birthday.'
'His birthday? Luis stopped wrapping. 'Flowers don't mean a thing to dogs, you know, madam. Not a thing.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Dogs are colour-blind. That's a scientific fact. And they can hardly smell flowers at all. Food, yes. Roses . . . Well, you might as well give him a photograph. Or a book,'
'Young man, you are being extremely impertinent.'
'Madam, I'm only telling you the truth. I mean, if you want red roses because you like red roses, that's different, that's understandable, take these. But if all you want is to make your animal happy I can think of many better ways: nice juicy bones, scraps, perhaps hot gravy -- '
'All right, all right, Cabrillo . . .' The florist had arrived, flushed and flurried. 'I'll take care of this.' He thrust Luis into the back room. Luis didn't wait to be told; he knew by now what that grating tone of voice meant. He moved on and got a dreadful job clearing tables in a sleazy hotel
dining-room, quit after three days and was hired as a room service. waiter by a much grander hotel. There, at the age of slightly more than sixteen, he lost his virginity.
The event took place in an expensive suite on the fourth floor. Breakfast had been ordered. Luis took up the tray and found a youngish woman, still in bed. She was astonishingly beautiful, like the glossy stills of filmstars he'd seen displayed outside cinemas: lustrous red hair tumbling around a fresh, provocative face; brilliant eyes; shining lips; dazzling teeth. She told him, huskily, to put the tray on a bedside table, and as he walked across the room he felt enormously elated, as"if a vast audience of tens of thousands was watching him.
'Can you stay for a little while?' she asked, turning towards him.
'Yes, of course.' Luis noticed that her shoulders were bare, and his heart began to hurt his ribs. 'Do you want me to ... Do you need something ...'
She smiled so happily that he found himself instinctively smiling back.
'Oh, I think so,' she said. Her long, slender naked arm came out and tugged at his trousers, 'I want you to take off those silly clothes.'
His fingers trembled and stumbled. The waiter's uniform was disapproving and awkward. A button sprang off the jacket. A shoelace locked itself in a knot. Sunlight flooded the room, and street-sounds reached him distantly and harmlessly, as if from another world. Luis, trying to step out of his underpants, got his left foot caught and had to hop strenuously to save himself from falling over.
At last he was out of those silly cloches, shivering a little for no reason of temperature, breathing more deeply than necessary. He stood for a moment, toes worrying the carpet, and felt his skin make a million tiny shifts and adjustments to the touch of the air and the pleasure of her gaze.
The sheets were silky, cool as liquid. She was unexpectedly warm, almost glowing, and thrustful. Luis was not very good but that didn't matter because she soon took charge, and she was more than good: she was astonishingly, outstandingly marvellous. She led Luis on a grand tour of her universe: first gliding, then flying, then falling, then climbing; diving, racing, strolling, teetering, shimmering, stalling, flaunting, brawling, storming, pounding, blasting, bounding, surging, soaring and, at last, bursting. It was magnificent but it was not what Luis had imagined it would be like. There were no overwhelming spiritual insights, for instance. He had expected a new vision or two, yet the image which swamped his brain at the end was of himself plunging into a colossal bowl of melting cherry ice-cream. Still, he was grateful.
'Are you hungry?' she asked.
'Yes.'
'Good.' She stretched that slender, naked arm again and touched the coffee-pot. Not hot. 'Go into the bathroom and get dressed,' she said. 'I shall send for more breakfast.'
They ate together, she propped against a hill of pillows, he sitting on the side of the bed. He watched her all the time, seeking a flicker of animal passion
'His birthday? Luis stopped wrapping. 'Flowers don't mean a thing to dogs, you know, madam. Not a thing.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Dogs are colour-blind. That's a scientific fact. And they can hardly smell flowers at all. Food, yes. Roses . . . Well, you might as well give him a photograph. Or a book,'
'Young man, you are being extremely impertinent.'
'Madam, I'm only telling you the truth. I mean, if you want red roses because you like red roses, that's different, that's understandable, take these. But if all you want is to make your animal happy I can think of many better ways: nice juicy bones, scraps, perhaps hot gravy -- '
'All right, all right, Cabrillo . . .' The florist had arrived, flushed and flurried. 'I'll take care of this.' He thrust Luis into the back room. Luis didn't wait to be told; he knew by now what that grating tone of voice meant. He moved on and got a dreadful job clearing tables in a sleazy hotel
dining-room, quit after three days and was hired as a room service. waiter by a much grander hotel. There, at the age of slightly more than sixteen, he lost his virginity.
The event took place in an expensive suite on the fourth floor. Breakfast had been ordered. Luis took up the tray and found a youngish woman, still in bed. She was astonishingly beautiful, like the glossy stills of filmstars he'd seen displayed outside cinemas: lustrous red hair tumbling around a fresh, provocative face; brilliant eyes; shining lips; dazzling teeth. She told him, huskily, to put the tray on a bedside table, and as he walked across the room he felt enormously elated, as"if a vast audience of tens of thousands was watching him.
'Can you stay for a little while?' she asked, turning towards him.
'Yes, of course.' Luis noticed that her shoulders were bare, and his heart began to hurt his ribs. 'Do you want me to ... Do you need something ...'
She smiled so happily that he found himself instinctively smiling back.
'Oh, I think so,' she said. Her long, slender naked arm came out and tugged at his trousers, 'I want you to take off those silly clothes.'
His fingers trembled and stumbled. The waiter's uniform was disapproving and awkward. A button sprang off the jacket. A shoelace locked itself in a knot. Sunlight flooded the room, and street-sounds reached him distantly and harmlessly, as if from another world. Luis, trying to step out of his underpants, got his left foot caught and had to hop strenuously to save himself from falling over.
At last he was out of those silly cloches, shivering a little for no reason of temperature, breathing more deeply than necessary. He stood for a moment, toes worrying the carpet, and felt his skin make a million tiny shifts and adjustments to the touch of the air and the pleasure of her gaze.
The sheets were silky, cool as liquid. She was unexpectedly warm, almost glowing, and thrustful. Luis was not very good but that didn't matter because she soon took charge, and she was more than good: she was astonishingly, outstandingly marvellous. She led Luis on a grand tour of her universe: first gliding, then flying, then falling, then climbing; diving, racing, strolling, teetering, shimmering, stalling, flaunting, brawling, storming, pounding, blasting, bounding, surging, soaring and, at last, bursting. It was magnificent but it was not what Luis had imagined it would be like. There were no overwhelming spiritual insights, for instance. He had expected a new vision or two, yet the image which swamped his brain at the end was of himself plunging into a colossal bowl of melting cherry ice-cream. Still, he was grateful.
'Are you hungry?' she asked.
'Yes.'
'Good.' She stretched that slender, naked arm again and touched the coffee-pot. Not hot. 'Go into the bathroom and get dressed,' she said. 'I shall send for more breakfast.'
They ate together, she propped against a hill of pillows, he sitting on the side of the bed. He watched her all the time, seeking a flicker of animal passion
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