Jesus Ramondo Alvarez had worked hard in his youth and saved his money. Now he was forty-seven years old and retired. He owned his own house--the best one in the barrio--and had a white picket fence to keep the dogs out and his chickens in.
When lazy pisanos in the neighborhood needed money for wine or for an hour in bed with one of the girls in Maria Enrico's upstairs room, they came to Jesus Alvarez. He hired them to mow his yard, work in his garden, and paint the stucco on his house. They hated him because he paid low wages and complained if they so much as rested for a moment to wipe the sweat from their brow. Their women pointed to Jesus Alvarez as an example and bowed out of respect when they passed his house.
Jesus hired a housekeeper also; to clean for him and to do his laundry and ironing. He had no trouble finding women who wanted to work for him, for he was a rich man and each one secretly believed she could trap him into marriage. His friends laughed and said that women with stars in their eyes either went to Hollywood or to Jesus Alvarez. Jesus didn't treat the women the way he did the men. Instead, he laughed and joked and, if they were nice to him, bought them trinkets from the stores on Olvera Street. Many of them would have preferred money instead of trinkets for their amorous services. A few went so far as to tell him so. Then he grew angry and once had struck a girl, for he was conceited about his good looks and had often boasted to his friends that he had never had to pay for his pleasure and was not about to start.
Jesus was no one's fool. When he chose his housekeepers, he selected women about whom there was much gossip. If one of them should become pregnant, he wanted to be able to say, ``Why, how do you know I am the father? Renaldo Morales told me he has also been with you and just the other day, on the front porch, old Ruiz said all three of his sons have lain with you. How can you say I am the father? I will call all of these men into court and show you up for the woman you are if you try to make trouble for me.''
So his friends were surprised when they saw young Consuelo Ramirez come out of Jesus' house one day with a big basket of clothes. She had to jump to catch hold of the line and pull it down far enough to pin the sheets on, for she was but twelve years old and small. Consuelo had a good reputation and three older brothers who intended to keep it that way. Jesus Alvarez must have gone mad, they said, or her brothers had all died from some sudden disease.
Jesus leaned back in his porch swing and smiled at them. ``My friends, why do you make so much fuss? She is a housekeeper, like all my housekeepers. They do a job and I pay them and that is all. Her own brothers came to me and asked that I hire her because their mother needs an operation and they must get the money to pay the doctor. Would I be so foolish as to take liberties with a girl who has three such brothers?''
His friends agreed that, no, he would not; yet they didn't understand why he had hired Consuelo, for Jesus Alvarez was the type of man who never even offered his friends a glass of wine when they visited him unless he hoped to get the better of them in some way.
Jesus did not know himself why he had hired Consuelo. He had never been a man who liked girls so young. He preferred the safety and experience of older women. They could be loose as cows and that didn't bother him. Yet, when Consuelo had stood before him with her brothers, his eyes were drawn to her smooth brown legs and bare feet. The nails on her toes were painted red. He had wanted to take them into his mouth and run his tongue over them like so many little breasts all in a row.
Consuelo came to clean his house three times each week. Jesus sat in a chair with the paper opened before him, peering at her from over the top of it, while she went about her tasks. He noticed how the sun came through the window and make her skin golden, as though she had gathered the hot summer heat into her little body and turned it into autumn honey. Jesus longed to taste it. I must be careful, he told himself.
Yet, as time passed, Jesus began to relax. His fear of the brothers lessened, and he followed Consuelo around as she moved from one room to another, teasing her and saying funny things to make her laugh. When she went to the bathroom, Jesus held his ear to the door and grew excited listening to her urinate. He began taking a bath each day before she arrived and scenting himself with Old Spice cologne. He bought sweets from the bakery and sat at the kitchen table watching her eat them.
``You must have many boy friends, Consuelo,'' he said. ``A pretty, young girl like you.''
``Oh, no, sir. My brothers, they would not allow it.''
``Your brothers need not know everything you do. Why, I could come over and give you a big kiss right now,'' he said, ``and how would your brothers know, so long as neither of us told them?''
Consuelo smiled knowingly, as though she were used to his ways. ``You are teasing me again.''
``You don't believe me?'' he said in mock amazement. Standing, he moved toward her. She dodged and ran to the opposite side of the table, squealing with delight. He made several more moves to catch her and then threw up his hands in surrender.
``I give up. I will let you get back to your duties. Otherwise, no work will get done, and then I will have to live in a dirty house until the next time you come.'' He sat down and opened his newspaper, watching her from over the top of it. He knew he would have to proceed with caution. If he frightened her, she would run. He must move slowly so she would be willing when the time came.
``What would you like more than anything in the world, Consuelo?'' he asked her one day.
She answered without hesitation. ``The red dress in the shop window on Olvera Street. But my brothers, they would not allow it. They say it is too low in the front.'' Her hand instinctively moved to where the cut of the dress would come.
``You mean you would not choose gold or silver or diamonds? Just a dress?''
Her eyes sparkled.``But then I would be beautiful. I would find someone who would love me and we would get married.''
Jesus nodded. ``Your brothers are too strict. I see nothing wrong with a red dress. A man likes to look at a young girl's breasts.'' He laughed at her surprise. ``Well, it is true. If I saw you in that red dress, I would probably be so pleased you could wrap me around your little finger and make me do whatever you wished.''
Consuelo looked down, a half smile on her face, unsure if he were joking or not.
``You will soon be a woman,'' he said, ``you should have your red dress.''
Jesus went to Olvera Street the next day and walked past the shops until he spotted the red dress. Inside, he asked the price and complained loudly when the shopkeeper told him what it was. He had never paid so much for any present before. Finally, when he was convinced that the shopkeeper would not bring the price down, he bought the dress and took it home. It will be worth it, he thought.
When Consuelo arrived, Jesus gave the present to her. She removed the paper slowly, as though fearing to discover it wasn't what she thought it was and wanting to delay the disappointment. Her mouth fell open then, and holding the dress by the straps, she lifted it out of the box where it had been folded accordion-like. Letting it fall back in, she ran to Jesus and threw her arms around him. He felt the points of her small breasts and liked the way his round stomach fit into the hollow just below them.
Running back to the dress, she held it to her and turned so the skirt flared out.
``You must leave it here when you go home so your brothers do not find out. Go, try it on.''
Consuelo ran into his bedroom and closed the door. Jesus waited a few minutes, then entered without knocking. Consuelo had the dress on and was struggling with the zipper in the back.
``Here, I will do that.'' He let his hand caress her back as he pulled the zipper up. She had no brassiere on. As yet, she didn't need one. Jesus led her to the mirror on the closet door. He stood behind her, his fingers resting lightly on her bare shoulders. ``You are beautiful. A real woman.''
Consuelo clapped her hands together and bounced up and down on her toes in joy.
``Men will find you desirable now, in your red dress. They will want to kiss you.''
Consuelo turned toward him. ``I have never kissed before.''
Jesus frowned. ``That is too bad. All women should know how to kiss. Otherwise, if you meet a young man and you want to kiss him but don't know how, he may laugh at you, and then your red dress would be of no use.''
Consuelo's smile faded.
``Come,'' Jesus said. ``I will show you how it is done.''
``Oh, I couldn't,'' she said, shaking her head and backing away.
``Silly girl,'' he shouted angrily. ``What do you think? I am insulted. I offer to help and you distrust me. Do not be foolish. Come. Sit.''
Timidly, Consuelo moved to the bed and sat beside him.
``Now, close your eyes and part your lips.''
She did as he told her. Gently, Jesus leaned over and kissed her.
``You mean that is all?'' she said, surprised.
``No, of course not. I just wanted you to see that I would not hurt you.'' He shook his head sadly. ``You do not know how to kiss, that is for certain. Young men will laugh at you if you do not learn. Stand up. We will pretend I am a young man come to take you out.'' He propped the pillows up on the bed and stood beside it. ``Here is the car. I will open the door for you to get in.''
Consuelo was pleased with the game. As Jesus opened an imaginary car door and bowed to her, she moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed.
``Do you want me to slam the door on your legs?''
Consuelo laughed and lifted her feet onto the bed.
Jesus closed the door, moved to the other side, and got onto the bed next to her. ``Now you must lead me so I know how far I can go,'' he said. ``Put your arm around my neck and run your fingers through my hair. Then I will know it is all right to kiss you.'' Consuelo moved closer and did as he instructed. Jesus eased her back on the bed and rested himself on top of her. She allowed him to kiss her. His hand went to her breast, and he felt her stiffen. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong.
``No, don't,'' she pleaded, but Jesus continued to force himself upon her, running his hand roughly up her leg. ``My dress!'' she cried, struggling against him. ``You'll tear my dress!'' She heard the dress rip at the same time she felt the pain.
When he was finished, Jesus rolled away and laid on his back. ``It always hurts the first time,'' he said. ``Now when you go out with your young man, it will be good.'' He turned to look at her. ``Do not think about telling your brothers. Do you know what they would do?''
Consuelo pushed the dress down to cover herself. Tears dampened the hair at her temples. ``They would kill you,'' she whispered.
``No, you are wrong. They would make me marry you.''
When she didn't answer, Jesus turned on his side and went to sleep.
Gary Smith has previously been published in Off The Rocks, The Alchemist Review, The Coe Review, The James White Review, and Illinois Times. As for his bio, ``I'm afraid my normal life is pretty dull. My REAL life, however, is extremely satisfying. I sit for hours watching it advance, line by line, on my computer screen.''
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