The first time it really hit her, Rosa was in her teens.
The children were spending their summer vacation at the sprawling García ranch at the foot of the sierras, and on a particularly hot afternoon, she had gone bareback riding with Soledad, while the rest of the kids stayed behind playing children’s games. Daring each other, they ran the horses hard and far from the house.
Under the August sun, riders and horses were sweating profusely when they happened upon a peaceful crystal-clear pond fed by one of the numerous creeks splashing down the nearby mountains. They looked at each other, grinning with delight at this wonderful gift from nature.
Leaving their animals to graze and drink, they shed all but their bras and panties and entered the inviting and transparent water. The pond’s rocky bottom was no deeper than three feet, so they ducked up and down, splashed, and threw water at each other, laughing merrily. Then Soledad began unfastening her bra.
“The other day I found an American magazine in my parents’ room and it had pictures of a woman swimming naked in a pool,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Let’s do it, Rosa! Let’s see how it feels!”
“Are you nuts? Someone might see us!”
“Come on, Rosa, there’s no one around here. We’re out in the boondocks, you know it. But if someone comes this way we’ll see him first and get dressed in a flash.”
After looking around to make sure there was no one in sight, Rosa decided to risk it.
What the hell, she thought.
In seconds both of them were cavorting in the nude, sharing a moment of total liberation.
The jumping and the splashing around intensified, the taut breasts bouncing reluctantly, and at some point the girls stopped playing and, standing erect, openly contemplated each other’s nakedness. What was probably normal curiosity for the younger Soledad as she visually explored the light brown body in front of her, it was an explosion of new feelings and emotions for Rosa.
The clear water and the bright sun added a glimmering sheen to Soledad’s rosy-white skin, and her wet eyelashes trapped the light, enhancing the celestial blue eyes with a touch of magic. At that point, Rosa couldn’t stop herself from following the water droplets cascading down Soledad’s body, over her firm, gravity-defying breasts tipped with rose-colored areolas lusciously punctuated with hard and excited nipples. Sliding her eyes farther down, Rosa’s breath hitched in her throat when confronted with the small triangle of soft, auburn pubic hair heralding the way into a paradise she couldn’t even dare imagine. And now, washing over her was not the water, but the heat of an overwhelming, burning, aching desire for Soledad.
Right then, the stern face of the nun who taught her at school flashed across her mind and she now fully understood the meaning of the word that had been drilled into her:
It was in that precise moment that a new and terrifying internal nakedness flashed up, mirroring her outside one. Not knowing how to handle this curse from hell, afraid Soledad could somehow read in her eyes the intense turmoil she was experiencing, embarrassed by what she felt was beginning to run between her thighs, Rosa inhaled deeply and ducked into the cool water in a desperate attempt to put out the fire burning inside her.
“God help me,” she pleaded underwater.
“The Devil is here,” she heard the nun say. “Leave right now.”
Rosa walked out of the water with a pounding heart and contracting stomach, and making a beeline for her clothes, she told Soledad, “I’m cold… it’s getting late… we’ll get in trouble… come on, Sol… ” She struggled into her panties, bra, and the rest.
“What’s going on?” Soledad asked, coming out of the pond with disappointment on her face.
Taking a last, unveiled glimpse at the golden Madonna who had launched her into unchartered territory, Rosa jumped spread eagled on her horse and kicked the horse’s sides with her bare feet. Seconds later, on the firm, hot back of the moving animal, she couldn’t help bending forward as the muscles of her lower abdomen tightened strangely, involuntarily, and an overwhelming pelvic sensation made her shudder and moan.
Jorge Torrente Cabrera was born and raised in La Habana, Cuba. His father, Juan, was a Social Studies university professor and later one of the founders of the Cuban Academy of Sciences. His mother, Lydia, an elementary school teacher and homemaker. In 1972, he graduated M.D. from the University of Havana’s Medical School and several times during those years contributed to the school’s magazine. In 1980, Jorge left Cuba through the Mariel Sealift and settled in Miami, Florida. For the past five years he has lived in Jersey City, N.J.