Peter Jensen - The blackmailed wife

One boy not more than twelve, reached into the car and squeezed Ann's right breast tightly. She jumped in surprise and slapped at him but he ran off into the crowd, laughing.

"Did you see what that little – little – brat did?" she choked disbelievingly to Julia. "He… he grabbed my breast!"

"Honey, you'll be lucky if that's all that gets grabbed in this town. You've got to watch them every minute and use all four of your hands for protective covering," Julia said, laughing it off.

"Well, it wasn't funny. I've never been so insulted in my life," Ann pouted, still unable to believe it had happened. "They had just better not try that again. Don't they have any respect for a woman at all?"

"Only when she's flat on her back on a bed, dear," Julia replied, "but we're big girls, we can take care of ourselves. Don't worry about it."

Ann was upset and furious all the way to the hotel and was relieved when they arrived. She felt safer now, away from the clanging noises and cries in the streets. It would give her a chance to adjust a little more slowly to this sudden change in tempo.

The hotel was beautiful, and immediately memories of Dave flooded her mind. If only he were here, she thought, everything would be perfect.

It was called the El Cortez and the architecture was typically Spanish, with low curved arches for doors and beautifully colored tiles on the walls and floors. Lush green plants in large ceramic pots in the lobby gave the place a tropical atmosphere.

They checked in and followed the bell-boy up to their suite. It was on the seventh floor, at the top of the hotel, and commanded a view from the terrace of the patio with a lovely Spanish tile swoons pool surrounded by palm trees. Colorful umbrellas were scattered about the edge of the pool, looking like giant mushrooms. Being in such plush surroundings made Ann feel more relaxed than she had in months. "Well, what do you think of the suite?" Julia asked.

"It's just gorgeous!" Ann answered looking around at the beautiful living room and terrace that had its own table and umbrella, "I can't believe its ours for the weekend!"

"Well it is," Julia quipped, "Would you have believed that slogan of yours would win you something like this?"

"Certainly not! I wouldn't even have entered one if it hadn't been required by Mr. Schroeder. I've never won anything before in my life."

"We each have a bedroom, too," Julia said, throwing open one door and showing Ann the interior of one beautiful room with a king-sized bed that looked as though it could hold ten people. "Which do you want?"

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Ann said gleefully, "but you choose, I just can't."

"All right," Julia said, "you take this one. They're both the same."

They had their bags put in their respective rooms and unpacked their things. Ann had been buying new and exciting lace bikini lingerie for the time when her husband would come home and decided to wear them this one time. She had wanted to make it a lovely weekend and thought these few concessions to her vanity wouldn't matter. No one else would see them, anyway. She stacked them neatly in her drawer, humming contentedly to herself.

She finished her unpacking and freshened up a bit. It wasn't a long drive from San Diego but with the top down it was pretty dusty and she had that traveler's grit feeling about her.

"Ready for some lunch?" Julia called from the living room.

"Yes, I'm famished," Ann answered, "I'll be right out."

The girls decided to eat on their own terrace and take a short siesta before the bullfight. The Toredo didn't start until five o'clock so this gave them plenty of time. The lunch was delicious and relaxed Ann so much that she dozed off as soon as she hit the bed. The excitement had really taken its toll of her. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sweet cloak of sleep enfolded her.

The stands were completely jammed by the time Ann and Julia arrived at the bull ring. Fortunately they already had their tickets so didn't have to stand in the long lines outside the ticket booths.

The crush of the people in the long corridors was maddening. Ann held tightly to Julia's hand as they were jostled along the passageway.

Suddenly they emerged from the darkness into the stands and Ann gasped in surprise. She hadn't expected the colorful spectacle that suddenly burst upon them. Two Mexican bands were playing on each side of the arena and they were surrounded by the most colorful costumes she had ever seen.

This was a special Fiesta and all of Tijuana had turned out in typical old Spanish dress. The women wore lovely white and black lace mantillas draped over their shoulders. The crowd overflowed the stands with their multi-colored gaiety. The men wore the black, tight-fitting gaucho pants, short jackets, flat-brimmed Vaquero hats with small tassels dangling down from brims.

"Why, it's like another world!" Ann exclaimed to Julia. "I didn't imagine it would be quite so beautiful."

"This is one heritage the Spanish left the Mexicans that I'm really thankful for," Julia said. "Wait until the fight begins, then you'll really see something."

Their seats were on the shady side of the ring and in the first row below the Presidente's box.

"We can get a good look at the matadors here," Julia explained while they were getting settled. "They all have to come to the Presidente and request permission to kill the bull. They'll be right in front of us."

Ann didn't tell Julia, but she had read Hemingway's "Death in the Afternoon" last week when she had found they had won the contest. It was about the bullfights in Spain and had stimulated her interest in seeing one. She was just a bit nervous about how she would react to seeing an animal killed in cold blood but Hemingway had explained it in such poetic terms that she had succeeded in justifying it to herself. It certainly would not be more cruel than the methods used in the slaughter houses. From his descriptions she gathered that if they were really good bulls, the matador was in almost as much danger as the bull.

Ann was snapped back to the present by the sudden blast of trumpets. The noise from the crowd slowly subsided. The trumpet's piercing notes reverberating across the arena sent chills of anticipation running through Ann.

The gates on the other side of the ring swung open, and the opening procession began. The three matadors, dressed in their magnificent "Suits of Light", led the parade. They were followed by their assistants, who later would be stationed around the ring to draw the bull away in case the principal matador happened to be in trouble. The picadors followed behind. They rode horses that were padded on the side and in front and carried long spear-like poles that had short sharp points on the ends. These pics would later be stuck into the bull's shoulders to weaken him for the kill.

The bull fighter proceeded directly across the ring and stopped immediately in front of where Julia and Ann were sitting. From this position, the girls could get a good look at the beautiful suits the matadors were wearing.

The matadors bowed gracefully to the presidential box which was high up behind the girls on the top row of the stand.

Julia pointed out a slender, graceful-looking boy on the right side, saying he was Paco Camino, one of Spain's greatest fighters. He was dressed in a white silk costume with brilliant gold designs embroidered beautifully onto the material. Ann remembered reading that these suits cost at least five hundred dollars each. She could understand why, after getting a close look at them.

The matador in the center, Julia told her, was Curro Giron from Columbia. He was short and moved with a proud walk like a cocky bantam rooster. His suit was blue and had the same type of gold designs set into it as Paco Camino's. He looked older, though not by much.