smiled at each other as I slid the zipper as far down as it would go. Using my fingertips, I slipped the dress off her arms and it fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. She lifted first one foot, then the other to free herself from the clothing, then gently kicked it to the side. The lovely Felicita was now standing in front of me clad only in bra and panties. I had been thinking of undressing her all through dinner and that thought had kept me hard. Now, with her almost naked in front of me, I was downright stiff. She started removing my shirt, one button at a time. Her pace was agonizingly slow. It was as if she was savoring the undoing of each button. It was as if the slow-paced Caribbean culture was carrying over into the bedroom. I wanted to grab the shirt and rip it off myself. I was anxious to feel her naked skin against mine. I am proud to say I behaved myself, standing there still as she undressed me. When the shirt had finally joined her dress on the carpet, she knelt before me and removed my belt. She was as unhurried as before. It took an almost physical effort to be patient with the delightful beauty on her knees before me. Next, my pants were unfastened. They would have fallen like her dress if she hadn't held them as her hands moved down my legs. Her hands passed first across my underwear before contacting my skin. It was agonizing pleasure to feel her flesh contact me. The feel I was craving was moving far too slowly for me. I wanted to get inside her panties. She, on the other hand, wanted to prolong the moment. I willed my legs to behave themselves and I gently kicked the pants aside. As horny as I was, as much as I wanted to get both of us naked, I didn't want to break the spell she was casting. The magic of the moment was like a physical thing, like she was suspending time. As if time itself was flowing like cane syrup, oozing and dripping through the air. She also insisted on removing my shoes and socks. Now we were dressed alike, except she still wore her high heel shoes. She stood now, a vision of an angel. We embraced. I gasped as I felt her warm skin against mine, the only interrupted contact at our underwear. As we kissed and our tongues met, she lifted one leg. I felt her smooth thigh glide along my leg. She moaned, or maybe it was me. Probably both. By now, I was making a wet spot with the precum oozing out of me.

She broke the kiss and spoke for the first time in many minutes. Her voice was a whisper, as if to not break the spell. "Finish undressing me," she breathed. I reached around her to undo the clasp holding her bra together. I fumbled for a moment, then let the ends fall free. I tugged each strap off her arms and let the garment flutter to the floor. Her breasts were only slighter lighter than the rest of her skin. If I hadn't turned on a lamp when I closed the drapes, I wouldn't have been able to see the difference at all. Perhaps she tanned topless. Her nipples were prominent and pointed upward – a testament to her youth. I tore my eyes away from admiring her breasts only with difficulty. When I looked into her eyes, I was smiling broadly. She had a smaller smile on her face – more a look of embarrassment. In the dim light of the lamp, I thought she might be blushing.

"You are so beautiful," I said, softly.

"You like my body?" she asked, shyly.

"Yes, very much."

"I am sorry I am wearing regular underwear. I wish I had something sexy to wear for you, like American women wear. Thong panties are most difficult to find in Cuba."

I almost laughed a little at her concern. I could tell she was serious and I didn't want to make her feel any more embarrassed. "Most American women don't wear thongs. Some do. Some do for very special occasions, like tonight. I like what you are wearing... and what you are not wearing." At that, she smiled a little more, but I could clearly see now she was also blushing. It was time to take her mind off worrying how I might not like her underwear. Maintaining eye contact, I bent down until I could delicately take her left nipple in my mouth. I opened my lips and sucked the nipple inside, letting my teeth graze her flesh as gently as possible. When I applied suction, she moaned. Her eyelids started to close and her arms encircled my head. I opened my mouth a little wider. This time, as I sucked in her nipple, my teeth grazed the tender skin around the nipple. She sounded like she liked that as well. As I continued to suck, my left hand reached out for her right breast. I didn't squeeze at first. I slowly closed my hand and caressed her firmness. I closed my palm, rubbing her so gently it barely felt like I was touching her. My fingertips brushed against her smooth skin. After the third time of this, I squeezed and pulled, ending with a grasp around the nipple.

Felicita gave a loud moan. Her eyes were closed. As she moaned, her face turned upward. I extended my tongue and licked from her nipple, across the inside of her breast, across the valley, and up the other mound until I could pull her right nipple into my mouth. I gave the right the same treatment I had given the left. My right hand now caressed her left breast. I could feel where my saliva still wet the skin. I was anxious to get her out of her panties, but I gave my best effort to prolong the foreplay. I wanted to cast the same magical spell she had. When I could convince myself to delay no longer, I shifted a little further away from her body until my cheek was no longer against her chest. When she felt me move, Felicita opened her eyes and looked down at me. What a sight that must have been for her. My ministrations had left both of her nipples erect. They were jutting out proudly, and a little redder than before.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Then, as I kissed down her stomach, she said, "Oh... ohhhhh."

My mouth was now at the waistband of her panties. I ran my right hand down the front of the material. I could feel her bush, then the outline of her lips. I pressed my index finger into the indentation made by her slit, moving that finger back and forth. The cotton was already damp, and more moisture was soaking the fabric as I rubbed. I leaned forward and kissed the top of her slit. I looked up and saw her watching my moves intently. The look on her face was one of wonder. I opened my mouth a little and grabbed the elastic waistband with my teeth. I pulled away and down. I could just barely see the top of her bush. My right hand reluctantly left her crease, taking its place at her side. Each hand now had a finger in the waistband. As my fingers pulled down, I moved my face downward as well. As. I pulled her panties off her aroused body, I had a close-up view of her pussy. The hair, I could now see, was also a light brown. Not blonde or red, more brownish. In the sunlight, it would probably have a reddish hue. Here, it was the color of somewhere between milk chocolate and honey. As I moved further down, her curly hair rasped against my chin. She gasped. I let go with my teeth and let my hands finish sliding her panties down her legs. I could see how wet she was. The hair at the juncture of her thighs glistened with her dew. A tiny jewel-like strand of her juices had drawn out from her lips to the soft lining of her panties. The inside of her panties was soaked. As the last of her clothes moved down to her knees and then off her body, the strand drew out finer and finer until it finally broke. I pulled the panties over her shoes and gently laid them aside, moist side up.

As I admired that part of her I was going to fuck, I forced my hands to move back up toward her waist with agonizing slowness. I don't know if it was more agony for me or for her. I slid my hands around as they moved up, so I was sliding my palms against the silky insides of her thighs. The skin was so soft there. When I felt the first wisps of curly hairs contact my fingers, I leaned forward and extended my tongue. Just as my fingers were able to grasp the lips, I pulled them apart and my tongue pressed into her most private place. She was so wet now that it was like I was taking a drink. I was drinking from her soul. I pressed my face into her cunt. I could taste her as I explored her inner recesses with my tongue and lips. I could smell her juices as well. Her hair tickled my nose. I pulled at her lips with my lips, drawing the delicate tissues into my mouth where I sucked on them before releasing. I felt her adjust her stance, moving her legs further apart and holding onto my head. I let the tip of my tongue move up and seek out her clit. I heard her give a high-pitched, happy "Ooh" when I found the treasure I sought. She held onto my head a little firmer, and spoke, her voice a little shaky.

"Let's move to the bed. I don't know how much longer I can stand."

I nodded with my face still buried in her lap. The movement made her press herself harder against me. I drew back to give her room to move, keeping my hands around her ass. I could feel how wet my cheeks were with her juices. We turned until her back was to the bed, then she shuffled and I crawled until her ass touched the mattress. The bed had been turned down while we were at dinner. She took her hands away from my head to reach behind herself for support. She lay back on the bed with her legs hanging over the side. The view of her body lain across my bed was one I'll never forget. Her hair was spread out on either side of her face, her breasts firm enough to still stand proudly even though she was on her back, the brown hair framing her pussy lit softly by the lamp. The bed was rather low. Even though I was kneeling, I had to bend over some to put my face back into her pussy. I licked more forcefully now, encouraged by her moaning. Her hands were constantly in motion, first grasping at the sheets in big handfuls with the desperation of a person drowning, next mauling her tits, then pulling at my hair and drawing my face into her until it was hard for me to breathe, then along the sides of her face. She squirmed against the sheets as her pleasure built.

As she was in ecstasy, I was enjoying being between her legs. I could feel the silkiness of her thighs against the sides of my face. My nose was buried in her pubic hair, the smell of the soap she had used still present. My mouth was awash in the flood of juices issuing forth from her. I indulged in the taste, the smell, the texture that was her arousal. She was so wet because she was anticipating me penetrating her. That would happen, but I would make her cum first. I was so excited that I wasn't sure I would be able to last very long inside her, feeling her tight pussy surrounding my dick as I looked into her lovely face. I moved my tongue up to focus on her clit as two fingers of my left hand entered her pussy. She thrashed more vigorously and began moaning as I overloaded her clit with my attentions. A third finger joined the other two and her legs clamped down on my head. I was surprised at her strength. She held me between her legs in a grip that I wouldn't escape. I would have to ride out her orgasm right there. She lifted her hips off the bed, my mouth still attached to her, and she cried out. Her hands were now pulling my face into her pussy. It was all I could do to keep my nose where I could still breathe. Her juices were flowing before, now they ran. I was swallowing all I could. The excess was coating my chin and cheeks. I could feel the sheets beneath me starting to get wet.

With a final cry, Felicita (true to her name) relaxed and fell back onto the bed. Her legs released me and I could get a good look at her face. Great happiness was her expression. She was panting with her eyes still closed. Sweat caused some of the hair around her face to stick to her skin. She was flushed a dark red from her neck down to her breasts. Her arms now lay motionless. She was resting and recovering. Meanwhile, my dick (still trapped in my underwear) was throbbing against the sheets. My body wanted to cum. My heart was glowing in the joy of what I had just done for my Felicita. As I lay there, I was almost subconsciously pressing my groin against the bed, the rhythm my body's attempt at release. I wouldn't let myself get anywhere near orgasm. I didn't want to spend myself against the bed, not with the lovely body in front of me. I would cum, but in her. With her.




Havana Club Ch. 02



When she had recovered, Felicita opened her eyes and said just one word. "Caramba." I knew what she meant. We both smiled. I could see in her eyes that she was still returning to the here and now. I had sent her someplace else. Now she was coming back to me. "Now, it is my turn to do that to you," she promised. With that, she lifted herself up on her forearms and sat up. I sat to meet her. She took my slippery cheeks in her hands and kissed me. My face was slippery from her juices but she didn't mind. She tasted and felt her own lubrication as our mouths joined. She was thanking me. She wasn't concerned about what I tasted like or smelled like. That thought excited me. When she finally released me, her words confirmed what I had been thinking. "Christopher, you taste like me."

"Yes, I do. I like the way you taste."

"I'm glad you like it. Now, I want to taste like you."

With those words, she pushed me to the side and back onto the bed. My head fell into the softness of the pillow. It was warm where her head had been but I could also feel the coolness where her perspiration was evaporating. She didn't give me time to dwell on any of that. She firmly gripped the waistband of my last remaining piece of clothes and shucked it off me. I was now naked. My dick stood proudly before her as she lowered her head between my legs. She gazed at my erection. Part of the tip was shiny with precum. She reached out with her tongue and the tip touched my dick. The contact made my cock jump. She giggled. I was speechless. She reached out again and touched me. My dick must have decided it liked her touch because it hardly moved. Her tongue slid along the head. She was tasting my precum and, at the same time, covering me with her saliva. After she had explored the head, she moved down to the shaft. Her touch was light, wet and warm. I was in ecstasy. I could not take my eyes away from where her tongue was touching me. Seeing Felicita's face next to my dick was as exciting as feeling her licking my dick. Occasionally, she would pull her tongue back into her mouth to swallow and wet her tongue again. When she did, sometimes a strand of precum would link her mouth to my dick. The strand glistened in the soft light of the lamps. If the Secret Police had chosen that moment to break into the room, I would probably have asked them to wait to arrest us until she was finished. I was mesmerized. She was enjoying herself so totally with my body that I could do nothing but watch. The vision and the sensation of her touch kept me powerless to move. I wanted to do nothing to interrupt her intricate dance with my cock. My erection even managed to grow a little further. The licking was driving me crazy. I wanted to sink my dick into something warm and wet. Each lick was making my dick throb.

She seemed to sense when I could stand waiting no longer and sank her mouth over me. I gasped as her mouth enveloped me. She took me surprisingly deep. She was quite adept at giving head. Instead of wondering about how many men she had done this with before, I was grateful to be the recipient of all that experience. She bobbed up and down, her eyes tied to mine. I watched her, barely breathing. She was smiling with her eyes. One hand was holding my dick; the other must have been beneath her. Perhaps it was stroking her pussy. I couldn't see in that position and I certainly didn't want to move and break the rhythm. In time, the throbbing of my dick became more pronounced. I knew I would be cumming soon. The look in her eyes told me she also knew this. She was sucking harder now, her tongue caressing my shaft and head more intently. Her left hand seemed to be moving beneath her. She must be masturbating in time to the sucking. I throbbed particularly hard and the pulsations continued. There was one strong pulse that felt so hard it almost hurt. Then the floodgates burst. I was squirting sperm into her mouth. What started as a gasp in my throat grew to a moan, almost a cry. She moaned as well, but her sound was muffled by my erection and the semen filling her mouth. I could see and feel her swallowing rapidly. She never stopped swallowing or sucking. The pleasure kept growing in intensity until it became painful. My dick had become too sensitive. I was finished squirting but she was still sucking me. I couldn't tell if I was feeling pain or pleasure. It was too intense to distinguish tone. I wanted to push her face away from me, but I didn't want the pleasure to stop. I willed my hands not to move. I tried to put them under my ass to hold them down. After two more strokes from her mouth, my hands moved of their own volition and pushed at her face. She was looking at me as I pushed her away. When her lips left my dick, fine strands of my cum joined the two for a few inches. Finally, the strands broke and she moved back. She swallowed hard one more time and smiled.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked.

I couldn't speak yet. I moaned my approval. After a short moment, I managed a nod. A few deep breaths and I could finally speak. "That was so amazing! I don't think I have ever cum so hard before. Thank you."

"You taste very good," she said. I could see her tongue moving in her mouth. She must have been savoring the flavor. She shifted slightly and pulled her left hand from beneath her. She pressed it to my mouth. I could see it was glistening. As her fingers approached my face, I could smell her pussy. I opened my mouth to accept the gift and sucked in her fingers. They were coated with her moisture. I sucked them until I could extract no more flavor. As I released her fingers, I spoke again.

"You taste very good."

She wrinkled her nose. "I have tasted myself before. It is not too bad, but I much prefer your taste."

"I know what you mean. I don't mind tasting my cum on you, but I much prefer tasting your pussy."

That seemed to surprise her. "Really?" she asked. Then she leaned forward, crawling over me to kiss me. I parted my lips and let her invade my mouth. When her tongue retreated, mine followed into her mouth. She had swallowed what I had ejaculated in there, but there was still a faint taste left.

When we broke the kiss, her eyes were open, studying my face. "Men don't like to taste themselves, but they like it if I taste myself. You are not like most men. I think I like that."

"I'm glad."

I put my arms around her and held her tightly against me. The feeling of her warm body on top of me was starting to arouse my dick a second time. She felt it.

"You have to wear a rubber to do it with me. I have some."

I was surprised by the word she used. She got up and sought out her purse. It had been discarded on the table near the door when we had entered. She withdrew a cardboard box with a familiar shape but an unfamiliar white label and returned to the bed. She tore open the box with the rose and the kissing couple on the front, extracting a packet. I picked up the box and examined it as she started fitting the condom on my renewed erection. The label said the box contained "12 Romantic Love Rubbers." I laughed.

"What is so funny?" Felicita asked.

"I'm sorry. The name on the box is funny to me. We call these by a different name. Do you really call them 'love rubbers'?" I was still giggling a little.

"That is what they are," she answered. "Is that a funny name where you are from?"

"Yes, it's very funny. But that doesn't matter. What we are going to use it for isn't funny at all."

She looked shyly at me, and then smiled. She had the condom fully fitted. She crawled on her knees until she was poised over my midsection. She took my latex-covered erection in her right hand, her left on her lips, and guided me to her opening. I could feel her heat through the covering. I watched, fascinated, as she moved the head around her lips. I could see her wetness making the condom shiny. Her face showed concentration as she aligned each of us for the penetration. When we were in the proper position, she slowly sat down on me. I felt the pressure on my cock, then her lips relinquished their resistance. I could feel each ridge of her cunt as I entered her. Her face went from concentration to ecstasy as I filled her up. I lay there and watched. Her naked body was so beautiful. At the bottom, I could see myself sticking out of her. My shaft was surrounded by the light brown hair lining her outer lips. Now, she was fully seated and I was completely inside her. I could feel her ass pressing against my balls. She reached forward and put her hands on my chest. Her breasts were dangling with the nipples just out of reach of my mouth. She looked me in the eye as we shared a smile. I felt her tighten her pussy muscles around me. I moaned.

She took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and raised herself up. The condom was revealed as covered in her juices. She lowered herself slowly again, then back up. Now she settled into a rhythm, riding me. I couldn't believe I was having sex with such a lovely creature. Her tits swayed back and forth, as much as their firmness allowed. She leaned over a little more and I lifted my head until our lips met. It was a slight strain to kiss in that position, but I didn't mind. Her tongue sparred with mine. I reveled in the feel of her. Her legs were clasped tightly against my sides. Her hands roamed my chest, occasionally one straying up to my face. I shivered a little as her hand ran up my face. We were so overcome with the feelings of making love to each other that we didn't speak. She repeatedly impaled herself on me. I thought about how I was inside the body I had been fantasizing about earlier that day and slipped past the point of no return.

"I'm cumming," I warned her.

She hadn't cum yet, but she didn't show it if she was disappointed. She squeezed her pussy tighter, driving me higher on the climb to ecstasy. She moved more upright and put a hand on her clit. Her hand rubbed faster and faster. Her face showed her own climax was approaching.

"Ahhh!" I exclaimed. I could feel myself emptying into her body. I looked her in the eyes as I shot my sperm into her, intensifying the throbs of orgasm. When she felt the warmth of my sperm filling the condom, that pushed her over the edge. She was quieter than me, but her expression spoke volumes. It wasn't just my dick or her finger on her clit. The idea that I was shooting off inside her body was making her cum. Her face was the epitome of love. If we hadn't been fully in love with each other before, that moment consummated it. We had shared something special. We were one.

Shortly after I finished cumming, my dick started to soften. She reached down and, one hand on the condom, deftly lifted herself off me. The end of the condom showed the white residue of my orgasm. She gingerly removed it from my soft dick and leaned over to throw it in the plastic trashcan next to the bed. She slid down next to me on her stomach, supporting herself on her arms, and looked at me. Her smile was infectious.

"You are like no tourist I have ever met," she said with a sigh.

"You are like no Cuban I have ever known," I replied.

"How many Cubans have you known?"

I made a show of thinking about it. "Uh ... one." She laughed. "One very special one," I said slowly, the emotion revealing itself in my voice. With that, she kissed me. My arms went around her trim waist of their own accord. All was well. I was in bed with Felicita. I was happy. I was beyond great happiness.

Felicita yawned.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" I offered. Sleeping next to her would be wonderful.

"I can't stay all night. I have to be at work early, and I need to get home to change. And get some sleep."

I wanted to protest, but I knew what she said was true. Ordinarily, I would have told her to forget about work and take a day off. Here, drawing attention to our relationship might cause trouble. I had to avoid trouble at all costs.

"How much longer can you stay?" I asked her.

She turned and looked at the clock. "It's 23. I need to leave by midnight to catch a bus home."

"I can send you in a taxi."

"I can't go home in a taxi. That would be very obvious. I wouldn't want the CDR seeing me getting out of a taxi after midnight."

I nodded at her remark. Nosy neighbors were one thing. The Communist Party was quite another.

"Well, we have another hour," I said as cheerily as I could. I rolled us over until I was on top of her. Even though I had cum only a short while ago, feeling her soft (and wet) lips against my dick was getting me hard again. "Now, where is that box of 'love rubbers'?"

She pointed to the nightstand. I extracted one and put it on. She watched with wet fascination, spreading her legs as I moved into position. Her cunt still glistened with her lubrication from our last coupling. The point of my cock parted her inner lips. She sighed as I entered her, protected by communist latex. Her juices clung to the condom as I pulled back, then reentered her. On the third thrust, I leaned forward to kiss her and settled on top. Her legs entwined around mine. Her hands went around the back of my head as we kissed, then slid down my back to my butt. I thrust harder and felt her fingernails digging into my skin, pulling me deeper into her. The smell of her perfume and the soft tickle of her hair against my face delighted me. We were as together as a man and woman could be. Making love to her was a full-body experience. We connected body and soul. It was as if we left our bodies and touched spirits. Instinct drove our bodies in the primal rhythm. We bathed in the glow of love. We stayed in the missionary position, savoring the touch of each other. I opened my eyes once during the continual kiss. Seeing her face, eyes closed and lost in passion, I felt an ache in my chest. My heart wanted to burst. I had fallen for my Felicita. A few days ago, I couldn't make a commitment. There, in that bed with her, I didn't know if I could live apart from her. We made love for over half an hour. When necessary, I slowed down or shifted position to keep under control and last longer. I could usually last a long time. The problem was looking at Felicita. Her body did things to my resolve to take a long time. My heart wanted to make love to her for hours. My dick wanted to fuck her and cum buckets. In the end, a compromise was struck. After she came three times, I finally tensed, pushed myself as far into her as possible and spurted. Once we were done, we took a shower together in the aged shower/bathtub combo. It was porcelain and very rounded, so we had to be careful not to slip. It's a wonder more people in the 1950's didn't die having sex in the shower. Modern shower design makes the process a lot safer. Anyway, we managed to rub against each other a lot as we cleaned off the remnants of our love making. Kissing her as the meager trickle of warm water ran over our bodies made me tingle. I was savoring every minute we had left. I was careful not to swallow the water, remembering the warning sticker on the white tile over the lavatory. Even in the capital city, foreigners were warned not to drink the tap water. I certainly didn't want to end up in a hospital in this place, but I figured kissing Felicita's water slick body should be safe. We fondled each other as we cleaned. She got me hard again, but I hadn't brought any condoms into the bathroom so I didn't penetrate her. She offered to suck me off, but I told her I could wait until tomorrow night. She said, with a smile, that she would make it worth the wait. As she said this, I slid two fingers of my right hand deep into her cunt and watched her smile turn to a grimace. Her knees buckled slightly and she leaned harder against me. I pulled her naked body to mine and kissed her deeply. Neither of our groans could be heard above the sound of the shower, but they were there.

When I turned off the shower, I reached out and grabbed two of the white towels, handing one to her. She flashed me a smile, raised her eyebrows and started drying me. I caught on and dried her body. It was more fondling and giggling than drying, but we finally got the job done. She fixed her hair and got dressed. I reluctantly watched as she covered my favorite parts of her body with clothes.

"Aren't you getting dressed?" she asked.

"No, I'll sleep naked. I'll be dreaming of you."

She got this dreamy look in her eyes and held her arms out to me. We kissed again, my erection pressed against her dress. When we parted, she looked down at my waist and said (in a tone used to address a child), "You be good and I'll have a treat for you tomorrow."

We laughed, then kissed again before she left. As the door closed, I sighed. I was remembering how she felt against me. I turned off the light and fell asleep with a smile on my face. Once during the night, I woke up and found myself in a wet spot. I remembered why and it made me want to jack off. I decided to save it instead for my Felicita. When I woke the next time, it was 6:30. I got up and began getting ready. I was having breakfast at the hotel (part of my package), then meeting Felicita in front of the hotel for my daily tour on her scooter.





Havana Club Ch. 03



Chapter 3 – The Outdoor Living Room

When I got down to the basement, the breakfast buffet wasn't open yet. I walked around, looking at the posters of plays hanging on the wall. Some were Soviet, all (of course) in Spanish. There was a plaque outside the dining room declaring that this was the site where the Young Rebels Organization was founded in 1960. Back home, we have Rotary International. Then the cigarette machine caught my eye. Along with brands I didn't recognize were Marlboro and Winston. So much for the embargo. Again. While I was musing over this, I heard the doors of the dining room open. I joined the handful of other early risers in getting a table. Most of them looked like Americans. I guess more of the 200,000.

As I walked in, I was greeted by a chilled display of fresh fruit. A snowman was crafted out of melons and carrots. He was surrounded by oranges and what I thought were unusually colored watermelons. To my astonishment, I realized they were actually the largest, orangest mangoes I had ever seen. The local produce looked incredible. There was also obviously imported produce such as apples. I found a table, where a waitress took my order for orange juice. I returned to the buffet and helped myself to a staggering variety of foods – sausages, bacon, toast, breads, fresh fruit, yogurt, cereals and eggs. As I was serving myself, I guiltily remembered what Felicita said about how many meals a day usually include meat. The hotel obviously fell under the category of "dollar store". I concentrated more on the yogurt and fruit. I returned to my table and sat. My gaze was directed ahead of me out of the floor to ceiling windows. They looked out to the Malecon near a large statue, then beyond the seawall to the harbor. Bobbing on the bright blue water were maybe hundreds of rowboats. Each was being rowed out to sea. In mid-bite, it occurred to me with a sudden thrill that a scene just as this is what inspired Ernest Hemingway to write The Old Man And The Sea.

The yogurt was positively nasty, almost bitter. The fresh fruit, however, was among the best I had ever tasted – especially the mango. I ended up eating mostly mangoes and muffins, although I did try many of the other choices. Remembering Felicita, I was careful to limit my waste. As I ate, I watched the fishermen heading out to sea, to the Gulf Stream for the day's work. Mariel (home of the Mariel Boatlift) was only a few miles west of where I was sitting. I thought of all the people who put their lives at great risk to try to escape the tyranny of Fidel Castro. There I was, sneaking in at almost the same place they snuck out.

After breakfast, I checked my watch and saw I had a little time before I could meet my girl at the taxi stand. I walked up the stairs to the lobby and out onto the veranda at the back of the hotel. The early morning air coming in off the harbor was surprisingly cool. I could almost have worn a jacket, in spite of the latitude. I bought a morning paper from the stand that sold postcards. It was the Granma, a propaganda publication named for the boat that had carried Fidel out of exile in Mexico back to Cuba for his second (and ultimately successful) attempt to take over Cuba. There were wicker chairs and tables set out on the high-ceilinged porch. Cages of little birds dotted the walls, set there to sing and add to the ambience. I sat and soaked up the decadence, sitting among the red tiled floor, cream colored stone walls trimmed in pink and the aged stone columns. The carvings on the stone were quite intricate. The way the stone was worn attested to its age. I wondered what Felicita's home looked like. Maybe I'd get her to show it to me. I knew I couldn't spend the night there. My visa required me to stay at a government-operated hotel in Havana for the duration of my trip. I read my paper to the sound of the birds. It contained useful information. The ads gave me an idea of what commerce was like, and the companies that might someday be my customers. The political articles told me more about the government. Before long, it was almost time to meet my driver.

I walked back in and across the lobby, then quickly up to my room to call Canada and speak the code that would tell Ross that everything was still alright. I was becoming a lot more comfortable in Cuba. There was a second code that I didn't think I'd ever need. If I placed an order for chestnuts, it meant I was in great danger and needed help. I was starting to think all this cloak and dagger stuff was ridiculous. I still knew I might have trouble returning home, but I felt pretty sure I was safe here. After getting off the phone, I went back down to the lobby, past the check-in desk, down the marble stairs (I loved the cool feel of that marble handrail) and up the palm tree lined driveway out to the street. At the street, I turned left and strolled over to the taxi stand. There were some drivers waiting with their yellow scooters, but Felicita wasn't there yet. One young driver approached me, looked me up and down, and addressed me. His tone was stern.

"Are you looking for Felicita?" he asked.

Panic washed over me. Had Felicita gotten in trouble going home last night? Had I been the cause for her arrest? I wondered. I nodded cautiously.

"She wanted you to know she had to take a fare. She will be back in about twenty minutes."

Relief now replaced the panic. I thanked him and started to continue walking along the street. The young man stepped in my path. Straightening himself up to look taller, he looked down into my eyes.

"Do you love her?" he demanded.

I wasn't sure how to answer. I decided to be honest. "Yes, I do," I said. I think my words even surprised myself.

The man's face softened. "She is my cousin. You should take care of her. I wouldn't want her to get hurt."

"I will," I promised. I said it with sincerity.

He smiled. "Good. She said you are a good man. I wanted to see for myself that it was true." Then he stuck out his hand and shook mine, clasping me on the shoulder with his other hand. "She will be back in a few minutes." He politely stepped aside to let me pass.

I walked further down the hill a ways. Behind me, I heard the put-put of a scooter climbing from the other direction. I quickly spun around, expecting to see Felicita's smiling face. I started jogging back to the taxi stand when I saw it was one of the male drivers. Disappointed, I turned around. No sooner had I started walking down the hill again than I heard another scooter. This one blew its feeble horn. I looked around and saw who I had been looking for. She passed up the taxi stand, pulling to the side of the road when she reached me. I hopped aboard and she turned around to kiss me. As I took my seat, I could see the man who had stopped me earlier. He had watched us kiss. He smiled and waved as we pulled away.

I leaned forward so I could speak in Felicita's ear. "I met your cousin," I said.

She spoke with a stern tone. "Did he bother you? He's always trying to control everything I do – just because he is older than me."

"He was just making sure my intentions were honorable," I answered with a grin.

"What did you tell him?" she asked. I could see a smile from the side of her face.

"The truth," I told her.

She quickly gave me a shocked look. "You didn't!"

"I told him I am in love with you," I explained with a big smile.

Her shocked expression turned soft. "That is no business of his. I'm glad you said that, though." She turned her attention back to the road. "I'm sorry I was late. I was next up and had to take a fare. Arturo tried to cover for me, but the other driver insisted it was my turn so I had to go."

I told her it was alright. She asked what I wanted to see today.

"You," I answered. I could see her cheek blush.

"Stop that. I am trying to concentrate on driving," she said as she checked for traffic at an intersection, then proceeded across.

"Then how about showing me where you live? I'd like to see how Cubans live."

"You don't want to see that. It is not very nice. It is not a palace like you are used to."

I laughed. "I am not used to palaces. I want to see your home."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. Your house, please."

She glanced down at her tiny gas gauge. "It is kind of far. I'll need to get gasoline on the way back."

"Don't worry about it. I will pay for it," I assured her.

With that, she stopped at the next intersection, looked over her shoulder, and turned left. We headed back along the Malecon, then through the tunnel and towards Old Havana. She was right; it was a long drive. She lived outside of the city and it took a while to get there. I sat back and watched Felicita. She was so lovely in her Havana Club t-shirt and black sunglasses perched above her forehead, with gold hoop earrings in her ears. I also watched the scenery from time to time, capturing much of it on my digital camera. I took many of the pictures from an angle that included a view of my driver. We headed out of the city now. The buildings were sparser with more decay evident. Small plots of farmland appeared along the roadside, many being plowed with livestock. From time to time, we shared the road with a tractor pulling a wagon and with many motorcycles. Cars were in the minority here and most of those were relics from the 1940's or 1950's.

The homes (if you could call them that) were small and in poor repair. Every structure seemed in need of repair and several coats of paint. Before long, we pulled up to a house where an older woman was hanging clothes on a clothesline. The woman turned to look at us when she heard the motor.

"Felicita," she called. A much older man came to the open door to see who had arrived.

The woman walked over and Felicita introduced me to her mother. We were about to exchange pleasantries when the old man spoke very loudly.

"Is this the gringo who keeps you out at all hours of the night?"

"Papa," Felicita said in a frustrated tone, "don't speak like that. This is my friend, Christopher."

"Your mother never lived like you do, working in the city." The old man was rambling about life before the revolution. Felicita's mother tried to hush him.

Felicita explained that her grandfather was senile and it was everything they could do to keep him from attracting the attention of the CDR. Her mother invited us inside and sat us at the kitchen table. I was surprised to see two apples in a basket of otherwise tropical fruit on the table. Apples are definitely not tropical produce. I was even more surprised when I picked up one of the apples. There was a familiar tiny sticker on the apple that identified it as a Washington State apple. What fucking embargo? Her mother tried to get me to eat one of the apples. I figured out that they were a luxury item because they were imported (from the U.S.!). I refused to take such a precious commodity from her – but I did take a picture of it. She brought out some bread to serve us. We all sat, her grandfather started to warm up to me, and we talked about life. I was told that it was safe to ask questions here. I inquired about how they bought food and other things. Felicita and her mother provided me with a lot of information. I was even able to photograph their meager pantry, obtaining in the process the brand names of the products they used. I took pictures all around the house. They thought it was funny that I wanted to take a picture of the bathroom, but they let me. This would all be valuable information later. We had a nice visit, but I didn't meet any of the neighbors. I got the impression that her family didn't want anyone to know she was spending time with an American. We left with a big sendoff. Her grandfather took me aside and told me in a hushed conspiratorial tone that, one day, Fidel's balls will hang in a museum in Havana. I told him I would pay to go see that. We shared a laugh. With that, Felicita and I were off. I noticed right away that we were not returning the way we had come. When I asked her, she just said something that sounded like "Retorno distincto".

We drove for a while through the countryside. She turned off the highway onto a dirt road. The paved road was rough; this road seemed impassable. I was concerned she was going to damage the scooter. We bumped along until we reached a stand of trees. She parked among the trees, at the edge of a pond. From here, we could not be seen from the highway. She got off the scooter and took me by the hand. Reaching down on the floor, she picked up a blanket and led me to a grassy spot. Next, she stretched out the blanket. She took something out of her pocket and held it up as she sat down. I saw it was another of the "love rubbers". She smiled and patted the blanket next to her. I sat down and she put her arms around my neck. She tilted her head to one side and closed her eyes. Taking my cue, I kissed her. The only sounds were our breathing and the wind in the trees. It was a brilliant day with few clouds, but it was cooler here in the shade. After the kiss, she told me how she had lost her virginity at this spot. She wanted to share it with me. I indicated with a nod that I understood. She removed her t-shirt, then her bra. I had started getting hard when I saw the condom in her hand (Pavlovian response, right?). Now, the sight of her bare breasts had my dick straining to be free. I removed my shirt as well, while she was pulling off her shoes and socks. Soon, all we were wearing were our pants. She undid the zipper, then leaned back and lifted her ass off the blanket to slide her shorts and panties down in one motion. I followed suit and we were both naked in the outdoors.

It felt so strange being outside like this, not wearing anything at all (except for a smile). From the motion of her breasts, I could see that her breathing was quickening like mine. I reached for her waist and pulled her to me as I rolled onto my back. She squealed with delight as she ended up lying on top of me. Our tongues did battle as our bodies prepared themselves to make peace (or at least love). I ran my hands over her back, her ass, and her legs. I reveled in the softness of her skin. She was pressing her pubic hair against my erection. She stopped kissing me and looked deeply into my eyes.

"I want to suck you," she said simply. I nodded. As she moved down to between my legs, she began to explain, "This is how I did it the first time, four years ago under this very tree. We were both so nervous. First I sucked him, and learned about the taste of precum. I had heard that I should make him cum before I let him inside me. I sucked him while he laid back on the blanket." I lay back, putting my arms behind my head so I could watch her ministrations. "It didn't take long for him to shoot in my mouth." I wasn't going to be that quick, but it wouldn't take too long. Her mouth was doing wonderful things to my shaft. "I was surprised, first at how big his dick was, then at how much he squirted in my mouth." She would take her mouth only an inch or so away from my cock to speak each sentence. Her mouth was so close to my saliva-slicked dick that I could feel her breath as she spoke. After each sentence, she bobbed her head two or three times as she sucked, then released me to speak again. "It was a day much like this." Suck. I was getting close to cumming. "I was so wet." Suck. It won't be long now. "I could feel the wetness of my pussy hair against my leg, getting me all slick." That did it. I put my head back and groaned. I wanted to watch her face as I came in her mouth, but my eyes closed of their own accord. I no longer had the strength to control my body. All my efforts were used to force sperm out of me and into her mouth. I arched my back in an attempt to drive my dick further into that warm wonderful mouth. It didn't matter; she wasn't about to let my spurting tip escape.

When I was finished cumming, I opened my eyes. She had just released my shaft. She was on her hands and knees, swallowing. She was watching me with a big smile on her face.

"I love that taste. I didn't at first, but I grew to like it. You shot a lot more than he did."

"I'm probably older," I offered.

"Yes, we were just barely teenagers."

"Are you wet now like you were then?"

"Yes," she said with a sly smile. She crawled next to me and turned over onto her back. "Would you like to see?"

"I'd like to taste," I answered as I moved into position.

She was right. Her hair glistened with moisture. Her lips were visibly wet on the outside. If she had been this wet earlier, I don't know how there wasn't a wet spot on her pants. I pressed my face farther and my tongue made contact with her lips, after pushing through her hair. When I made contact, she gave a happy "Ooh" sound. She was lying down, but she supported herself on her forearms so she could see what I was doing. She watched as I licked, probed and sucked. I kept looking up to her face to see her reactions as I tried different things. She liked it best when I applied continuous suction to her clit, but I really couldn't say there was anything I did that she didn't enjoy. For my part, I was enjoying exploring her wet pussy. The sensations of eating her out were slowly rejuvenating my cock, but it would be awhile before I would need the condom. I took my time bringing her slowly to a climax. From time to time, she would throw her head back and look at the sky. Her brown hair would billow out behind her as she did, glowing against the glare of daylight beyond the trees. She looked so beautiful, naked under the trees. I could feel the breeze over my skin and delighted in the knowledge that we were both nude. I could hear the sounds of nature, but the smells were covered by her own special smell.

She looked down at me and her expression changed to concentration. Her legs tried ever so slightly to clasp against me. Her orgasm was approaching. Her hips were thrusting a little now. Instinct was taking over and her body was reacting as if she was being fucked. I put my hands on the curve above her hips, holding her pussy against my mouth. My tongue became a little more forceful, pressing harder against her slickness and moving a little faster. Each time I moved over her clit, she gave a little start. By watching all these signs, I tried to judge the moment when the wave would crest. When I thought she was on the brink, I fastened my lips around her clit and applied continuous suction. I inserted three fingers of my right hand and pumped her cunt vigorously. She screamed out, her hips pumping up and down on the blanket. I, meanwhile, held on for the ride. Her head fell back onto the blanket, her arms now flat at her sides, and her hips lifted up off the ground. I followed with my face. It was as if she was trying to get away from my mouth and trying to press harder against it all at the same time.

The wave fell onto the sand. She was panting on the blanket. Her legs were bowed out as they limply released me. I released her clit and very gently licked her inner lips, avoiding the now sensitive nub. She sighed, then sighed again. She didn't look at me. She was still looking up at the sky when she spoke.

"That was better than the first time," she said.

"Thank you. I have had more practice than he did."

"Yes, obviously."

"Are you ready to repeat what you did next?" I asked.

She strained to lift herself a little off the blanket and looked down at me. "I'm still a little sensitive down there. I need another minute or two."

"That's OK, I need to get dressed first."

She looked quizzically at me when I said that. I moved my hands through the piles of our clothes until I felt what I was seeking. I grinned as I held up the packet and raised my eyebrows. Her head fell back to the blanket; she was laughing as she did so. I tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto my erection. I knelt at her opening and rubbed the head of my dick through her hairy folds, spreading the ample lubrication. As I slid against her, a soft squick-squick sound issued forth – testimony of how wet she was. I pushed and the head pressed against her inner lips. At first, her body resisted. Then, all at once, the rubbery lips parted and allowed me entry. I slid in to the hilt, aided by her wetness. She grunted as I hit bottom and squirmed a little on the blanket. I pressed myself against her and kissed her soft lips. She, for her part, put her arms around my neck.




Havana Club Ch. 03



As the primal thrusting started, her arms slid down my back. Her soft hands felt like silk caressing my flesh. She gripped my ass cheeks roughly, pulling herself up to me and causing me to pound into her. The oral sex was delicate; this would be rougher. We were miles away from anyone so there was no need to muffle our sounds. I moaned, she groaned. I whimpered and she grunted. I looked her in the eyes and, as I entered her, told her I loved her. Her expression softened and her eyes watered. "I love you too," she answered. The wind through the trees was our song, and the breeze was cooling our sweaty bodies as we worked towards a mutual climax.

She asked to get on her hands and knees and I moved off her. She turned away from me on all fours and looked over her shoulder in invitation. I pressed into her body, sinking myself in her wet depths. I gripped her hips and we thrust against each other, our screams overpowering the songs of the birds. Just before we came, I was getting tired (but didn't want to stop) so I asked her to get on top. Eagerly, she changed positions. Now, I was on my back and she knelt over me. I watched in awe as her patch of hair descended towards my erection. In that position, I saw as well as felt her envelop me. Once she was seated, I delighted in watching her breasts bounce as she rode me. This was my favorite position because I had an excellent view of her body. I could watch her face contort as her orgasm built. I could play with her bouncing tits. I could watch my dick entering her pussy, returning to view moments later even wetter, before disappearing once again. She reached back with one hand and fondled my balls. The light touch of her hand elicited a louder moan from me. She was gently squeezing them. I was concerned about what might happen when she came, but the pleasure I was receiving from her overruled any concerns about future pain.

Her other hand now settled between her own legs. I watched as her index finger sought out her clit. It became apparent she was about to cum and she wanted to make me cum along with her. Her attempts were working. I felt the tightness in my balls and the thrills running between my legs. My buttocks tightened up and I thrust harder. I was determined this time to keep my eyes open and I succeeded. I'm not sure if I saw stars, but my vision darkened along the edges. Felicita's image appeared as if highlighted. I could see her riding me more forcefully. Her face took on a relaxed blissful expression, then a look of agony. I knew it was pleasure – intense pleasure – that she was feeling. I'm not sure if the feeling of my ejaculation inside her triggered her orgasm or the contractions of her pussy triggered my orgasm. We seemed to cum at almost the same instant. Simultaneous cries of "Ahhh!" filled the air. I came so hard it was as if I was turning inside out through the opening in my dick. I poured my very essence into her body. She kept up her thrusting until she felt me soften between her lips and slip free. She fell forward onto my chest. I could feel the sweat on her breasts and the rise and fall of her panting chest. We were each powerless to move. Orgasm had sapped us of energy.

We lay like that for a long time. I think we napped, cooled by the soft breeze. The scooter kept watch over us as we slept the sleep of the satiated. I was awoken (if I had fallen asleep) when I felt her stir on top of me. She was moving off me. I felt her hand checking if the condom was still in place, protecting her womb from my sperm. It was. I opened my eyes as she got off me. It was still midday, judging by the sun. She removed the condom from my soft dick, careful to keep the sperm from spilling out. She discarded the condom into the grass. I smiled as I watched her. I was enjoying the view of her naked body in the filtered light under the trees.

"What are you thinking?" she asked me.

"How beautiful you look like that," I truthfully answered.

"Like that? How do you mean?"

"Naked, outside. It is strange to be naked out here, but it feels so right to be doing it with you."

She looked a little embarrassed. "Do you really think I am beautiful?"

"Yes. I said it because it is true. You are so beautiful." I felt it in my heart when I said that. I think she wanted to protest, but the tone in my voice convinced her that disagreement was futile.

She made a face and put a hand between her legs. "I'm messy – sticky."

"Sorry. I guess I made you that way."

"Mmmm," she responded with a pleasant smile. "I didn't mind." Then, looking at the pond, "Let's go for a swim. You know, to clean up."

I shrugged, and then nodded. I got up and reached for her hand. She placed her hand in mine and we walked to the edge of the pond. It seemed to be so natural to be skinny-dipping out in the open with her. I could feel the soft bottom of the pond between my toes. It wasn't really deep enough to swim, but we were able to clean up. It wasn't the cleanest I have ever been, but it sure was fun. Out from under the trees, the tropical sun now beat down on us. Its warmth was overpowering. Her hair color was an even softer brown in the bright light. Even her pubic hair shone a very light brown before it got wet.

After we were cleaned up, we returned to the blanket. We realized that we didn't have towels to dry off before putting on our clothes. We walked hand in hand around the trees and the pond, waiting for the breeze to dry us. In the heat, it didn't take long. I pulled her to me and kissed her. It felt so magnificent to feel her naked body against mine, the breeze blowing over us, the sun filtering through the trees, the birds singing. It was as if we were alone in the world. As if the realities of governments trying to keep us apart had ceased to exist.

We dressed and she started up the scooter. We bumped back along the dirt road to the deserted highway, and then she turned towards Havana. I sat back in my seat, watching her drive. I realized that most of the time I had seen her was this view – the back of a t-shirt. I would never forget the words Havana Club. 

Along the way, she pulled into an Oro Negro to buy gasoline. I insisted on paying to fill the tiny tank because of the long trip we had taken. Next, we stopped at a kind of restaurant for lunch on the way back into the city. It certainly wasn't as nice as Pan.Com. Felicita explained that this was the kind of place ordinary Cubans frequented. She also whispered to me that I shouldn't pay with dollars here. She would pay with non-convertible pesos.

The food was cheap, as was its quality. It was a good experience for me. The menu was simple and, by the look of things, tourists rarely if ever came here. I was being shown the Cuba of the Cubans.

We returned to the waterfront as afternoon was approaching. I was surprised as we drove along the Malecon by the couples sitting atop the seawall. They were holding each other, embracing passionately, even kissing, as if they were not on display alongside a busy road. Felicita parked the scooter near the statue and led me to the seawall. She sat down and pulled me to her. I felt a little self-conscious, with traffic going by. She noticed my stiffness when she tried French kissing me.

"What is wrong?" she inquired.

"This is so public. Aren't you concerned about being seen her?"

"Everyone does this. This is the Malecon. We call it 'the outdoor living room'. Look around."

She was right. As evening was approaching, couples were arriving to sit together and watch night fall over Havana. Some were obviously regulars to particular spots, as they greeted other couples. We huddle together. I asked another couple to take a picture of us and they did. As darkness approached, I was surprised at how cool it was. I felt goose bumps forming on Felicita's arms. When I touched her arm, the goose bumps instantly went away. I smiled to myself at the effect I had on her. We sat there and kissed, like the other couples. It was so strange to be so intimate in such a public setting.

As it got later, Felicita had to take me back to the Hotel Nacional so she could return the scooter.

"Tomorrow and Friday are my days off this week. I can spend the night and tomorrow with you, if you want." Her eyes looked questioningly at me.

A giant smile burst out on my face. "That would be wonderful! I so want to spend the entire night holding you close."

"Then let's go. I'll turn in my scooter, then go home to pick up some clothes."

With that, we putted around to the front of the massive hotel. She dropped me off on the street. I paid the fee for her scooter for the day - $48 US, plus a hefty $10 tip. She started to protest but I put a finger to her lips and said, "For meat."

I went inside to shower and change. When I was presentable for my date, I went outside to await her arrival.

Right on schedule, Felicita got off a bus down the street. She was wearing a short dress this time and carrying an overnight bag. I kissed her and led her back to the hotel. By now, it was dark and Cuban music was issuing forth from the club in the basement across the street. We put her bag in the (our) room.

"Let's go out dancing tonight. We have all night," Felicita suggested.

I agreed. "What about dinner?"

"We will eat local," she said, meaning where the local people eat. I was willing to try anything she suggested. With that, we left the hotel and visited a few clubs. At each, the distinctively Cuban music was loud. We could hear each club as we approached it from down the block. The rhythm flowed through you. You couldn't help but start dancing. We merged into the crowds and danced the night away. When we danced, Felicita held me close and we rubbed bodies. Ordinarily, I would have been embarrassed to be dancing like that in public. I was so willing to take her lead because almost every other couple was being just as lewd. It was apparently a cultural thing. I stayed hard the entire time. Once, while dancing a slow song, Felicita whispered in my ear that she was as wet as my dick was hard. Between clubs, we had a quick dinner at a small restaurant. It wasn't as elegant as the Comedor de Aquiar, but the food was very good and the atmosphere was very Cuban. And my dining partner was as lovely as an angel. We danced for hours. Once, I tried suggesting that she might be tired and we should maybe return to the hotel. She assured me that she was fine and that we could sleep late tomorrow.

It was well after midnight when we strolled back to the hotel. We entered, Felicita on my arm, and took the elevator up to my room. We were sweaty and smelled of smoke. I suggested a shower before going to bed and she agreed. I could never tire of watching her undress. She didn't tear off her clothes or push them down. She slid out of her clothes. Maybe it was the culture. Everything about her was fluid. The Caribbean rhythm was in her blood. I removed my clothes (not nearly as sensuously as her) and we headed for the small bathroom. I started the water and turned to her. She pressed her naked body to mine and I felt my dick trapped between my stomach and hers. With a smile, she put a hand between us, moved away a few inches, and forced my erection down until it stuck between her legs. I wasn't sure what she was doing until she released me and I felt my dick spring up, pressing firmly against her pussy. I could feel how wet her hair was. I now used my hand to part those lips. I felt her very wet inner lips against my erection. I pulled her to me, sliding myself along her and making her groan. We slid back and forth like that a few times, then separated to get in the shower. Once under the spray, we resumed the same position. I could have spent days in the shower feeling her body against me that way. Her tits were mashed against my chest, my dick between her pussy lips, her tongue in my mouth. It was a while before we got to the business of actually taking a shower. We, of course, washed each other. For the best parts, we each chose to forego the washcloth and use our hands. It was a continuation of the sensual dance from earlier. We soaped each other's front, then rubbed our bodies back and forth against each other. It was the most erotic way of taking a shower that I had ever experienced. I was drooling precum and I was trying to be careful that none of it could find its way to her unprotected womb.

Our hands and feet were wrinkled when we finally left the shower for the bed. Felicita apparently was intrigued by my comment the night before about sleeping nude, as she brought no pajamas. She only had clothes for the next day. That was fine with me. I had expected to sleep naked with her, after falling asleep from exhaustion. And exhaust me she tried. After we dried each other off and she toweled her hair, we fell into bed together with the lights still on.

I kissed my way from her mouth down across her throat, between her tits (taking side trips to suck each nipple), across her flat stomach until I reached her bush. I rubbed my face against her curly hair, savoring the texture. She was wet enough that even after the shower I could smell her juices. I avoided her slit as I licked the hollow at the top of her leg near her cunt, then down the inside of her thigh (smooth as silk), across her knee, down her calf and finally kissed her foot. Then a single long lick up that leg, across the top of her pubic hair and the same way down the other side. Her slit glistened with the juices that were oozing out and her hips were making a little thrusting motion of their own volition.

She watched me wordlessly, enjoying the torture. Her heavy breathing told me how much she was enjoying this treatment. As much as I wanted at that moment to plunge my throbbing dick into her wetness, I continued teasing her. I was enjoying exploring her body, getting to know every inch intimately. When I finished her legs, I kissed her sides just above her hips. She cooed appreciatively as my lips sucked on that most ticklish of spots. Next, I gave her pussy the attention it could stand waiting for no longer. I ran the tip of my tongue along her slit, tasting her ample wetness. At the top of her slit, I probed around for her clit with the tip of my tongue. When I found it, I knew she would gasp. I was ready for it. As my tongue made contact, the electric shocks shooting through her body were intensified by my middle finger suddenly thrusting deeply into her cunt. The gasp found a voice as a shriek. I was watching her across the top of her bush and I smiled (as best I could with my tongue sticking out) while I watched her reaction. That was the first time I had penetrated her and she was anxious for it. I pulled the finger out and returned with two fingers. Her eyes opened a little wider. I pulled two fingers out and returned with three. Her eyes again opened wider. I pulled those fingers out and inserted all four fingers. Only my thumb was outside her hole. She put her hand on mine and started fucking herself. It was as if she was masturbating, using my hand as a dildo. I rolled my fingers into a thick cylinder and savored the feeling of wetness as she drove me in and out of her body.

While she was doing this, I moved my tongue higher, replacing it with my thumb, which kept up a steady pressure rubbing over her clit. Her eyes were starting to close. I worked my way up, sliding along her body until my face was even with hers. While she fucked my hand, she eagerly kissed me. It excited me even more that she was kissing me so deeply even though I knew I must taste and smell like her pussy. If she even noticed, she didn't mind. Maybe she was so far gone with her impending orgasm that she didn't notice. Regardless, I enjoyed being pressed against her and inside her as she came. When she did, she suddenly held my hand still inside her pussy. Her legs clamped down on both our hands and I could feel her contracting hard around my invading fingers.

Once she recovered, her legs relaxed. She winced as she pulled my hand out of her pussy, apparently because she was now so sensitive. When she released my hand, I let her watch as I brought the hand to my mouth and licked her juices off. I did this right in front of her face. I knew she could smell her juices and I held her eyes with mine as I sucked and licked each finger clean. When I finished, she grabbed my face with both of her hands and kissed me deeply. This made my dick throb against her stomach. She released me slowly and we were both panting.

"Are you ready to put that big thing inside me? Your hand was nice but your dick will make me cum harder," she told me.

"I thought you might still be sensitive from your orgasm."

"I'm ready for you now. Take me," she offered.

I rolled over to open the nightstand drawer and felt around for the box of 'love rubbers'. She lay on her back with her legs now spread wide as she watched me cover my dick. When I was ready, I moved on top of her. Her right hand reached out to guide me to where we both wanted me to be. I felt her heat through the condom immediately. She pressed the head against her opening with no preamble. She was as anxious as I was. For my part, I slowly pressed inward so I could spread her pussy open and enter as soon as she was ready. She would have none of that. Once the head was inside her pussy and no longer needed guidance, she put both hands on my butt and pulled me to her as she thrust upward. Even though I was fully erect, she was so wet that I sank in to my balls. It wasn't instantly; I still had to slide in as her pussy gradually opened to admit me. She forced me into her cunt. There was no withdrawing and pushing again. It was a continuous motion inward. The feeling was of tightness and yielding. It was exquisite, but I was concerned that it hurt her. She never showed pain on her face. Maybe she was so wet by that point that I could slide right in.

When she had me seated, she moved her hands up my back to my shoulders and pulled me down to her, her legs sliding across mine and up to give her something to pull against as she move her hips. We settled into a fast rhythm. Our bodies made a slapping sound, accompanied by an occasional "Ungh-ungh" from one or both of us. This was the culmination of the teasing and foreplay of the dancing. This is what our bodies had really wanted to be doing when we were in the clubs. Now the limits of our passion knew no bounds. We made noisy love in the bed.

I lasted longer than I thought I would. Watching her face as she came finally did me in and I pumped the condom full of sperm deep inside her. I got up and held onto the spent condom while I pulled out of her. Kneeling between her legs, I removed the condom and started to throw it away but she stopped me. She took the condom from me and poured some of the sperm onto each of her nipples as I watched in amazement. The thick white fluid ran down each nipple. She dropped the empty condom onto her stomach and used her palms to catch my cum. She smeared it all over her tits. They were shiny with my juices. Her tits were firm, but just large enough that she could put them up and suck her nipples, tasting me on them. I gently explored her pussy with a finger as I watched her. When she finished, she looked down at me and asked, "Did you enjoy that?"

"Oh, yes," I answered. "That is so sexy."

"My nipples are really sensitive. I love to play with them when I'm masturbating. Sometimes, I even suck them. I have to really stretch to do it, but it feels nice. Not as nice as when you suck on them, but nice."

I bent down and licked her clit as my fingers penetrated her for a few minutes, then got up on my knees. I kept thrusting my right hand into her pussy while I stroked my dick with my left. She enjoyed watching me masturbate. When I was fully hard again, she suggested getting on her hands and knees so I could fuck her again. I wasn't about to pass up an offer like that, so I leaned over and retrieved another condom. She took it from my hand, however, and rolled it on me herself. When she finished, she turned around and presented her pussy to me as she supported her upper body on her straightened arms. As I penetrated her, she wiggled her ass a little. I pushed fully into her and began pounding. She was as into it as I was. She swayed front to back as I pumped in and out of her. Her ass was smacking against my stomach. The opening of her pussy held my shaft tighter in this position. When I felt like a throbbing was starting in my dick, I pushed her forward. She collapsed her arms and put her face down on a pillow but her ass was still in the air. I pulled her legs out from under her so she fell facedown onto the bed, pulling away from my dick in the process. She took it all in stride. She was lying with her throat on the pillow and looking at headboard, waiting to see what I was going to do next.




Havana Club Ch. 03



I trapped the head of my dick in her cunt, and then put the palms of my hands on her ass cheeks. Pressing down on her ass, I moved until I was over her pussy and pushed my dick straight into her. This caused my dick to rub hard against her G spot as I entered her. I held this position as I started fucking her again. My stiff dick was forced to bend as it entered her. Her sensitive spot was taking the brunt of the punishment. Quickly, her moans indicated she was enjoying it. I liked the view of her back. When I took that first ride in her scooter, all I could see was the back of her t-shirt. I was undressing her with my eyes. Now, I was seeing her undressed, and feeling her pussy around my dick. I could feel some of the hairs around her opening pulling on my shaft as it emerged wetly from her. Before I was ready to change position to further delay my impending orgasm, her moans reached a crescendo as she came. She moved her hands underneath her to squeeze her nipples. I held on for the ride.

When she finished, I offered to let her get on top. She eagerly accepted. I pulled out and she moved aside. When I lay down, I could feel the wet spot she had been creating. Feeling the sheets wet with her juices only excited me more. I barely had time to think about this when I felt her pussy impaling itself on my cock. I watched fascinated as I disappeared into her body. She was now kneeling astride me. Her lips were mashed against the hair at the base of my cock. She was looking at me and grinning.

"That feels so good," she said, her voice a little deeper than usual. She clenched her internal muscles, massaging me. When she saw the reaction in my expression, she continued, "Oh, so you like that. I'll do that more often." Now her face was screwed up in concentration as she worked her muscles. I was going nuts with the sensations. Fortunately, she couldn't keep it up too long or that would have been the end of that session. She gave up and started bouncing up and down. She played with her tits as she did. I just laid back and watched. Her dance of self-gratification was so erotic. She was doing it for herself and, at the same time, trying to please me. The two acts were intertwined; each fed the other. Time marched onward as we enjoyed each other. It was only the two of us. Thoughts of the world outside the window that was working to keep us apart were banished. When her legs grew tired of riding me, I worked my hips to supplement the motion. Each of us watched the other as we built towards our peaks. I lasted a long time, having cum once already that evening.

Knowing her legs must have needed to be stretched by then, I convinced her to stand and face the mirror with her hands gripping the edge of the desk. I stood behind her and mounted her. She was watching my reflection. I could see it in her face the moment I penetrated her. As her tightness gripped my cock a feeling of blissfulness captured her expression. I pushed fully into her. As I hit bottom, her tits bounced with the impact. We both stood with legs wide apart for balance. I gripped her waist and pounded. It wasn't gentle; we were far beyond that. We both needed to cum now. As I thrust into her she was pushing back against me. We grunted more than moaned. I could feel a throbbing starting in my prostate, moving to my balls and finally my shaft. Meanwhile, her pussy was starting to contract. Her face was awash in a look of supreme pleasure. In the mirror, I could see her eyes had closed and she looked so happy. When I could hold back no longer, I pushed as far into her as I could and held myself there. I emptied myself into the condom, and into her body. She tried thrusting against me a few more times, but then pressed back against me and held herself there. I could feel the warmth as I filled the condom and I knew she could feel it as well. I reached around her with my right hand and rubbed her clit. With my left, I massaged her lips around my shaft. She moaned softly in appreciation.

When I was finished cumming inside her and starting to soften, I gripped the ring of the condom and slowly removed myself from her body. She was very wet so she still dripped even though my sperm was contained. I caught the drip with my other hand. She thought I was masturbating her so she smiled and worked her bottom in a circular motion around my hand. I continued to please her as I held the filled condom. It started to slip off my dick so I worked it off and held it to the side. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. When she saw the condom she knew I was finished. She straightened up and reached for the condom. I let her have it. She looked at it and played with the warm sperm through the latex.

"All that was meant for me?" Felicita asked.

"Yes. I wish I could have left it in you."

"Perhaps someday, when things are different, we can make babies, yes?" She was looking not at me, but at the sperm filling the bottom of the condom.

"Someday," I agreed, "when things are different." My heart felt ripped apart as I said that – as I faced the reality that this union was doomed to separation in a few more days. We both knew it, but we didn't want to face it. Friday would mean a tearful separation, but with the promise of a reunion at some future time.

She kissed the end of the condom, then looked at me in the mirror and smiled. I smiled back. I stopped moving my hand and pressed it against her mound. I could feel her wetness in my palm.

"I think I need a shower," she suggested.

"I think so, too. Let's take one together, and then get some sleep. We can make love again in the morning."

"Mmmm, that sounds nice." She straightened up and we moved into the bathroom. She dropped the used condom into the trashcan where it landed with a splat. I started the shower and turned to her while we waited for the water to heat up. She put an arm around my neck and pulled me into a kiss as her other hand grabbed my ass. I felt her bush against the top of my softened shaft. We kissed until I felt the bathroom steaming up.

"I think you're making me steam," I joked. She laughed as I pulled back the shower curtain, and then followed her into the water. Just as I was getting in the shower, I looked back to make sure we had dry towels. A shine on the floor caught my eye. She was so wet that some of her juices had dripped onto the tile floor. The sight started me on my way to another erection.

She noticed my growing dick and sighed approvingly.

"That thing is never satisfied," she said. Before I could add, "Sorry," she continued with, "I'm glad."

I pulled her slick body to me under the spray and we hugged. Taking a shower with her was always fun, an adventure in exploring the female body. We washed each other, then I knelt down to taste her. She was so clean that the taste was mostly soap, but I knew that would change when we got back to the bed. We got out and dried off. She headed towards the bed, but pulled back the curtains first and looked out over the waterfront. I sidled up behind her, pulling the curtains closed behind me and pressing my renewed erection against her smooth ass, then put my lips to her ear. As I began to speak, the feel of my breath on her ear caused her to shiver.

"Someday, this will be a free city, and we will live in it together."

"Do you really think so?" she asked softly.

"Yes, it has to change eventually. It has changed in other places. Cuba will be next."

"Viva Cuba Libre," she said forlornly. Then, "I hope I can wait that long."

"I will wait. I will return to you somehow."

She didn't answer. She pressed her bottom into me, then turned around to face me. There were tears in her eyes. She put her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed. I could feel her sobs as we embraced. I leaned back onto the bed and pulled her on top of me. We didn't talk for a long time; we just held each other. I got up and turned out the lights, then returned to her. It must have been hours before I fell asleep. I remember hearing her breathing deepen after a long time, so she fell asleep before me. I was thinking about Friday, and about the days and months after that. I'm sure she was thinking the same thing. Before she fell asleep, I felt more tears falling onto my chest. I wanted to calm her fears. I wanted to take her home with me. I wanted to stay here with her. I wanted so many things that we both knew I couldn't give her. All I could do was lie there and hope that the political realities keeping us apart would change for the better. It wasn't a real solution, but it was my last thought before I fell asleep.





Havana Club Ch. 04



Chapter 4 – The Shopping Trip

I woke up early the next morning. It was just barely daylight judging by the light coming through the gap in the curtains. Felicita was sleeping peacefully next to me. I lay there still trying to figure out a way for us to be together. It didn't seem possible, not until things changed. Big things. I knew that, when the political conditions improved, I would be back. I'd be with her, if she waited that long. The problem was that neither of us could know how long that would be. I remembered Ross' words, "Castro is old. He has to die someday. In the meantime, there is a lot of pressure on the President to change our policy towards Cuba. Either way, soon it will be possible to do business there." Soon. Not soon enough.

Felicita stirred, but didn't awaken. She shifted until she was on her back. I ran my hand over her stomach, then up to play with her tits. I felt them without tweaking her nipples. I didn't want to wake her up. I was enjoying watching her sleep – and it gave me time to think.

If things didn't change soon, I decided to make these covert "vacations" a regular thing. Maybe I could get away with doing this twice a year. It would be something, at least, until a change took place. Would that be enough for her?

I ran my hand down her stomach, this time to the hair between her legs. I felt the smooth insides of her legs, then returned to her lips. I very gently parted her lips so I could run my index finger between them. She was still wet from last night. I avoided her clit and contented myself with exploring her inner lips and the edge of her opening. The combination of my morning hard on and touching her naked body had me fully erect. The bedspread looked like it was covering a new statue. I was excited, but I wasn't ready to fuck her. I wanted to play with her. It was kind of naughty to be playing with this beauty as she slept next to me. This was her day off so I wanted her to be able to sleep late.

William had mentioned something about getting a license to visit here. I would look into that when I got back. Maybe I could do something that qualified for permission to visit. I'd have a lot of research to do when I made it home.

I was still playing with her pussy. She made some happy sounds in her sleep, but I wasn't doing enough to wake her up. My dick was surely awake. I reached under the covers with my left hand and slowly stroked my shaft, as I played with her pussy with my other hand. The feeling of her warm, wet pussy in one hand and my hard erection in the other was an interesting contrast. She was so soft and wet; I was so hard and dry. Well, mostly dry. Precum was starting to appear at the tip of my dick. I could wait to cum until she woke up. By then, I would be really ready.

I hadn't come up with a real solution, just a band-aid. We had just over two days left to enjoy together. It was kind of ironic, if you thought about it. Last week, I couldn't make a commitment. I had dated, but I couldn't see myself getting into a relationship with any of the women I had met. Now, I had a naked woman sleeping next to me. I wanted a relationship with her. Maybe even marriage. The woman I wanted, I couldn't have. All because of our governments. Politics.

Well, I thought I had a sleeping woman next to me. A hand suddenly joined mine on my cock. Together, they stroked me. I looked over and saw a sleepy Felicita smiling.

"I like what you are doing, with both of your hands," she said, suppressing a yawn.

I felt a little embarrassed that she had caught me. Embarrassed that I was fondling her in her sleep, and that I had been masturbating. She didn't seem to mind, because the next thing she did was push the covers off the bed so she could watch. She looked up at me.

"Would you cum in my mouth?" she asked.

Who was I to deny such a request from a beautiful young woman? I redoubled the efforts of both my hands. As we were both getting close, I moaned so she would know it was time. She wriggled around so she could lie almost perpendicular to me, with her slim body under my right leg. She managed to position herself to suck my dick without detaching my hand from her cunt. In that position, she took just the head of my dick into her mouth while I continued to jack off. She didn't seem to want to take the rest of me in her mouth, so I kept up the stroking. Her face (and the almost involuntary movements of her hips) indicated she was also enjoying what I was still doing between her legs. I wasn't sure who was going to cum first, and I wasn't sure who I wanted to be first. I could tell it was going to be close, though.

Now my hips were beginning to pump as well. She looked at me, smiling with her eyes. A little saliva was starting to drip from around her lips and run down my shaft. She was working her tongue rapidly over the head of my cock and swallowing. Her motions were driving me towards the inevitable precipice. Meanwhile, my other hand was inside the warmest, wettest pussy I had ever felt. Men wake up with a morning hard-on. She apparently wakes up feeling equally horny. She was moaning now, around my stiff shaft. Her hips were moving against my hand. I never decided who came first. It didn't really matter. We both got off, at about the same time. Her moans moved up in pitch and I starting squirting. I pushed up off the bed in a desperate attempt to shove more of my dick into her mouth. Her face showed she was cumming at that point. Still, she relaxed her lips and let more of my dick in. I kept pumping the base with my hand as I emptied myself into her. I could feel her pussy squirming around my fingers, but the focus of my attention was what her mouth was doing to my dick.

When I finished squirting, she swallowed a few more times, then ran her tongue over me before releasing my softening erection. I remembered how sensitive she sometimes became after cumming, so I held my hand still. My fingers were still inside her pussy, still bathed in her wetness. She laid her face on my stomach alongside my dick. She looked at me and sighed, then gave my now fully soft cock a few long licks. She put her face back down, so close to my dick that it touched her, making that part of her cheek shiny with her saliva and the remains of my sperm. She looked at me and smiled. Neither of us spoke.

I was content to just lie there, feeling her pussy around my fingers and her warm face against my dick. My free hand ran through her soft brown hair and caressed her cheek. We were content and happy. Once again, we were oblivious to the outside world.

It was so pleasant being together like that. After awhile, the feel of her cheek against my dick, and the feel of her pussy around my fingers, got to me. I started growing alongside her cheek. She noticed. Raising her eyebrows, she broke the silence.

"Ooh, do you want to do something else?"

"Yes," I answered. "I want to make love to you again. I want to fill you with more of my cum."

"OK, anywhere in particular?" she asked. She was speaking in a delightful sing-song manner.

I wiggled the fingers that were still inside her.

"I think there is room in there for you," she suggested.

I slowly withdrew my fingers. She got up and crawled next to me, then lay down alongside me and spread her legs. She looked expectantly at me. I took a condom from the nightstand drawer and rolled it on. I moved between her legs and placed them on my shoulders. She reacted with a drawn out "Ooohh". I pushed my dick against her pussy, easily parting the outer lips. I moved it around, seeking out the opening. Finding it, I pushed forward. I felt my cock slipping into her warm depths. We settled into a comfortable rhythm. She couldn't do much thrusting with her legs on my shoulders. I took care of that, thrusting in and out of her. The feel of her legs against me was exciting me further. I could look down and see my dick sliding in and out of her furry slit. I could see her tits jiggling as I fucked her. I could watch her face, seeing pleasure slowly building to ecstasy. We enjoyed each other as we screwed. I knew I could last a long time after the recent blowjob. I took my time, relishing the feel of her. She, for her part, also seemed to be enjoying the slow pace. She was watching me and fondling her tits now. I liked to watch her play with herself. She was not shy in front of me. One hand now moved down her stomach to rub her clit. She reached further to hold onto my shaft as it slid in and out of her. Her hand alternated between caressing my dick and rubbing her clit.

After a while, my hips were getting tired. She noticed this and offered to get on top. I nodded my agreement. I moved forward until I was lying on top of her, and then held on to her as I rolled us over. She gasped in surprise before she realized what I was doing. She sat up until she was riding me. One hand went behind her to gently squeeze my balls while the other played with her lips. I was on my back as she repeatedly impaled herself on my erection. I could watch her play with herself as we made love. I felt so happy, and the expression on her face was testimony to the fact that she felt the same way. Sometimes, I thrust up into her to add to the stimulation. Other times, I rested and let her do all the work.

I was concerned that she might be getting tired now, so I suggested changing positions. She nodded and got off me. I stood up next to the bed and grabbed her legs. I dragged her to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs widely. I stood between her legs and penetrated her pussy. She put her legs over my shoulders again and I leaned forward as I fucked her, more forcefully now. She watched me with growing lust. She was obviously building towards a climax. I could tell I still had a lot of time before my own orgasm, so I kept up the pace. She began breathing heavier, then moaning. She was looking at me, but her focus was apparently wavering. Her hands were mauling her tits. One hand snaked down to her clit and began vigorously rubbing in circles. Her moans became more insistent. I pounded her harder. The moans became little screams. She made a sound each time I thrust into her pussy. Now, it was more of a groaning "Ohhh". I put my hands under her ass and lifted her bottom off the bed as I stood all the way up. Her head and shoulders were still on the bed, but I held the rest of her suspended. The hand on her clit was now a blur. Felicita's body stiffened and her legs clamped against my neck. I continued thrusting as she came. When the peak passed, I lowered her to the bed and held my dick deeply inside her pussy. She was flushed from her face down to her tits. Her breathing slowly returned to normal as she came down from her peak. I started thrusting again slowly. She smiled and breathed an almost silent "Thank you."

I pulled out of her pussy.

"Why are you stopping?" she asked.

"I'm not stopping, just changing position."

I grabbed her waist and turned her over. When she saw what I was doing, she helped. She was now lying face down on the bed with her legs over the end of the bed. I grabbed a leg in each hand and moved towards her pussy. I released one leg to guide my hard-on back into her pussy, then thrust in. By the sounds she was making, she liked the way my dick felt in this position. Her pussy felt tighter around my shaft like this. It was a kind of doggy style, with me using her legs to pull against. She couldn't do much in this position other than lie there and enjoy it. I had a great view of her ass. I could also see some of her lips as I entered her. She moaned like she was having another orgasm, or maybe just enjoying this position a lot.

In time, the tightness of her lips around my dick took their toll. I could at last feel that my own orgasm was approaching. I wanted to be looking into her eyes when I came in her, so I pulled out and turned her over. I used her legs to push her back up onto the bed all the way. I crawled over her and quickly pushed my dick into her. I lowered myself onto her naked body and resumed fucking her. I put my hands under her back and grabbed her shoulders from the bottom. I could thrust very hard in this position and that is just what I did. Our faces were inches apart. She reached up to kiss me. While we were kissing, I reached the point of no return. I moaned into her mouth. She felt my dick twitching and got the message. She squeezed her pussy muscles around my cock and pushed back against me as I thrust into her. I reached my peak and held my dick deep inside her. She worked her muscles around my dick as I came inside her. She moaned as she felt the warmth of my sperm filling the condom. When I finished spurting into her, my body went limp. She ran her hands up and down my back, still kissing me. I was drained, and enjoying the feel of her body next to me.

Feeling my limpness, she released my lips and spoke.

"That was a strong one for you, yes?" she asked.

"Yes, very strong," I responded.

"I like feeling you shooting into me," she said.

"I like it, too," I answered with a smile.

I lifted myself up. As much as I wanted to continue resting on top of her, I knew my dick was getting soft. I reached between our legs and gripped the ring of the condom as I pulled out of her. I removed the condom from my dick and dropped it on the other side of the bed. I knew it would leak on the sheets, but I knew we were getting up soon and the maid would put clean sheets on the bed. I rolled over next to her, narrowly avoiding the wetness from the condom. We lay there, side-by-side, recovering and staring at the ceiling.

"What do you want to do today?" Felicita asked me.

"I want you to take me shopping," I replied.

"Shopping?"

"Yes, shopping. I want to see more stores."

She laughed as she said, "You are not like any tourist I have ever known."

I came back with, "And you are not like any Cuban I have ever made love to."

She laughed harder. "I am the only Cuban you have ever made love to."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."

We were both laughing now. She rolled over to face me and started tickling me. I tried doing the same to her and ended up rolling onto the wet spot from the condom.

"Eww!" I said.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm lying in a puddle of my sperm," I said.

"That sounds like fun," she told me.

"I don't think so."

"That's because you are a man."

"I think you are right."

My answer started us laughing again. When we stopped, she continued.

"Come take a shower with me. I'll clean you up."

I couldn't refuse an offer like that. We took a shower together, playing as usual. When we got dressed, I made my daily call to Canada before we went down to the buffet in the basement again. I watched as she ate ravenously, enjoying all the foods she didn't usually get to have. I ate as well, having worked up an appetite with her in bed. I enjoyed watching her eat so well, glad that I could provide for her. I kept remembering the way she told me about not getting meat at every meal. It was so sad that she was only 90 miles from a land of plenty and having to live like this. I had seen poverty before but it had never touched me so deeply. I was learning a lot from my Felicita.

Today was her day off so we didn't have the use of her scooter. We walked arm-in-arm away from the hotel (avoiding her friends at the taxi stand) as she guided me to some shops. I took pictures as I examined the merchandise. Finally, she asked if I was going to buy anything. I explained that I couldn't take anything from Cuba back into the United States. I was doing more research for my company.

As we walked from store to store, I explained that when we did open an office in Havana, I would need a local liaison. I wanted someone I could trust who knew how to do business in Cuba. I asked her if she would help me. I told her that it would mean quitting her job as a taxi driver. We spoke in hushed tones, and only when there weren't any other people around us.

"I wouldn't mind quitting that job, if it meant working for your company. I know you would take care of me, Christopher."

"Yes, I would. I will be able to pay you a lot more than you make now."

"The best part would be working with you, not the money."

"Yes, it would," I agreed.

We daydreamed about the day when I would come to live in Cuba. I explained in more detail what my company did and how it could help the Cuban people. Felicita listened attentively. I came to realize that she was very bright. It seemed a waste for her to be driving taxis. I asked her about this. She answered in whispers.

"We don't always have a lot of choice for our jobs. The government has a lot of control. My family is not influential or wealthy, or connected with the government. I got a very good education. When I was ready to start work, the city needed taxi drivers. I want to do more." Then she looked directly at me and her tone became softer, but also more serious. "I want to work for you."

"You will – and not just to drive me around. We will work together."

We were silent for a long time after that, just walking arm-in-arm.

The next stop was a store that sold produce. I marveled at the quality of the fruits and vegetables. Felicita proudly explained.

"Our soil is so fertile here. We grow the best tobacco in the entire world. Our sugar cane production is increasing all the time. Our fruits are the sweetest. It is said that fence posts sprout after a year in the ground because of the fertility of the soil."

It sounded like the typical party line, but I was seeing evidence that it was true. This island nation had so much to offer to the world, and needed so much in return. The whole embargo thing was because of something that happened over forty years ago. It didn't make sense. We traded with other communist nations over the years. Besides, some American products were getting in. What was really going on here? When I returned home, I knew I would be highly motivated to research this issue. That was as far as I let myself go towards thinking about returning home. I didn't want to face that reality, not now with this lovely creature on my arm.

Along with the pictures of the stores, I took a lot of pictures that included Felicita. I knew I'd never forget her, but I wanted to be able to relive this time. I didn't know how long we'd be apart.

We had lunch in a small café, surrounded by the sounds and smells of Cuba. Cuba definitely had a culture all its own. It wasn't like any other Caribbean nation I had experienced. After lunch, we moved further through the city. We took a few taxis, and once we even rode the camel, big blue or brown city buses. It was hot, sweaty and crowded. A moving mass of standing people. The hand of Socialism was obvious here. It was transportation for the masses, pure and simple.

We had even visited a few of the churches. I was surprised to see them open. Felitica explained that Fidel was giving the church more freedom since the Pope's visit. Visiting one in the Miramar section of Havana, I asked why all the churches had the same name.

"All of the churches in Havana are dedicated to Jesus Christ, so they are named after the section of the city where they are located. This one is Jesus of Miramar."

I loved how she pronounced it. Hayzoos de Miramar. I was taken aback by the beauty of the church. I never thought a communist nation would allow such a structure to even be built. Felicita explained as she pointed up to the rotunda.

"The church was being built at the time of the Revolution. Fidel put a stop to the construction. See the wood covering the windows where the stained glass was supposed to go? The church has no bell towers because they hadn't been built yet."

The church was beautiful. I fantasized about a day when Felitica and I would marry in a church like this. It was quite a stretch for a man who, a week ago, couldn't make a commitment. I squeezed her hand tighter, and she smiled. We walked back towards the doors of the church, the sound of our shoes echoing off the walls in the empty building. Blinking as we emerged in the sun, we walked further down the street.




Havana Club Ch. 04



I asked why this part of the city was kept up so much better. She explained that this was where all the embassies were. The governments renovated the old mansions.

"Then what about that one?" I asked, pointing to an ugly stone rectangle towering over everything else. It occupied an entire block.

"That is the Russian embassy. It was build by the Soviets. They got to do whatever they wanted."

The afternoon was warm, but beautiful. Walking past the Iraqi embassy made me nervous, with its large internally lighted portrait of Saddam Hussein in the front yard. We stopped for cool drinks several times. I was falling into the laidback culture. We covered a lot of ground, seeing many parts of the city and many different kinds of stores. I gathered a lot of pictures and information.

As it got later, we worked our way back to the hotel. I knew Felicita had to work the next day so she couldn't spend the entire night. She would have to go home around midnight. She would be off the day after, so she could sleep with me tomorrow night – our last night together. We didn't go out dancing because we didn't have as much time. We found a nice restaurant near the hotel and had dinner. We had a wonderful time being together. She was again the teacher and I the pupil as I learned more about Cuban food and culture. More importantly, she was teaching me about relationships... and about love.

After dinner, we returned to the hotel. We wanted to go to bed early so we could have more time making love before she had to leave. We undressed each other to take a quick shower together and wash off the sweat and grime of a day touring on the streets. I was hard before she was fully undressed and she noticed. Felicita raised her eyebrows and moaned softly in approval as my dick popped free of my underwear, brushing against her soft cheek. As I removed her panties, I noticed they were damp. I knew from the smell that it was because of me. We hugged our naked bodies together before entering the shower. Once under the cleansing spray, our slick bodies rubbed up and down against one another almost of their own volition. I reveled in the feel of her water slick tits against my chest. My dick pulsed as it rubbed against the hair covering her slit. I wrapped my hands around her, digging my fingertips into her butt cheeks to pull her harder against me. We kissed as the water flowed over us. I drank in the feel of her body. We didn't stay long because we were anxious to get into bed.

Clean white sheets beckoned. I wondered if the maid was wondering whom I was messing up all those sheets with, or who was using all those towels. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have worried, but here there was the CDR. The Committee of the Defense of the Revolution had its red, blue, white and black signs painted on buildings and fences everywhere, like the "Big Brother Is Watching You" posters in 1984. I couldn't help feeling watched.

We fell together onto the sheets. We kissed and giggled as we wrestled on the sheets. I pulled her over me into a 69. When she realized what I was trying to do, she put one leg over my head and I was looking at her juicy pussy. I put my hands on her bottom and pulled gently as her legs slid out from under her. She lowered her pussy to my face and I immediately began probing with my tongue. Meanwhile, she lowered her head to my erect shaft and started licking. I drank in her abundant juices as she licked precum from my dick. She was very wet and I was enjoying it. I could tell how much she was enjoying it by how she moved her pussy over my face and by how distracted I made her as she tried to suck my cock. It was a battle. I wanted to eat her pussy. I wanted her to suck my dick. The harder I ate her pussy, the more excited I made her and the harder it was for her to concentrate on sucking me. If I slowed down to let her concentrate, I had a wet pussy in my face that I desperately wanted to eat. I'm sure she was faced with the same dilemma at the other end. I licked and probed. She caressed and sucked. I ran my hands over the backs of her legs, her ass and her lower back. She fondled my balls and rubbed the insides of my legs. I could feel her long brown hair against my legs. As we became more excited, one or the other of us would thrust our hips for a while. I wanted to cum in her mouth the first time. I knew we wouldn't have a lot of time tonight so I wanted to be able to last a long time when I finally got into her pussy. She was so good at giving a blowjob that I wasn't missing out on any pleasure. It was obvious that she enjoyed sucking me and that she had perfected her skill.

We could only withstand so much stimulation. She came on my face, coating my cheeks with the juices that escaped my mouth. She stopped sucking me as she came but she kept my erection in her mouth, opening her mouth and moaning around the shaft. I slowed down the pace of my licking after she came so she could recover. When she started sucking me again, I took that as a sign to resume licking her cunt. I was next. I didn't try to prolong it. I was more than ready to put my dick into her pussy. When I felt the inevitable pulsing, I pushed up with my hips and unloaded into her mouth. She made a kind of "Mmmmm" with a rising pitch, as she tasted my ejaculation. I kept up my ministrations on her lips as best I could as I shot off in her mouth. I could feel her mouth moving around my dick as she swallowed my cum.

When I was finished cumming, she moved off me, turned around and lay on top of me. She had a big smile on her face. She kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Her tongue moved over mine and I tasted my sperm in her mouth. After a long sloppy kiss, she looked opened her eyes and looked into mine.

"We taste good together."

"Yes, we do," I agreed.

"I tasted myself before, but I never liked it. I like licking my juices off you, though."

"I like it, too."

"There is something else I like to do," she suggested in a sultry voice.

"And what could that be?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Get a love rubber ready and I will show you," she promised.

Felicita rolled off me onto her back. I had been just starting to get hard when she kissed me to taste herself. She spread her legs and let me watch her play with her pussy. I stroked my hardening dick. It didn't take long with each of us watching the other masturbate to get me fully erect. When I had the condom on, I looked at her as if I didn't know what she wanted to do next. She rolled her eyes and pulled me on top of her. I grinned as I moved onto her and guided my erection into her wetness. She sighed as I penetrated her. I moaned as I felt her hot tightness surround my dick. I sank completely into her in three strokes. For her part, Felicita was watching me. She was passive, letting me fuck her. She was enjoying being used by me. I took an ankle in each hand and held her legs widespread as I pounded her. She smiled and moaned. I was enjoying pulling out until only the very tip of my dick was still captured by her lips, then pushing in until I felt my balls hit her ass. On each stroke, it was like I was penetrating her for the first time. If she hadn't been so wet, I don't think she could have let me do that. Next, I put her legs together and draped both legs over one of my shoulders. This made her slit very tight. Again, her ample wetness made this position possible. We both liked it that way but I wouldn't last long if I kept that up. Next, I put a leg over each shoulder and leaned forward. Her thighs were pressed against her tits and I could penetrate her very deeply. I thought I could just barely feel her cervix. From the sounds Felicita was making, she wasn't used to being fucked this deeply. She put her hands on my face and kissed me as I screwed her. I put my hands on the undersides of her thighs and rested my weight on her legs, pushing her legs very hard against her. This allowed the deepest penetration and caused the loudest moans from her. These positions were all passive. About all she could do was lie there and get fucked. When I thought her legs needed to be stretched, I asked her if she wanted to get on top. She eagerly agreed. Holding her legs down, I pulled out of her. The condom was slick with her juices. I moved next to her on the bed and waited for her to mount me. I didn't have to wait long.

My lovely lady swung one leg over me, straddling my midsection. She held my dick in position with one hand and lowered her brown-haired slit over me. I felt the moment of contact and groaned. She never stopped. She slid down over me in one smooth motion until she was fully seated. I felt her weight on me and her pussy gripping my dick tightly. She was looking at me and smiling.

"You're really hard," she panted.

"That is because I am looking at you," I explained.

She looked down, embarrassed. She raised her eyes and looked directly at me as she asked, "You really think I am beautiful?"

"Yes, I do."

"More beautiful than American women?"

"Absolutely." I wasn't lying.

"Even though I don't have thong underwear to wear for you?" She was still riding my cock as we had this conversation.

I tried and failed to suppress a laugh. "Beauty has nothing to do with what you wear. You aren't wearing anything right now and you are more beautiful than ever."

"When was I the most beautiful?" she inquired.

"That would be the time we made love next to that pond. You were so lovely naked in the sunshine." I thought for a moment. "Or, maybe driving your scooter when I first met you. That was when I fell in love with you."

She was listening to my words with rapt attention. "That is silly. You didn't know me yet. How could you love me?"

"Ah, you were asking about beauty. I fell in love with your beauty. When I got to know you, I fell in love with your mind, with your heart."

Her gaze softened at those words. It was apparent I had touched her.

"So you fell in love with my body first?" She was trying to hide a grin. It was apparent she was teasing me.

"I couldn't help it. You were wearing that sexy t-shirt. There was the romantic putt-putt of the scooter. I never had a chance."

"So it was the t-shirt and the sound of the motor that captured your heart. You are lucky you didn't get my cousin for your driver," she retorted, her voice tinged with mirth.

"That would have been a disaster. I don't think he is my type."

She laughed as she sat on me, my dick extending deep into her lithe body. When she laughed, I felt her convulsions in my dick. The squeezing was exquisite.

Now it was my turn to put her on the spot. Fair play.

"So what made you fall in love with me, my Felicita?"

"It was your appearance. You were obviously a serious rich American businessman."

We both laughed at that.

"Serious," I insisted, in a serious tone.

"Serious," she mimicked, sitting up straighter on my dick. Then, her voice softened. I knew she was now speaking from her heart. "You were very handsome, but you were not like other tourists. I wasn't taking you on a tour. I was watching you discover my city. There was wonder in your eyes. You were looking for more than seeing the sights. I was watching you in my mirror." She gave an embarrassed little laugh. "When you wanted to buy me lunch, I thought you were trying to make me your girlfriend for the night. I quickly figured out you were not just looking for someone to sleep with. I like watching you look at the city with wonder. You notice things other people don't see."

I looked questioningly at her, urging her to continue with my eyes. She shook her head.

"Continue. There is more."

"No. No, that is all." She was looking down at my chest, avoiding my eyes.

"Please tell me."

She took a deep breath. I felt it in my dick as her lungs filled. "Grandpa told me you would be a good man to marry."

"What do you think about that?" I asked, my heart hammering in my chest.

"I cannot answer a question like that. It is not proper in Cuba for the girl to talk about such things."

"But I am not a Cuban. I am an American. In America, it is proper to talk about this. Felicita, how do you feel?"

She thought that over, then decided not to avoid the issue any longer. Meeting my eyes, she spoke. "Christopher, I think you would be a good man for me to marry."

"I agree." Now I took a deep breath. "I want to be the man that you marry, but I cannot stay with you. My government doesn't want me here and your government won't let you leave with me. Someday –"

"Someday may never come!"

"Someday, I will return. Someway, somehow, I will return to you. I will marry you, if you still want me."

Tears were starting to run down Felicita's cheeks. I partially sat up (as much as possible with her sitting on me) and used my fingers to delicately brush away the tears from her face. I had to lie back down to raise my arms. Then I held her face. "I will return." The dam broke. She began crying full-force. I was started to feel tears in my own eyes. I pulled her down to me, then rolled over until I was on top, holding her in my arms.

I kissed her and made love to her. I knew the tears were tears of love, not anger or sadness. Well, maybe sadness mixed in. There was no denying the truth of our upcoming separation. We made love for a long time – slow gentle love – as I held her close to me. We drank in the feel of each other. I wanted this time to last. I would slow down or stop for a minute or two, then start up again. She was passive, lying in my arms. She was giving her total self to me. I was accepting her ultimate gift. In the end, we shared the pleasure of a carefully orchestrated simultaneous orgasm. I watched her face, studied her breathing, and paid attention to the contractions of her pussy. When I knew she was close, I increased my thrusting so I shot my sperm into her just as her orgasm broke over her. The effect was intense. The emotions flooded both of us. We were so in love at that moment. When it was over, it was all we could do to lie there together and pant. We weren't just physically exhausted. We were emotionally exhausted.

I carefully removed my latex clad dick from her pussy, discarding the condom. I went down on her between her legs. The condom hadn't left much of a taste in her pussy. She was so wet that I mostly tasted her. I lay on my stomach and licked her, purposefully avoiding her clit. I wanted to give her another orgasm. I was fine for a while as my dick recovered, but I knew she had the capability for another peak. I tested the use of my fingers. When she was no longer too sensitive, so I used two fingers along with my tongue to probe, lick, rub and stroke. I was having the desired effect. She was very happy, enjoying the attention I was paying to her body. With my free hand, I reached up to fondle a tit, finding her hands keeping busy doing just that. She moved her right hand out of the way to make room for my left, then put her hand over mine. Together, we fondled her. She guided me with the lightest of touches.

By the time I had made her cum, I was regaining my erection. I was ready to play again. After licking her to an orgasm, I got up and kissed her, letting her taste her own juices. While we were doing this, she felt how hard I was.

"Ready to go again?" she asked.

"Can you tell?" I asked playfully.

"How can I miss that thing. It is seeking me out."

"I think you need some protection from it," I suggested.

"I will take care of the protection. You lie down and let me handle it."

I rolled over onto my back and she sat up to get another condom. She tore it open as I watched. Next, she expertly rolled it onto me. I could tell she was experienced, but I never worried about that. I was no virgin, so why should I expect her to be one. I was, in fact, benefiting greatly from her experience.

Once I was suitably protected from impregnating her, she looked intently at my erection as she held it in her hand.

"What are you thinking?" I wanted to know.

"I'm trying to decide what position to use next," she answered without taking her eyes off my dick. Making a decision, she straddled my hips. I was expecting her to get on top and ride me, but she had other plans. Once I was fully seated inside her, she leaned back until she slid her bottom carefully onto the bed. She was now in front of me, our genitals close, and connected. She grabbed my arms and coaxed me into a sitting position, embracing me with her arms. I wrapped my arms around her back. We were sitting facing each other. It was awkward to stroke in and out of her body at first, but I finally figured it out. We were facing each other and we kissed as we made love slowly.

"This is different," I said when we paused for a few deep breaths.

She leaned back on her hands and stroked her pussy over my dick. "It takes more work, but I like the closeness."

It was a spectacular view, and felt nice with our legs over each other. Like this, we could make love for hours without me cumming because we couldn't move fast enough. In time, the position was tiresome so we shifted. She stood facing the bed with her arms on the mattress supporting her. Welcoming the chance to stretch my legs, I stood behind her and entered her wet cunt. I gripped her around the waist and fucked her hard. She immediately began moaning loudly. For variety, I leaned forward and kissed her back as I thrust into her body.

We next used the missionary position on the bed. I liked this one when I came. I loved holding her body in my arms, face to face as I filled her pussy with my sperm. That is just what I did. She smiled broadly as she felt me cumming. For Felicita's part, she had enjoyed several orgasms in the various positions. I pulled out of her, discarding another condom in the trash.

"I wish we could do this all the time," she breathed.

"That would be nice."

We didn't say anymore. Neither of us wanted to relive the emotional exchange we had experienced earlier. I moved back onto the bed on my back. She turned halfway over so she was against me and draped one leg over mine. I could feel the wetness leaking out of her pussy onto my thigh. Her breasts were pressed against my chest. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breathing returning to normal. We were lost in our thoughts. I was reliving every moment I had spent with my lovely Felicita.

We didn't make love again that night. We were fully satiated. She got up and cleaned up, then we both dressed. We kissed a long time until it was time to catch the bus home. I walked down with her to the bus stop. I wanted to ride home with her on the bus and ride the bus back to the hotel, but it was too late. I wouldn't be able to take a bus all the way back before they stopped running. We waited at the bus stop together, our arms around each other. In the dark, we looked like any other couple on the street.

There was a roar coming down the street. I recognized the diesel engine of a camel. Its headlights appeared over the crest of the hill. Felicita held me tighter as she realized it was time for her to go. One last kiss, then she boarded the bus. It was so late that there were very few passengers. The driver looked tired, anxious for his shift to end. After paying her fare, she ran to the back of the bus and waved to me through the back window. I waved until the bus was out of sight, then turned back toward The Nacional.

It was a lonely walk. The hotel was illuminated like a beacon, a floodlight under each palm tree along the driveway. I felt like the aristocracy must have felt in the last days of the Revolution. I knew the end was coming. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop the inevitable.

I entered the hotel, the marble handrail feeling cold and smooth under my grip. Felicita was smooth, but certainly not cold. I walked past the desk to the elevator. I notice the writing on the ancient brass mail chute. It said, "Correos de Cuba", but under that it said, "Cutler Mail Chute Company, Rochester, N.Y." Another relic from before the Revolution. From a time when there was trade with Cuba. Trade and free travel. A time before Felicita and I were born.




Havana Club Ch. 04



I waited for the intricate brass hand over the door to move down to 1, then the door opened and I entered the elevator. I rode to my floor and entered my room. I didn't want to take a shower. I wanted Felicita's juices to dry on my leg and my pubic hair. It was a way to keep at least a part of her with me all night. I stripped and got into bed. The sheets were still messed up from when we were making love. There was a wet spot under where her pussy was. I laid in it, knowing this was exactly where she had been. In my mind, I followed her home. I saw her getting off the bus and walking the last distance to the old house. In my mind, there was a light left on for her. Her grandfather was still at the kitchen table, rambling on about how I was a good man for her.

I finally fell asleep thinking about her. I dreamed about her. We were making love again alongside the pond. As I was thrusting into her, the scooter turned into a tank. A soldier got out of the tank and addressed me.

"Señor Imperialisto! You must leave now. Let go of the girl and go!" He prodded me with his automatic rifle. I could feel the cold steel of the barrel against my naked side. I got up, seeing her lying there on the ground. She was crying. I was crying. The soldier moved between us, blocking my view of Felicita. He pointed his rifle at me. I turned, walking away to the sounds of her sobs. I turned back but everything was gone. There was just the pond.

"Felicita!" I screamed.

I must have really screamed because I was suddenly sitting up in bed. Sunlight was streaming in through the gap in the curtains. It was morning. My last full day in Cuba. Tomorrow I would leave this land.

I got out of bed to head to the shower. The hair on my leg pulled. I looked down and saw the white crusty remains of Felicita's dried pussy juices on me. I touched it, touched a piece of her.





Havana Club Ch. 05



Chapter 5 – Scouting Locations

I think in the shower. I get a lot of good ideas there. That morning, I did a lot of thinking. I decided that, as depressed as I was about leaving, I didn't want Felicita to have sad memories of our last times together. I would try to make things more upbeat today. I would do everything I could to emphasize the positive. I wanted both of us to have happy memories of our time together.

After breakfast, I bought my morning Granma and read it on the veranda, as the birds serenaded me. The cool breeze from the harbor felt wonderful. I found an interesting article and mentally filed it away for later.

I got up and walked through the lobby, past the grandfather clock and photo display of the revolution, down the marble stairs, and out to the front of the hotel. I walked up the palm tree lined driveway to the street. I saw a man on a bicycle dropping off his wife or girlfriend for work. After he left, I saw another bicycle, this one with a tiny gasoline powered motor helping its rider climb the hill. I turned to the left, looking for a certain brown-haired girl driving a yellow scooter.

I wasn't disappointed. I could see her smiling face well before I got to the taxi stand. She was as radiant as I remembered, much happier than she had been when she left a few hours ago. Maybe it was the just-fucked look on her face. Maybe it was the joy at seeing me. Whatever it was, I was determined to keep that smile on her face.

"Taxi, Señor?" she asked me as I approached.

"Yes, I would like to hire your taxi for the entire day."

"Certainly," she answered with a broad smile, repeating our daily ritual. I didn't know if we were fooling the other drivers, but it didn't hurt to keep up appearances to protect her.

I boarded the scooter and we took off. As usual, she went a few blocks before leaning back to ask me where I wanted to go. I directed her to an area of downtown. When we got there, I had Felicita park the scooter and we went walking. I explained what I had in mind.

While it was my last full day with Felicita, it was also my last day of work in Cuba. I had come here to do a job. Now it was time to finish the job. I had to scout out locations for the office. I hoped I would be opening the office in the very near future, but I knew it might be a long time from now. Still, I had to get an idea of what part of the city would be best suited for the office. That way, I could set up shop faster when the time came. Today, I was looking at the kinds of offices located in different parts of the city. I looked at the facilities available for businesses. I was also using the time to walk with Felicita. We could spend time together this way; more together than if she was chauffeuring me around in her scooter. Instead of looking at the back of her head, I could walk with her at my side, our hands intertwined. I took pictures of some promising locations, as well as pictures of locations that would help me find these spots later.

I could tell Felicita was also thinking of how our time together was coming to an end. Her mood was ..., well, maybe not dark, but gloomy. I had made a decision this morning to change my mood. Now it was time for me to change hers. I squeezed her hand tighter.

"I'm coming back. You know this," I said, turning to look at her.

"It will be a long time before you can come back. You know this," she answered without looking at me.

"Things will change. They have to."

"No, they don't."

"A famous man once said, 'If there must be happiness, if there must be love, if there must be smiles, it can only be with freedom and dignity.' Freedom will come and I will come back to you."

She stopped walking and looked quizzically at me. "Who said these bold words?"

"Fidel," I told her.

She shook her head as she said, "How can you know this?"

I nodded and laughed as I explained, "It was in an article in this morning's Granma. They were taking about a speech he made some years ago. It is actually a common theme in his speeches."

"He does not speak about the same kind of freedom you speak of." She was still shaking her head.

"Fidel cannot be the President of Cuba forever. He is old." I spoke in a whisper.

"Shhh!! You mustn't say such things here." She was looking around nervously to see if anyone had overheard me.

I continued in a whisper only she could hear. "Change will come. You must wait for it. We must wait for it."

She started walking again, but I could tell she was still thinking about what I had said. I let her think for a few minutes.

I stopped walking in front of an empty storefront and looked in the window. Then I stepped back and appraised the appearance of the outside of the building.

"I think this would be a good location for the office."

"You are wasting your time. This will never come to be."

I let my camera hang from my wrist as I grasped her shoulders, turning her to face me. "You have to believe. It will happen." I could see she was starting to change. I was starting to get through to her. I dropped my arms, took her hand and started walking.

When she spoke after we had gone about half a block, her voice was quiet. It was almost like the voice of a little child questioning something. "You really think so, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I am coming back here. Back to Havana... and back to you."

"Then I will wait for you."

I knew what I had to say next. I hoped it wouldn't sound like I was breaking up with her. Now that I had convinced her that I was coming back, I had to make sure she didn't waste away her life in case it did take years. I was treading a thin line, navigating a gulf in fog, in uncertainty.

"While you are waiting..." I paused. I'm not sure if I was gathering my thoughts or gathering my courage. Felicita was looking at me. I had her rapt attention. She looked like she was holding onto my every word as if it was her sustenance. I took a deep breath, then another. "While you are waiting, I want you to live your life. I want you to enjoy life." Now I had to say it. "I want you to—" I was trying to find the right words. "I want you to sleep with other men. When I come back, I will look for you. If you still want me, if you have not fallen in love with someone else, I—"

"I will not fall in love. I won't let that happen," she insisted. Her expression was almost pained. I just didn't want her emotions to turn to anger.

"I know. I know that, but just in case—"

"Just in case? No, Christopher. If there is even a chance, then I will not risk it. I will not see anyone else. I will save myself for you."

"No, I don't want you to do that. Just in case it is a long time, you should—"

"A long time? Then what will it be? A short time or a long time?"

Oops, things weren't going so well now.

"I don't know for sure. I just know it will happen in our lives."

"You can't be sure of that."

I was losing her now. "You have to trust me. I just want you to know that if you fall in love with someone else, I don't want you to pass up a chance at happiness to wait for me."

She now looked questioningly at me. "And what will you be doing while you wait?"

OK, this was getting tricky, like tap dancing in a minefield. I could say I was not going to see anyone, but that would discourage her from living her life. I didn't want to lie to her.

I cleared my throat. "I will try to see other people. I will not be looking for love, just companionship."

"What if you find love?" Her tone was not so soft.

"I will turn away before it gets its hold on me. My heart belongs to you." As I spoke these last words, I took hold of her hand and placed it over my heart.

"So why can't I wait?" she demanded.

Yeah, she had me. There couldn't be a double standard. She was smart enough to see right through that.

"I won't lie to you. I will see other women. I did that before I met you, but I never found anyone that I loved until I met you. You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only one I could ever see myself with for a lifetime."

She spoke next, with an unsteady voice. "I thought I was in love before. I never felt this way though. I think I have truly learned what love is this week."

Her words did nothing to make my leaving tomorrow any easier.

"We both have found something special, something we never had before. I know—"

I felt tears flowing down my cheeks. The dam burst. Felicita hugged me and we sobbed against each other, right there on the sidewalk.

I spoke through my tears. "Shit, there are no words to make this better. This country really sucks! Cuba must be freed!"

Felicita looked around worriedly, then pulled me to a nearby alley.

"Quiet!" she admonished me. "You mustn't say things like this, not here."

I knew she was right. I was angry—angry at the system, our governments, life—and I wanted to vent. Through it all, though, I realized what she meant. I knew that if I kept saying what I wanted to say, I might get arrested. I would get jailed here, or at best deported and maybe jailed in the States. Either way, my chances of seeing Felicita again would be zero.

She led me back to the street. I had made enough of a scene that some people were staring at us.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered as she hurried me along. "We don't know who might be CDR. The best thing is for us to get back to the scooter and get lost in traffic. Come on!"

We were not quite running (that would have been too obvious), but we were walking along very fast. As we went, Felicita kept looking back. I expected to see a policeman or soldier block our path. I silently cursed myself for doing something so stupid. I had found a few suitable locations and had enough pictures. We could have left anyway. Instead, I had made a scene and maybe gotten us both into a lot of trouble.

"Felicita," I said just loud enough for her to hear, "if it looks like we are going to get stopped, I want you to walk away."

"No—" she started to say.

"Do it! You can blend into the crowd. Don't get caught because of me. I want you to be safe. I'll be alright."

"I won't leave you!"

"You will! There is no point at both of us getting arrested. Now promise me you will leave."

She didn't answer me. She just hurried me along a little faster, still looking all around us.

"Shut up!" she told me. Then, a little gentler, "We are almost there. The scooter is just ahead."

As we turned the last corner and entered the plaza where she had parked the scooter, I saw them. Two soldiers, armed with rifles, standing in front of the scooter. Damn! It was really going to happen. I was going to get arrested.

"Go! Run now!"

"Shut up, damn you!"

We were arguing in whispers.

"Keep walking. Maybe they aren't looking for us."

"Yes, they just like the color of your scooter," I said, sarcastically.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she told me.

I wanted to push her away and run. I wanted to run so the soldiers would chase me and she would have a chance to get away. I almost did it. What stopped me was the fear that she would run with me. Or worse, she would make her own scene to let me get away. I knew how desperate I was. I knew she probably felt the same way. I trusted her.

We walked right up to the scooter. One of the soldiers had his boot on the fender. He looked up at us as we approached. I hoped he couldn't see how hard I was sweating, or hear my heartbeat. Was this going to be my last moment of freedom? I wondered. The soldier moved aside, and spoke.

"Is this your scooter?" he asked Felicita, recognizing her Havana Club t-shirt.

"Yes, but I already have a passenger," she answered with a lot more confidence than I possessed at that moment.

"You are supposed to be driving, not walking."

"My fare needed to visit a shop and wanted me to wait for him. He didn't want to wait for another taxi. He is a very important businessman."

"A very important businessman who rides in a scooter?" The soldiers now appraised me. They were not convinced, and starting to suspect something was suspicious. I could see it in their faces.

I decided to play along and speak. I hoped my voice would come out sounding a lot more confident than I felt.

"I can get into the side streets a lot better in a small scooter. Now I have business to attend to. May we go?" As I spoke the last part, I used a very conciliatory tone and looked one of the soldiers directly in the eye. I never faltered. I stared him down. He flinched.

"Let them go," he told the other one. They stepped aside. I took my seat as if I was mounting a grand carriage pulled by stallions. Felicita started the engine and we putted away. After we turned the first corner, I slumped against the curved side of the body.

When she stopped at the traffic light, Felicita looked back at me. She was smiling broadly. "We did it! That was so amazing!"

"I was scared to death."

"The soldiers were afraid of you. They didn't want to mess with you in case you were important. You handled that so well."

"They wouldn't have been so afraid if I had peed in my pants, which I almost did. I was sure we were going to get arrested."

A car horn blew behind us. The light had changed. Felicita turned back to the front and drove off.

She drove us to a secluded spot along the coast. I knew what she was doing. We needed to talk somewhere that we could not be overheard. I sat back and let her drive, lost in thought. I knew what I wanted and I knew I couldn't have that. The only solution I could come up with was for us to try to live our lives and keep open the option of getting together again someday. Maybe. I loved her too much to ask her to sacrifice any happiness that came her way for the hope that I would return. I wanted to wait, but I didn't want her to. I also didn't know how to explain that to her in a way that didn't sound like I was dumping her. I wasn't any good at this. My last attempt almost got us both arrested. I had avoided situations like this before by never getting serious with anyone. Now that I found someone I couldn't live without, I was getting a crash course in long distance relationships. Oh, yeah, with a heavy emphasis on crash.

I wasn't really paying attention to the route we took. I think we were west of the city, along the coast. Felicita finally pulled over somewhere on the coast. She took out the blanket and looked at me. I could tell that tears had streaked down her face and been evaporated by the wind. She had been crying on the drive. I felt like a real shit. She reached for my hand. She never said a word. I didn't know what to expect. I was afraid she was going to tell me it was all over. Right now. Maybe I'd even have to walk back to town. I wouldn't blame her.

She led me to the water's edge, and then set out the blanket. She sat down and looked up at me, waiting for me to join her. I gingerly sat down, not too close but not too far away. She looked right into my eyes, very seriously, and said those words every man dreads.

"We need to talk."

Her voice was devoid of emotion. I felt at that moment that the ground below me had ceased to exist. I felt as if I was falling into a great void. My whole life had become a bottomless pit. Then, a ray of light appeared in the darkness. A hand stretched out to stop my fall. It was Felicita's hand on my cheek. Her face was right in front of mine.

"Christopher, do you still love me?"

There was only one way to answer that question. "Yes, of course I do. I have never loved anyone the way—"

She interrupted me with a finger on my lips.

"Do you want, more than anything, to be with me?" I started to speak but she pressed the finger harder against my lips. I got the message. She wasn't ready for my answer yet. "Does it hurt when we are apart? Physically hurt? Do you long, yearn, hunger even, for us to be together again?" She lowered her finger, awaiting my reply.

"Yes," I breathed, a whisper almost unheard over the sound of the waves. "Yes, I feel exactly like that."

"That is how I feel. I need you in my life." She put her head down. I thought she was crying, but she was only thinking. When she looked up, her eyes were dry.

"It may be a month. It may be a year, or ten years. Do you promise that you will come back to me?"

"Yes."

Her look softened, just a little. She didn't smile, but she wasn't so serious anymore.

"I had a long talk with my grandfather last night, when I got home. It was about you, about us. We talked about what was going to happen on Friday, and on the days after that. He is very wise. He has seen a lot of things happen. Do you know what he told me?"

I shook my head. My heart was pounding, I was sweating, I could feel the fear of love that might be dying in my gut, but I just shook my head. I was focused on her, on what she was about to say.

"He told me that, if I loved you, really loved you, that I should wait for you. He told me that I should still seek happiness, but I should keep my heart for you alone. I guess he was telling me what you tried to tell me earlier."

"When the soldiers—"

She continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "I should not become a nun, but I should wait for you." She took a deep breath, shuddered a little as it escaped, then continued. "I had time to think on the drive over here. I think you are both right. I should date other men, maybe even sleep with some –" I nodded at that. "Just some, maybe, but I could do that and not fall in love with anyone else. My heart belongs to you," As she spoke the last sentence, she grasped my right hand with hers, held it tightly, and pressed it against her chest. I could feel the softness of her breast, the rise and fall of her breathing, but most of all, the beating of her heart. I felt her heart beating out its love for me. "I will be yours always, Christopher."

I looked into her eyes, feeling her heartbeat, hearing the crash of the waves, feeling more in love than I ever had before. This beautiful girl was devoting herself to me. What I really felt at that moment was not relief, not happiness, but rather that I didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve her, but I would not do anything to make her sacrifice in vain.

"I'm coming back, Felicita." She looked into my eyes as I spoke those words, as if each word was a physical thing she could hold on to. "I'm coming back. At least to visit, until I can stay here. I don't know how often I can do it, but I will. I promise you that."

She was still holding my hand against her heart. At that point, we both started crying. I put my left arm around her, pulling her to me. We hugged there on the blanket, my other hand still between her breast and my chest. I could feel the beating of her heart, then the warmth of tears. I knew these were tears of happiness, not sadness or anger. We cried together and held each other as the waves crashed and the wind blew.

In time, our hunger drove us from the waterfront. We sought out food. As my time in Cuba was drawing to a close, we had lunch at the place we met – Pan.Com. We shared a meal of Cuban sandwiches and Kristal beer. As we were waiting for the sandwiches to be pressed, I looked around. I marveled at how my life had changed since the first time I was here, only three days ago. In that time, I had done a lifetime of learning and growing. The last time I had stood at this counter, I didn't even know the beauty standing next to me. Now, I didn't want to live apart from her.

We took our food to a table and started eating. The old guy with the CDs was there, and he again approached us. I decided to buy some. It was a memento of the trip (and the time with Felicita) that I could safely bring back. Felicita helped me pick out some. I especially wanted the music we had danced to. I watched Felicita as she ate, wanting to imprint her image permanently upon my mind.




Havana Club Ch. 05



"What?" she finally asked with an embarrassed laugh.

"What do you mean?" I countered. I thought I knew what she had in mind.

"Why are you watching me?"

"Because you are so beautiful."

That made her blush. She was lovely when she was embarrassed.

"I want to remember you like this," I offered in explanation.

"With my mouth full of food?"

"No, here. Where we met."

"We met at the taxi stand."

"Well, where we first talked."

"OK, I like that. I'll think of you every time I pass here."

"I'll remember you every time I take a breath," I told her. She smiled sweetly. "I'll remember you every time I see the ocean, or a hotel room, or..."

"Or?" she prompted.

"Or, every time I see a pretty girl. When I see a pretty girl, she will only remind me of how beautiful you are, of how much I love you... of how much I miss you."

We ate for a time in silence. I was still trying to memorize her face. Before we left, I took some pictures of the café, and of her at the table. I told her I wanted to be able to look at that scene again, and remember how we got to know each other.

After lunch, my work was essentially complete. I had accomplished all the tasks I had come to Cuba to do (and a lot more). Felicita took me on a tour of the city, doing all the touristy things. I saw the capitol building, a duplicate of the U. S. Capitol except for the palm trees in front. I visited the Plaza de Revolucion. We drove near Fidel's palatial residence. I saw some of the sand beaches to the east of the city. We bought gas at an Oro Negro. She took me to a cigar factory. I don't smoke, but it was still interesting to see the legendary cigar factories where the cigars are still rolled by hand. Before long, the afternoon was over. We headed back to the hotel as it hit me that I had less than 24 hours left in this land, with Felicita.

"I will go home and change, and return here. Let's go to a show tonight, and then spend the evening at one of the clubs here. I want it to be a quiet evening, just the two of us," Felicita said.

"I would like that."

She looked down. When she looked up again, she was blushing.

"What?" I asked.

She spoke very softly. "I want to start the evening in your room, making love. Then we can go to dinner, OK?"

That sounded interesting so I agreed. I paid the daily rental fee for the scooter (along with a healthy tip "for meat") and got out. We shared a last smile before she putted away. I walked into the hotel to clean up for what promised to be an evening I'd remember.

In an hour, I was strolling along the sidewalk. I was taking pictures and waiting for her. I was fascinated by the ancient American cars, painted bright colors, that still ply the streets. Some are taxis, but many are still privately owned. It is amazing that the inventive Cubans have kept them running long after most of their American cousins have rusted away in junkyards. This, without a supply of replacement parts. When there are no other options, necessity spurs invention.

Before the sun set, Felicita's bus arrived. I greeted her, and then we hurried up to my room to deposit her bag. From there, we raced across the road to the seawall. We wanted to spend my last Cuban sunset together in the "outdoor living room".

We found a spot on the seawall among the other couples. I sat on the seawall facing west. Felicita sat between my legs with her back to me. I loved the feeling of her body against me. I had my camera with me and took pictures of the scene. Again, we enlisted the help of another couple to get pictures of us together. As the sun sank, we watched in silence as I held her, my body wrapped protectively around her.

As darkness descended, I set the camera on the seawall and took a few long exposures. Felicita endured all this patiently. When I had finished, she took my hand and said, "Let's go back to the room before dinner."

We hurried across the road and into the lobby, then up to my room, still holding hands. Once the door was closed behind us, I held her in my arms and just looked at her. She was so lovely. I reached behind her and unzipped her dress. I pulled her close as I slipped it off her shoulders. Before she moved away to let it fall, Felicita looked me in the eyes and said, smiling, "I have a surprise for you." Then she stepped back and her dress fell to the floor. She was standing there in a bra and panties. A satin bra and a satin thong. She turned, allowing me to see the back. I was taken aback.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, dumbfounded.

She giggled. "When we were looking at the black market, I saw someone selling them. I went back later and bought them to wear for you. Do you mind that I spent some of my 'meat money' on them?"

"No, not at all. Do you like them?" I asked her.

She ran her hands over the bra and panties, her palm softly hissing against the satin. Her nipples were easily visible through the material. She gave a happy sigh, then answered, "Yes, very much. I feel so... so, uh... sexy. Feminine."

"You look so beautiful," I told her. Then, I realized how that sounded. "You were beautiful before, this was not necessary." She put a finger to my lips to quiet me.

"I did this for you, and for me. I like the feel of it, and I like showing myself off for you. It is exciting wearing this and knowing that only you will see me in it. Now, you can think of me like this all night."

"So that's why you wanted to come back to the room before dinner," I realized.

"Well, that's one reason. Finish undressing me and I will show you the other reason," she answered with a sly smile.

I held her in my arms, and then ran my hands all over what little she was wearing. It did feel nice. I was getting very hard at the sight and feel of her body dressed like that. I carefully undid her bra and let it fall away. I kissed each nipple in turn, enjoying the feel of her flesh against my face. I could feel her taking deep breaths and I could hear as well as feel her heart beating. She put her head down, against my face as I kissed her breasts. I lowered myself to kneel in front of her, facing her panties. It was plainly obvious that she was very wet. There was a dark stain growing between her legs. I could also smell her juices. She was more than ready for me. I looked up and smiled. She was watching me with an equally vibrant smile. I put a thumb inside the string on each side of her panties and pulled down. I looked down to watch her matted pubic hair appear. She delicately stepped out of her panties. I kissed the crotch before gently laying them on the floor next to her dress. She moaned as she watched me do that.

"You make me so wet," she sighed.

"I know," I said as I leaned forward and pressed my face into her damp hair, seeking her lips. I was rewarded with the taste of her pussy. I pushed my tongue through the tangle of hair and licked her wet lips as she put her hands on the back of my head. She was whimpering softly as I probed into her with my tongue. I stood up, trailing wet kisses up her body. I stopped at her nipples for a quick suck before proceeding up to her mouth. As soon as our lips met, her tongue invaded my mouth. She whimpered as she tasted herself in my mouth. I could feel her hard nipples pressing into my chest.

I moved away, taking her hands in mine. I put them on the top button of my shirt. She took the hint and undressed me. She kissed each part of me as it was exposed. She may have been wet, but I was hard. My dick was aching it was so hard. She made quick work of my shirt, and then removed my shoes and socks. She was the one on her knees now, looking up at me as she removed my belt and undid my pants. I kicked them away as they fell to the floor, but she picked them up (ignoring the lump in my underwear) and folded them neatly before laying them next to her clothes. When she turned back to me, I saw she was smiling. She was teasing me. She made a very carefully orchestrated move as she turned back to face me, making her cheek brush against my erection. The effect was electric. Then she kissed me through the last piece of clothes I was wearing. Finally, she grabbed the waistband in her hands and looked up at me questioningly, as if she was asking if I wanted her to take it off.

"Yesss," I breathed, almost desperately.

She grinned, and then pulled off my underwear. Undressing was a ritual to her. She slowly exposed my shaft, making a show of being surprised at how long I was. It would have been funny if I hadn't been so horny by that point. She stretched the briefs over the end of my cock. As the elastic band cleared the head of my dick, I sprang free, grazing her face. She moaned loudly, closing her eyes and brushing her face against my erection. I was leaking precum, making her cheek sticky. She managed during this to still remove my briefs with care. I almost tripped as I stepped free of them, so enthralled with what her face was doing to my dick.

Once I was naked, she slid her hands with agonizing slowness up my legs, taking time to feel each hair on my legs. Meanwhile, she was now using the tip of her tongue to lick tiny drops of precum from the end of my cock. I was so hard that it was pulsating with my heartbeat, making the game more difficult for her – not that she minded. I stood there in a daze, if anything trying not to shoot off on her face before I got to fuck her.

Her hands reached my dick. One went to cup my balls, the other to stroke my shaft. This squeezed out more precum. She took the head in her mouth to suck the taste off me. My knees went weak as I felt her warm, soft mouth around my dick. She looked up and saw from my expression how she was torturing me.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?"

"What do you think?" I croaked.

"Well, I think that I will make a puddle on the carpet if you don't take me to bed right now."

I didn't waste time answering. I helped her to her feet, pressing my body against hers as I pushed her backwards to the bed. She fell back. I decided against falling with her. I was so hard that I was worried I might break something important if I fell on it. She slid back on the bed until she was in the middle and spread her legs. That was the signal that the foreplay was over. It was time for the main event. I started to crawl onto the bed, but remembered to reach into the nightstand first. Once I was suitably protected, I crawled over her, my erection leading the way. It knew where it was going and slid between her slippery lips without further guidance. She felt so hot. She wanted this as badly as I did. I tried to enter her cunt without using my hand, but I didn't have the presence of mind or patience to wait for the proper alignment. My dick was sliding along her wet lips, but not entering her. I positioned the head of my dick at her opening with a hand, then slid into her as I lowered my body over hers. I was fully inside her pussy by the time my mouth met hers. I felt her arms going around my back and her legs wrapping around my legs. We kissed and I started thrusting in and out of her body. When we came up for air, she was positively wailing. We were both so ready that it wasn't taking long for either of us to cum. I tried to slow down to last longer, but she wouldn't let me. She worked her hips, forcing my dick to slide through her cunt. I realized she was ready so I redoubled my efforts. This was a quickie, just a start to the evening's festivities. I shoved my cock deeply into her cunt, clamped my eyes shut, groaned and felt my sperm spurting into her. When she felt the warmth and intensity of the spurts, she slipped over the edge as well. She cried out my name as she came against me.

As I returned to reality and opened my eyes, I saw that she was just opening her eyes as well.

"Wow," I said to her.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Is that just the beginning?"

"It sure is. I don't want you to forget me when you make love to your American girlfriends," she said, still panting.

"After tonight, I don't think I will be able to make love to anyone. You will wear me out."

We both laughed at that, then I climbed off her, removing the condom and disposing of it. She got up, wiped her pussy with a corner of the sheet, and started getting dressed. I gave her a surprised look.

"You have to buy me dinner. Remember? Lots of meat," she teased. I nodded. As she pulled the thong up her body and arranged it into place, she continued, "Think of me tonight, wearing only this under my dress. Think of taking it off again. Think of how wet it will be by the time you take me to bed."

"Again," I said.

"Again," she agreed with a grin.

We dressed, mixing in a few wet kisses, and went down to the dining room. We ate our last dinner together at the same table where we shared our first dinner together. My heart ached with love for Felicita. I didn't let myself think about this being our last night. I just wanted to enjoy it. I would cherish these memories in the time to come.

After dinner, we walked out of the hotel to the theater where the show was being held. I had acquired tickets earlier that evening. It was one of the better-known Cuban nightclubs and I enjoyed the show. Most of all, I enjoyed sharing it with Felicita. The scantily clad dancers only reminded me of how scantily clad the lady next to me was under her dress.

When the show was over, we passed through the lobby to the veranda. We strolled out onto the lawn, headed for the outdoor bar. We passed the shack where, during the day, a bartender squeezed stalks of sugar cane to make mojitos. We got a table and the waitress took our drink orders. When she returned with the glasses, she also put a felt marker on the table. I picked up the marker and looked at her.

"Take the marker and write your name on one of the clay pots. It is tradition," she explained.

I nodded and wrote our names, with a plus sign between them, and drew a heart around it. Felicita put her hand over mine and blinked away a tear.

"We will find this here when I return," I told her.

She nodded.

I sipped the cool liquor, felt the cool breeze from the harbor wash over me, and savored the warmth of Felicita's hand. All was well with the world, for now at least. We stayed there for a long time, drinking and talking. We talked about everything and nothing, silly things; those things lovers talk about just between themselves. That evening was probably the best time we had together. We were just two people in love, sharing time together. We didn't have anywhere we had to go; we just passed time.

As it got later, I suggested we retire for the night. She readily agreed and we got up. We walked lazily through the night back to the lobby. The soft lighting on the grounds gave just enough brightness for us to follow the walkway. The cool night air made her pull closer to me and I put my arm around her. She rested her head on my shoulder.

Back in the room, we undressed for bed. She abandoned the ritual finally and we undressed quickly. Once we were naked, I took her hand and started to the bed.

"No," she said. I turned to her and started in surprise.

She gave a sly smile and reached for her bag. "Wait for me. I have another surprise." With a twinkle in her eye, she disappeared into the bathroom. I lay back on the cool white sheets, wondering what she was up to. It didn't matter to me what she wore. I was just going to take it all off. Still, she was enjoying dressing in a special way for me. She did look very lovely.

It didn't take long for the door to open. She peaked out at first, saw I was watching, and then stepped through the door. She was wearing a teddy. I don't know where she found it, but it fit her perfectly, complementing her perfect body. The color was a teal green. Her light brown hair cascading onto her shoulders created a beautiful contrast. She was truly a vision of loveliness. I was too surprised to speak.

"Do you like your surprise?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Don't you want to say anything?"

I couldn't speak. I shook my head.

Her face drooped into a pout. "Nothing?" She made a show of acting sad.

"How? Where? I don't care. You are so lovely." I held my arms out to her.

She bounded across to the bed, jumping onto the mattress and into my arms. She was squealing with delight. We kissed and rolled around on the bed, laughing like children. Then we made love like adults. I kissed down to the crotch of the teddy. It was closed with snaps. She watched, breathless, as I unsnapped it with my teeth. I plunged my tongue into her wetness, tasting and smelling her arousal.

As I ate her pussy, I slid my hands up, under the sheer material, until I grasped a firm breast in each hand. I fondled as I ate, relishing her body. She cooed encouragement as I enjoyed her. I could only imagine how much it must have cost her to acquire the lingerie. I wanted to make sure she got her money's worth.

When she could stand my mouth on her sensitive spot no longer, she pushed me back. She sat up and shifted me around to the pillow before moving between my legs. Her teddy was still hanging on her body. I started to remove it, but decided that she must be enjoying wearing it. I let her enjoy it. She sank down and licked my shaft. My head fell back to the pillow. My arms felt like jelly, but I still managed to drag the other pillow over and put it under my head. I wanted to watch her suck me. With my head raised on the pillow, I could see her licking my shaft, then tonguing the head. Every so often, she would reach down and lick my balls, pulling one into her mouth. I could only watch bonelessly as she drove me to higher heights of pleasure. She worked on my dick until I was about to scream. Then she started sucking the shaft into her mouth. That was a blowjob I would never forget. She did it with love and a strong desire to please. I watched the love of my life sucking me. Her lips stretched to take the head into her mouth, then it filled her mouth as she watched me. She was smiling with her eyes as she sucked me and ran her tongue over me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't last forever. In time, my dick started throbbing and I knew the end was at hand. She could tell also. She sucked harder, putting a hand on the shaft and stroking. She was taking only the first inch or two in her mouth now. She wanted me to cum on her tongue, instead of in her throat, so she could taste it. I ran my hands through her brown hair as the inevitable neared. When my pleasure peaked, I cried out. I felt the sperm pulsing up my shaft and squirting into her mouth. I could feel her mouth move as she swallowed my cum. I instinctively tried to force more of my dick into her mouth, but her hand prevented this. I shot my cum onto her tongue and she got to taste it.

I finished spurting but she kept sucking. In a very short time, my dick became too sensitive. As much as I wanted the pleasure to continue, it was too much to bear. I reluctantly pushed her face away from my dick. My head fell back to the pillow as I gasped, "Too much, stop."

Her mouth came away from my softened dick with a wet sound. A tiny stream of cum joined her lips to my dick. She smiled broadly, still swallowing the last traces.

"Did you enjoy that as much as your face said you did?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said in a tired voice. "That was amazing."

"Caramba?"

"Caramba," I agreed. We shared a laugh.

"Do you think you will still have the strength to fuck me?"

"Let me rest a few minutes. Then I will make you feel like you made me feel a few minutes ago."

"OK!" she answered with eagerness. She crawled up next to me and hugged me. We kissed.

"When are you going to finish undressing me?" she asked.

"I started to, but you seemed to enjoy wearing that so much that I decided to wait. Are you ready now?"

"I like wearing it for you. I like how it feels. I feel so sexy in it, but I like feeling your body against mine even better."




Havana Club Ch. 05



Having heard that, I reached down and started to pull it up. She sat up and straddled my chest. As she lifted her arms, I carefully took the outfit off her. I could feel the wetness of her pussy leaking onto me. I put my arms on her sides, just below her breasts.

"You look delicious."

"All yours," she promised.

"Mmmm, I can feel how wet you are."

"Oh, sorry." She started to get up but I held her down.

"Don't. I like feeling you all wet."

She started sliding her lips back and forth against me. She slid easily. We gave each other a broad smile. Next, she got up and licked my chest clean.

"I like tasting myself on you," she said as she licked.

Watching her lick was awakening my dick. When she finished, she slid her hand down towards my dick. She felt that I was hard. Her eyes widened and she looked up at me. "Are you ready?" she asked, hopefully. I nodded. She smiled broadly and made a happy sound. She crawled over me (a heavenly sensation) and retrieved one of the last few love rubbers. She gave the head of my dick a little kiss and giggled just before she put the condom on. When I was ready for her, she sat up and straddled my hips. I watched wide-eyed as she impaled herself on my hardness. She used one hand to guide me into her opening, then her face showed she was lost in pleasure as I penetrated her. She sank down until I was fully seated in her. She wiggled around a little, feeling how she gripped me so snugly, and smiled. When she opened her eyes, she saw I was watching her with delight.

"You were watching that?" she asked, sounding embarrassed.

"Yes, I like seeing how much you enjoy that."

"Enjoy what?"

"Making love."

"I do. You make it so special." She sighed deeply. She rose up, paused and then descended. I watched her brown-haired lips encircling my cock. As she moved up, my shaft pulled on her lips. It was as if they were reluctant to let me escape. Then, as she moved down, her lips appeared to spread and joyfully allow me back in.

Felicita remembered how her blowjob left me exhausted and insisted on doing all the work this time. She rode me and played with her tits. Sometimes, she would lean forward so I could lift my head and suck her nipples. Other times, she would sit upright. When she wasn't pulling on her nipples, I would watch them bounce or hold the palms of my hands flat against them. It excited her to feel her nipples rubbing against my hands. This was one of my favorite positions, mainly because I had such a perfect view of her body as she fucked me.

In time, I could tell she was tiring. I convinced her that I was ready to move to another position. She got off me and waiting for me to decide what we were going to do next. I got up and turned off the lights. When I pulled back the curtains, I could tell she was looking at me and wondering what I had in mind. I called her over to the window. It was dark in the room. The only light was coming from outside the window. We could see the lights along the shoreline curving in the distance.

"I want you to cum with me inside you while you are looking at Havana. That way, when you look at Havana at night again, you can remember how I made you cum. "

She liked that idea. I had her stand facing the window, bent at the waist with her palms against the glass. I stood behind her and entered her doggy style. I sank into her depths, making her sigh. I fucked her as we looked out at the city where we fell in love. In a few minutes, she came loudly as I thrust deeply into her. Her hands were leaving sweaty handprints on the glass. That should give the maid something to wonder about.

Before I came, we moved back to the bed. I lay on top of her and we held each other close as I pumped my sperm into her. We were sweaty, but neither of us wanted to get up. Finally, I had to get up as my erection subsided. I slid next to her in the bed, pulled up the covers and we lay there, our naked bodies pressed together, looking out at the lights.

"It really is a beautiful city," I mused.

"You made me appreciate it. Before you, it was just a city. Now, I see beauty that I never realized was there."

"I am holding the most beautiful part right here," I said as I squeezed her tighter. She cooed.

We slept that way all night, holding each other close.





Havana Club Ch. 06



Chapter 6 – Home... And Beyond

The sky brightened slightly, waking me and signaling the impending arrival of my last sunrise in Cuba. I got up and closed the curtains. Felicita was still sleeping peacefully. I returned to her and she squeezed me tightly. I watched her for a while, then fell asleep wrapped around her.

When I woke the second time, it was just after sunrise. Felicita was still holding on to me in her sleep. I propped up my head on my arm and watched her dozing peacefully. She looked so lovely and peaceful as she slumbered. I watched her, trying to push out of my head thoughts of what would happen in a few short hours.

Felicita stirred, then woke up. She looked at me watching her and smiled.

"Good morning," she told me brightly, if sleepily.

"Good morning to you," I replied. I leaned down and kissed her. As she turned to press her body fully against mine, my dick hardened as if recognizing an old friend. "And a very good morning to you, too," she told my dick with a giggle.

"He didn't want to be left out," I explained.

"Then let's not keep him out any longer." She crawled over me, letting her tits slide across my chest as she did so, to reach the nightstand, and retrieve one of the last three remaining love rubbers. Apparently mimicking me with her panties from last night, she was holding it in her teeth as she turned to face me, smiling broadly. She moved down my body, pushing the covers down as she moved. My dick, uncovered now, stood proudly in the single shaft of sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. Grasping a corner of the packet firmly in her teeth, she tore it open and removed the contents. She took my dick into her mouth and sucked me a few times before rolling the condom down to cover me. After the condom was in place, she stroked me a few times. She straddled me and lowered her pussy onto my dick. She was tight but wet.

"Ooh," I sighed as her warm channel slid over my cock. I watched her stretched lips move down until her patch of hair merged with mine. I looked up to see her looking as well.

When she was fully seated on me, she looked up and said, "There, that's better. Now he's not left out."

"He is very happy," I told her.

She started moving her body up and down over my dick.

"Now he is even happier," I reported.

She started banging herself forcefully on me, making the bed squeak.

"Ungh – ungh – ungh," I said.

She looked at me and leaned forward, putting her hands on my chest for support. I was in ecstasy, relishing the feel of her warm wetness sliding across my member.

I was now trying to imprint this image in my brain. This one would be kept for special occasions, like when I was masturbating. That was when I got an idea.

"Felicita?" I asked, between pants.

"Yes," she answered, trying to concentrate on my question at the same time she was concentrating on fucking me.

"Can I take some pictures of you like this, naked, so I can remember these times as well?"

She looked a little worried and thought about that for a minute, then smiled and said, "Yes, but don't show them to anyone else."

"I won't," I promised. "I want to look at them when I masturbate. I want to remember making love to you."

"Do you want to get your camera now?"

"No, when we change positions, I'll go get it. I don't want to take my dick out of you yet." I think I got a little harder as I realized that I was really going to photograph her nude.

She rode me for maybe ten minutes, and then reported with disappointment that her legs were getting tired. She got off me and told me, "Go get your camera."

I got up and retrieved it. She was lying on the bed, as naked as the day she was born. I turned the camera on and pointed it at her.

"Remember, only you see these pictures," she reminded me. I nodded. She smiled and posed with one hand caressing her nipple. I took the picture. I displayed the picture on the screen and showed it to her. She made a face. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes, very much. I will enjoy looking at that one."

She spread her legs and inserted two fingers into her pussy, like she was masturbating. She closed her eyes as if in ecstasy and I took another picture.

"Get on top of me again, please. I want a picture of you like that," I suggested.

I got back on the bed and she mounted me again. I held the camera back a ways and took the picture. I checked that I had it framed correctly. She looked so beautiful. I told her to get up. I mounted her and took a picture of her face.  

"Why did you take that one? You didn't show any special parts of my body," she asked.

"That is what I see when I am screwing you," I explained.

Next, I had her lie sideways on the bed. I put her legs on my shoulders and took a picture of the mirror. Now I had a picture of us making love. She wanted to see that one. She liked it. I tossed the camera onto the bed and fucked her in earnest. When she looked like she was starting to cum, I took a few pictures of her face. I loved the way she looked when she came.

Next, I used the mirror to take a picture of us fucking doggy style. The mirror wasn't wide enough to get all of us in the picture. I told her to stay just like that and removed my dick from her cunt. I jumped off the bed and put the camera on top of the TV, aimed at the bed. I framed the picture, set the timer, and quickly jumped back in bed. I quickly mounted her and started thrusting wildly. It had the desired effect. By the time the camera took the picture, she was hanging her head and moaning. I fucked her for a few more minutes like that. I set up the next picture with me sitting on the side of the bed and her sitting on my dick facing me. We were kissing as the flash fired. We got up; I retrieved the camera and pushed her down onto the bed. I climbed on her, pounding myself into her body. I sat up and got a picture of my dick partially buried in her wet depths. I took another one with my dick lying on top of her stomach, to show how far I was penetrating her. I reentered her and we made love in the missionary position until I came.

I pulled out of her pussy and took a few pictures of her pussy after it had been fucked. Her inner lips were distended and leaking. Her wetness was evident on the hair around her slit. I had her take a picture of me eating her pussy. I removed the condom and we used the timer again to take a few pictures of us standing together naked, making out. I was just starting to get hard again. The illicit photographic session was really turning me on. Felicita saw this and ran to the bathroom. Returning with a wet washcloth, she cleaned the condom lubricant from my dick, then knelt and sucked my dick. I took some pictures of her blowing me. I moved back onto the bed and took another picture of her sucking my dick. After that, I put the camera down and enjoyed the blowjob.

Felcita paused from sucking my cock. "Tell me when you are about to cum. I want you to shoot on my face and take a picture of me with your sperm on me."

Thinking about that hastened my orgasm. When it was close, I warned her. She rolled over and had me jack off over her. With the camera in my left hand, I tried capturing my ejaculation on her face. It was hard concentrating to point the camera in the right direction while I was cumming. When I was finished, I let my dick go and took more pictures of her smiling broadly, proudly wearing the result of my orgasm. I also got pictures of her wiping up my cum with her fingers and licking it off.

"Are those enough pictures?" she asked.

"I think so. That will give me a lot to look at."

"Good. You got to cum twice. I want you to eat me now."

I needed no further prompting. I tossed the camera aside and buried my face in her wet lips. I enjoyed her taste and smell. I felt her putting her hands on the back of my head and clamping her legs around my head as I sucked her clit. I could hear her moaning loudly as her orgasm peaked. I slid my middle finger into her hole and held it there. When she came down from her peak, I lifted my head. She was lying on the pillow, breathing deeply. I moved up over her. She opened her eyes and happily licked her juices from my face before we shared a deep passionate kiss. I loved the feel of her naked body against mine. The warmth of her tits, the coarseness of her pubic hair and the smoothness of her legs all were things I didn't want to ever forget.

After a time, I glanced over at the clock and reality hit. We had to get moving so I could get ready. I had a morning plane to catch.

"Felicita," I started.

She caught the tone in my voice and looked at the clock. She looked back at me and nodded. "How many rubbers do we have left?" she asked.

I reached over and picked up the box. I got up and poured the contents onto her tits. "Two."

"OK, bring one to the bathroom. I want to fuck in the shower."

That sounded like a wonderful idea. We got out of bed and I started the shower. She set out two of the white towels, placing the condom packet on top. We got in the shower and started washing each other off. As expected, as her slippery body slid against mine, my dick rose to the occasion. She felt it and grinned. She stuck her head out of the shower curtain and retrieved the packet. Tearing it open, she turned me away from the spray and rolled the condom onto my erection.

"How-?" I started to ask.

In answer, she moved around me and faced the spray, leaning forward to put her hands on the white porcelain tiles. She bent backward at the waist, moving her pussy lips into position. I reached below the upturned cheeks of her ass and parted her lips. Holding her lips open with one hand, I used the other to guide my shaft into her. She moaned loudly as I entered her. It was more difficult doing it in the shower. I quickly realized one reason why she wanted to do it in the shower. The water covered any noise we would make. She was very noisy this time.

She was very vocal, urging me on as I fucked her. She was a different woman now. I grasped her hips and fucked her hard. I was afraid my pounding would cause one or both of us to slip, but she kept urging me on with cries of "Deeper!" and "More!" and "Harder!" I was fucking her with abandon now, and I started to make noises as well. She squealed and yelled when she came, totally uninhibited. Since I had cum twice already this morning, I could last a long time. I think she was counting on that as well. We fucked a long time like that. For a while, I sat down on the bottom of the tub, with my back to the showerhead to block the spray, and she knelt over me. We kissed and hugged as she rode my dick. We tried to do it standing up and facing each other. What finally worked was for her to put her arms around my neck, and lift one leg (which I helped hold up) to open her slit. That changed the angle of her cunt enough for me to penetrate her. We did it that way for a few minutes, but the position was too tiring to do for very long. We ended up finishing as we started, with me entering her from behind and holding on to her tits as I pushed myself as far as possible into her. I grunted loudly as I filled her with my cum. She moaned loudly and pushed her bottom hard against me, driving my dick as far as possible into her pussy.

When I extracted myself from her clutching depths, I let the condom drain onto the bottom of the shower before tossing it out onto the bathroom floor. She turned around and melted into my arms. We kissed for a long time, the water from the showerhead cascading over our nude bodies. I could feel her hair against my softening dick and her erect nipples pressing into my chest.

Eventually, we got around to cleaning each other. When we got out of the shower, I remembered to pick up the used condom and toss it into the trash.

"I want us to come back to the room just before we leave for the airport. I want to be just fucked when you leave," she pleaded. I nodded. She was thinking about my impending departure. I was trying not to.

I shaved and we finished getting ready. We packed our bags. The only things not packed were the clothes we would wear. I turned to her and pulled her into an embrace. We shared one more naked kiss before getting dressed. As I pulled on my underwear, I spied the last condom and remembered I would have one more chance to see her naked.

We went downstairs and had breakfast together. I watched to make sure she ate well in spite of the gloom that was starting to descend over us. I knew this might be her last good meal for a long time.

We had planned for her to go to the airport with me. Since it was her day off, we would take a taxi to the airport. Once there, she would stay with me until it was time to board the plane. After I was gone, she would take the taxi home. I was going to leave her with more than enough money to pay for the trip.

After breakfast, we walked around the grounds of the hotel one last time. I stood on the inlaid map of Cuba, over the brass star that denoted Havana, and looked slightly east of north, to Florida. All I saw was blue water - the blue water that would separate us for a time. Felicita could sense my mood changing.

She touched me on the arm, softly, and asked, "Christopher, what are you thinking about?"

I didn't want to answer her. I wanted to keep to my promise to myself from yesterday. I wanted to give her only happy memories. She reached up and took hold of my chin. She gently, so gently, turned my face to hers. She saw it.

"You're crying," she said, a note of concern and a note of sadness coloring her sweet voice.

That did it. The tears that had been filling my eyelids began streaming down my cheeks. I pointed out to the sea with one hand, holding her with the other. It took me a moment or two to get enough control to speak.

"When you look out at the water," I began. My voice cracked. It was hard to form the words without sobbing. "Look just east of north. That is where I'll be. That is where freedom is."

Her eyes looked out to where I was pointing. I could see it in her eyes. She was looking for it. She had never seen it. She didn't know what it looked like, but she was trying to imagine what that land of freedom looked like. I put my arm tightly around her and we both looked out over the tropical blue sea, towards Florida. We stood there a long time, on top of the map, looking east of north. I willed my tears to dry up. I knew I had to put a braver face on for Felitica.

When we turned away from the water, I saw that her face was also streaked with tears. She had been crying with me. We smiled that sad, embarrassed smile people try to wear at things like funerals. We wanted to be strong for each other, but we both knew our hearts were being torn out.

I looked at my watch and saw it was nearing time to get a taxi for the airport. She saw me looking and nodded. Without speaking any words, we walked back up to my room. In the cool dimness of the room, we undressed each other. As I delicately removed each piece of clothing, I knew I was seeing her like this, touching her like this, for the last time in a long time – maybe even for the last time. Our clothes were laid out over the chair because we would be putting them back on again soon. Too soon. We embraced and she could feel that I wasn't erect yet.

"It's OK, Christopher. Relax." Her words were spoken in a soothing, loving tone. She got down on her knees and sucked my dick into her mouth. I had seen her and touched her naked, but hadn't got erect. As loving as her touch was, my melancholy mood was interfering with the moment. Feeling her mouth around my member, I finally responded, filling her mouth. She got up, smiling, and led me to the bed. She lay down with her legs apart and looked to me. I picked up the last love rubber and put it on. I was trying hard to put my sadness away in the back of my mind. I wanted this to be good for both of us, but especially for her. I certainly didn't want to lose my erection in the middle of it. I looked at her lying there, naked, taking deep breaths. I put my face between her thighs and probed with my tongue to be sure she was wet enough to be penetrated. I licked her lips and sucked on her clit, teasing her into lubricating for me. When I could taste her wetness flowing freely, I moved up to position my cock at her entrance. I felt her warm wet lips make contact. She felt it, too, and sighed.

I pushed, feeling her outer lips parting. I pushed at her opening. It resisted, but then gave in to my gentle pushing. I started to slip in as her pussy opened like a blooming flower. I entered her slowly, wanting to prolong the sensation of the initial penetration. She groaned as I slid into her cunt with agonizing slowness, filling her, stretching her. As her outer lips were pulled apart by my girth, they in turn pulled on the hood of her clit, tugging it and stimulating her further. She was watching me with hooded eyes, giving herself totally and completely to me. She was mine to use for my pleasure. I, in turn, wanted only to give her pleasure. I waited until I was fully inside her pussy before I leaned forward and pressed my body against hers. The feel of her body against mine was heady.

She immediately held on to me tightly with her arms and her legs, as if she would never let me go. I opened my mouth as my lips touched hers, tasting her mouth and letting her taste her pussy juices in my mouth. I was aware of every touch – the warm smoothness of her skin, the strands of hair around her face, even the roughness of the cotton sheets against my legs. The air conditioner was rumbling softly, perhaps straining to compensate for the additional heat our bodies were generating. I could hear her breathing beneath me; her soft moaning and the gentle creaking of the bed keeping time as we made love softly, slowly, lovingly. I lasted a long time, making her cum twice before I did. When my orgasm approached, I was in a quagmire. I wanted to cum, to experience the peak. I also didn't want this to ever end. I knew it would be our last time. I was savoring the feel of her pussy around my dick. Like the image of her face, I was trying to memorize this feeling. Eventually, my dick overruled my brain. Felicita gave a loud cry as she came again, her pussy squeezed my dick, and I filled the condom. It was over. The last love rubber had fulfilled the purpose for which it had been made.

We held each other for a few minutes, savoring each other's touch. We both knew we had to get up. We had to go to the airport. There was a Soviet jet waiting to take me back to the free world. Outside these walls, reality was waiting to pull us apart. I got up from the bed with great reluctance. My erection had subsided, my dick hanging sadly. The condom, heavy with sperm, also hung in mourning. I looked at her pussy, the lips open from my penetration, her opening leaking fragrant juices. I bent down and gave it a last kiss, a last suck for her clit, eliciting a last moan from her lips.

We dressed in silence, watching each other. She didn't clean up. She wanted to stay wet, to feel that we had just made love. She wanted her pussy to wet her panties. It was a reminder of me. If she could have done it, I think she would have preferred to have my sperm leaking out of her pussy at that moment.

When we were dressed, we hugged in the room one last time. I looked around, thinking about all that had happened inside these walls. We walked out, silence now enveloping our love nest.

I checked out of the hotel and asked for a taxi to take us to the airport. Our bags were taken to the front door and a bellman hailed a cab. It was a late model Mercedes; the driver spoke excellent English. Now that I was leaving, I found the locals who spoke English. "Jose Marti," I told the driver and we were off.

Felicita held my hand tightly and whimpered softly. She was holding my hand too tight, and her grasp was sweaty. I wanted to be uncomfortable. I wanted to feel her there. All too soon, I would be alone. Very alone. And so would she.




Havana Club Ch. 06



I hardly noticed the sights on the ride to the airport. I was looking straight ahead, or at Felicita. I kissed her cheek from time to time, kissing away salty tears. When she recognized that we were approaching the airport, she suddenly turned to me and pulled me into a passionate kiss, our tongues locked in a duel. We separated as the taxi slowed in front of the terminal. I paid the driver, tipping him generously. I opened the door, the whine of jet engines assaulting us. We got out and the driver got our bags out of the trunk. We walked into the terminal, its red décor a stark contrast to the blue of the arrival terminal. There were a few shops, some televisions and check-in counters. Most of the counters belonged to Cubana Air. There were also soldiers. Green uniforms were all around us. I checked the signboard and saw that my flight to Cancun was still on time.

I directed her over to a line where I had to check in. When it was my turn, the lady behind the counter checked my papers – my ticket, visa and passport. She asked for Felicita's papers. I told her that Felicita wasn't on the flight, she was just here to see me off. I asked if she could come with me to the gate. The lady looked wide-eyed for a moment, before explaining that I had to go through Immigration to get to the departure lounge. Felitica could go no further without an exit visa. I felt Felicita sag next to me. We would be saying our goodbyes here, sooner than expected. I was told to be sure to pay my departure tax at the government office and get a stamp before I went through Immigration. I asked how long I had before I needed to do that. The lady looked at her watch. "Twenty minutes," she said without emotion. Twenty minutes. A lifetime wouldn't be enough time. I nodded, collected my paperwork and we walked off to our left.

The government office had a sign over it proclaiming "Airport Tax", in Spanish and English. There was a sign in the window, another of the enigmas. U.S. Currency Only. I guess they didn't take any of that funny Cuban money here, either. Or maybe, this was another of the "dollar stores" – off limits to ordinary Cuban citizens. I paid my tax, receiving a shiny holographic stamp on my boarding pass. Permission to leave the country. Felitica couldn't have one of those. We walked out and strolled around the terminal, trying to make the most of what little time we had left.

I led us to the largest shop. I bought two bottles of Havana Club rum. I would find a way to smuggle them back. They reminded me of Felicita. Havana Club – El Ron de Cuba. I stuffed them into my suitcase. There were postcards for sale on a revolving wire rack. All of them were portraits of Che Guerva. Strange souvenirs in a strange land.

It was time. We had to say goodbye now. I knew it. Felicita knew it. She was trembling as I turned to her, tears again beginning to draw lines down those lovely cheeks. I felt like a condemned prisoner being led to my execution. This was something I did not want to do but I had no choice. I had to leave her.

"Felicita," I started. She looked at me, trying hard not to cry but not succeeding. I reached into my pocket, feeling the large wad of cash. "My company gave me money to pay for my expenses in Cuba. I didn't need to spend as much as I expected to. My boss will not know this. I want you to have what is left." She started to protest, but this time I put my finger on her lips. "Take it. Use some to get home. Use the rest for whatever you want. Meat, clothes," she almost smiled at that one, "something special to remember me by, whatever you want. I wish I could give you everything. I can't. Not yet. Someday..."

She surprised me. As my voice trailed off, as I ran out of things to say, she picked up the conversation, in a clear steady voice. "If there must be happiness, if there must be love, if there must be smiles, it can only be with freedom and dignity." The sweetness of her voice as she said that would be a memory that would stay with me. I just nodded, the lump in my throat making speech impossible at the moment. I took the money out of my pocket and pushed it in her hand, using my other hand to close hers around the roll of twenty and hundred dollar bills. It was more money than she earned in many months. It would buy her a better life for a long time. It would be more useful to her than to me.

I swallowed, tried to wet my mouth enough to speak, then managed to say, "I love you, Felicita."

"I love you, Christopher," she said to me, her eyes tearing up as she studied my face.

We embraced, and we kissed one last time. We made it last for minutes, neither wanting to be the one to end it. Finally, I knew I had to leave. I didn't want to, but I made myself pull back. I looked deeply into her eyes. "I'm coming back, Felicita," I said as I touched her cheek. She took hold of my fingers and kissed them. I turned and walked into the Immigration booth. Behind me, I could hear her sobs. I didn't dare look back.

"Did you enjoy your stay in Cuba," the dark-haired lady in mint green fatigues asked me cheerily. 

Did I enjoy my stay? Totally. I just hated leaving. "Yes, it was very nice," I answered.

She smiled as she stamped my paperwork. I tried to look pleasant, but all I could think about was hoping that her government would hurry up and fall so I could return. She wished me a pleasant trip and the lock on the exit door buzzed. I stepped through. The lock clicked behind me, sealing me off from Felicita.

I walked into a normal looking airport terminal. There was a snack bar, gift shops with better merchandise, a large bar and, beyond that, the gates. This area was exclusively for the international travelers. No ordinary Cubans even got to see this part. It was as if I was already entering the free world. Behind me, behind the barriers, Felicita was probably still standing there and crying. Here, life was getting back to normal. Well, not normal. I didn't think my life could ever be normal again after leaving Felitica. I walked to the bar and ordered a mojito. I drank it, hoping that the rum would numb the pain I was feeling. I had a second one. The pain was too great to be numbed so easily. The taste of the Havana Club only made me think of Felicita's t-shirt. I wondered if she had left the terminal yet.

After trying to desensitize myself with the mojitos, I walked on to my gate. At check-in, my paperwork was again checked thoroughly. An announcement was made in several languages that no passengers would be able to board the plane unless they had their airport tax sticker. As I waited for my flight to board, I walked around so no one would see me crying. I saw one last reminder of the embargo that wasn't. The display screens that the gate attendants were using to check in passengers were all connected to Compaq computers. I laughed through my tears. "What embargo?" I asked one last time.

My flight was called. I got in line. We shuffled forward slowly. Cubana Air employees were again checking every passenger's paperwork. I looked through the glass windows at the plane. Heavily armed soldiers were patrolling the landing gear. Having passed the latest scrutiny, I was allowed to enter the jetway. When I reached the door of the aircraft, a soldier with an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder was making the final check of papers. He looked about sixteen years old. He took my papers in his right hand and examined them. His left hand held onto the sling of his rifle. I was used to normal airport security where guns were prohibited anywhere near the aircraft. Here, guns were used to keep ordinary citizens from rushing aboard the aircraft and escaping the tyranny. My paperwork passed final scrutiny and I was waved on to the door. I glanced at the Cyrillic evacuation instructions on the inside of the door, bent down to pass through the low opening, and stepped onto the plane.

Inside, I found my seat at a window. I looked out the window, again wondering if Felicita had left for home yet. I imagined her crying in the backseat of a taxi as she rode towards home – and away from me. I felt tears running down my cheeks again. I touched them and felt the wetness, knowing that her cheeks felt the same way right now.

The plane left the gate and took off. I felt a new pain, a new separation, as the wheels lifted off Cuban soil. I looked out the window, trying foolishly to spot her taxi. Once we were up in the air, I leaned back against my seat, closed my eyes and tried to think about nothing. I was unable to clear my thoughts. Images of Felicita flooded my mind. I opened my eyes sometime later, just in time to see Cabo San Antonio pass beneath the plane. I had left Cuba, and Felicita.

My arrival in Mexico was without incident. I deplaned and joined the mob waiting to go through Immigration. When it was my turn, I had the presence of mind to try to avoid getting a visa stamp in my passport. I didn't want to have to explain to a U. S. Customs Agent where I had gone while I was in Mexico. The Mexican agent checking my paperwork looked like the kind of bandit you would see in an old western, bushy mustache and all. I tried to sound pleasant and friendly.

"I just came from Cuba," I told him. He knew this from my papers. "I am an American. Is there any way I can not get a stamp on my passport?" I was nervous now. I was trying to bribe a federal official. Sure, this was Mexico and bribes had a way of being a part of everyday life here, but it was still a crime. Unless he accepted the bribe.

The gringo behind the counter smiled at me and said, "Sure, amigo. I will take care of you."

"Thank you." I took a deep breath before saying the next words. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He answered without even looking up from the papers on his desk. "Yes, amigo. My fee for this is twenty dollars, U.S." None of those funny pesos for you, eh, Gringo? I thought.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved a twenty-dollar bill. I put it on the counter. He never looked up.

"No, no! Pick it up! I will get in trouble if anyone sees that! I will tell you when to give it to me." As he said this, he never skipped a beat shuffling paperwork.

After a few minutes, he casually slid a stack of papers to my side of the counter and said, in a whisper loud enough for only me to hear, "Put the money under the papers." I did. He waited a minute before he pulled the papers back off the counter and down to his desk. From where I was standing, I could see him reaching under the stack and sliding the twenty into the middle desk drawer. I wondered how many twenties found their way in there every day.

"Everything is fine," he told me with a smile. "There is no need to stamp anything. You can go."

I thanked him, breathed a sign of relief and made my way to customs. Another line. This time, I got lucky. When it was my turn to play traffic light roulette, I got a green light and didn't have to open my bags.

"Welcome to Mexico," the female customs agent cheerfully told me.

I took a taxi to the hotel and entered my room for the first time in almost a week, for the first time since meeting Felitica. This room seemed too quiet, too empty. I sat down on the bed and collected my thoughts. As much as I missed Felicita, I still had a task to finish. I picked up the phone and dialed my office. I asked for Ross and was connected to Agnes.

"Hi Agnes. This is Chris. May I speak to Ross, please?"

"Sure, Chris. How is Mexico?"

"It's Mexico. Hot, bad water, spicy food, good music."

"Sounds wonderful. I'll get Ross for you."

There was a click, then "Chris! How are you? Where are you?" I could hear the happiness and relief in his voice.

"I'm back in Cancun. Mission accomplished."

"Great, partner. You sound tired. Take some time to relax on the beach. Did you have any problems?"

"None worth mentioning," I lied.

"Great to hear it. We'll do the debriefing Monday. Have a good weekend."

"You, too. I'm going to rest now."

"OK, bye."

The line went dead. I put down the phone, lay face down on the bed, and cried. At least in crying I knew I was sharing something with Felicita. She was probably doing just that at that moment. In Cuba.

I spend much of the afternoon alone in the room. Finally, I decided that the room was too empty without Felicita. I needed a change of scenery. I took a walk outside, to the beach. I looked to the east, to Havana, to my Felicita. The waves upon the sand made a melancholy sound, a lonely sound. I found a few shops, buying two cheap bottles of rum and some souvenirs. I put my purchases in my room and returned to the beach; I walked until sunset, wondering if Felicita was looking towards the sunset, and towards me, that evening. As darkness began to descend, I made my way back to the hotel and ate dinner alone for the first time since Sunday.

After dinner, I went back to my room. I opened the two bottles I had bought earlier that afternoon and poured the rum down the drain. I refilled the bottles with Havana Club. I knew it would be dangerous to try to smuggle the bottles with Cuban labels. I had a better chance using these bottles. As I poured, the aroma of the Cuban rum brought back memories of her.

I packed the souvenirs. They would be needed to keep up appearances. I still had to convince U. S. Customs (and my friends back home) that I had actually spent a week in Mexico. Next I hooked my digital camera up to the television and reviewed the photographs I had taken. I spent a lot of time looking at the pictures of Felicita. My heart ached when I looked at the pictures of the two of us together, Tearfully, I touched the cold glass of the screen, wanting to feel her. The cold of the television screen was nothing like the warmth of her body. Seeing her didn't make me any happier, just emptier. I finally got into bed and drifted off to sleep with her nude body still on the TV.

When I awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. The batteries in the digital camera had long since run down and the TV screen was dark. I thought about her, about what I had done with her just yesterday morning. I missed her so much. The loneliness was a physical thing. Thinking about her did make my morning erection even harder. I got up, swapped the batteries with the ones in the charger, and found a picture of us making love. I went back to bed and masturbated as I looked at the picture and remembered the previous morning. When I came, sperm shot up and onto the sheets. In my mind's eye, I was shooting into her tight pussy.

I got up and showered – alone this time. I got dressed and left for the airport. I was going home.

The greatest risk still lay ahead of me. I had to get back into the United States. Assuming I didn't raise suspicions in Customs, I should have no problems. Otherwise...

I presented my passport to the Mexican official for the fourth time in a week. My tourist visa showed I had just entered Mexico from Cuba. This was the last evidence of my actual trip and it would be left here in Mexico. A few stamps later, I was finally aboard the plane.

As I flew back to the United States, the plane passed north of Cuba. The pilot made an announcement that those on the right side of the plane could see Havana. Before my life had changed, before this week, I would have been glued to the window, looking and taking pictures of the "forbidden city". Now, I only glanced over casually. I could see the skyline, hazy in the distance. In my mind's eye, I saw the streets as I knew they looked. I saw a yellow scooter being driven by a brown-haired girl. She was crying softly – and so was I.

On the flight, the stewardesses handed out landing cards. I filled out mine. I got to the question that made me pause. List all countries you have visited since leaving the United States. I wrote Mexico. Next, I read the section that said, "Under penalty of perjury, I declare that all statements made by me are correct." I signed my name. I had just committed one more crime. I had lied on a customs document. Perjury is a felony.

Fear nagged me from the back of my mind. I tried to push it away. Appearing overly nervous in Customs was the kiss of death. I kept thinking of Felicita. If I had any chance of seeing her again, I had to keep my trip concealed. That got me through. The agent asked a few questions, mostly routine. I lied to the agent and said I had been to Mexico. Well, I had been there. Before and after. I just left out the part in the middle. He let me go and I was back in the United States. I was home free. After all the worry, all the fear, all the concerns, the passage through U. S. Customs was almost a letdown. I guess it was like the embargo. It was imagined to be a lot worse than it actually was. It had been the fear of the unknown. I had done it. I had earned my partnership. I missed Felicita.

When the taxi dropped me off at my door, I walked into the empty living room. I smelled that funny smell of a home that had been closed up for a few days. I thought of how I had felt when I left there a week before. I had made it back after all. Well, most of me. I had left my heart in Cuba, in the care of a brown haired girl. I knew I was going back to get it. Someday.

On Sunday, I copied the pictures from the digital camera to my computer. I separated the pictures of Felicita, burning each set to a CD, then making a backup copy of each disc. I went through the pictures of her. I had many pictures, some of her, some of us, even pictures of her naked and of us making love. I knew which picture I was going to frame for my bedside table and for my desk. It wasn't one of us together on the seawall. It wasn't us making love. It was the view I saw when I was falling in love with her. It was the picture I took from the back seat of the scooter, of her driving, of the back of her t-shirt. It just showed a side view of her face. This was the way I wanted to remember her, wearing her Havana Club t-shirt, with gold hoop earrings, and sunglasses perched atop her light brown hair.

Monday morning came and I returned to work. I felt hollow as I entered the familiar building. Something was missing. When I got there, I stopped off at my office and put a framed photograph on my desk. After selecting the perfect spot where I could see it all day long, I went to see Ross.

Agnes gave me a big smile. I think she still didn't know the true nature of my trip. She commented that I looked tired, and maybe not well. She asked if I had a difficult trip. Difficult? I told her it was fine, I had a nice time. I just hated coming home. It was the truth. She accepted that and gave her usual cheery smile.

Ross was behind his desk, waiting for me. He stood up, smiled broadly, and extended his hand as I walked in. His smile faded as he saw the look on my face.

"What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. He could see it in my face, probably even in the way I carried myself. I couldn't hide the sadness I carried.

"Everything's alright. I did what you wanted. I have all the information, all the pictures. We're ready to go when conditions warrant."

He still wasn't convinced. "Your face tells me something isn't right. Close the door and sit down. Let's talk."

I closed the door and sat in one of the chairs facing his desk. I took a deep breath and began to speak

"While I was in Cuba, I met a woman and fell in love with her. We spent a week together; she was a great help to me. That I accomplished as much as I did there is because of her. We both knew I had to leave at the end of the week. Now, all I can think about is going back to her."

All through my confession, Ross just listened and nodded. He was like a father, getting all the facts before trying to give advice. I told him about how I met Felicita, how we worked together. I told him how I promised to return to her. I talked for a long time, revealing a lot of things I would tell a close friend, but not an employer. I became a lot closer to Ross during that conversation.




Havana Club Ch. 06



When I finished, he seemed lost in thought for a few moments.

"That's quite a story, Chris," he finally said. "I can tell how you feel about her. I'm sure you know that, as soon as it is permitted, you're going back there. In the interim, we'll have to see if we can arrange more covert visits." He smiled as he said that, and I smiled for the first time since I left Havana.

"Thanks," I said with a lump in my throat.

"Now, we have to get some business done. Go back to your office and get caught up on messages and e-mail. We'll meet after lunch to start your debriefing. I'm sure you realize that you can't talk to anyone else about your trip. We maintained your cover story about Cancun. No one outside of this group knows where you really were. I'm going to bring Agnes in to take notes. We can trust her. That will be it."

I nodded in agreement and stood to leave.

"Chris?" he started. I turned. "You're going to see her again."

"Thanks."

"I can't say when, but I'll help all I can."

I nodded and walked out.

I had the usual week's worth of messages and e-mail waiting for me. A few friends stopped by to ask about my trip to Mexico. I had been there before enough times that I was able to create a cover story with sufficient details that I could remember. I tried to keep my sadness from showing. I think everyone passed it off as fatigue. As I worked, I kept looking at the picture of Felicita and wondering what she was doing at that moment.

After lunch, we met back in Ross' office. William was there, as well as my old boss, Mike. The original group. Agnes joined us. To her credit, she didn't show much reaction as she took notes and learned about the true nature of my journey. I outlined what I had learned, how there were excellent opportunities for us in Cuba. I also showed the digital photos I had taken (without the ones of Felicita). A few of the pictures had her on the edge of frames, like the ones I took from the scooter as she drove. There were a few comments like, "Who's the cutie?" Ross looked at me quickly with a concerned expression the first time. I passed it off by explaining that she was my driver and that women held many of the same jobs as men. No one caught on to what she really meant to me.

We started building a Crash File. This was a package of documents that had all the details necessary to quickly "crash" into a new market when it opened. I would be responsible for keeping it up to date until the time when it would be needed. It had information on getting into Cuba, the locations I had targeted as potential office locations, lists of products we could send into Cuba, and products that we could ship out. It was a kit that could be grabbed quickly when the time came for me to return to setup shop. I also included the photographs and sketches of locations that I recreated from memory. I also had a lot of notes from my palmtop computer that I included.

Ross made a point to suggest that I periodically revisit Cuba to keep the information current. There was agreement among the group members, making my heart leap for joy. I was going back! I thought.

The debriefing went on for three days, covering almost every aspect of what I had learned. During this time, I was also asked things like, "What was Cuba really like?" Cuba was a forbidden land, and held a special fascination because it was a place we couldn't do business in, or even visit. I was careful to talk about my trip without mentioning my time with Felicita.

After the debriefing concluded and the Crash File was complete, work started getting back to normal. I had new responsibilities with my promotion and I buried myself in my work. I didn't see the need for as much of a personal life anymore, without Felicita. Ross noticed this and called me in a few times to encourage me to take part in outside activities. I was making a lot more money now, but I didn't see any need to spend it on anything. Every facet of my life focused on waiting for the day I could see Felicita again. Encouraged by Ross, my friends made sure I did spend some time away from the office doing the things I used to like doing. My heart wasn't fully in it, but I made the effort. My life wasn't boring; I just had a lonely heart.

One day, about a month after I got back from Cuba, I was called into Ross' office. William was already waiting, and Ross didn't look happy. He didn't look mad, but more sad or disappointed. He told me, with pain, how the President had taken a stronger stance against Cuba and in favor of the embargo. It seems that there were accusations against the Cuban government over new human rights violations. Fidel's government responded with renewed venom in their verbal attacks of the United States. What progress our governments had made over the last twenty years or so was lost. Funding was finally made available to actively prosecute illegal visits to Cuba. Licenses for legal visits were also seriously curtailed, and now just about impossible to get. It would not be possible for me to return with any degree of safety. William looked curiously at me when he saw my reaction to that news. Ross looked at me, I nodded, and he explained about Felicita as I sank into my chair and sulked. I even had to be more careful about keeping my journey secret. I could still be prosecuted for what I had just done.

It was then that I got a new respect for William. He dropped the lawyer front for once, and showed genuine compassion for my plight. He did, though, admonish me not to try sneaking in again. I knew he was right, but I didn't like the fact any better. Both of them were supportive, but the end result was that my prospects of seeing Felicita were, for now, down to zero.

That afternoon, I called Ross.

"I have a lot of vacation time saved up. I want to take a trip," I told him.

"Now, Chris, don't try anything foolish. You know what –"

"I know that," I said coolly. "Don't worry. I don't want to get a felony conviction on my record and eliminate the chance of seeing her again when Fidel is gone. I just want to get away for awhile."

Ross talked to me a little, probably to make sure I was sincere about not trying to sneak back into Cuba. When he was convinced I wasn't going to try something stupid, he told me to have a nice trip.

I booked a flight to Miami that afternoon and left the next week.

In Miami, I picked up a rental car and drove down Highway 1. The road headed south, then west. Leaving the mainland, I drove down the causeway from island to island, heading for the end of the road. When I finally reached Key West, after four and a half hours of driving, I took the left fork in the road. I threaded my way along the south coast towards South Beach. At the corner of South and Whitehead streets, I parked the car. I took off my shoes and socks, and walked across the warm sand to the edge of the water. I had arrived at the southernmost point of the United States. I could drive no closer to Felicita than I was right now.

I looked just slightly west of south, out to sea. In that direction, Cuba was only ninety miles away. It was over the horizon; I could see only water. In my mind, I could see over the horizon to a city skyline. I saw the streets and, on the street, a yellow taxi driven by a brown-haired girl. I stood there, feeling the gulf waves lapping at my feet as sunset approached. I was imagining the seawall along the Malecon. I was holding Felicita in my arms as we watched the sunset together. I stood there until the sun dipped below the water. I stretched out my arms. Tears ran down my cheeks as I thought of the woman who was out of my reach.

"I'm coming back, Felicita," I said to the waves as darkness fell around me. "I'm coming back. After Fidel."

The End

Epilogue

Well, here we are at the end, dear reader. Thank you for taking this journey with me. Felicita taught Christopher how to love. Now he has to make use of that knowledge. As I was writing the story, I wanted Christopher to have a happy ending but I knew it wasn't possible in the timeframe of Havana Club. We leave our hero now on the lonely sands of Key West.

I'd like to publicly thank two friends, MrSpock and Terry Steyaert. It is because of the dedication and work of these two that you don't find more errors in my stories. They have provided countless hours checking each chapter before you read it. I am very grateful for their help.

Is this the end of Christopher's story? No, there is more, but he will have to suffer first in loneliness, just like his namesake, the patron saint of travelers, taxi drivers and bachelors. Like Christopher, we will also have to wait because I'm going to take a short break now. I need to tend to some real life duties, and I want to write a few other short stories. We will share in his anticipation. In about a month or two, I will continue Christopher's tale. I will announce the posting of the first chapter in Nick Scipio's forum and on ASSTR in the Spotlight section. Will Christopher find happiness? Yes, in time. Will it be with Felitica? Well, in the immortal words of the great Nick Scipio, "you will have to read to find out." Many things can change over time. One thing, though, is certain. Remember the last sentence of the story. You will see it again.

Strickland83

June 2004