7. Violeta
Oh, you have a girlfriend? Let me ruin your life.
“Estás buenísima,” he murmured, kissing my neck.
You’re so hot.
“Gracias,” I said, as he rolled off me.
Hugo sighed with a big smile on his face. I was in Madrid and he was the second person I had met on Rendezvous and I had set my hopes way too high.
My clit felt raw from me trying to get myself off as quickly as possible before he came, but I had no luck in succeeding. It didn’t help that I had thoughts of Levi haunting me all evening, comparing Hugo to him.
“Want to watch a movie?” Hugo asked in Castilian Spanish.
“Sure, why not,” I said, sitting up, covering myself.
“Great,” he said, grabbing a remote from his nightstand.
It took Hugo fifteen minutes to fall asleep and even though I wanted to leave, the movie was pretty good. He brought snacks and there was no way I was going to leave before eating the chocolate he had brought into the room.
Thanks for a great night, XOXO.
I kissed the paper before setting it on his nightstand, loving my calling card more than sleeping with these men. Maybe I should get on Canva and get something like this printed, to make it easy on myself.
Damn Violeta. How many men do you plan on sleeping with?
It didn’t help that I kept thinking about Levi.
At this rate, if I had any more mediocre men in bed, I might as well buy a vibrator, take myself out to dinner and finish the night with an actual orgasm.
That sounded a lot more appealing, the more I thought about it as I put my clothes on.
I’m sure I could find a sex shop around here or maybe order it online. Did they have lockers around here?
I grabbed my heels, leaving his bedroom quietly so as not to disturb him as I walked down his creaky hallway.
His place was well decorated and I was impressed.
He had a nice balance of plants, art and good taste in furniture.
I could see myself in a place like this.
It was peaceful and—I zeroed in on a photo that was flipped down, then realized there were a lot of photos flipped down.
Turning it over, it was Hugo and another woman standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, nicely dressed. She had her hand on his chest and a big shiny rock was evident on her ring finger.
This hijo de puta was fucking married.
I checked the other photos, seeing the same girl and my heart filled with rage.
This son of a bitch thought he was sneaky, fucking around on her, but he deserved to suffer.
Taking a deep breath, I walked back into the bedroom, swiped his phone off the nightstand, using his face to open it.
I found his fiancée immediately and took her number.
Hugo laid dead to the world as I took pictures of everything I could and changed his password on his Rendezvous app so I could give it to her and she could see what a piece of shit Hugo was. She deserved better and thankfully it looked like they hadn’t gotten married yet.
I left before I committed a crime—well a bigger crime. As I walked out, I ordered a car and planned my text while I waited. As I was driven home, I sent all my evidence and an apology. I felt like shit about it, but maybe it all happened for a reason.
Emilia texted me back as the driver dropped me off at my hostel.
She was furious, but surprisingly sweet, thanking me and telling me not to be sorry.
The way she worded it, it seemed like this might not have been the first time this had happened.
My heart broke for her. I offered my computer services if she needed anything else to make him suffer.
She thanked me saying she would be in touch.
I went to bed wanting to leave Madrid, hating that he used me to cheat on his fiancée.
My consolation was her leaving him and I felt a little better about the situation.
Hugo deserved so much more than he was getting, but karma always had her way to make those who needed to suffer, suffer plenty.
The Mercado de San Miguel was everything I wanted. I was so glad I hadn’t left Madrid. The people were friendly; the vendors were endless, and strolling through the market was making me want to cook something. Everything was fresh, smelling so delicious, my mouth watered constantly.
The weather was fresh as I made my way to the clothing and knickknack section.
Perusing through racks was the retail therapy I needed.
This was much better than shopping at any mall.
I purchased a few pieces of clothing that accentuated my curvier body.
A bohemian skirt on display had my attention immediately.
The woman running the little stand found my size immediately, urging me to try it on over my shorts.
The skirt flowed beautifully with a slit that exposed my shapely legs.
“Estás espectacular,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
You look spectacular.
I blushed as she gushed about how it was meant for me and my body.
She squealed going to the back of her store, bringing back a beautifully crocheted halter top that matched with the skirt.
There was no way I'd be able to wear a bra with the back so exposed. She was a very persuasive older woman and before I knew it, I had paid for the skirt and two tops that matched in case I couldn’t bring myself to wear the sexy halter top.
Shopping for a few hours made me hungry and paella had been calling my name since I had arrived.
The middle of the mercado had all the best restaurants—according to Google.
I snagged a seat at the bar of a restaurant I had passed twice, and the aroma was to die for.
I placed my order and people watched while I waited for my food.
The market was busy, but in the best way, reminding me of my youth in Mexico.
It was lively and full of different people all coming together harmoniously.
Days at the mercado were some of my favorites when we lived in Mexico.
A woman dropped off my glass of wine as I waited for my paella. Everyone's food around me smelled so good, I wondered if maybe I should have ordered several dishes and then have leftovers for a snack later. The tapas looked to die for.
Screaming startled me as I looked around for the culprit.
Two beautiful women embraced two other women, looking like a little reunion.
My heart warmed at their sisterhood. They sat down talking animatedly, making me slightly jealous that I didn’t have something like that.
It was my one regret that I had not kept up with friends I made during college or where I used to work.
Maybe they would have told me I was fucking crazy to marry Lorenzo.
My bottom lip trembled as I wondered how different my life would have been if I had not said yes to my parents.
“Senorita.” I was startled as a man left my paella. “Cuidado, está caliente.”
“Gracias,” I said, giving the man a smile.
“?Qué aproveche!” he grinned, leaving me.
Enjoy your food.
My stomach rumbled at the amazing smell and because I couldn’t wait, I dug in. The flavors were like fireworks in my mouth making me groan. I should have been embarrassed, but I couldn’t care less. The market noise fell away as I ate my paella, leaving nothing but the shells.
Moving seemed impossible with how much I had eaten, but the people waiting for a table pushed me to wave down the server for my check.
“How was it?” she asked in Spanish, dropping off my check.
“It was the best paella I’ve ever had,” I said, handing her my card.
“It is the best!” she said. “Are you in Spain for the festival?”
She pulled out a portable card reader, swiping my card.
“Festival? What festival?” I asked, intrigued.
“There is one in Barcelona this weekend.” She handed back my card and the machine so I could sign. “It’s the biggest music festival we have in Spain. We have artists from all over the world.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, handing her back the machine. “I might have to check it out.”
“Oh, if you don’t have a ticket you might not find one, they sell out fast,” she said frowning.
“What’s the festival called?” I felt even more determined to look.
“Bailar Barcelona,” she said. “I hope you find a ticket.”
“Thank you!” I said, pulling out my phone to research the festival.
“Hi.”
I saw one of the girls I had seen earlier right next to me.
“Sorry!” she said in English.
“Oh, it’s ok,” I said, putting my phone down. “Can I help you with something?”
“We didn’t mean to overhear, but are you looking for a ticket to the festival?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m not here for the festival, but I've never been to one and I figured, why not.” I smiled.
“Well, our friend can’t make it and we have an extra ticket,” she said.
“Really? How much?” I almost squealed with excitement.
“We paid three hundred Euros for the multi-day pass,” she said, showing me the ticket on her phone. “It’s Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”
“Sold,” I said quickly. “How would you like me to pay you? I can send it from my bank.”
“Perfect,” she said as we exchanged info.
I sent her money and she sent me the ticket.
We talked for a bit as she gave me the rundown and told me if I couldn’t find accommodations or wanted to hang out to call her.
The other girls waved to me as I left, saying they hoped they saw me.
As I left the market I circled back to that one little shop to buy another outfit for the festival as I booked my train and tried to look for a place to stay.
By the time I made it back to my hostel, I had looked all over the place for somewhere to stay, but the closest hotel was an hour away and the thought of paying a lot for the hotel and transportation made me nervous.
Maybe the girls' offer for accommodations would suffice, it was only for a few days and I couldn’t wait to experience my first festival.
This was what this entire trip was supposed to be about.