Date? Time? 4:20.

The beginning of a story.
To the mexicans and the spaniard who will continue it.



-Y que paso con la novia?

The elevator door closed just before she could hear Margarita reply to Jonathans` question.
3rd floor
2nd floor
Pim! - 1st floor

She hurried, the meeting was to start in five minutes, she could not have known that it had been postponed and would only begin an hour from now.
Glancing right she saw the entrance to the outdoor swimming pool where she normally went at this time. Stupid meeting; she rarely got upset at anything but this touched her Peace- a half hour at the pool was essential, like the siesta for the spaniards, tea-time for the british, morning meditation for the yogi... some things you just shouldn`t mess with!

She felt a sharp pain on her shoulder as she rammed into a seven-foot blond german man called Robert who walked with a friend in direction of the pool.
Her folders and her body succumbed to gravity and fell to the floor, while falling her eyes caught those belonging to Robert who stood, unmoving, observing her.
She waited, in vain, for a "sorry!" followed by the touch of his hands, comforting her. By the time she realised that they had walked on, completely ignoring her, they were far away and from their conversation she only heard Robert ask:
-Und die Freundin?

She hurried to her feet, collected her folders, rushed to the meeting while holding her bruised shoulder and muttering "fuc$#*g n@$i" under her breath.

Undoubtedly this was one of her worst days yet. After waiting an hour for the meeting to start she realised she had not brought her lunch which meant she had to go on those little preztels and Cona coffee with Gustafson cream which is served during the short intervals.
Coffee was not what her body wanted yet it helped to keep her awake for the six-hour ordeal which was customary for the yearly Network Assistants and Research Cooperations meeting.

It was still before nine when the meeting finally ended but a pounding headache told her she should go home.
Kieran and Shawn (NARC friends) kindly gave her a ride back home.
She walked inside, her migrain made her eyes super sensitive- the lights blinded her, she walked, eyes half shut, to the door of her room. Julie, her french roomate, was on the phone talking loudly, in french, and gesturing widly with her skinny arms.
-Putain! Putain!
She decided to slip downstairs silently and, just before closing the door behind her, she heard Julies` query:
-Et la copine??

Her german and french were both good enough for her to understand that this was the same question she had heard twice before, that same day, and to which she had heard no reply but the migrain was too intense and the thought of lying in bed and closing her eyes was too strong.

Two sleeping pills and cold water on her face, neck and wrists. She removed her tight Bart Simpson-underwear, slipped on her pijamas, rested in bed and dreams came effortlessly.

Unusually lucid she knew she was dreaming (even though at first she thought she was awake already). She was dreaming and she was in the pool, finally.
The soft touch of the water caressing her thighs, the Sun catching the drops of water which glided down her face and hair, the feeling of weightlesness which the water provided.
With her eyes closed she could feel the warmth of the Sun penetrating her skin, repeatedly, activating the mellanine which sent each and every skin cell to the verge of ecstasy.
In fact, she herself was not far from ecstasy. She had found the series of underwater nozzles which shot high pressure water into the pool and, by cleverly bending her knees just the right amount, she could decide exactly where that water would caress. It had already been aimed at her calves followed by the back of her knees, and her thighs; now it penetrated hard on her buttocks lightly separating them when aimed in between.
Luckily this was a dream for, with her chest arched to the Sun showing her hardened nipples, her eyes close, lips slightly parted, arms stretched behind her with fingernails scratching the railing, and buttocks pressed against that same viril SLOAN water nozzle which made her love-center humid, it was impossible not to notice her.

And then the nightmare started. Just like a used condom must feel as it whirls, uncontrolably, into the depths of the toilet bowl, she too felt dragged into an abyss of excrement by the following events.
And it all started with that phrase:

-And what about the girlfriend?

She whirled her head around and her eyes met those of a tall, tanned, asian-american. She was in a dream and had no control over her actions. She felt her knees bend bringing her breasts to the water level, then her throat and chin, her mouth, her eyes...

And, despite knowing she could not breath and was in need of air, despite knowing she was going to die, ella se agacho e empezo a chuparle la polla.

The continuation can be found by following the Fabiola Blog link.