Day Loving

Havana is such a proud beautiful city.  It breathes of an incredibly rich history filled with gambling, whores and empassioned dreams that have been left to rot in the shadows of Castro’s reign.  It is a world of it’s own, both ancient and contemporary filled with so many striking contradictions.  Street vendors, bent over and crooked, cackle across the city pushing carts of vegetables or pastries while teenages with 10 facial piercings and hip tight clothes saunter by with cell phones stuck to their ears. 

Beautifully restored colonial buildings hover over ghetto like barely standing hovels of homes where little old wrinkled Cuban women wear rags and men smoking cigars sit for hours in the doorways watching the city roll by.   I can’t help but wonder what their lives have been.  Still they manage to offer a smile when I walk by and say good day to me as I take a morning stroll to welcome the city into my heart today. 

I sit by the water and watch the city wake up then stroll casually back to my casa as if I know where I’m going in this maze of a city.  I don’t and I let the process of being lost become a practice in faith.   Somehow I find my way back after wandering for a half hour enjoying the process of being lost here with so many smiling faces and such a fascinating expression of life happening everywhere around me.

I return from this lovely morning stroll along the Malacon and there is a knock at the door of my casa.  I am surprised to see Manuel standing there and even more surprised at how excited I am to see him.  He scoops me up and we spend part of the day driving around to drop off packages for his mother and exchange money.  His cousin and another friend are with us and the car is a buzzing bundle of fiery conversation in lightning fast Spanish that leaves my head spinning.   

He often puts his hand on my thigh tenderly as he drives and I wonder if his cousin knows we are lover.   I can feel our desire growing all day.  I feel free, alive and like a rock star cruising thru the burbs of Cuba.  I find myself thinking about being alone with him and in the middle of a conversation with his brother in law, he stops and asks me, “What are you thinking about?”  he asks me in English, now our secret language with a car full of non-english speakers.

“Tu Sabes.” I say in spanish, without looking at him at all.   “Wow!” he says, and we both smile in the knowingness of our secret desire as he squeezes my thigh in his strong hand. 

A few hours later, our anticipation peaked by hours of gentle touches, knowing smiles and pure magnetism, he sends his brother in law to lunch and takes me back to my room.  Somehow the intensity of Habana has intensified everything between us.  This city reeks of sexual desire, lust and passion.  There is a primal animalistic pulse that seems to chant, “Fuck me, fuck me,” from every corner and every pair of wanting eyes; the sexual energy is intoxicatingly strong in this city. The men here seem to be ready to devour anything in their path and the women seem receptive to being devoured with their skin tight skin revealing clothes and parted lips.   

Our passion is so intense and so beautifully met together.  He rips at my clothes, pulling them off before we even reach the bed.  Without hesitation, he is inside me still standing up, pulling my hair gently and sending me into total surrendered pleasure.  His chocolate lips and black hands look so beautiful on my skin and his body feels so good inside of mine I almost think I’m dreaming.   After months of secret scheming together, we made it to Cuba. Yet even here, our time together is short and not enough. 

I know I am falling in love and I am scared, but I have no choice other than to surrender.  The loving with this man just continues to get more beautiful, more profound, deeper and sweeter.  I can tell his feelings are deepening too and that he cares for me, and maybe that he’s a little scared too.  He’s taken good care of me here and the tenderness and sensitivity that he’s been showing have been opening my heart along with my body. 

I also know this is a love affair that has no chance of lasting once he leaves Cuba, but I don't care. For now, we are here and I'm enjoying every minute of it.  I know that when he leaves me today  I will not see him again for a few days, and that we won’t have a lot of time here to share in reality.  My heart sinks, but I practice non-attachment and gratitude for this moment now. I know his priority here, as at home, is taking care of his family and doing the right thing.

He rolls over and takes me in his arms for just a few moments before making love to me again.  He always comes for seconds and I am always happy to oblige.  We get up and get dressed to return for his brother in law.  I am off to Cojimar soon to visit old friends there and Manuel has to take his mother back to the Campo three hours from Habana.

At least for another day, I am successful at not asking him when he will leave his wife.