That Night in Havana with Margarita

Part 2

When I first got interested in dancing to sensuous Latin music I had fantasies about someday meeting a beautiful woman and dancing the night away to the sound of romantic guitars and seductive jungle drums.  When the dancing ended we would spend the rest of the night making uninhibited, passionate love.  Well, Margarita turned the fantasy into reality.

I'd lost all track of time as we danced that night in a Cuban ballroom, and had begun to wonder if it wasn't all just a magical dream that would sadly end when I woke up.  But Margarita brought me back to the reality of the moment when she asked, "What you want to do now?"

"Do now?" I asked, unsure of what she meant.

"The salón is closing," she said with a serious look.  So what you want to do now?"

Well, I certainly knew what I wanted to do — but didn't have the nerve to come right out and say it.  Nonetheless, I took a deep breath and said, "Well, would you like to come to my hotel room?"

"She looked rather shocked at the suggestion, as she pulled away from me and said, Oh, no. They would not allow that. Eet would be against hotel rules."

At this point the next question seemed obvious.  "Could we go to your place?"

This suggestion seemed to shock her even more. "No, no — imposible. My brothers would keel you!"

"Uh, okay," I said, still trying to come to grips with the fact that she was not telling me the night was over and it was time for us to part. "Well, is there someplace we could go?" I asked.

At this she smiled and said, "Well, there is a leetle hotel not far from here. And they don't ask no questions."

"Okay," I said rather hesitantly, wondering if I had enough money for the hotel — and also wondering if she was expecting to be paid as well.  (She wasn't.)

"Bueno," she said, as she took my arm and snuggled close to my side.  Eet ees thees way," she said, pointing down a side street.

The lobby of the small hotel was empty except for the clerk behind the desk.  Margarita released my arm and went directly to him and said a few words in Spanish that were too soft for me to hear.  The clerk just nodded and said a couple of words in return.

Margarita turned to me with another serious look and said, "He needs seex dólares."

Well, not too bad, I thought as I reached for my wallet.

The clerk then handed Margarita a key and a folded up sheet.  She smiled as she motioned for me to follow her up a flight of stairs.  When we reached the room she handed me the key and snuggled my arm again.  I unlocked the door.

The small room was clean, and the covers on the bed had been turned down.  Margarita pulled the covers the rest of the way down and unfolded the sheet she'd be given to put over the bed's bottom sheet.  Then she gave me another smile and said, "Okay. Here we are. What you want to do?"

Well, I certainly knew what I wanted to do, but was still the shy guy I had always been and was having trouble getting the words out.  Then I noticed a radio on the night stand next to the bed, and said, "Why don't we dance? I'll turn on the radio and see if I can find some good music."

"¿Quieres bailar?  she asked with an incredulous look.  Then she began to laugh as she said, "Okay, turn on the radio."

So I did.  It took no time at all to find a romantic bolero, since Cuban dance music seemed to be playing on every station.

I turned to take Margarita in my arms, but she backed away and said, "Eet ees warm in here. ¿No quieres disvestirte?"

"Well, okay," I replied. "Let's get undressed."

She smiled as she sat down on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes.  I began to take off my shirt.

Then she stood up and removed her skirt, sat down and began to take off her stockings.  I was so entranced with watching Margarita undress, that I was having trouble finding the buttons on my shirt.  As the skirt slipped to the floor, my attention was drawn to her panties, which were very sheer and almost completely transparent.  I found the view of her mound of dark brown hair to be so stimulating that I began to think maybe we should forget the dancing and get right to it.

When she removed her blouse and I saw that her brassiere was as transparent as the panties.  The sight of her hardening pink nipples had me so excited I had trouble getting my shoes and pants off.  However, I finally did — and stood there in my Jockey shorts, which were being stretched completely out of shape and in danger of having a hole punched in them.

Nonetheless, I was able to smile and say, "Shall we dance?"

Margarita laughed again, pointed at my shorts and asked, "How you gonna dance with that thing in the way?"

I drew her into my arms, and said, "Well, let's try."

We danced for a minute or two, but Margarita couldn't stop laughing.  You gonna leave those shorts on all night?  she asked.  I'm gonna take mine off."

So I did likewise.

I was going to offer to help her out of her bra, but she had it off before I could say anything.  Then she took me by the hand and pulled me onto the bed.  We held each other in a tight embrace and rolled around on the bed and drowned each other in kisses.

Finally, we stopped to catch our breath and lay side by side on our backs.  I then began to think of all I had read and heard on the subject of foreplay, and wondered what I should do next.  But the decision was made for me when Margarita said, "Now."

"Now?  I asked.

"Sí, now!  she repeated, as adjusted her position slightly and spread her knees.

"Okay," I said, "now, and moved into position on top of her.  Then it occurred to me that nothing had been said or done about "protection.  I decided I'd better ask.  "Shouldn't I be using a — you know, a rubber?"

The question seemed to upset her.  "What — you think you get sick from me? No — you don't get sick from me!  Then she repeated even more firmly, "Now!"

So we did it now.  My main concern was to prolong the pleasure, but I was not too successful.  I was so overcome with the excitement of the moment and my feelings for Margarita that my self-control was definitely out of control.  (However, I did better as the night went on.)

And my feelings were not just that of a guy who met a girl one night and got lucky — I felt that I had fallen totally in love with Margarita.  One thing that stands out vividly in my mind was her body motion as we made love.  She arched her back and moved her hips in a figure-8 motion that was exactly the way she had moved them when we danced.  Sensuous, rotating hip-motion has always been an integral part of the rumba, and even more so when dancing to a romantic bolero.

How ironic, I remember thinking.  I had suggested dancing a little before having sex — which she thought was funny — but here we were doing a passionate horizontal bolero in bed.

Another thing I vividly recall was Margarita biting my neck and frequently moaning, "¡Ay, qué rico!"

When she sensed I was about to explode inside her, she wrapped her legs around me and thrust her hips as far forward as she could, and cried, "¡Sí, sí, sí!"

Then she relaxed for a moment, and gently rolled me off to one side.  Then she took a deep breath, got up, and went into the bathroom.  She left the door open, so I followed her in.  I was totally unprepared for what I saw.  Margarita was straddling a low ceramic device that looked sort of like a toilet with no lid and no tank.  I had never seen a one of these before, nor had I ever heard of one.

"Why you look surprised?  she asked. Thees way I no get embarazada.  (For those unfamiliar with Spanish, embarazada means pregnant.)

Well, I remember thinking, that could be a debatable theory, but I was not about to question her on it.  "I've never seen one of those," I said.

"What — you no have these in America?  she asked in surprise.

"Well, maybe somebody does, but I've never seen one."

"Okay," she said, as she noticed I was already getting hard again.

She used a towel to finish her ritual, and said, "Okay. We do it again?"

"Right, we do it again," I said, as we went back to what turned out to be one of the most memorable nights of my life.

At one point, as were resting side by side, Margarita said, "¿Cuántas mujeres?"

"How many women?" I repeated.

"Sí. ¿Cuántas?"

"How many women — what?" I asked, puzzled by her question.

"¿Cuántas mujeres - antes?"

"How many women before?"

"Sí. How many women you have sex with before?"

"Ninguna," I replied. Tú eres la primera."

"¿De veras? ¿La primera?" she squealed with delight as she rolled over on me, gave me a big hug, and kissed me at least a dozen times.

Margarita not only gave me my first time, she was thrilled that she was the one who had given it to me.

I had to be on my way back to Camp Stoneman, for assignment to Korea, and never saw Margarita again.  I've often wondered what might have happened if I had been able to stay in Cuba for a few days and get to know her better.  I think I would have proposed marriage.  To me Margarita was much more than a one-night affair, and I've had loving thoughts of her ever since.

A few years later I had an interesting encounter with another señorita. Marta in Puerto Rico - She Threatened to Kill Me...