Would you leave witness protection …

 

4

Excerpt from VANISHED in the Sun   

Chapter 3

Werthers18L03in@lrzzz.com

Every day Mia and I say thanks for everything you have done for us. You saved our lives, and we will never forget you. You found a safe place for us, and it’s very peaceful and fun here. Sunny weather like Mexico, tourists too, so nobody pays much attention to us. I think Mia’s happy.

I walked down the cobblestone streets to the ocean late in the evening last night. Someone followed me, but when I turned around it was only a young boy of seven, maybe eight. I think he was hungry. So, I stopped and sat on a bench and invited the boy to share Orelletes. These are lemon cookies with lots of sugar. Mia loves sweets, and they are the first things she learned to make in this paradise.

He had no shoes, and his eyes were so sad. I’m sure he lives on the streets. He wouldn’t speak to me, but he took the cookies. I’m going to find out if the orphanage can help him. I know he will be back looking for me. I remember what it was like to live on the streets of Zihuatenejo when I was six.

It’s good that you are letting me email you.

Yes, Mia knows we chat, and she is not jealous!

 Lucia’s iPad mini was encrypted. Without the correct password and process, no one could read the emails Carlos, or anyone for that matter sent to her. Raven had set her encryption up when he and his team became involved in the rescue and subsequent disappearance of Carlos and Mia.

She treasured the connection she’d formed with Carlos over the years. And as part of her journey, she was re-reading many of the emails Carlos had sent her over the last few months and some of the personal ones Mia had posted so many years ago.

Everything shifted in her personal life when she received that first email from Mia. Rescuing Carlos and Mia had been the beginning of the end of her career as an FBI agent.   She remembered that very first email like it was yesterday.

Mia; Puerto Vallarta. February 2012

 There is a great sadness surrounding my friend Carlos. I have known him for a few years now. I love him in ways I cannot explain, even to myself.

Once we became physically and emotionally involved, I knew he needed to tell his story. I asked him to try to write it down. He thinks he is telling his story to me. But I believe that in writing down his feelings, he might find peace and start to heal from his horrifying journey.

Anyways, what I think is not essential. This is about Carlos.

I am sending you my journals also, including our emails to each other.

This is very emotional for me. You will read many things between the lines. Most of them will be accurate.

He helped me save my life. So, I want to help him keep his.

I live by the philosophy that there are no accidents in life. If there are past lives, as some people believe, then this is the continuation of that life for Carlos and me.

Be patient with him and please try to understand. He is a beautiful person. He has spent a lifetime suppressing his feelings.

Stephen King, a favorite author of mine, once said that a story is like a fossil hidden in the ground waiting to be unearthed. Sometimes you dig with a shovel. Sometimes you search with a tiny brush. It’s taken me years to sift through his story and his life.

I have changed many names to protect Carlos. He does not yet realize the repercussions of his narrative. He is in many ways innocent and in other ways an old soul. I know you will find that hard to believe as you read about his life. Is it possible that I am the naive one here?

In any case, this is a story of love, of violence, of death and the sickness that afflicts our society today.

I hope you can find it in your heart to help us.

Lucia looked down on Sin City. The pilot turned on the seatbelt sign and announced the approach to Las Vegas McCarran International Airport.

Landing was smooth and easy. Yet, her heart was racing. She grabbed her carry on and slipped quickly off the plane. People walked with purpose, the excitement of dreams of big wins buzzed in the air. She walked past several vending machines, listened to the ding of slot machines, and grabbed a package of caramel Werthers to feed her insatiable sweet tooth.

The headlines on the daily news rags touted the war on terror, the war on drugs and speculation on the presidential campaigns, all of which were ultimately tied together if the world were ready for the truth. But these problems were no longer her life. She was formally retired and happy to say goodbye the stress of living in the USA. She’d earned her freedom. And she’d given up a husband to terrorism, and a police officer father caught in drug war crossfire in Texas. It was enough. Time to make a clean break and go home.

The limos stood in line awaiting those that lived to gamble and those that gambled to live. Lucia’s life had also been a gamble, but cards, dice, and horses didn’t do it for her. She walked half a block and slid into the first available cab.

“The Bellagio.”

“You must be from NYC.” The taxi driver smiled into the rear-view mirror.

“Why?”

“It’s the no-frills, let’s move it attitude. I’m from there too.” Like the Brooklyn accent and the Yankees cap wasn’t a dead giveaway.

“Really? Wow.” Lucia yawned and popped another Werthers into her mouth.

“Yep. Retired here fifteen years ago. The missus and I married forty-two years, five kids, and eleven grandkids. Took an early buyout from the telephone company. We don’t miss the cold for one minute.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Yep, and a good thing too.”

“What’s a good thing?” Lucia sighed.

“The buyout. After me, the company eliminated jobs, cut back. You know, cell phones took over. Hardly anyone has a home phone anymore. Companies merged. Yeah, if I’d hung in there, I might have lost my pension altogether. You? What do you do?”

“I work for one of those cell phone companies.”

“Oh,” hardly a pause. “Here for a convention?”

“No. Just a quick trip to see a friend.”

“Uh huh. What’s your poison?”

“Poison?”

“Yeah. Cards, craps, roulette, slots. What game do you give your money to?”

Lucia laughed. “I like poker.”

“Really, I would have said blackjack.”

Lucia returned to her cell phone and feigned interest, scrolling with intensity. She was small-talked out. She closed her eyes and pretended to nod off.

Chapter 4

“Welcome to the Bellagio!” A young stud, working as a doorman, no doubt able to procure anything your heart desired, attempted to help Lucia with her bag.

“No thanks. I’ve got it.” Lucia paid the driver, nodded her thanks and exited the cab. The doorman had already moved on.

She moved along with the crowds, pulled out the straps on her carry on and hoisted the bag onto her back.

For the next fifteen minutes, she blended in with the oohing and aahing tourists, mesmerized by CélineDion show tunes and the thousand dancing water fountains in front of the hotel. As the music culminated in a romantic 460 dance into the air, she slipped away without a backward glance.

She took a quick right down on Las Vegas Boulevard and dropped her old cellphone into a garbage bin wrapped in photos of Cirque du Soleil’s Mystère. She continued walking towards the Cosmopolitan Hotel then stood in line for the taxis.

She entered the next available cab. “The convention center please.”

Ten minutes later, she walked into the FED Ex on Hughes Center Drive.

“Parcel for Mary Lou Jones.” She handed over a business card made last week in NYC.

The senior citizen desk clerk returned from the back of the store with a large bulky envelope.

“Sign here.”

Lucia stuffed the envelope in her bag. She exited the FED Ex store, turned right, and walked seven minutes to the Fashion Show Mall.

Twenty minutes later she had a new cell phone with prepaid minutes, a skin-tight black t-shirt, a pair of black GAP distressed jeans, a jean jacket, a baseball cap and sunglasses. She paid cash.

She undressed in the east end washrooms by the food court and folded her old clothes into the new plastic GAP bag. She casually stuffed the bag through a bin set up for donations for the homeless located near the food court.

She took a quick food break trying to decide between a salad and tacos.

“You only live once.” She smiled at the young Hispanic chica behind the counter. She added a diet Coke, and potato chips to her order of carne asada with chili and guacamole. She found a lone table in the mass of orange plastic chairs filled with hordes of ravenous mostly overweight people.

Back to the garish tile wall, she was afforded as much privacy as she needed to nonchalantly open her brown envelope and study its contents.

A driver’s license with her photo in the name of Margaret DeSantos, and a Visa credit card matched four business cards. She peered into a secondary envelope but did not pull anything out. Inside, she could see a Mexican passport in the name of Luce Garcia Espinoza and a Bancomer Visa. She checked out a driver’s license from Mexico City, Distrito Federal in the same name. Then placed it back in the package. The pictures were recent. She’d emailed them from a private server set up by Raven. The new black Raven iPhone, no doubt carrying hidden features, was a bonus.

She knocked off her tacos, drank her diet Coke, and put the chips in her pack. After a quick online search on the burner phone she’d bought, she made a call.

Lucia smiled to herself. Talk about a seduction. Top-secret servers, ability to issue passports, driver’s licenses and set up credit cards, definitely got her juices flowing. And of course, she now knew that Israel used Raven to secure the transfer of Mia and Carlos out of the country to witness protection. It was the only way they could be totally safe until all the arrests had been made in the Diaz cartel family.

She moved the DeSantos Visa and driver’s license into her jacket pocket, cleaned up her trash, tossed a Werthers into her mouth, and strode to the mall exit.

A lone chubby security guard admired the hot woman with the long black hair and formfitting black jeans as she moved through the revolving doors out into the lights of nighttime Las Vegas Blvd.

 


Vanished in the Sun is on a KCD right now  $.99 cents or FREE to read on Kindle Unlimited. 

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Captivating, entertaining, and exciting!

In case you missed this deal!

1

Excerpts from

Lie to Me an exposé on sex for money    only  $.99 cents KCD

“Somewhere in this romantic little seaside town, a woman was preparing for an evening of pleasure. Nervous no doubt, maybe it was her first time. She showered and perfumed her body, trying to ignore its flaws. She applied her makeup perfectly. Her mask was in place. She shivered slightly, a moment’s hesitation over the evening to come, worried just a little about the act she was about to perform. Would he meet her expectations? Would he be gentle, would he please her? Was she being stupid and foolish? Would it be safe? As she sipped her glass of courage, there would be a knock at her door. Her body tingled in anticipation. There would be no turning back now.”

 

 

What reviewers and readers are saying:

“a spellbinding story that explores the psychology of sex in a way that defies Coelho’s Eleven Minutes.”

“Lynda Filler’s novel is character-driven, emotionally intense, and packed with action, a story that explores male psychology regarding sex and a woman’s quest to redefine her identity in a world of twisted morals, where men are driven by the quest for orgasm. “

“The emotional and psychological conflicts are well-explored in this novel and they are at the heart of the plot.

“The characters are exceptional, written with depth, and a lot of humanity is injected into them.”

“Lie to Me: An Exposé on Sex for Money is insanely captivating, entertaining and exciting.” 

 

$.99 cents on Amazon 

Lie to Me an exposé on sex for money     

“Explode onto the page”

pexels-photo-320006

One of the best parts of my job as a professional book reviewer is discovering new indie talent, but even more importantly watching that writing talent grow and mature over the years and the books. This is very much the case with this author, Lynda Filler. I had read some of her earlier books and although I enjoyed them and I had a feeling there was something special about her writing and her stories, it is only now, with her latest book, Lie To Me, that I can see that talent literally explode onto the page and excite me, as a reader.
Lie to Me, is a hard-hitting, powerful story about male prostitution in Mexico, as told through the eyes of Layla, an American writer who lives in Puerto Vallarta and writes, freelance for a magazine in the US, and also through the individual male prostitute’s perspectives. Layla is fascinated by both the older men and women who come to Mexico looking for sex and the young, Mexican men who provide it for them, for a fee. What motivates them and how do they cope with the emotional attachments that so often invariably form? Layla also has her own personal demons and is convinced that love, especially with a young Mexican man, is not only silly but counterproductive to her work. she loves the sex, but shuns the attachments, or at least tries desperately hard to do so.
Lie to Me is incredibly well written, tight, taut, descriptive, and everything I’d expect from a long-time, well-established, professional author. It thrills me to see the depth of the writing and the emotions Filler is now able to extract from her work. This is a wonderful story of an alternative lifestyle that may well be eye-opening for some, but fascinating nonetheless. For me, it gave me an insight into a world I knew existed, but like Filler, I guess I wondered how it all worked for the participants. I wonder no more and that is totally due to Filler’s excellent work.
I would definitely recommend this read to anyone who has secretly yearned to escape the rat-race, if even for a short time and indulge in the pleasures and the exotic mystery of another race and culture. With Lies to Me, you can do that, without any attendant risk. A fantastic read and all credit to the author, Lynda Filler. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with next.
5 Stars.  Grant Leishman

Readers’ Favorite

 

5star-shiny-hr PRINT

I wrote this novel when I was in one of my ‘moods.’ It’s risque, very different for me, almost uncomfortable in its rawness and blatant sensuality. I truly felt like a voyeur…as if this story came through me–had been sent to me by my Muse–a story that must be told and yet I almost published it under a pen name. When I sent it to my editor I asked for an honest opinion. She said she loved it. It’s always the readers and reviewers who matter to me so I went ahead and released it this week.

This is my first Editorial Review. I’m insanely thrilled!

5 STAR

 

Lie to Me: An Exposé on Sex for Money by Lynda Filler is a spellbinding story that explores the psychology of sex in a way that defies Coelho’s Eleven Minutes. Layla Duncan is a magazine writer, a forty-something woman obsessed with digging into why men sell their bodies for money. Her quest to understand the trade leads her to Puerto Vallarta, a dream world for her, with the affordable cost of living and exciting things to do. But the moment she takes leave from work to have time for herself is when she meets the charismatic young Mexican guy, Mateo, a man whose charm quickly rubs off on Layla. They find themselves in each other’s arms before they are fully aware of what is going on. But what should have been a one night stand soon transforms into frequent hookups that make the professional, opinionated woman question many things she has grown up believing.

Lynda Filler’s novel is character-driven, emotionally intense, and packed with action, a story that explores male psychology regarding sex and a woman’s quest to redefine her identity in a world of twisted morals, where men are driven by the quest for orgasm. The emotional and psychological conflicts are well-explored in this novel and they are at the heart of the plot. The characters are exceptional, written with depth, and a lot of humanity is injected into them. It’s hard not to like the inquisitive and outgoing Layla, but her encounter with the laid-back, easy-going Mateo changes the allure. Lie to Me: An Exposé on Sex for Money is insanely captivating, entertaining and exciting. It’s the kind of book that entertains readers while forcing them to review their sense of reality. A must-read!

Reviewed by Romuald Dzemo for Readers’ Favorite   5 STARS

Layla & Omar NEW RELEASE TODAY

pexels-photo-458527

Why couldn’t she be honest with herself? She knew, from the moment she’d left the house, where she was going. Two blocks over she found it. La Noche. The sign was a wolf howling into the moon. She felt like a wolf on the prowl.

She pushed through a group of young men sharing a joint at the front door. Trendy Guadalajara youths hunched around intimate café tables playing dominoes and looking cool.

She heard him before she saw him.

A smiling waiter found an empty table in the corner close to the band. “Cómo estás, señorita? What can I get you to drink?” Two boys at the table beside her, still wearing their shorts from the beach, looked her up and down with half-closed bloodshot eyes.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here without a boyfriend?”

“Why? You want to apply for the job?”

The one with dreadlocks tried a seductive focus in on Layla. But she was laughing, so he gave up.

“No, I got a job already. I work on the beach at Los Muertos doing the parasailing trips. My friend Manuel runs the boat. Have you ever gone parasailing? You know, where you get strapped into a harness and you sail up into the sky while the boat leads from the ocean.”

“No. I haven’t. I want to do it sometime, but I’m too nervous.”

“Well, I will take you up for free! But then, you have to pay me to bring you down!”

“Very funny.” Layla gave them a smile, a kind of sloppy, stupid grin. They weren’t the only ones under the influence. She should really order a coke.

“Hey, we’re thinking of going to the Zoo. Do you want to join us?”

“No, I don’t even know you guys.”

“Come on. You’ve been talking with us for at least five minutes. What’s your problem? If you like us, we will even pay you for sex!”

Layla laughed. Fun. She needed some fun in her life. At first, she thought they were joking. But they weren’t laughing. Did they think she was a hooker?

“What’s the going rate? And I suppose you want me to go with the both of you at the same time?”

“Hmm, what do you think, Manuel? It depends. What do you like to do? They call me Ricki, by the way, nice to meet you.” Ricki put his arm around Layla and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They were really quite charming, considering their proposition and the fact that they were drunk.

“Well, actually, it would have to be at another time. I’m waiting for my novio. He’s a Federales officer and should be here any minute.” The waiter chose that moment to bring over her wine.

Instantly, the arm came off Layla’s shoulder.

“So, I think we should go. Hasta Luego. Let’s go, Manuel. Nice meeting you.”

She glanced at Omar playing his guitar. He had long dark fingers, lovely hands. She had been too busy checking out his body to notice his hands before. His voice was strong and focused; totally lost in his music. He sang from his heart with a depth of passion she hadn’t expected.

He turned slightly, maybe sensing he was being watched. She wanted to touch his silky ebony curls. He looked into her eyes. She flushed, her lust taking over.

Why had she come? This was stupid. She was in need of serious self-talk. Don’t act like a groupie. No, that’s not working. What about his age? He’s beautiful and hot, age never stopped her before. Okay, so none of that’s helping. Here comes the low blow: think of what he does for a living.

He finished his set and placed his guitar against the stand. Layla took a sip of her wine while he made his way over to her table. He was dressed all in black. She pretended to be cool, but a gorgeous dark Mexican man dressed in an Armani black t-shirt and pants? She was fucked. He could tell just looking at her face.

He leaned down and kissed her slowly on the cheek, his hand lingering possessively on her neck. She reached up, twisting his hair around her fingers and moved her head until their lips met. Her nipples hardened instantly.

“Layla. I’ve been waiting for you.” He pulled a chair closer to Layla so their legs touched. She could feel his heat. She didn’t move away. She didn’t want to.

For once, Layla didn’t feel like talking. Sometimes, she just wanted to feel.

The waiter put a tequila shot on the table.

“You’re very quiet, Layla.” Omar downed it quickly. “I have an idea. My place is very near here. We can walk. I will play some of my music for you. Let’s go.”

 

They walked hand and hand down the almost deserted Old Vallarta streets. Just around the corner from the Fajita Republic, they stopped at a steep set of stairs. Omar pointed to the staircase.

“Do I have to carry you, Layla, or can you walk on your own?”

“Very funny. I only had a little pot and little booze. I’m fine. Just walk behind me and watch my back in case I stumble.” Layla started up the steps. Her jeans hugged her butt and she knew it.

“No problemo. I will watch your back anytime, señorita.”

At the top of the stairs, a doorway led into Omar’s apartment. He struggled with his key. Nervous.

Two guitars sat on his bed; sheet music on his pillow. A half-burned candle and a half-smoked joint lay side by side on his night table.

Layla picked up a chunk of pink quartz in the shape of a heart.

“I got that from the interior here in Mexico.”

A funky ceramic lamp covered with a blue, green, and purple cotton pareo cast a nice soft and romantic glow around the room. An oversized poster of Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones covered the wall above his bed. His studio apartment was neat and smelled of incense. Not what she had expected at all.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Omar turned the key in the lock and walked to the fridge in the kitchen area.

There was a chair by the table where more sheet music lay half completed. Other than that, the most comfortable spot looked to be the bed. Layla chose the bed, dropping her shoes as she made her way over to its edge.

“Don’t have a lot to drink, but vino blanco and some beer. Which would you prefer?” He smiled in acknowledgment of her choice of seating.

“Just water. I still need to make my way home.” She laughed self-consciously.

“Don’t worry. I will make sure you get home okay.” He handed her a glass of ice water.

“Sing something for me.” She smiled as she bunched the pillows together and leaned forward into them.

“Sure. Let me play the first song I ever wrote. It’s in Spanish. A love song, actually. I was sixteen when I wrote it.” Omar began to strum his guitar.

Even though it was in Spanish, Layla loved it. When he finished, she applauded and asked for a translation.

“Well, it kind of goes like this. It’s called ‘It’s Time to Let Me Go.’

 

Now that we are over, remember only the good part.

Remember how I loved you.

Forget how I hurt you.

Remember how we longed for each other when we were apart.

Remember how we ached to touch when we came together.

Forget the lies, the deceits.

Remember only the good parts.

Remember how we loved to make love, how we touched each other.

How we slept holding each other in our arms.

Forget the nights I didn’t come home.

Remember only the good parts.

Thank you for everything,

the love I never had before,

the love you gave me

and the love I could not return the way you needed

Remember only the good parts.

I will carry your love with me.

Forever in my heart.

 

“That’s beautiful, Omar.”

Layla stretched out across his bed.

Omar continued playing, soft and romantic melodies. Lost in the music, he closed his eyes and thought about the words. When he opened them, Layla had fallen asleep.

_______________________________________

New Release Introductory pricing: $2.99 Thanks!

 

 

Voyeur

 

pexels-photo-360419Excerpt:

 

Mateo

HE FOUND HIMSELF standing outside her door, again.

He wasn’t sure why. After all, sex was sex. She was a one-night stand. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He showered, got dressed to come downtown. Mateo had no idea how long he had been there, standing on the broken sidewalk, looking at the numbers on the doorway. He thought about walking away. The last thing he wanted in his life was a relationship. Complications, demands, caring about how someone felt, no. He listened to the guys he knew talking about their wives and girlfriends. Too many hassles. He had never had an adult relationship and now that he knew better, he wasn’t going to start!

He smiled, thinking about the wild sex they’d had the night before. She was really amazing. She’d laughed and at one point, he was certain she had cried. He’d pretended not to notice.

His friends would never believe it if they knew he was standing outside a girl’s apartment, hoping to run into her.

He was confused, time to leave. At that moment, her door opened. He heard her before he saw her. That voice, maybe that was it: musical, fun, and sexy all in one.

She was arm in arm with a great looking girl with the longest legs Mateo had ever seen. They hugged each other and the tall girl fell into a waiting cab. Mateo felt like a voyeur catching an intimate moment between two lovers. Maybe she was a lesbian. Naw, bi-sexual maybe. but she was definitely not a lesbian.

In that moment, she looked up and saw him waiting. He worried that she might be annoyed or think he was stalking her. Damn! What was he doing there anyways?

 

 

Sex on the beach

 

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Excerpt: explicit

“It takes a lot of money to break into the music business. My family are not in favour of my music. They want me to go into the family business. I have an education. I graduated from the University of Guadalajara in business. But I will never join the family business.”

The waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order. Omar ordered a Pacifico. Layla pulled out a cigarette and the waiter lit it for her.

“You better give up smoking or you’re going to need a facelift!” Layla threw a piece of lime at Omar. He caught it mid-air.

“Seriously, I want to play music and I will do whatever I have to do to make it happen.”

Layla sipped her white wine, thinking about Omar’s ‘whatever it takes’.

“What about you, Layla. What’s your passion? Why do you want to talk to Mexican boys who give pleasure to women for money?” He brought the lime to his full sensual lips and sucked on it.

She was momentarily taken aback. Tables turned, and a question she was not quite certain she knew the answer to.

“Hey, I’m asking the questions here,” she laughed, “and stop sucking on that lime!” He smirked.

“I need food. What are we eating?” Omar grabbed the menu.

“Whatever you want.” She smiled, then motioned to the waiter to bring chips and salsa. Omar also spoke with the waiter and then he left them alone.

“I write. That’s what I do.” She continued her X-rated thoughts, momentarily imagining those luscious lips circling her hardening nipples. “I think about life, and I write about people and their lives, and what makes them do the things they do.”

“But who wants to read about the boys in Mexico?” Omar stretched his well-developed body along the teak lounge chair, his bulge visible through his tight black jeans.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out when I finish my story.” She cleared her head and brought her mind back to why she was here.

“Antonio said you’d be okay with my questions.”

“Sure, whatever, as long as you pay for my time. Ask me anything.” Another Pacifico with tequila on the side appeared on the table.

“How about another drink, Layla? I know I work much better with tequila. Join me, Señorita, and I will tell you all my secrets.” Far too charming, far too dangerous, just the way she liked it.

“Sure, why not? I’ll have another glass of wine. So, tell me, Omar, what makes you so good at what you do?”

“Ah, how should I answer that? Let me think. I have been giving pleasure to women since I’m fourteen years old. My parents sent me to the American School in Guadalajara for high school. There was a teacher from San Francisco, an older woman about forty now and she really liked me a lot. I could tell. She used to help me with things and I would stay after school for her advice. I was always tall for my age and because I lived in the States and my family had money, I was older in my ways than other kids in my class. She was my first lover.” Omar smiled, displaying expensive dentistry.

“Did you say you were fourteen?” Layla was stunned. She had read about a woman in the States who’d had a child with a Mexican boy who was thirteen, still a child himself. She’d ended up in jail for statutory rape.

“Uh, huh. Fourteen. She taught me how to make love to a woman. And I liked her a lot. I still see her when I go home to Guadalajara. She teaches English Literature at the American School. Hey, Pablo, cómo estás?” Omar did the Mexican handshake with a friend. His friend looked Layla over. Does his friend mistake her for a client?

“Qué pasa, Omar? How come we haven’t seen you at Señor Frogs this week?” Pablo smiled at Layla, waiting for an introduction.

“Very busy. This is my friend, Layla. Layla, meet Pablo. Sometimes Pablo plays music with us.”

“Sí, you should come, Señorita, and hear us play. We’re very good! Okay, Omar. I see that you are busy. Call me. Hasta luego.”

“Where do you play, Omar?” Layla thought about her double entendre.

Omar smiled. “I play everywhere, Señorita, but when I play music it’s late at night, after hours until about six in the morning. There’s a little bar near Basilio Badillo in Old Town. Would you like to come one night? Usually I play Friday, sometimes Saturday, the days the tourists are checking in and out, so it doesn’t interfere with business.”

“Yes, that would be good. I don’t want to take too much of your time, so I will ask you a few more questions and if it is okay with you, we can get together again.”

“Sure.”

“How do women find you, I mean, how do women who want to pay for sex find you? Do you use an agency? Or what?” Layla checked her recorder to be certain it was working properly.

“I have an agency, but I also freelance. Word of mouth.” Omar stopped and stared at her mouth, then laughed.

 

Disturbing…

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Excerpt-explicit

 

The writer studied the boy. His dark skin gleamed with a fine mist of perspiration. He had perfected the bedroom eyes look. Maybe he grew up watching old movies, Steve McQueen perhaps.

He leaned into her and took her hand, smiling as if he could read her mind. He was tall for a Mexican, close to six feet. His t-shirt stretched tight across his well-developed chest, his upper arms bare and strong. She let her thoughts free-fall and she could imagine him lifting her and sliding her down on top of his large, hard penis. She shivered involuntarily.

“I don’t want to take you away from your livelihood this evening. Could we get together tomorrow during the day to talk? Would that be okay?”

“Sí, I work at the Hotel Fiesta Americana doing massage on the beach. Would you like a massage?”

Layla smiled. Somehow, she knew a massage from him would end up more than a massage. The thought was delicious and disturbing. He really looked young.

“Let’s meet at A Page in the Sun in Old Town, up the street from McDonald’s. We can have coffee and talk. Would that work for you?”

“Sí, Señorita. Tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning. What about now? I have some free time. Can I give you a taste without cost, so you can see why the women pay me so much? Sí or non?”

“No!” They both laughed. His confidence was incredible for such a young man.

“Well, it never hurts to ask, no?” he teased.

“Adiós, Antonio. I look forward to tomorrow.”