Twisted Classics

That Sexy Brazilian Lady-2

When I’d been here, three months ago, to examine spaces, she’d been the one to show me around the park we’d be using for the opening party. It was a new park in the center of the city that boasted an amphitheater large enough to hold the thousand or so attendees who’d be there to talk about the rainforest and make recommendations about saving the environment. Even then, at the first meeting, she’d been warm and friendly, touching my shoulder and taking my arm to point out certain details around us.

We’d taken a boat ride up the sss to see sites that might be used in our off-site excursions: places where the tropics were being destroyed to make way for big industrial complexes, and tracts of land where the rainforest was being protected from destruction. Throughout the three days I’d been there, she was beside me explaining everything. She had hugged me whenever I thought something was exciting or that could be incorporated into the conference.

She was so damned touchy-feely, that I had almost fired her. But that would have been unprofessional of me. She had the knowledge and the ability that we needed. My own personal discomforts had to be overlooked.

That first weekend, at the airport, she placed a soft kiss on my lips as we said goodbye. It could have meant many things. I was used to the European kisses on both cheeks. But this wasn’t Europe. It had been enough, though, to flame my fantasies on the eight hour flight home.

When I’d arrived this time, she’d greeted me like a long-lost friend with hugs and kisses. I’d felt a definite attraction, but counted it as the local custom: Brazilian women are very intimate in their interpersonal relations. I’d just have to get over it. I was behaving like a puppy-love-struck hormone-overwhelmed adolescent. We had to get work done. The attendees would be here in three days.

We had all checked into the hotel and were getting everything set up. I had asked her if she needed a room here.

“That would be wonderful!” she’d exclaimed. “It will save me from driving to get here early and allow me to stay late.” So I booked her a room, too, as far away from mine as I could.

We had chosen the rooms we’d use for office space and I set up my desk area. I’d share the room with my friend Allen, who handled the finances and Gillian who scheduled rooms for lectures and meals. Allen and I were the only two in the crew that were gay. We spent most of our free time together on these trips, investigating the few gay bars or clubs that we ran across. We’d both been to gay bars on six continents. We also kept our eyes open for potential dates for each other. We knew what the other liked.

Gillian had gone up to speak with the kitchen supervisor.

“I have to call Robbie right after dinner. I can’t believe how much I miss him,” Allen mentioned as we were getting settled.

“You haven’t been gone twenty-four hours yet,” I reminded him. I sighed. “It’s hard to believe you have a significant other now.”

“Maybe a husband, soon,” he said with a sly smile. “You should try it some time. It’s a lot better than worrying if you’re gonna be spending the weekend alone.”

Allen always tried to convince me that married life was the best thing since sliced bread. Personally, I liked tearing chucks off the loaf.

“Maybe I’ll try it sometime. No promises.” I laughed. “Just let me get through this conference without going crazy.”

Allen looked at me. “Is something happening next door?” he asked softly, gesturing to the next room. Rafaela would be working there to schedule transportation and deliveries. I’d already told him about my first impressions and if anyone knew what I was thinking, it was Allen.

I shook my head. “She’s married.”

“But this is Brazil!” he exclaimed.

“Tell me about it.” I picked up a stack of papers to bring into the room where Jim would be entering everything into our computers.

The following two days were hectic. No one had a chance to sit down. Each night after dinner, everyone immediately went back to their rooms to get some sleep. I went back to my room, too, but sleep was hard to get. I tossed and turned thinking about Rafaela and her flirtatious looks and comments. If I didn’t start getting some sleep, I’d be no good for the next ten days. Come on, get it together. You know she’s off-limits and she’s straight. Stop even wishing.

But every night, it always ended the same way; I’d stoke myself while I fantasized until I fell asleep from exhaustion.

* * * *

All the attendees had arrived and gotten into their rooms. It was hectic as usual but there were no major snafus this time. Everyone seemed pleased and the hotel hadn’t been bombarded with phone calls requesting changes or additions of any kind. I’d have to compliment Rafaela for that. She was outside, coordinating all the buses that would bring everyone to the opening ceremony and party in the park.

The whole opening event was astonishing. The local company Rafaela had suggested had made this whole place look, sound, and feel like Mardi Gras. The catering staff was exquisite and everyone was starting the week on a high note. If this kept up, we’d have a successful conference.

Individual boxed trays of food were passed to each person as soon as the opening speeches had ended. By the time the meal was ending, the band was playing and the bar was open.

Rafaela walked up to where I was standing, watching everyone have a good time. She took my drink from my hand and set it on the table.

“Dance with me!” she cried and grabbed my arm to pull me onto the dance floor. She twirled around to the loud, raucous local music. I got caught up in the excitement and joined her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her movements as we danced. I knew Brazilian dancing always looked s****l but the suggestive moves she made had me so turned on that I had prayed the glow on my face would be blamed on the heat of the weather. I knew I was staring but it didn’t matter. I was having fun as I blatantly watched her intensely s****l movements.

Let it go, I told myself. This is a party. Everyone is supposed to be happy. No one will notice anything about how you’re acting. Tonight may be the only night this week where you can let your hair down. Just have fun!

I threw myself into the dancing and let myself go.

Later that night, when we returned to our rooms, I berated myself for not taking the one chance I’d have in the next few days. I could have held her on the dance floor. No one would have noticed, or even cared. Why had I passed on that opportunity? Fool!