posted
This is a short story I wrote for the campus newspaper, poking fun at those trashy romance novels:
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Cuban Nights An Erotic Story by Jaclyn ******
Mario had never been so spent in his life. The candles had flickered out hours before, leaving only the light of the Cuban moon to cast shadows on his lover, who lie asleep beside him. Gloria
Sweet, sexy, glorious Gloria! He had never had a woman who was so intoxicating. Just thinking about her soft, womanly body made him swell up again in anticipation. But she lay naked, lost in a gentle dream, unknowing of his lust for her. Mario closed his eyes, and remembered how he came to be with this mysterious and wonderful woman on that fateful day. The memory floated through his mind as if it was a dream.
As the captain of a trading ship, “The TittyWhipper”, Mario had a great deal of responsibility. He had to ensure that the ship arrived on time, and that his crew was content. But it wasn’t his sailing skills that Mario was famous for. He knew how to make love to a woman. Mario’s style of sex was unlike any that had been seen before. He could make a woman scream and beg for more. On more than one occasion, he made his partner faint with pleasure. Mario was proud of his ability to make the girls swoon. He made sure to bed at least one woman at every sea port. After all, it was his gift.
It was on a particularity humid day in a Cuban sea port that Mario met his match.
The small village of Kaitor was where Mario saw her. She was standing against a blue wall, waving a delicate fan across her face. Her silk robe hung dangerously below her shoulders, and when she noticed Mario, her eyes fluttered with desire. Mario was a sight to behold! His bronzed skin glowed in the sunlight. Mario watched as Gloria’s eyes followed his black, curly hair from his head to where it burst into tufts of fur on his chest. Gloria wondered if those marvelous tufts continued beneath his shorts.
Mario was preparing to make a formal introduction to this gorgeous woman, when he saw a group of Russian diplomats running towards them. Mario didn’t like Russians, or diplomats for that matter. The fact that they were in Cuba made Mario even more angry. He grabbed on to the woman and ran. She shrieked, but when she saw the Russians chasing them with their Russian Slingshots, she knew that the mysterious man was trying to save her. She clung to her savior like a child on a hefty bag of potatoes. Mario made a quick turn to the right, and down into an empty barn. He placed the woman gently down on a pile of hay, and watched through a crack in the wall as the Russians ran right past their hiding place. They were safe. The two strangers struggled to control their heavy breathing. There stared into each other’s eyes, and before you could say “Yatzee!!!”, Gloria had pounced onto Mario. They fell together onto the hay.
Mario kissed Gloria fiercely, but strangely, she did not kiss back. She was very still; stiller than the stillest night of the Cuban Superlative festival, which was held twice a year on a very still night indeed. She was waiting for something, but what? “What is it, baby?” Mario asked. Gloria blushed and turned her Cuban head away from his Godly glare. “It’s.... another man. I have given my heart to another. Only he can keep my heart in the fiery heart box of the soul.” Mario was enraged and angered. “Who is it... Who is this man who holds on to your heart?” “He’s.... He’s.... He’s here!”
Faster than a speeding watermelon projected from a missile off a cliff at 36.5 degrees above the horizontal at an initial speed of over 9 metres per second, Mario turned and looked in the general direction of the door of the barn. There, bathed in golden moonlight, was his brother. He was not pleased to see his woman lying with his brother in a Cuban barn.
“Luigi, it’s not what it looks like!” Mario yelled, but it was too late. Luigi was already flabbergasted.
“Not in my country, sailor-man! “ Luigi shrieked, and he headed toward Gloria and Mario. Gloria begged for his forgiveness, but she feared it would be too late. Luigi was not a very forgiving Cuban, especially when he had been drinking. Fortunately for Gloria, Luigi had not been drinking on that particular night, but his unwillingness to forgive remained, like a bowl of uncooked cabbage waiting to be cooked. “I thought we would be together forever. FOREVER. Forever. forever. forever.” Luigi’s voice faded off into the distance like a trail of words that appeared progressively smaller as you read them. His voice had faded because Mario had picked Gloria up and ran out of the barn.
Luckily there was a deserted lighthouse only a few steps away from the barn, and the couple ran and hid inside the light house. This time it was Gloria who pounced on Mario, not the other way around. He liked to kiss her. It was then that they made love under the Cuban moon. There they were, two lovers, with two hearts, and two souls, and two minds, and 20 toes, and 2 livers. They were connected in a way that is impossible to describe, but for the sake of argument, I will try to describe it. It was a connection that was similar to the way that the Glomerulus cradles the Bowman’s Capsule. They are so dependent on each other. The love between them was the unfiltered blood, and both of them are required to create yellow, clear, and gloriously unsweet urine.
After Gloria had fallen asleep, we find ourselves where this story began. Mario is in love with Gloria. Gloria may or may not have feelings for Luigi. Luigi is alone in a barn. And the Cuban moon prances above this mysterious and ever-changing orb called Earth. The Cuban Moon is like a blind man wearing an eyepatch. Sure, he sees everything, because even if he wasn’t blind, he would only see the unforgiving darkness of the eyepatch. Oh, Cuban moon. Thou watches all, and nothing.
FIN
Posts: 52 | From: Whitby, Ontario, Canada | Registered: Jan 2006
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posted
That was quite possibly one of the most hilarious pieces of humour I have ever read. Would that more popular writers had your creative simile skills
I have a friend who inhales pulp romance novels like air and a link to this little gem (with proper credit) is going to make an appearance in her inbox.
-------------------- Thought for the day: "The rewards for leniency are treachery, and betrayal." Posts: 9 | From: Toronto, Ontario | Registered: Nov 2005
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-------------------- IIRC, it wasn't the shoe bomber's loud prayers that sparked the takedown by the other passengers; it was that he was trying to light his shoe on fire. Very, very different. Canuckistan Posts: 3694 | From: Arizona | Registered: Aug 2005
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-------------------- "Nobody ever got stoned and beat up his old lady" -- Spence, snapdragonfly's friend Posts: 768 | From: North Hollywood, CA | Registered: Aug 2005
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MarsMoon A Thousand Potatoes Yet to Go by K. P. Dutie
posted
Oh, thank you for making me laugh so much. I think it was the "uncooked cabbage waiting to be cooked" that got me. You must publish.
-------------------- Sometimes the only way out is through. ~Swamp Thing Posts: 7 | From: Marietta, GA | Registered: Oct 2005
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