Tell Me What You Want

  Table of Contents

  Unnamed

  Unnamed

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2012 by Megan Maxwell Translation copyright © 2017 by Achy Obejas All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Previously published as Pídeme lo que quieras by Planeta in Spain in 2012. Translated from Spanish by Achy Obejas. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2017. Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542048569 ISBN-10: 1542048567 Cover design by PEPE nymi

  For all of those in love with passion and passionate about love

  CONTENTS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 SNEAK PEEK: TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, NOW AND ALWAYS ABOUT THE AUTHOR ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  1 My boss is the worst. Honestly, I’m finally going to have to come to the same conclusion as everyone else in the office: that she and Miguel, my friend and colleague, have something going on. But no. I don’t want to think badly of them and get all worked up like the rest of my coworkers. I’ve been working at Müller, a German pharmaceutical, since January. I’m the administrative assistant to the head of the local branch office. Though I like my job, my boss is constantly taking advantage of me. I mean, about the only thing she hasn’t done is tie me to a chair and throw me a chunk of bread to eat. When I finally finish the pile of work my dear supervisor has asked me to have ready for tomorrow, I place the reports on her desk and leave. It’s almost midnight and raining cats and dogs. Perfect. I run to the parking garage, and it is steaming like a bowl of soup. As soon as I press the button to unlock my little León, the car blinks its lights on to welcome me. I quickly jump in. I’m not

  2 When I get to the office the next day, everything seems fine. I run into Miguel and can’t help but smile. If Miguel and my supervisor only knew what I’d seen . . . “Good morning, Judith.” “Good morning.” Miguel is very attractive. From my first day in the office, he has been wonderfully helpful, and we get along great. Just about everyone at work is drooling over him, but—I don’t know why—he just doesn’t have the same effect on me. Of course, now, knowing what I know and seeing him in action, I can’t help but think of him differently. “Don’t forget we have a staff meeting this afternoon,” Miguel reminds me. “Uh-huh.” He grins, grabs me by the arm, and says, “Hey, let’s take a break. I know you’re dying for some coffee and toast from the cafeteria.” I grin too. He knows me well. Besides being handsome and charming, the guy doesn’t miss an opportunity to be attentive. That, along with his perpetual smile, is Miguel’s greatest charm. When we get to the ninth-floor cafeteria, we step up

  3 The first person I spot in the cafeteria the next morning is Mr. Zimmerman. I notice him glancing up at me, but I pay him no attention. I have no interest in greeting him. When it comes to bosses, I’ve always thought the greater the distance, the better. And this one’s a smart operator. The truth is, the man makes me nervous. I sense he’s watching me, studying me, from behind his newspaper. When I peek—wham!—I’m right. I down my coffee. I have to get back to work. I end up running into him several times during the day. And when he moves to his father’s old office, which is right across from me and connected to my supervisor’s office by the archive room (a space full of file cabinets), I want to die. He never addresses me, but I feel his gaze. I try to hide behind my computer screen, but it’s impossible. He always finds a way so our eyes meet. When I leave the office that night, I go directly to the gym. One spinning class and time in the Jacuzzi relieve me of the stress I’ve accumula

  4 I arrive home at seven thirty and say hi to my cat, Curro, who moves very slowly as he comes to greet me. I drop my bag on the couch and head toward the kitchen to give Curro his medication. Poor kitty, he’s unmoved. After I give him some treats, I open the fridge and pour myself a Coke. I’m addicted to Coke . . . addicted. In a few minutes, I put on a Guns N’ Roses CD and sing along to “Sweet Child o’ Mine” as I get into the tub. Wow, what a voice that man has! I sigh when I feel the hot water on my skin. Suddenly, Mr. Zimmerman comes to mind, with his way of talking, and my hands, slippery with soap, slide down my body. I open my legs and touch myself. Oh yes, Zimmerman! When I remember his mouth, and how he outlined my lips with his tongue, I get all tingly. I recall all of him, and it just gets me going. My hands fly over my body until one stops on my right breast. I touch my right nipple with my thumb, and the nipple stiffens. I close my eyes and imagine it’s Zimmerman who is do

  5 The next day at work, I enter my supervisor’s office to look for some files, and sigh at the memory of what occurred there the day before. I’ve hardly slept. My mind has not stopped thinking about Mr. Zimmerman and what happened between us. Miguel comes in, and together we go have breakfast with Paco and Raúl. The whole time I’m watching the door, waiting for Eric to appear, but he never shows. I’m disappointed. Back in the office, I’m just turning on my computer when my phone rings. It’s the receptionist. She says there’s a young man with a flower delivery, asking for me. Flowers? No one’s ever sent me flowers, and I know very well who’s behind these: Zimmerman. My heart beating a mile a minute, I meet the elevator as the doors open and a young man with a red cap and a beautiful bouquet steps out. As soon as he sees me, he rushes over. “Are you Ms. Flores?” he says. The bouquet is spectacular. Gorgeous yellow roses. The young man looks at me and I nod, finally. He hands me the bouqu

  6 When I get home, Curro welcomes me. My sister has left a note saying she gave him his medication. I put on something more comfortable and cook up some delicious pasta carbonara. I plop down on the couch to watch TV while I devour it. When I finish, I lie back and fall into a deep sleep. Some time later, a shrieking sound abruptly awakens me. Drowsy, I get up; the sound is insistent. It’s the phone. “Who is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. “Jude, it’s Eric.” And then I wake up in a flash. I check the clock. It’s six on the dot. I’m a wreck! My apartment is a disaster. The dirty dish is still on the table, the kitchen is like a swamp, and I look terrible. “Jude, will you open up?” I want to say no, but I don’t dare. I huff and press the button. Quickly, I hang up the phone. I know I have—more or less—a minute and a half. I leap over the chair, and it’s a miracle I don’t smash my face against the table. I’m about to make my next move, when I hear the doorbell. I check myself in the mirror.

  7 Naked, and with his unyielding body on top of me, I try to regain control of my breathing. I tenderly caress his head and inhale his scent. It’s very masculine and I like it. I notice his mouth on my chest, and I like that too. I want to enjoy this moment for one more second, but he rolls to the side and looks over at me. “Everything OK, Jude?” I assent. He smiles. A moment later, he gets up and walks out of the room. I hear the shower. I’d like to shower with him, but he hasn’t asked me. Minutes later, he’s back, nude and wet. Appetizing. But he surprises me when he picks up his briefs and puts them on. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “I’m getting dressed.” “Why?” “I have an appointment,” he says, a little short. An appointment? He’s going to go and leave me like this? Irritated by his lack of tact after what just happened between us, I put on my panties, bra, and T-shirt. “Are you going for seconds
with my supervisor?” I say, unable to bite my tongue. That startles him. “I knew yo

  8 I’m sleeping like a log when I hear the sound of a door opening in my apartment. I bolt out of bed. What time is it? I peek at the clock on the nightstand. Seven past eleven. I throw myself back in bed. A small bomblike package drops on me. “Hi, Auntieeeeeeeeee!” It’s Luz, my niece. I curse in silence but grab the girl and kiss her sweetly. I adore her. Twenty minutes later and just out of the shower, I walk over to the kitchen in my robe. My sister is making breakfast while my dear Luz crushes Curro in her arms and watches cartoons. I take a seat at the counter. “May I ask what you’re doing at my apartment at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning?” I ask. She looks my way and places a cup of coffee in front of me. “He’s cheating on me,” she says in a low voice. “I’ve just discovered my jerk of a husband is cheating on me. I spend my life going to the gym, taking care of myself so that I’m always beautiful, and that asshole is cheating on me! I swear to you, I’m going to get the best

  9 I put on a pair of jeans and a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt my friend Ana gave me. At one o’clock, just as the phone rings, I put my hair up in a high ponytail. Sure it’s him, I don’t answer. He can call again. Ten seconds later, he does. “Yes?” I answer. “Come down. I’m waiting.” Not even a “good afternoon.” I’m totally taken aback when I come down and find him also wearing jeans and a black shirt and standing next to a red Ferrari. Wow. I love it! “Is it yours?” I ask as I get up close. He shrugs and doesn’t answer. I immediately fall in love with this amazing car. I run my hand tenderly over it as he looks on. “Will you let me drive?” I ask. “No.” “C’mon,” I insist. “Don’t be a party pooper. My dad runs an auto shop. I swear I know what I’m doing.” Eric stares at me. I stare back. He sighs and I grin. Finally, he shakes his head. “Show me Madrid, and if you behave, then maybe later I’ll let you drive it.” That makes me happy. “So, what do you say? Where shall we go?” I think about

  10 When we leave the restaurant, Eric takes my hand again possessively, and I let him. More and more, I like how he makes me feel, though I’m a bit rattled by his proposal. A part of me wants to reject it, and another part wants to accept it. I like Eric. I like his kisses. I like his touch, and his games. We walk in search of shade in the Royal Palace gardens while we talk about a million things, but nothing very seriously. “Would you like to come to my hotel?” he asks abruptly. “Now?” He looks at me hungrily. “Yes, now,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “I’m staying at the Hotel Villa Magna.” My stomach flips. After just a few seconds of looking back at him, I nod, sure that’s what I want. We go hand in hand back to the parking garage. “Are you going to let me drive?” He looks at me with his disconcerting eyes and brings his lips close to my ear. “Have you been good?” “Very, very good.” “And are you going to sing again?” “You can bet on it.” I hear him laugh, but he doesn’t answer. When

  11 Laughing, teasing, and touching each other, we drink almost the entire bottle of champagne out on the beautiful and enormous terrace. Madrid is at my feet, and I love the view. I’m still giving a lot of thought to the proposal Eric made at the restaurant. Should I accept or reject it, given what it means? I’m a little tipsy. I’m not used to drinking—and champagne, even less. I watch Eric talk on his cell phone. Dressed in those low-slung jeans and that black T-shirt, he really gets me going. He’s strong and athletic. He’s the type of man you can’t help but stare at, what with his clear blue eyes and short hair. I hungrily check out his whole body and notice the top button of his jeans is undone. It excites me. An instant later, he drops the cell and grabs the ice bucket. He looks my way, his face bright. Hot. I’m very hot. He pours the last of the champagne into our glasses and jams the bottle upside down in the ice. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispers, then kisses my forehead. I

  12 An hour later, still in bed, we make a meal of the strawberries. To my surprise, next to the strawberries and a new bottle of champagne, there’s a bowl of warm chocolate sauce. What a marvelous idea! My joy delights Eric, who can’t seem to stop smiling. He’s taken on the task of cleaning up the careless drops of chocolate that remain on my lips with his own. The soft contact feels a lot like a sweet kiss. My attention is diverted by a buzzing sound. His cell is open, and he’s just received a message. “Do you always have your phone on?” I ask. “Yes, always. I need to be on top of everything that’s going on with the business.” I pop another strawberry in my mouth. They’re out of this world. “I see you love chocolate.” “I do. And you?” He shrugs and doesn’t respond. “You don’t like sweets?” “Sweets like you, yes.” We both laugh. “You don’t keep sweets at home?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because they don’t really do much for me.” “Do you live alone in Germany?” He doesn’t respond again. I want

  13 That Sunday, I’m exhausted. I want to forget about Eric, but my vaginal muscles still ache, a constant reminder of everything that happened the day before. At quarter after eleven, I finally get out of bed, and the first thing I do is talk to my dad. It’s a Sunday-morning routine. Besides, today is the Euro Cup Final, and I bet he’s going nuts. “Hello, little girl.” “Hey, Papá.” After we talk for about ten minutes about Curro and the Euro Cup, my dad changes subjects. “Are you all right, my love? You seem down.” “I’m fine, Papá. I’m just very tired.” “Little girl,” he says, trying to stay light, “you have only two weeks till vacation, right?” He’s right. My vacation starts July 15, and the reminder perks me up. “Exactly, Papá. It’s just so close, I can’t help but be impatient.” I can feel him smiling. That comforts me. He had a really rough time when my mom died two years ago, and seeing him do OK is a great relief. “Are you coming by the house for a few days?” “Of course, Papá.” “O

  14 I’m up at seven thirty Monday morning. Curro is calm. I give him his breakfast and medication. Then I take a shower. Ten minutes later, I get dressed and put on my makeup. I get to the office at eight thirty. I run into Miguel in the elevator, and we high-five over the Euro Cup. We go up to the cafeteria and take a seat at our table to have our coffees. Ten minutes later, I drop the madeleine in my hand when I see Eric come in with my supervisor and two others. He looks impressive in his dark suit and light-colored shirt. I can tell by his dour expression that he’s talking business. When they get to the counter and order their coffees, he sees me. I keep on talking, enjoying my colleague’s company, though I can see in my peripheral vision that they’ve taken a table far from ours. Eric sits in the chair facing me. He looks at me and I look back. Our eyes connect for a fraction of a second; as expected, my body reacts. “Well, well, the bosses have arrived,” says Miguel. “I heard you g

  15 At seven o’clock the same evening, I find myself sitting on the couch at my sister’s house. My cell buzzes. My friends want me to go to Cibeles to celebrate the Euro Cup win. But I’m not in the mood for a party. I turn off my cell. I don’t want to hear about anything or anyone. I’m too sad. My sister hugs me, but inexplicably, I feel a need for the arms of a certain person. Why? At nine that evening, I turn on my cell and take a call from Fernando. My sister contacted him, and he has offered to come to Madrid to comfort me. I don’t want him to. After talking to him for a few minutes, I hang up and turn off my cell again. I get something to eat and then decide to go home. When I get there and go to the bathroom to wash my face, I hear a knock on the door. Convinced it’s my sister, I open the door and instead find a grim-faced Mr. Zimmerman. What is he doing here? He’s surprised when he sees me, and his expression changes completely. Otherwise, he doesn’t move a muscle. “What’s going

  16 My alarm clock rings. When I check, it’s seven thirty. I reach to turn it off. I stretch lazily on the bed, and then my brain snaps awake. I look to my right and see Eric is gone. My mind becomes aware of all that has happened, and I quickly sit up. “Good morning,” I hear a voice say. I look toward the door and there he is, fully dressed. I check out his clothes and am surprised that the suit and shirt he�
��s wearing aren’t what he had on yesterday. He reads my mind. “Tomás brought these over about an hour ago.” “Did your headache go away?” I ask. “Yes, Jude. Thanks for asking.” I reply with a sad smile. I get up without being fully conscious of what a horrible sight I must be. My hair is a mess, my eyes are crusty, and I’m wearing my Tasmanian Devil pj’s. As I walk by him, I get on my toes and give him a peck on the cheek. “Good morning,” I mutter sleepily. I head toward the kitchen, ready to give Curro his medicine, when I see all his things gathered on the counter. I come to a dead

  17 My supervisor goes nuts when Eric tells her I’m going with him on his visits to the branch offices. Miguel is glad he’s not the one going. My supervisor tries in a thousand different ways to convince Eric not to take me. She argues that I don’t have much experience and that I haven’t been with the company that long; in the end, however, she gives in. Eric’s the boss, so she has to accept it. Check that out! I call my father on Wednesday to explain that I have to take my vacation later than I had planned. He thinks it’s fine and encourages me to do a good job. If he had any idea how this all came about, he’d pack me up in a box and seal it tight. My sister, on the other hand, gets mad at me. For me to leave her alone in Madrid for a few weeks is disconcerting. Who will she tell her troubles to? On Thursday, Eric comes by with his chauffeur at six in the morning. We travel in his private jet, and I’m taken aback by so much luxury. I feel utterly provincial. I look at everything with s

  18 The meeting goes longer than expected, and we don’t adjourn until eight thirty that evening. Eric’s face is utterly serious. To my amusement, Amanda turns out to be a real ballbuster who puts obstacles in everyone’s path. At day’s end, we get into the limo, with Amanda. During the ride, Eric takes refuge behind a mask of hostility I don’t like at all. He asks me for several documents that he and Amanda look over as they talk. When we get to the hotel, I just want to run to my room and get naked, as Eric has requested. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Eric and me. Eric on top of me. Eric taking me. But my desire soon drowns in a well. “Miss Flores, would you like to dine with Amanda and me?” That stops me cold. That question really should have been phrased, “Amanda, would you like to dine with Miss Flores and me?” My anger sits in my belly. I’m burning inside. But this time, my fire has nothing to do with desire. I feel that woman’s eyes on me. Deep down, I know she’s a