The small market town of Tecomitl can be found on the far outskirts of Mexico City. It is not the most interesting of places, but it has a nice square in the town centre with plenty of shaded benches where a person can sit and while away and afternoon, which is what I was doing the day that I met Maria de la Luz.
I saw her first, and in my mind's eye I can see her now, strolling across the square. She stood a good 5' 5" which is tall for a Mexican girl, especially one who was more American-Indian than European, and Luz was certainly that as her lustrously shining red skin proved. Most Mexicans have a colour that can best be described as faded brown, but Luz had avoided that thanks to the better than average admixture of native genes that she obviously carried in her body.
What a body it was, a firm, wriggling size 12 delight, with breasts that moved sensuously against the confines of her cream short sleeved blouse. Looking down her hips were contained by a black skirt that fitted her to perfection and which ran down to her knees. I noted that she wore hosiery, which is unusual in that part of the world because of the heat, and I can remember wondering if the black nylon had been made into stockings or the abomination known as tights?
I could see that she was walking in my general direction and I begin to frantically think of something to say that would delay her long enough so that I could go into my chat-up routine. My brain was still trying to engage itself, a difficult process given the circumstances, as my cock had basically taken over all my bodily functions. Luckily for me as the gods were clearly smiling on me that day because the lovely young thing paused near my bench, looked around her as if she was truly trying to spot a vacant place to sit, and then with a slightly perceptible shrug she sat herself down on the other end of the same bench that I was occupying.
"Hello," I said, in Spanish. "My name's Nick." Not the best or most original opener, but it was honestly all I could think of at that moment.
"I am Maria de la Luz," she replied.
"Well, you certainly light up this square."
Luz smiled at my play on her name, which means light in Spanish. her tongue came out to lick her ripe full lips, and then she sat back, fingering the curls of her thick auburn hair that fell in heavy waves down to the middle of her back. Of course it was dyed that colour, since just about all native Mexicans have hair that is thick, black and straight, but it suited her to perfection.
"What is an Englishman doing in this small torn of ours?"
"How the devil did you know that I am English? Most Mexicans assume that I am an American."
Luz laughed out loud at my outburst, and to cover my confusion and give myself something to do I lit a cigarette whilst I waited for the explanation that I guessed was coming.
"You ate at the small stall over there a few days ago," Luz explained, pointing to a food stall that I had indeed eaten at only recently. "My cousin was also there and she heard you talking to the woman who runs it. You are 35, you work at a university, and you are from England," she concluded clapping her hands together in delight.
"How old are you?
"26."
"Do you work?"
Luz shook her head: "I was a housewife, mother to our two children, but then my husband left me for a younger model," she concluded with a lob-sided attempt at a grin.
"How long were you married?"
"Eleven years... I was just 15, the carnival queen that year," Luz explained as if that answered everything.
Actually it did because a carnival queen is the target of every young buck in her district who all want the status of having bedded her. Luz went on to explain that with her mother's help she chose the likeliest looking young fellow around, the one who did not drink too much and who came from a family where the women did not get slapped around too much either. The problem was, of course, that these attributes made him a tempting target for Luz's younger rivals a decade later and one of them has grabbed the prize leaving Luz without a meal ticket.
I nodded my head in genuine sympathy. British women try to forget something which Mexican women are only to willing to acknowledge which is that a woman of thirty has pretty much reached her fuck by date. In Mexico any man who has the wit not to drink, to work steadily so that he always has an income, and not to beat his woman too severely can be pretty much guaranteed a steady succession of prime young pussies all anxious to lighten his burden. Luz had used her whiles to grab her man and now someone younger had displaced her.
It also explained why Luz knew so much about me. She was obviously on the lookout for a new man, and I must have seemed like manna from heaven to her. Face it, she had two children, so hardly any Mexican would take her on as anything other than a casual poke and I suspected that Luz was after something more permanent than that. I decided to test out my theory with a few simple notions:
"I am married, but I rather fancy having a lovely mistress to light up my life."
Luz smiled by way of reply.
"Are you discrete?
"That is almost a part of my name," she said, quietly and evenly, her eyes unblinking as she held my gaze in hers.
"Would you like to go for a quiet drink?"
"Yes please."
So off we went in my car up into the hills to a nice bar that I knew.
To be continued
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