In the semidarkness they approached each other: thoroughly cautious and with no bluff possible. Finally, Renata and Demetrio: profiles on the prowl. First came the proximity of their mouths, close, closer, bonding. With God’s blessing the sin was diminished; oh-so-vigilant God: his tall staff prevailed — yes or no?: and see and feel the soft approach. And when the kiss came: what fine and discreet movements!: lips sliding along lips: a long, agreeable affair. From there the holding of hands and, without ungluing above, the arms, such mischief, agile caresses over here and over there, until there came the pressing of one to the other. To hell, finally, with all that ancient suffering! though … They had difficulty getting settled standing up because Demetrio was very tall and she wasn’t. So they sat on the edge of the bed — careful! — without ungluing their lips. It seemed like a necessary bond, the salivation they were giving each other intentionally, so mature. A question of silent loving. That first kiss, after such a long sacrifice, tasted to them like pure sublime lust: endlessly slippery, almost. It was like climbing the tallest mountain in the world. Sin — contorted sin! The sensation of pleasure that can never fully console, so just as they were (so dependent on the long kiss that just kept going) they began to get undressed. A juggling act, somewhat deficient, and no, they couldn’t. They had to stop kissing in order to fully undress. Garment by garment: a spectacle. Once they were totally naked they threw themselves on the bed: yes, more comfortable — right? And they were getting to know their naked selves, as well they should. The green-eyed gal’s breasts — this is just one example — were two erect expressive oranges. And so both their detailed inspections went and, in fact, so many years dreaming about the nakedness and now the shape of things: the operative, as well as that bush thereabouts. Will we neglect the most delicious part? Demetrio would seek the inaugural screw: engine-sex, anxiety-sex. The delectable goal they both longed for. Renata made her debut and without saying a word opened her legs: offered, won. The truth is, neither spoke, though they did think: he moved slowly until finally there was an (adequate) encounter between the hole and the member: the final juncture: the sex that begins, that spreads, that expands. However, the difficulty of the insertion. The battle: the ripping penetration. She began to shout like a woman half mad, but still she begged for more flesh to wound her. Blood, in consequence. Increasing passion. Pleasure that soon finds amplitude. And the discreet movements were mutual, achieving a better rhythm, and:
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Sex that bewitches, nourishes, lasts. Committed sex. Sex: a routine thing. Sex: convention.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Ecstasy-sex. Sinking-in-sex. Sex that shapes. Sex that sparkles.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Truth-sex. Bouquet-sex of radiant flowers. Behavior-sex. Vaccine-sex. Sex that knocks down all obstacles. Though: each time they did it would they have to wait for their issue to arrive? Or what was that all about?
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Perhaps some kind of affective penitence would come about. May all the problems that had to be pushed away end up breaking apart. No! No! No! Fear. Horror. Invasion-sex. Skillful-sex. Delirium-sex. Mania-sex. Formal sex. Sex that prostrates, crushes, cleanses, alters, conquers.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Sheer relief.
About the Author
Daniel Sada was born in Mexicali, Mexico, in 1953, and died on November 18, 2011, in Mexico City. Considered by many as the boldest and most innovative writer in Spanish of his generation, he has published eight volumes of short stories, nine novels, and three volumes of poetry. His works have been translated into English, German, French, Dutch, Finnish, Bulgarian, and Portuguese. He has been awarded numerous prizes, including the Herralde Prize for his novel
Almost Never.
Just hours before he died, he was awarded Mexico’s most prestigious literary award, the National Prize for Arts and Sciences for Literature.
Katherine Silver is an award-winning translator of Spanish and Latin American literature. Some of her most recent translations include works by Horacio Castellanos Moya and César Aira. She is the codirector of the Banff International Literary Translation Centre in Canada and lives in Berkeley, California.