– ` plata o plomo ´–

Walking heel to heel until the bar, you found an empty seat and called the bartender. But he doesn’t move, he doesn't even seem to hear you. A long-haired guy with a silk, printed shirt and his friends - because the way he was acting made you think he was somehow the leader of something - didn’t stop to ask for tequilas, making it impossible for you to ask for even a mere beer.

Ten minutes later, you were almost accepting the fact that you weren't drinking anything. But you were born in Tijuana, and won’t escape from a challenge. You just had to find the right person to complain to. But you need to try to call the barman once more to be sure that he won’t be serving you or anyone but that boy.

You call the bartender feeling already tired, in a higher tone, and he didn’t care. But, in a lucky strike, a man stood above you.

“Que pasa, señorita?*” he asked, making you move your head to see who was saying that.

The man with nice hair and an surely expensive shirt looked at you in his inquisitive hazel eyes until you were able to respond (and after look at him for a few good seconds).

*What’s up, miss?

“I just wanted a beer,” You say, with a slightly irritated expression. “but this bartender doesn't listen to me.

The man waved to the barman that automatically responded to him. Sexism, you bet, until you realize another man close to you couldn’t order a drink either.

“A beer for this lady, and fast” He asked. Better, he ordered, but it seemed so natural to him to talk this way that it made you think he was maybe the owner of this place.

“Thanks” you respond, with a little smile. Being the helpless young lady who needed help even ordering a drink wasn't what you expected, but at least you could take out your frustrations on beer.

“It’s ok” he nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. “What’s your name?”

You didn't just respond your name, but you asked his. And he stopped for a second, kind of thinking how you didn't know his name.

“Where are you from? You don't seem to know Tijuana well.”

Well, it was kind of true. Actually, you was born and raised there. But you left it to work and study in the Capital when you were 20, so, a lot of things have changed in this almost decade you leave. Tijuana was almost unrecognizable, and so was you, that now could enter fancy clubs and restaurants that you never dreamed you could when a teenager.

You were visiting your family, but none of them wanted to go out that night, and you were a bit bored and curious about how that city has changed. So, you entered what looked like the best club in town.

“I was born and raised here, but I've been away for quite a few years. Before this disco existed.”

“And what do you think about it?” He asked, curious at your quick, smart answers. Benjamín hadn't been surprised by anyone for a long time.

There it was, in his curious eyes, you knew he was the owner of this place. And that guy asking for tequilas should be important.

“The club is very good. It's a shame that the service took a long time before you showed up” You replied, raising an eyebrow, and almost at the same time, your beer arrived.

“I promise it won't happen again.” he said. You start to drink and he doesn’t take his eyes off you, almost drinking every action of yours as you drinked some of the liquid. “Want to know the rest of the place?”

You nodded, because you had nothing better to do, and because there was something magnetic about him that you were still trying to decipher. He showed you around the space, the dance floor, until you found yourself tired, lounging on a random velvet sofa next to Benjamín.

“I maintain my opinion. It will only change if you prove to me that you have a good service.” You were crossing the line between joking and flirting, and felt the glare on the hazel eyes analyzing you.

He smiled, and you realize that he was handsome, with that neat hair, the expressive eyes and the way he seemed to pay attention to you.. Your eyes rested in his hands, looking for a wedding ring or something like this, but you couldn't find anything.

“You don't seem to have much fun here” You teased, when he rolled his eyes around the place.

“I don’t like it very much. It's more my brothers who like it.” He explained.

“So why are you staying here? You certainly have people to take care of it…” You ask, trying to understand better, as you observe in your peripheral vision the guy in the funny shirt seriously fighting someone.

“I have many things to do here, and I must observe them as well.” He replied, looking at the same spot as you. “Why are you staying here alone?” He asked, approaching you, which made you able to smell his cologne. And God, it smells so good.

“Because I wanted to go out a little, see the people here." You respond nonchalantly, feeling the palpable tension between your gazes.

"Why do you keep talking to or instead of dancing?" He teased, and you realized that seeing him fun like this maybe wasn't so common for those who know him, because some guys were coverty looking at you two now.

“I can dance in the Capital, in any club. But… talking to you looks much more interesting.” You said, now openly flirting, hoping he felt the same way you did. Benjamín smiled, and his hand casually touched your knee, making your body shiver.

“Get a fucking room!” A drunken voice yelled at you two, interrupting the moment, and you looked up to see who was laughing while Benjamín got up.

“Ramón!” He yelled, but Ramon, which apparently was the name of that funny-shirt-guy, had already walked away and found a girl to dance with.

“Do you want to go somewhere more reserved?” Benjamín asked you, holding your hand without demonstrating exactly what that invitation meant. But you were totally in.

He led you down a kinda dark hallway that led to a room - an office, and by the way he entered the place, his office. It was simple but elegant: a glass window that gave a certain view of the top of the club; seemingly comfortable chairs, a desk; plus some random decorations.

“You know, I couldn't talk to you while my younger brothers looked at me like a fucking kid waiting to have my first kiss” He explained, his hands running through his hair, and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, and you decided to sit in the other, facing him.

You wished you had one more beer now, because the tension between the two of you was starting to make your hands sweat. Trying to relax the atmosphere, you voiced your curiosity with the previous event.

“You never have an affair, something casual?”

You asked, and almost instantly regretted it. Benjamín got up, walked around his desk and look for a bottle of whiskey in one of the drawers, along with two glasses.

“Not like my brother who makes a promise to love a different girl every day” He replied, with a small smile, leaning on the table right next to you, as if he understood the intent in your question.

“Look, Benjamín” You said, playing with fire, taking the cup he offers you and drinking a good sip of the whisky. “Por qué no?”

He set his own glass aside, and you noticed his breathing changed. He looked like he was a thread away from doing what you two wanted, but it felt like something was holding him back. And then you got it - and there was something very exciting about breaking his good-guy pose.

"Or I could go dance in front of your brother but would you like this?" You felt him hardening his jaw. Of course you didn’t want that. You did, actually, go to your knees now and take him. You downed the rest of the drink in one gulp, waiting.

“Look, I believe that-”

“You have to show me a good service, right?” You didn't let him finish the sentence, speaking in a louder tone.

That was enough.

In a rapid movement, he closed the distance between you, keeping you in a kiss so passionate that made you almost collapse in his arms. Benjamin was hungry for a long time, and it wasn’t something the paid girls could replace, or some Ramon’s friends. He needed someone who understood him, who challenged him, and more importantly: someone who takes this too seriously as he does.

He is stubborn, too. So, the challenge you made… He was ready to make you change your fucking opinion.

His hands, sometimes so soft, nowtighted and caressed all your body, your curves, and then stopped on your waist, deepening the kiss. He didn’t crossed one line yet, but the way he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth and the warmth of his body pressing yours was already making you wet.

But you needed to touch him too. You looked for the collar of his shirt, pulling it just for the taste, and unbuttoned the first button of it while he watched your actions, his eyes now darker with desire.

When you finished unbuttoning, starting to kiss his neck, his Adam's apple, he felt able to let his hands flow to your back, grabbing your butt and making you sigh.

Your reactions encouraged him; after all, that was what Benjamin liked: watching you lose yourself in his touches, begging for more, and treat you like his diosa.

And when he caught your dress’ straps, lowering it until the silk was on the floor and you were nothing but a lacy panty, you were able to beg. At this point you didn’t ever remember how you came from a drink to that, but you were very glad for it.

“Que quieres, hermosa?” he whispered in a husky voice.

All of it. You wanted and he did it: that he kisses your thigh, hold your hips in his hands and put you sitting in the table, opening your legs for him, his hands playing with your panty, making you sigh. You wanted his tongue, lowering until your breasts, circling your nipples until you were moaning louder than usual; it was not a problem, ninguien vas a nos escuchar, he said. Or, if they do… that wouldn’t be a problem either. Your hands were on his hair, pulling it very softly, just feeling the touch of it.

You wanted that beautiful hand working on you, not just teasing your skin; you wanted, and he did it - touching your clit, making a loud moan escape from your lips when his thumb rub it, and it make him do more in you, his long fingers inside you, making you forget everything but his name. Calling him by his name when you get to your climax, shivers down your spine just make him more aroused, and you could feel it just for the hot look he gave you, watching every detail in your face while you got lost by the orgasm. When you recovered yourself, his mouth met yours in a searing kiss, full of his desire, making you body turn on. Your hand went down to his pants, trying to unbuckle his belt with your shaking hands and his hand found yours, helping you with a satisfied smile for letting you this way. You found his dick hard in your hand, jacking it off, making him let out a rough noise, his breath warm in your ear.

“Benjamín, I want you” That was like bringing him to Earth again. Benjamin kissed you again, lightly biting your lip, and your hands got rid of the rest of the clothes in the way until you were lying on your back on his desk.

“You look like a diosa” He whispered in your ear; not because you two couldn't make noise, but because that was an intimate, passionate confession that maybe only you would understand in that moment. You smiled, your cheeks red from this comment, from the growing desire climbing your body, from the way he treated you - like a real diosa.

You couldn’t contain the moans once he’s inside you, warm and pulsing in you, and he didn’t seem to want it too, grabbing your hair, kinda tight, kinda tenderly, pushing in you in a increasing pace until the office was full of gasps, moans and the sound of your bodies pounding. One of his hands intertwined with yours, and the other continued to caress your body, moving down your belly to your center and you had to hold back a pleasured cry.

When you saw the glaze in his eyes when he came, right after you, your sweaty foreheads resting together, you knew it would not be just an affair.

"I think I would have to come here more often to change my mind," you joked as he helped you zip up your dress, more actually kissing your neck. He left a resounding yes in your ear, smiling, and you felt it like butterflies in your stomach. Now you realized - having him like that would be your sentence.

…