DAY ONE
An icon in the erotic poetry genre, she needed no introduction. Although we had never met in person, I was expecting them and recognized her immediately, standing away from the airport carousel The chocolate-brown curly locks cascading over her face told me it was her and other had to be her cousin Eva. As I strolled over to greet two ladies. I saw them whispering in each other's ears. Big brown eyes opened wide in surprise, then her lip turned up to join her visual appraisal of me.
There was a brief verbal exchange and she turned to flash daggers at her companion. "Oh no!" my inner voice told me, "She's dissatisfied with me." The long-awaited meeting with my pen pal, my friend, would be profound disappointment. She must have seen the expression on my face as her hand covered her mouth in surprise. White teeth flashed a wide smile as kind eyes reassured me.
A tall young man strode towards her, paused, and then kept walking, the height contrast exposing she was a little lady. Good things come in small packages. When a guy sees a petite woman, his instincts kick in to protect her. In his eyes she is more feminine, and he will feel stronger and more appreciated for taking care of her. But small girls are fierce, she could be intense if you crossed her. I know that.
First impression? Maria did not look as I had pictured her. For one her skin was a warm Mediterranean tone, smooth without blemish, not quite olive but certainly not the Nubian trace I expected. Her eyes revealed a maturity that belied her young appearance. A well-defined face accentuated plump lips.
"Maria, I always knew you were more amazing than the shy girl you saw in the mirror. My head cannon was a spicy Chiquita, beautiful, brilliant poet/temptress. In person you are striking! That 19-year-old diva grew into a radiant woman, wife, and mother. The years have been a friend to you," I had not expected to speak so boldly.
I wasn't sure if her look was doubt or gratitude. She stared in amazement, as though I was a talking animal. I realized she had never heard my voice. Cousin Eva began to explain: "he knew nothing of the phony encounter. God's truth, Maria. I have known your secret for years, but never told anyone, did I? I saw you had a friend, or should I say follower in California. When you found out about the Writer's Guild at the San Diego Comicon, you looked so animated. I thought I could hitch a ride and get a fresh start on the West Coast. But I didn't know anyone, and you wouldn't take this step on your own."
"I began to write Martin pretending to be you. At first, he was a little suspicious of my style, so I kept the messages brief. He seemed like a decent, dependable guy and never pressed me, especially after I told him about the trip. He was excited about the chance for me (you) to explore my (your) true passion to be a writer,' Eva defended.
I broke in, "Now I understand your panic, Maria, you thought this was all a ruse."
"And you Eva, this is wrong! Even though I'm delighted to meet Maria in person, there are potential consequences. We are both married. I never even considered we would hook up, and I know she didn't want to cross any barriers. What do we do now?" my face flushed as I searched for an answer.
Some explanation was in order. We were more than pen-pals but had drawn a bright line to avoid becoming friends with benefits. Our personal lives were an open book, but there were unwritten rules not to talk about our marriages and not give out photos or contact info. And not try to meet-up.
Maria's focus was her little family of three and was she very close to her parents, even though she was a grown woman. None of them had any inclination she was a successful, self-professed 'popular porn playwright.' She once penned to me, "you must know that I'm very shy and a major introvert. If I had a choice, I'd never leave my house."
I broke the rule about discussing family life when I wrote Maria to tell her about my wife's affair. I decided not to kick her out because of the three children. I couldn't bring myself to talk to my friends and Maria helped me get through a difficult time. Maria also suffered from bouts of depression. Resisting the urge to "fix the problem" like a leaky sink, I did my best to support, encourage and remind her she was not alone, that we all had seasons, spring, summer, fall and winter.
"Well Maria, what say you?' a phrase familiar to us.
"Let's start by saying, hello, hello, it is nice to finally meet you" Maria's voice melodic and sweet. And the way her tongue flicked the roof of her mouth when she pronounced 'hello' drew my eyes to her full succulent lips.
"You are the siren in the poem I shared with you "I stammered, "that voice, that lovely voice. You could read the phonebook and knock me off my feet."
"I don't know about that," she giggled sending shivers up my spine. Maria smiled and held out her arms to welcome me. Indoor air conditioning at the San Diego airport at mid-morning was cooler than outside. We had dressed suitably for July, her in a tank top and both of us in shorts. I lifted the five-foot one dainty into a warm hug, large soft breasts flattening against my hard chest. First contact was satisfying for both. She made no attempt to break away as her hands clasped around my neck.
Ironically, she never corrected me when I had written that the stories about babes that always had mammoth breasts were not realistic. Maria guessed what I was thinking as she giggled, "yes 36DD's," My ears burned with embarrassment, Maria never let on that she was aware of my secret fascination with big sloppy naturals.
Mustering my will, I stepped back and threaded fingers through her ringlets, turned our heads down slightly, and drew our foreheads together, her legs wrapped around my hips.
Finally pulling us apart I took both ladies by the hand to lead them to collect the baggage. Maria may have thought I was being macho picking up all the luggage, pulling four on rollers and carrying others. Truth-be-told that brief body to body connection gave me an embarrassing erection which I was trying to hide. Even when I broke contact, I drew in the fragrant strands of her almost waist length braids, one perfectly out of place, and drank the minty scent of her breath. I had to get a handle on myself.
The encounter reminded me of my very first experience walking through the gates of the Magic Kingdom when I was a boy. Recalled were the wonder and explosion of smells, sights, and sounds. Those fancies were stored in a remote area in my brain. As an adult I had never expected to behold the real Maria, much less have a chance to be with her for a few days. Fantasyland indeed, my senses were overloaded by her womanhood. If I had to combine everything into one word, it would be magical.
The exertion of struggling to balance the bags and not make a fool of myself brought oxygen into my brain. "Keep cool Marty, don't blow this," I told myself. Fortunately, Maria displayed her usual unflappable composure, so I didn't read anything into her coy smile. I must have looked ridiculous, that was all.
Our procession led to the curb where my friend Jim was waiting in his Kona Blue 2011 Mustang, convertible, top down. He jumped out to help me fill up the trunk, Maria and I climbed into the back seat of the coupe, bare legs touching. "Which way to the Casbah?' questioned Jim without turning.
The girls made a reservation at Hotel Pacifica one block from the ocean and nearby the venue. When we went to check them in, the office was packed with a crowd of people shoulder to shoulder. Row by row of flustered tourists closest to the desk were being turned away. Hotel had been ridiculously overbooked. Eva pushed herself to the front only to find the situation was hopeless. Lodgings in San Diego usually fill up in the summer, but the present-day overpopulation was more like Spring break.
Maria stewed, "What are we going to do? Is the same thing going to happen at Comicon? I have been waiting a year since they announced a literary faction would become part of the festival. I always make the sacrifices, for my family, my career. When is my turn for fun?"
" I thought you were attending writing seminars. Show me your tickets, see, you have number 50 for today. I don't expect the mass numbers because your interests are quite different than the comic crazies. If you are not attending the main events, then there won't be a horde of people."
