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Tim hurried on his way up Genova in the Zona Rosa area of Mexico City to catch a bus.
It was Sunday and he wanted to see some of the sites of the city. He had just recently arrived in
Mexico City from Oaxaca. He was excited about starting a whole new phase of his life, Tim sees
it as an adventure. He felt alive and young, like when the first time he went to Europe as a young
man of sixteen, and found himself in a strange and entirely different environment. He wanted to
explore and feel the magnificence of this big city.
He had been living in Oaxaca as a retiree for twelve years. Oaxaca, an old Spanish
Colonial town with its beautiful architecture and easy, slow, Latin life was just what any retiree
would want, but he had grown restless and he felt if he did not do something to change his life
or he would atrophy and die. One day he saw an advertisement In the English language
newspaper advertising for expatriates to teach English in Mexico City, at a very good salary. He
answered the advertisement, and was hired.
As he neared the bus stop on Paseo de La Reforma he was stopped by a lovely Mexican
lady, in her early thirties. She wanted to know the time. She was what all sonorities, Tim felt,
should look like. Her skin was the light brown that the indigenous women have. Deep midnight
black eyes that look deep into her soul. Her high cheek bones made her eyes have that
enchanting oriental look. Full lips and full breast. Full of sexuality and mystery. Tim thought to
himself that he could love such a woman as this. Oh, Tim thinks, if I was thirty again, what a
pleasure it would be to get to know such a woman.
Tim put a way his dream of passion and stretched out his arm toward her. She took
Tim’s arm with her soft hands and peered at the watch quickly. Then she slowly guided Tim’s
hand toward her breast and gently places his hand on them. Tim fells the soft fullness of her
breast. Tim tries to pull his hand away but she places her hand over his, holding his hand there.
She says in Spanish, "Would you like some of this? Are they not beautiful?"
Tim was startled by her offer. His face grew hot and he tried to pull his hand away, but
she held it there. “Would you not want to make love to me, I am so hot and I would like to
make love with you”.Tim quickly jerks his hand free and steps back a step and quickly catches
his composure.
"No I don't think so." he says hesitantly.
"Why not?" she insist.
“I am an old man. What would a beautiful young woman like you want with me.”
“You are not old. You are beautiful, and you make me feel so hot.”
"At my age," says Tim as he runs his fingers through his totally white hair, “I have
given up the ideal of sex with a young woman.” But in his hart he was yearning to have sex with
this lovely. But he thinks, maybe I would not be able to get hard -- and how embarrassing that
would be. It has been eight years since he has felt the passionate embrace of a woman.
"Come on. I will show you a good time," she says with an alluring smile.
"I bet you would," Tim says, in Spanish, with a smile.
"Look. I am only looking for a boyfriend. Would you like to go with me to the Basilica
of Our Lady of Guadalupe? I like to go there and pray to the saints. It is a lot of fun," she says,
putting her arm around Tim's waist and pulling him close.
"Well . . . I have been wanting to go there. Yeah!-- that would be fun. How do we get
there?" Tim says trying to free himself from her strong embrace, feeling a bit shy about a young
woman showing so much affection to an old man in public. What will people think?
"We take taxi, go fast, no time," She says in English.
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"No I don't think so, taxis cost a lot of money. I have plenty of time”. Tim felt uneasy
about taking a taxi with her, since there have been many robberies of tourist by taxi drivers.
How does he know she is not working in cahoots with some cabby.
“Okay. We take bus. Hurry, one come,” she says taking Tim by the arm and pulling
him toward the curb.
One of the small, almost van-type bus pulls up in front of them. It is one of the
independently operated, numerous and cheap buses, called pesos. The reason they are called
pesos is they originally only cost a peso to ride any where in the city. Now they cost two pesos.
They careen around the city at breakneck speed, racing each other to get to the next bus stop
before the others, since they work on commission. They will stop anywhere to take on or
discharge passengers. The regular buses stop only at designated bus stops. There appearance
often look like a survivor of a terrible accident. This one looked in fairly good shape.
“It four pesos,” she says as she pulls Tim on to the bus.
Tim pays the driver the four paces and follows her to a bench that runs along the side of
the bus. They sit down and she reaches over and takes Tim’s hand and squeezes it. She places a
big kiss on his cheek and then She lays her head in Tim’s lap. Looking up at Tim, she smiles and
says, “I love you. You are much handsome. We go have much fun.”
The bus tears down Paseo de la Reforma, a broad boulevard lined with trees and
monuments to various Mexican heroes, one of the main thoroughfares of Mexico; a remnant of
the Emperor Maximilian who designed it as a proud parade route to his castle in what is now
called Chapultepec park.
“There are only two speeds these buses travel, fast and faster,” says Tim as he looks
down at her and giggles timidly.
She looks up at Tim, smiles and says “You funny. That why I love you.”
The bus bumps along, attempting to dodge the large pot holes in the street. Some the
driver could not avoid and sent shock waves with a thud through the bus. The shock absorbers
long ago ceased functioning.
The bus would stop randomly wherever someone would signal the bus and the same for
those that wanted to get off. There seemed to be no pattern or rules for getting on and off the
bus. Soon the bus was crowded and people were hanging from the bar that ran the length of the
bus, there where even people in the exit stair well, hanging partly out of the bus.
A pregnant woman, carrying a baby in one arm, got on the bus and stood in front of Tim
and She. She immediately offered her seat to the woman.
With an expression of relief and thanks, the woman sat down next to Tim. She, then sits
in Tim’s lap. His tool immediately responds by becoming hard -- Tim is delighted.
After some fifteen minutes of this bone shaking, scary ride, she jumps off of Tim’s lap
and exclaimed with excitement.
“We have arrived, We walk now.” “Bajo,” she yells to the driver dragging Tim toward
the front of the bus. They push and shove through the crowed as the driver stops the bus and
opens the doors. Tim notices a sign that says "exit to the rear."
“We have to go to the rear,” Tim says tugging at her.
“You silly Gringo, this Mexico, sign no mean what say. Come, before driver go.
Hurry!”
They shove past the people getting on, Tim feels guilty for not using the rear exit as the
sign instructed. This would never be permitted in the U.S.
“Look! See! There is basilica. Is it not beautiful?.” She says, pointing off in the
distance.
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Tim looks to where She is pointing and sees a large modern onion shaped building,
surround by several other buildings and an endless stream of people -- thousands of them.
As they walk toward the entrance of the basilica, She speaks with concern, “You best
hide wallet, there be an abundance of robbers amongst the crowed, and they particularly rob
tourist.”
“Your right. Thanks for the warning," says Tim as he reaches for his wallet that is in his
rear pocket. He takes the wallet from his rear pocket and places it in the right front pocket. She,
watches Tim as he makes the exchange and says, with concern in her voice, “Look there too,”
She cautions. “Put in shirt under belt, they can no get there.”
Tim did as she suggested and was glad to know that his money is now safe.
The entrance to the grounds of the basilica was a long wide stair case that climbed the
hill to the basilica area. It was crammed with people of all ages and description. There were
many young couples holding hands and stopping now and then to have long embraces with
many kisses; there were couples with small children being dragged by them through the crowed,
with the children crying wanting to have a “paleta”, a fruit ice on a stick being sold by a vendor
standing on the steps. Old couples grabbing the rail of the steps, slowly, laboriously, pulling
themselves along up the steps. The steps are surrounded on both sides by flowering bushes and
grass, but not many trees, which would be greatly welcomed as shelter from the blazing sun.
Tim and She eventually reached the large court yard of the basilica, an area that could
easily fit in ten football fields. There was to the back of the huge court yard a much older small
church. She turns to Tim and says, “Look! Let us enter church. It has an abundance of saints to
which I may pray. Come rapidly, the mass has commenced.”
She walks quickly toward the church. Tim has a hard Tim keeping up with her and calls
out to her, “Wait! Slow down, you're going to fast for an old man. I can’t move as fast as you.”
She stops at the entrance of the church and reads a plaque placed on the wall near the
entrance. It is in Spanish and she reads it aloud to Tim, perhaps thinking Tim could not read
Spanish and somehow reading it a loud, would, by magic, come out as English. Tim reads the
plague and translates it, a loud, to English, hoping to impress her:
‘An Indian named Juan Diego had a vision of the Virgin Mary while attending his herd
in the field. In order that the priest would know it was a true message from the Virgin she
impressed her image on his cloak. This incident was the turning point in the conversion of the
native population of Mexico. The basilica was built to house and preserve this artifact’
She was not impressed. She excitedly and happily entered the church. She proceeds to
the nearest statue and wraps her arms about the base of the statue and covers it with kisses and
strokes the statue with soft affectionate strokes.
“Jesus forgive me my sins,” She pleads in Spanish.
She continuos this process with every statue in the church. Tim follows her respectably,
patiently in her pilgrimage.
“Why not pray saints,” She says.
“One thing, I don’t believe in all that and the second is, I am Jewish,” says Tim.
“You no have saints?” She asks.
“No. We have Rabbis. We are very much against deifying anyone or anything. We
believe in One God -- nothing else.”
“Who pray to.”
“We pray to God.”
“Me too. Saints pure. God listen them.”
“Well, I believe God listens to me. I am not pure, but God does not care about that, He
is there to help.”
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“I have hunger,” She says. Let’s for go something eat. Market near where we eat.” She
grabs Tim’s hand and pulls him toward the stairs. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, they
go several blocks where they find a group of food vendors. It is one of those street markets that
appear everywhere on the streets of Mexico. A gathering of a number of homemade booths with
a canvas or a piece of plastic covering the top of the stand for protection from the sun and rain.
There are long wooden benches stretching across the front where the customers sit to eat their
food. Near the vendors are charcoal fires covered with steaming pots full of wondrous smelling
foods -- Chilies, posole, meat, tamales.
She sits down at one of the stands and Tim sits beside her. “For what is your pleasure,”
She asks Tim.
"I don't know. I don't know much about Mexican food. You order for me."
"Me like barbacoa, you like."
"Yes! I know what that is. I like it very much. It is goat meat in a spicy consommé.
When I lived in Oaxaca, I always order that when I went to the market -- I'll have that."
She turns to the vendor and orders two barbacoas and two cokes. the vendor quickly
places a bowel of barbacoa in front of each of them and a bowel of shredded cabbage and
radishes and a stack of tortillas. They place some of the vegetables in the barbacoa and spoon
out the consommé with a nice piece of the meat, followed by a bite of the tortilla, followed by a
swig of the coke, for the consommé is very hot. As Tim is eating he notices a McDonald's
across the street.
"Look a McDonald's. If I had seen that first, I would have gone there,"
"Me, no like,” She says.
“Have you ever eaten at McDonald’s?”
“Si., me no like.”
"Why not?"
"No life. Very cold."
"What do you mean?"
"It is too much clean. Everything plastic. The food is plastic."
"I don't understand. I think cleanliness is important for safe food."
"Clean too much. Look here. It clean. Everything has life. No plastic by company, but
make by the owner. It has life. It has part of the owner."
"How about the dogs that wonder among the booths eating the scraps on the ground?"
"It no bad, dogs eat that which is on ground. Dogs no get in the food."
"I guess it's okay. It's not what I am used to."
They finish there food and throw the paper plates and paper cups in a trash can near by
and walk toward the bus stop. They catch a bus going back to the Zona Rosa area. "I want take
shower. We go hotel?" Says She as they get on the bus. "Sure. No problem," I say. "My hotel is
on Alemeda street, near the Zocalo.
"This wrong bus," She says. She grabs Tim's hand and heads for the front of the bus.
"Bajo," She says. The driver stops the bus in the middle of the street. The bus hadn't moved
more than a few feet since they had gotten on the bus. Cars and trucks were as thick as flies.
Horns honking, exhaust fumes choking thick and the sun bearing down on everything with a
relentless intensity. They dodged in among the cars and trucks and head for the Metro entrance.
They push themselves through the crowd of Street Vendors that takes up two-thirds of the side
walk, leaving only space for a single file of people. Vendors that sell everything from clothing
to pirated CD's.
She stops and admires a dress hanging on a wire-mesh frame. "Oh! Is not beautiful?"
She says as she places the dress against herself. She admires it in a full length mirror near by.
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"Look! My size. My entire life I want such a dress. Buy for me," She pleads.
"I don't know. It does look nice on you. How much is it?" Tim asks.
"Quanto cuesto?" She says to the vendor, in Spanish.
"For the lovely Señorita -- a very special price -- 300 pesos," the vendor says in Spanish,
as he looks at Tim with those, 'You are a tourist and can pay as much as I want to charge --
eyes.'
"No, no," She says, "too much. I will give you 100 pesos."
"Carumba! I can't do that, that's too cheap. But, since it looks so pretty on you and since
it would be such an honor to have the lovely Señorita to wear one of my dresses -- you can have
it for 250 pesos," the vendor says as he grins with a very broad smile, showing all his perfect
white teeth.
"I will give you 150 pesos -- no more," She says as she hangs the dress back on the rack.
"Holy Mother of God, you are stealing from me, but it breaks my hart to think you will
be so disappointed -- 200 pesos, " the vendor says.
"Sold!" She says, taking the dress down and handing it to Tim. "you pay," She says.
With that Tim reaches for his wallet, which is still wedged under his belt, and hands the
vendor a 200 pesos note.
"I love you! I love you!" She says as the vendor hands the dress to She placed in a
shopping bag.

The Metro stopped at the Alemeda station. They get off and walk north on Alemeda
toward Tim's hotel. As they enter the lobby, the desk Clerk yells out at them in Spanish. She
reacts to what he says, with a cringe, but continuos up the stairs beside Tim, mumbling to
herself.
"What did he say to you," says Tim.
"He call me prostitute, and no want me in hotel," She says.
"What! What nerve. Who is he to determine who I bring to my room. I'll give him a
piece of my mind," Tim says as he turns to go down the stairs.
"No! No! He just stupid man. Come, let's go your room."
"You are right, he is a stupid man."
When they enter Tim's room, She runs quickly to examine the shower, then She runs to
the window and pulls the curtains shut.
"No want person see take shower," she says as she removes her blouse, then her skirt,
finally her bra and panties.
"Come. Take off clothes. We take shower," she says as she unbuttons Tim's shirt.
"Not so fast, I am not so sure I want to take a shower. I had one this morning.
"Silly! You can have more shower than one. Come! It be fun," she says as she loosens
his belt and unbuttons his pants. Tim does not resist as she pushes him onto the bed and pulls
off his pants.
"Maybe it will be fun," says Tim.
She runs into the shower with a glee and turns on the water. She makes gargling noises
as the water hits her face. Tim quickly removes the remainder of his clothes and gets in to the
shower with her. She immediately puts shampoo on Tim's head and works up a great deal of
lather. The lather runs into Tim's eyes and blinds him. While Tim is trying to get the shampoo
out of his eyes, she jumps from the shower and leaves Tim with his struggle. It takes a few
minutes before Tim can see --- then he becomes suspicious. Tim quickly steps from the shower
and finds her going through his suitcase.
"What are you doing?" Tim says sternly.
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"Look for cream. I give massage. You not want massage. Look! I find some," she says
as she pulls a bottle of after shave cream from Tim's suit case.
"That's an after shave cream. It's not for massages."
"Is it not cream? Will do. Come. Lay on bed. Will make you fell good." she says as
she pushes Tim on the bed. She immediately places the cream on Tim's chest and begins to rub
it all over Tim's chest.
"It not feel good?" She says. Tim does not answer but just grins and bears it. It does not
feel good, but he feels it does not do much good to argue with her.
"Turn on back. Will make back feel good," she say. She uses the remaining expensive
shaving lotion on his back and arms. As she rubs Tim's hand, he feels her slipping his gold ring
from his finger. He quickly slips it back on and put his hand under himself.
"Nice, was it not? She says, "you want fuck," she says as she kneels on the bed
exposing her naked rear to Tim. "You have condom. Don't want be sick"
"No, says Tim. At my age I don't expect to need them."
"I have condom," she says as she looks into her purse, “I make on you. But you no hard.
Me help. She strokes Tim's tool and rubs it against her virgina. To Tim's surprise he feels the
gentle throbbing of a fully functional instrument. She once again kneels on the bed with her
bare rear exposed to Tim.
"Fuck hard," She says.
Tim puts his instrument where it hasn't been for years and feels that marvelous flush as
he moves within her -- then suddenly with a rush it is over. Tim smiles to himself in the
realization that his sex life is not finished.
“You 'come'? You fuck good. You make me very happy. You real man,” she says.
She gets down from the bed and begins to dress. “We go park, take pictures,” she says as
she places Tim’s camera into her shopping bag, which she must have gotten from the suite case
earlier.
“Yeah that sounds good,” says Tim, not questioning her about the camera. As they
walked toward the park by Bellas Arte, the beautiful and important art museum of Mexico, She
says, “I have hunger. I want eat."
“But we just ate," says Tim.
"Me no care. I have hunger."
"What about the pictures."
"We make later."
"Okay. Where do you want to go?"
"Good Restaurant. I show."
She leads the way and after a few blocks she points to a restaurant, "There. I like that."
It was not what one would call a high class restaurant, it is a Vips, more or less like a
Denny's in the U.S. They enter the restaurant and find a booth and sit down. She says to a
waitress that passes by the table, in Spanish, "I want to order."
"I am sorry. That is not my table," the waitress replies in Spanish as she continues on her
way.
She sticks out her tongue at her back. "Fuck you too," she says in English as she picks
up the menu. She peeks over the menu at the woman siting in the opposite booth. An elderly
lady with her neatly permed and dyed hair, wearing an expensive blue silk dress. The lady is
busy eating a pie with coffee. She wipes her mouth after each bite of pie and sip of coffee, then
genteelly adds some cream to her coffee and stirs it with a slow and gentle motion.
"I hate people rich," She says behind the menu, "make me sick."
"How do you know she is rich. She looks rather ordinary to me," Tim says.
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"Look! She eat, so funny. I would like kill the bitch," She says.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because she steal. Make fun of person."
"I will admit there is a lot of fraud in Mexico -- but I don't think she steals."
"Yes. She steal. She steal person dignity. Make feel bad, small. She have maid. Pay
little. She talk bad to her. Her work hard -- too hard.
"How do you know she has a maid?"
"That type no like work in house. I know -- I one time work as maid. I hate. I prefer
beg on street. No like work for stupid people rich."
The waitress comes to their table and address Tim, but She immediately speaks up, in
Spanish, "Give me a bowel of chicken soup," pointing at the photo in the menu, "and make sure
there is a lot of chicken in it."
"Yes madam," she says as she scribbles the order on a pad. She turns to Tim.
"I mean lots of chicken, you are so stingy with your chicken," she says loudly causing
some of the customers to turn and look at what is going on.
"Yes madam," the waitress says, "and you sir."
"I'll have a hamburger," Tim says.
"Yeah. Make sure you don't overcook it," she says, laying the menu on the table.
After the waitress leaves, Tim looks at her with a puzzled expression and says, "Why are
you being so rude, she is just doing her job?"
"She rude first," She says.
"What do you mean?"
"She has look me superior. I nothing," she says.
"She didn't treat you any different than she did me," Tim says.
"Yes. She treat at me bad. I see face when she come at me."
"Okay, have it your way," Tim says as he folds his hands and places them on the table.
"Here you are. I am sorry for the delay, but the kitchen is very busy," the waitress says
in Spanish as she places the order on the table.
"I am going to report you. You are rude and do not know your job, "She says in Spanish.
"I am sorry miss, but the kitchen was very busy. This is the kitchen's busies time," says
the waitress.
"A bad excuse. You are not going to get a tip," She says as she taps her fingers on the
table. The waitress leaves looking most disturbed.

When Tim receives the check, he reaches for his wallet to pay. He opens the wallet and
finds it empty. Tim's two-hundred dollars was gone. Then it registered with him what She must
have done while he was in the shower. He was sure it was there when he hid it under the pillow
-- just in case.
Tim raises his eyes and looks straight at her and says, "You robbed me -- Why?"
With that she grabs her shopping bag, with Tim's camera in it, and runs for the door.
Before Tim could move a muscle, she is out the door and out of sight. Tim's mouth hangs open
in surprise and says to himself, "Maybe, she was a prostitute.”
Tim smiles to himself, thinking about the day and the pleasure he had with her, her
wonderful youthful energy --- and the Sex. Hell! It was worth two hundred dollars he says to
himself, and pays the check with the money he still had in his pants pocket. He leaves the
restaurant and looks up and down the street hoping to catch a sight of HER.
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