The Weekend Alone with the Four Men from the Ranch

I was nineteen the summer I discovered what my body could make other people feel, and what other people could make my body feel. I’m thin, dark-skinned, with curly hair that falls to the middle of my back, and ever since I was little I got used to men looking at me an extra second. For a long time, I didn’t know what that attention was for.

I lived alone with my mother. That year she started seeing a man and, almost without realizing it, she stopped seeing me. She came home late, spoke on the phone in a low voice, got herself dressed up for him like she had never dressed up for anything. I understood her, and at the same time it hurt. I felt like a piece of furniture in my own house.

The only thing that pulled me out of that sadness was the ranch. My father worked on a huge one, full of horses, bulls, and sheep, and on weekends I went there to help. I cleaned the stables, brushed the horses, carried buckets of water, and in the end they gave me a few pesos for the help. It smelled of wet earth and hay, and there nobody made me feel invisible.

Several men worked at the ranch with my father, all older, from their forties to their fifties. I was the only young girl who set foot in that place, and it showed. Sometimes one of them would hug me a little longer than necessary, tell me I was beautiful, give me a leather bracelet or a candy bought in town. A couple of times, in secret in the stable, one of them had stolen a quick kiss from me. It never went beyond that: my father watched over me like a jewel and everyone knew it.

I liked that attention. I liked it more than I was willing to admit.

That Friday my mother was eager to get me out of the house. She wanted the whole weekend for her boyfriend, so as soon as lunch was over she hurried me to pack my bag. Since it was hot season, I packed short skirts, shorts, light blouses, a couple of swimsuits. I liked to keep cool, to show skin without thinking too much about it.

They dropped me at the ranch gate and left quickly. Only when the car disappeared in a cloud of dust did I realize I had left my cell phone between the seats. There was hardly any signal there anyway, so I didn’t think much of it. I knocked on the big wooden door.

—Who is it? —a voice answered through the intercom.

—It’s Dafne —I said—. Can you let my dad know I got here?

There was a long silence. I thought they hadn’t heard me. Then I heard footsteps and the scrape of the bolt.

The one who opened was Genaro, the foreman. I knew him well; he was my father’s most trusted man. But that afternoon he hugged me differently, tighter, slower, and filled my cheek with kisses. I laughed awkwardly and looked over his shoulder, searching for my father.

—Your dad went to the ranch up in the sierra for the weekend, girl —Genaro said, not quite letting go of me.

I felt a chill run down my back. It was true: days earlier my father had told me not to come that weekend, that he wouldn’t be there. I had completely forgotten, and my mother, in her hurry, hadn’t remembered either. I was without a phone, without a car, in the middle of nowhere.

—But stay with us —he went on, as if reading my face—. We’re not all here. There are only four of us this weekend.

***

He took me to the inner courtyard. The other three were there, sitting in the shade with beers in hand: Rubén, the biggest one; Tomás, quiet and with huge hands; and the one everyone called Lencho, the oldest and the biggest joker. The four of them looked at me at the same time, and there was something in that shared look that made my skin prickle.

—Stay, girl —Rubén said—. If you want, we won’t even tell your dad.

—We’re going to have a party —Lencho added—. We’ll turn on the pool, put on music, bring out beers. What do you say?

I didn’t have many options. I agreed. When I went to leave my things, I discovered that my room was locked, just like my father’s. He had locked them before leaving. I stood there in the hallway, my bag hanging from my shoulder, feeling as if something in the air had changed.

—If you want, you can sleep in my room —Genaro said behind me.

—No, better in mine —Tomás jumped in.

—So we don’t fight —the foreman laughed—, you stay one night with each of us. How about it?

He said it half joking, half serious, and the others laughed with a tone I didn’t entirely like. But also, I’m not going to lie, something inside me lit up.

I went into Genaro’s room to change. When I opened my suitcase I understood my mistake: I hadn’t brought a single modest item. Just tiny shorts, just crop tops. The most covered thing I found was a thong-style swimsuit with the top. I put it on, looked at myself in the wall mirror stained with age, and let my hair down. Let whatever has to happen happen, I thought.

***

When I came out, the four of them went silent. The kind of silence that weighs. Genaro put a cold beer in my hand and, while I drank, the others took turns coming close: an arm around my waist, a kiss on the cheek, a word in my ear telling me I was the prettiest woman they had seen in years. The beer, the heat, the warm hands on my skin: everything blended into a new sensation I didn’t want to stop.

The afternoon passed like that. We swam, drank, laughed at Lencho’s old jokes. In the water it was impossible to keep your distance; any excuse was enough for a hand to brush my hip or a body to press up against mine from behind. Little by little, between the alcohol and the lowering sun, I stopped counting hands.

I didn’t know when I started making out with Genaro in the middle of the pool. His mouth found mine, kissed me slowly, with tongue, and I let myself go. The other three had stayed still on the edge, watching in silence. They weren’t doing anything, but from the way they were breathing I knew what they wanted.

—My turn —Rubén said suddenly, coming closer.

Genaro let me go like someone handing over something that belongs to them. Rubén wrapped his arms around me, I hooked my legs around his waist under the water, and the situation, instead of scaring me, turned me on even more. I kissed him deeply, feeling his beard scraping my chin.

I felt fingers on my back and, before I realized it, the top of my swimsuit flew out of the pool. I covered my breasts with my hands, laughing, half dizzy.

—Come on, don’t be shy —Lencho said—. Let us see you.

I slowly moved my hands away, feeling powerful, feeling wanted like never before. The four of them made the same hungry gesture. And I, far from being ashamed, moved just enough for the water to play over my body. I kept kissing them, moving from one mouth to another, while under the water their hard bodies brushed my thighs.

There came a point when I didn’t care about anything anymore. I was so hot I knew perfectly well how that night was going to end, and I wanted it.

***

Late that night, Genaro took my hand.

—Come on, girl —he said, and to the others—: I’ll bring her back in a bit.

The laughter of the three of them followed me down the hallway. He took me to his room, closed the door, and we kissed like we’d been holding back for years. He took off the last garment, the thong, the only thing I had left, and he went over my whole body with his mouth: my neck, my breasts, my stomach, lower still. I was already ready, trembling with need.

He put me on my knees on the bed. I felt him settle behind me, felt him enter slowly at first and then all the way. I had never been with such an older man and the sensation surprised me: firm, patient, unhurried. He held my hips and moved until I stopped thinking. When he finished, he did it outside, against my lower back, and stayed a moment breathing hard.

—Wait here, I won’t be long —he said, and cleaned me with a towel before leaving.

I didn’t understand why I had to wait. I was looking for my swimsuit on the floor when the door opened again. It was Tomás, the quiet one, already unbuckling his belt, stripping off his clothes in a hurry like he had an assigned shift. And then I understood the plan.

One night with each of us, Genaro had said. But the night had only just started.

Tomás came closer without saying a word. He laid me on my back, kissed my neck, ran those huge hands over me that I had so often seen working the earth. I had never had two men in the same night, and yet I opened my legs without hesitation. He entered slowly and I arched my back. With him it was different, rougher, needier, and I liked that difference. He finished on my stomach, silent until the end, and left giving me a kiss on the forehead.

I lay back on the bed, still breathless, waiting. Two to go. And the idea, instead of tiring me, kept me awake.

The third to come in was Lencho. Seeing me there, naked and waiting for him, he let out a low laugh and crossed himself as a joke. He put me on my knees again and took me with hunger, whispering things in my ear that made me laugh and get turned on at the same time. When he finished, he did it on my back and gave me a soft slap, as if sealing the deal.

The last one was Rubén. By then I was exhausted, but he wanted me to use my mouth first, and I did it slowly, looking at him, until he couldn’t take it anymore and took me the way he’d wanted all afternoon. I ended that first night wrecked, spent across the sheets, and fell asleep before I could think about anything. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the exhaustion in my body. I just went out.

***

I woke the next day with the sun hitting the window. There was nobody in the room and, worse, my clothes were nowhere to be found. I went out wrapped in a sheet, irritated, and found them having breakfast at the long dining-room table.

—Come on, girl, have breakfast —Genaro said as if nothing had happened.

—And my clothes? —I asked.

—They got wet yesterday, we put them out to dry —Rubén answered, pointing toward the clotheslines in the courtyard.

I looked outside: there they were, hanging in the sun. I still didn’t quite believe them, but I didn’t insist either. I sat down to breakfast after giving each of them a quick kiss on the mouth, like five old acquaintances sharing bread. It was sticky-hot, so afterward I took a long shower, washed myself well; I felt marked everywhere.

I came out with my towel and the men were already at work. I asked Lencho what I would be doing that day.

—Nothing, girl —he said, winking at me—. You just relax. You’re our favorite now.

And that’s how the whole weekend went. One of them would take my hand and lead me to his room, then another, then another. Saturday and Sunday passed between sheets, cold beers, and food they cooked themselves for me. They treated me like a queen and at the same time like something that belonged to them, and I have to confess that I loved that mix. I didn’t have to clean stables or carry buckets: I only had to let myself be loved by four men who seemed never to tire.

By Sunday afternoon I was worn out, sore from so much body, but more satisfied than I had ever been. The time came to say goodbye. I put on clothes for the first time in three days and felt almost strange, covered by fabric. I kissed each of them, slowly, grateful.

Genaro came up last. He put a wad of bills in my hand: eight thousand pesos.

—You earned it, girl —he said.

I had never had that much money all at once. And before I could react, he handed me a box: a new phone, much better than the one I had lost. My eyes lit up.

—If you want —he added—, I’ll send your dad to the ranch up in the sierra more often, on weekends, and you can come with us. We could use a little woman like you around here.

—Yes —I told him without hesitation—. That’s fine.

Outside, my mother and her boyfriend were already waiting. I got into the car, watched through the window as the wooden gate grew smaller in the distance, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was thinking about the money, the phone, everything I would buy for myself. But above all, I was thinking about the next weekend, about those four men and what the ranch had taught me I was capable of wanting.