The Casino Cougar Was Waiting for Me on the Sand

Good evening. My name is Ramiro, though my friends have always called me El Mono. For those who’ve already read anything of mine, you already know that mature women drive me crazy, as far back as I can remember, but that doesn’t mean I ignore the rest.

Before I begin, one clarification that helps explain what I write. I live a few hours from half a dozen coastal cities, the kind where people overflow every summer: long beaches, nightlife, no shame, and bodies of every age dressed however they please, without worrying whether the physique matches or not.

The nights there are chaos. The clubs burst at the seams, the cafés fill up with people who care very little about anyone else’s appearance, and every stretch of beach where darkness wins out becomes fertile ground for craziness.

Even though I live so close, it had been more than five years since I’d set foot in those places. Money issues, work, and that age that makes you start dodging crowds. Until one January Friday Beto called me, a friend with a nose for any business opportunity.

—Mono, I’m inviting you to Las Toninas for three days —he said without even saying hello—. I’m going to close some deals, buy kitchen equipment, and we can waste a little time too.

He told me he was about to open a restaurant in our city and that several coastal businesses closed at the end of January because the season had gone badly for them. His plan was to take advantage of that and buy the machines at bargain-basement prices.

—I’ve got appointments with six places to look at things, and in the afternoon and at night we’ll just spend our time looking at women, going out, and doing nothing useful —he finished.

The idea wasn’t bad at all. I had no obligations that week, so I said yes. On Monday at eight in the morning Beto was honking outside my house. I’d packed a bag with the bare minimum: swimsuits, T-shirts, jeans, comfortable shoes, and not much else.

The trip felt short between his plans and his delusions. He’d rented a house near the beach, though a bit far from the center, and had brought along several cases of beer in the trunk, meat for the grill, vegetables, and the indispensable bottles of wine.

Around ten in the morning we arrived and settled in. A quick spin around the city, the usual shopping for bread and firewood, a shower, and the first visit to a place to appraise the equipment Beto wanted. It took about forty minutes.

—The next appointment is at one —he said as we left—. Want to hit the beach until then?

—Sure —I answered—. Nothing better to do.

***

That’s when the string of surprises began. Several of the old regular businesses had shut their doors; only the strongest were left. And the people heading toward the shore were quite a bit older and dressed very differently from the last time I’d been there. The women no longer wore wraps but mesh dresses that let their tiny swimsuits show through; the men wore shorts in electric colors.

What shocked me most was seeing women with very generous bodies, no offense intended, wearing bikinis and tiny thongs, and men with skin-tight clothes and their beer bellies hanging out, almost to the point of ridicule.

Beto looked at me and burst out laughing. He couldn’t believe I was so stunned.

—Relax, Mono. Wait till the girls come down, they’re almost naked. And another thing: if a veteran woman likes you, she’ll come right at you, no bullshit.

He knew the whole script by heart. He traveled every summer and was no longer surprised by anything. I, on the other hand, was being thrown off by everything.

We rented a day tent at a beach bar. A young guy brought us chairs and arranged the tarps to block the wind and sand. Minutes later, a girl no more than twenty-five appeared, wearing a brown bikini so tiny that with my shorts you could make two full sets out of it, carrying two cans of beer and a bowl of peanuts.

—Gentlemen, compliments of the house —she said—. For whatever you need, I’m Belén and I’m at your service.

She set everything on the table, gave us a perfect view of her ass, and went back to the beach bar.

—Beto, if the waitress is serving almost naked, I don’t even want to imagine what’s coming next —I commented.

—You’ll see —he replied—. The options are endless here, you just have to know how to choose.

Until one o’clock, the parade was endless: statuesque women, chubby girls in tiny thongs, girls who could have been our nieces wearing three triangles to cover the bare minimum, and men in swimsuits stretching whatever little or lot they were carrying. A full sampler of everything.

***

Close to two, the tent next to ours filled up. A woman in her sixties in a pink bikini, bronzed beyond belief, with folds hanging everywhere. She was accompanied by another woman in her forties, wearing a red dental floss thong and a pair of fake tits that looked like they were about to burst out of the top. Behind them were two small children and an older man in shorts and a T-shirt, clearly the older woman’s husband.

They greeted us politely. The man planted a beach umbrella near the shore, opened a reclining chair, and settled in to take his afternoon nap while the grandkids played in the wet sand. The two women stayed in the tent, talking about how lucky they’d been the night before at the casino.

Beto didn’t waste a second and asked how it had gone. The older woman told us in detail, while her daughter rubbed cream into her arms and legs.

—You should try your luck —the lady told us—. Seems like this week they’re giving money away.

—We’re not gamblers —Beto answered—. We don’t even know how to do it.

—Tonight we’re going back for revenge, around eleven we’ll be there —she went on.

—Mom, again? —the daughter protested.

—Of course, sweetie. Your father doesn’t like it, so we’re going by ourselves.

—And if we teach you? —Beto threw in.

—Delighted, if you don’t mind going with an old woman and her daughter.

—Old? Not at all —he shot back—. A woman with experience.

The lady smiled, and the daughter turned red as a tomato. The necessary introductions were made, and we agreed to meet at the casino. When mother and daughter went off toward the sea, Beto locked eyes with me.

—Tonight we’re fucking, Mono. The lady is easy pickings, but the daughter’s going to take a little more work.

—Are you going to make a move on the mother? —I asked him.

—Don’t play innocent. She’s only a few years older than us. I bet her husband hasn’t touched her in ages. And they’ve got money too.

My laugh must have carried all the way to the water.

***

We went back to the house at six and met the neighbors: four friends around thirty-five who always spent the summer together, and an older married couple from Córdoba. The four women found out we were having a barbecue and joined us on the condition that we invite them; the people from Córdoba brought fernet and soda for the pregame.

We all had dinner together, between laughter and jokes, until close to eleven. The older people went off to rest and the four friends joined us for the trip to the casino.

—There’s already plenty to choose from —Beto told me under his breath—. Don’t waste the chance.

—I like the lady’s daughter.

—I’m going to test the neighbors, maybe a party will break out.

We got there and ran into the mother and daughter. By midnight, the lady had won quite a few bills, the daughter had lost a good amount, Beto and I had managed to come out even on the trip, and the neighbors had their pockets full. We went to the bar for a few drinks. The mother excused herself and went back to the house. The daughter, whose name was Carla, wanted a rematch, and Beto stayed at the counter with two of the neighbors.

By one o’clock, Carla had recovered what she’d lost and wanted to leave. I went over to Beto and told him I was escorting her home and then I’d come back.

—Go ahead —he told me—. These women are a little drunk; they can’t walk straight.

Carla was staying in an apartment building facing the sea, and I offered to walk her there. We went down to the beach and walked for a good while. The drinks had hit her badly and she was laughing at anything. I suggested we sit in the sand until she calmed down a bit.

We sat down and she started telling me about her life: separated, living with her parents in the capital, an absent husband who’d left her stranded. At one point, like the good sentimental drunk she was, she burst into tears.

I hugged her and let her unload her alcohol-soaked crying.

—At forty-seven, I’m disposable —she said between sobs—. Nobody wants me anymore.

With her defenses on the floor, she was easy prey. I dried her tears with my thumb and gave her a short kiss, almost one of consolation. She answered with a passion I hadn’t expected.

***

What came next was simple. We stood up, found a corner where the darkness covered everything, and gave ourselves over without thinking. I kissed her slowly, then with real hunger. I ran my hands along her back, untied the knot of her dress, and caressed her breasts over the fabric until I felt the rhythm of her breathing change.

—No one’s touched me in months —she murmured against my neck, and that was all I needed to hear.

I slid her thong off without rushing. I touched her between the legs, slowly at first, until I felt how wet and trembling she was. She dug her nails into my shoulders and tried not to make a sound, though every caress tore a sigh out of her anyway.

I spread her skirt over the cold sand and laid her down there. I settled over her and entered her slowly, looking at her face in the little light that reached us from the boardwalk. I squeezed her breasts as I drove in, and she lifted her hips to take me all the way.

—Don’t stop —she begged, her legs wrapped around my waist.

At one point she pushed me and turned me over until she was on top. She started moving like she was recovering all the time she’d lost, her hands braced on my chest, her head thrown back. Sand got everywhere and neither of us cared.

She came with a long tremor that ran through her whole body and collapsed onto me, gasping, her forehead pressed to mine.

—I’d gone more than half a year without this —she said once she caught her breath—. It would’ve been better in a bed, but at least I’m leaving calmer.

She straightened her clothes, got to her feet, and asked me to walk her back to the building. We walked a couple more blocks in silence, with the sound of the sea in the background.

—Thank you for tonight —she said at the door—. We’re never going to see each other again, but I loved it.

And she disappeared toward the elevator.

***

I went back to the casino and ran into Beto, who was coming out with two of the neighbors.

—Give me a couple of hours —he told me—. If the outside light is off, I’m already alone.

I played a few more chips and had one last drink before heading to the house. The light was still on, so I stayed outside smoking a cigarette. A while later the other two neighbors appeared.

—Neighbor, did they leave you out on the street? —one of them laughed—. Come on, we’ll have some mate until you can get inside.

And that’s what happened. Between rounds of mate I learned that the two of them were a couple, and that the other two had joined the trip at the last minute. They knew what was happening inside with Beto, so they’d passed the time walking along the beach. They never hinted at anything more, and neither did I.

When Beto’s lovers came out, the round was over and I was finally able to go in. I fell asleep right away, with sand still stuck to my skin.

I woke up after midday. But the second day is for another installment of this trip.