The First Time

WC 869

The First Time

I wanted Benvolio to see Maria, so we waited until she returned to the Hacienda. There was danger in her mad scheme and I needed a man I trusted implicity, watching from afar. Eventually the coach drove up and she stepped down with her purchases. We watched her make the ascent up the stairs and into the Great Room. I heard the intake of breath as he noted my sister’s beauty. Her hair was long and black and flowed richly down her shoulders. She walked with the quiet grace of a feline. Pausing in front of the hall mirror, she looked to see if anyone was about and then took off her jacket…her blouse followed, revealing a lace binding and full breasts. Opening a package she took out a dark habit, holding it up to envision the way it would look. I had not intended for him to see Maria so unencumbered and took my friend firmly by the arm, backing into the shadows. “You have seen more than I intended,” I told him, “So, don't forget what she looks like.”

****

Maria left the Convent, walking alongside Sister Hilda, with a satchel over her shoulder. The First Secretary was giving instructions.

Waiting outside was a young man seated in a livery, hands on the reins, looking down into the traces. He was powerfully built with broad shoulders…his hands were enormous. He was dressed in the coarse garb of a peasant. She expected the smell of a working man and was surprised instead by the scent of soap.

“This is Benvolio, our handyman. He knows the way and will see you safely to the Hermitage. Deliver the posts and try to return by dark.”

Maria stepped up into the seat and settled in. Benvolio snapped the reins and the pony stepped off briskly and soon they were clipping down the road.

“Benvolio,” she said thinking out loud….”I’ve heard that name before.”

“It is common among the Basques,” he answered.

“A friend of our family has spent many years in the Pyrenees. Perhaps you know him?”

“Who might that be?"

“His name is Tomas de Torquemada.”

“Sorry...”

“I see…” She detected in his Spanish a pattern of speech that was veiled but distinctly Castilian…

“Tell me Benvolio,” she continued her intuition alerted…”How long you have been working here?”

“But a week,” he replied.

“Fancy that…” She reached over and touched a hand rubbing it with her fingers. “These are not the hands of a laborer.”

“I served in the wars, 'My Lady'".

“Why do you address me by a title, as if you know who I am?"

He stammered, “Your demeanor is that of a highborn."

"Nonsense!"

She began to study him closely and he became uncomfortable. He shifted nervously about and then glanced over at her. To an observant woman, a look can be revealing….

“You are not as you appear, Benvolio.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your shoes for one thing…They do not match the rest of your attire. They are scuffed and dirty to be sure, but underneath they are tooled leather and not inexpensive. And those britches that stretch with your, ahhhh, ‘prominence,’ are frayed but contrived to look worn." With difficulty she forced her eyes from his bulging manhood, but not before experiencing an unwelcome heat.

“It comes back to me now…my brother has spoken of one named Benvolio…a close friend.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Indeed?…Then how is it that a Basque peasant learns to speak High Spanish?”

“My mother was from Madrid," he stammered, beginning to flounder.

“Don’t lie to me,” she replied, “I hate it when a man does that.”

“But….I…”

“Who are you?” She demanded.

He sagged…”As you suspect, a fraud.”

“For sure, but I suspect the fraud is also my brother’s closest friend.”

“Am I so transparent?”

She leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. ”At Grenada, You saved his life. Accept this as a measure of my gratitude."

“Does it extend further?" he asked hopefully.

Perhaps it was the pressures of the times, perhaps the volatility of their blood, or perhaps being long without gentle companionship….perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…However, what soon became evident was an attraction, intense and eager.

“Pull the cart into those trees.”

He hastened to her bidding and once parked, lifted her out by the waist. Stepping behind the wheel, she raised her skirt and pulled down her underwear.

“Hurry!” she exhorted.

Untying his britches he let them drop….. She gasped at the sight of his erection….

“Close your eyes,” he said, lifting her onto the bed.

“What should I do?”

“Just lay back and relax…”

He nudged her legs apart and pulled her thighs closer. She groaned as he inserted himself, twisting the head and driving the girth into the soft folds. As it seated, he reached behind pulling her buttocks tighter…She squirmed responding to his coaxing, until a tremor raced through her body followed by the hot spit of his seed. Together they reveled in the joy of lovers united for the first time. At length she pushed him back, reached down about her ankles and pulled up her undergarment.

“Get dressed, dear man, we have a long day ahead of us.”