had dealings with him in the past,
and I tell you, the man is a snake!” She sat back forcefully against the seat and
caught her breath. “And what must you think, mon petit bourgeoisie, about a
man that would take away your heritage, your fortune, and your family’s good
name? You can’t have me believe that you want these people running Argentina
the way that they aspire to. They are dreamers, men who do not act except in
speeches. Where I come from, we let our actions do the talking.”
It was true, of course. All of Argentina was aware of the destruction and
havoc that the Perónista guerrilla group, the Montoneros, had wrought, not
only in their home base of Tucumán Province, but also right in the heart of
Buenos Aires itself. Murders, kidnappings, extortions, and outright firefights
with the army had produced a death toll running into the thousands. It all
seemed so distant to Lonnie, unless, of course, a bomb exploded in Buenos
Aires or a local politician or general was abducted and murdered. Then, at best,
it was just a quickly forgotten news headline. But that attitude had changed
from the moment he met Celeste. She had succeeded in filling his head with
doubt. Doubt about his lifestyle, his family, his country, and also about his
prowess with women.
31
JAMES McCREATH
He was certainly not used to the cool aloofness with which Celeste
deflected his advances. Other women, they were his for the taking. But not this
one. This one drove Lonnie to distraction!
He found himself laying awake at night thinking of political arguments
that would impress her in the next day’s tutorial. Even his mother had noticed
the change in him, proclaiming at the dinner table one night that “Lonfranco
has lost his appetite because he is in love.”
Following Squeo’s dramatic oration, the student had dropped his tutor
off at her apartment building with a formal handshake and a thank-you. But
something deep inside his being forced him to call out to her impetuously
before she disappeared inside.
“What do you want me to do?”
Celeste remained on the stoop of her building staring at him for several
seconds, then disappeared without saying a word. Lonnie slammed his fist into
the hood of his car.
“Damn, that woman is driving me out of my mind.”
No one could have been more surprised than he was when Celeste asked
him to have coffee with her after their next tutorial. They had sat and talked
for hours in a café near her apartment, and to Lonnie’s delight, she did not want
to talk politics. She wanted to know about his family and his background and
promised to keep the biting comments that she would often make in class out
of their conversation. The señorita seemed truly interested in him for a change,
and the soft night air along with several carafes of wine made for relaxed,
expressive dialogue. When it was time to go, she did not hesitate to ask him
back to her flat so that he could “borrow a copy of a book by her favorite left-
wing author,” as she so coyly put it.
It would be a seduction unlike any Lonnie had ever experienced. Celeste
set the mood and controlled the flow of events. With candles lit and soft guitar
music on the stereo, they smoked a marijuana joint that Lonnie had been
carrying, followed by a bowl of Nepalese hashish. Celeste revealed that the hash
had been a present from a student looking to better his grades.
Lonnie’s skin was on fire with pent-up lust. When Celeste brushed his
arm with her fingers while handing him the hash pipe, he thought that his
body would explode. She sensed his arousal and let her hand fall to his inner
thigh. Slowly she began to trace the outline of his quickly growing manhood
with her fingers.
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Unbuttoning his shirt, she swiftly
ran her tongue down his chest until she was able place his nipple in her mouth
and bite it. When he did not shy away from the sweet pain, she continued
and I tell you, the man is a snake!” She sat back forcefully against the seat and
caught her breath. “And what must you think, mon petit bourgeoisie, about a
man that would take away your heritage, your fortune, and your family’s good
name? You can’t have me believe that you want these people running Argentina
the way that they aspire to. They are dreamers, men who do not act except in
speeches. Where I come from, we let our actions do the talking.”
It was true, of course. All of Argentina was aware of the destruction and
havoc that the Perónista guerrilla group, the Montoneros, had wrought, not
only in their home base of Tucumán Province, but also right in the heart of
Buenos Aires itself. Murders, kidnappings, extortions, and outright firefights
with the army had produced a death toll running into the thousands. It all
seemed so distant to Lonnie, unless, of course, a bomb exploded in Buenos
Aires or a local politician or general was abducted and murdered. Then, at best,
it was just a quickly forgotten news headline. But that attitude had changed
from the moment he met Celeste. She had succeeded in filling his head with
doubt. Doubt about his lifestyle, his family, his country, and also about his
prowess with women.
31
JAMES McCREATH
He was certainly not used to the cool aloofness with which Celeste
deflected his advances. Other women, they were his for the taking. But not this
one. This one drove Lonnie to distraction!
He found himself laying awake at night thinking of political arguments
that would impress her in the next day’s tutorial. Even his mother had noticed
the change in him, proclaiming at the dinner table one night that “Lonfranco
has lost his appetite because he is in love.”
Following Squeo’s dramatic oration, the student had dropped his tutor
off at her apartment building with a formal handshake and a thank-you. But
something deep inside his being forced him to call out to her impetuously
before she disappeared inside.
“What do you want me to do?”
Celeste remained on the stoop of her building staring at him for several
seconds, then disappeared without saying a word. Lonnie slammed his fist into
the hood of his car.
“Damn, that woman is driving me out of my mind.”
No one could have been more surprised than he was when Celeste asked
him to have coffee with her after their next tutorial. They had sat and talked
for hours in a café near her apartment, and to Lonnie’s delight, she did not want
to talk politics. She wanted to know about his family and his background and
promised to keep the biting comments that she would often make in class out
of their conversation. The señorita seemed truly interested in him for a change,
and the soft night air along with several carafes of wine made for relaxed,
expressive dialogue. When it was time to go, she did not hesitate to ask him
back to her flat so that he could “borrow a copy of a book by her favorite left-
wing author,” as she so coyly put it.
It would be a seduction unlike any Lonnie had ever experienced. Celeste
set the mood and controlled the flow of events. With candles lit and soft guitar
music on the stereo, they smoked a marijuana joint that Lonnie had been
carrying, followed by a bowl of Nepalese hashish. Celeste revealed that the hash
had been a present from a student looking to better his grades.
Lonnie’s skin was on fire with pent-up lust. When Celeste brushed his
arm with her fingers while handing him the hash pipe, he thought that his
body would explode. She sensed his arousal and let her hand fall to his inner
thigh. Slowly she began to trace the outline of his quickly growing manhood
with her fingers.
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Unbuttoning his shirt, she swiftly
ran her tongue down his chest until she was able place his nipple in her mouth
and bite it. When he did not shy away from the sweet pain, she continued
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