La Casa del Hada

               Fruta fresca

                                            
Mireya P�rez

Fue culpa de los melones. Entr� a ese lugar grande, mitad al aire libre con sus pir�mides rojas, verdes, amarillas, y el aviso que me hac�a sonreir, en frutas laqueadas �Fresh Fruit�. Aqu� hab�a todo lo mejor: papayas del caribe, mangos de los finos con la pulpa firme, uvas chilenas, granadas, d�ctiles frescos, higos del oriente medio y melones persas. Me gustaba la fruta fina, as� como la ropa sencilla, elegante. Mirando la pila de melones trat� de espiar el mejor. Uno en el centro con los parches amarillos como cachetes en su faz verdusca me gust�. Alrededor m�o la gente levantaba los melones, los palpaban y los ol�an para ver si estaban listos para comer. Hic� lo mismo, pero no satisfecha me lo llev� a la oreja como si fuera un caracol! Su piel lisa , fr�a me alivi� un poco el calor que llevaba. La humedad de ese d�a me ten�a empapada y me fastidiaba ese chorrito de sudor que serpenteaba entre mis senos. Al disfrutar de esa frescura empec� a oir un insistente �psst�. El mel�n me pesaba mucho ya, y lo volv� a colocar con los otros rozando al pasar otros melones. Otra vez el �psst, psst� ya mas alto. Mir� a las personas cerca de mi, pero todas parec�an absortas escogiendo la fruta. Me vir� para ver si alguien detr�s de mi era quien llamaba, pero no hab�a nadie. Depronto ,o� un coro de �pst,pst�, y volv� a observar en torno m�o, pero nadie me miraba. Mis dedos mientras tanto hab�an empezado a recorrer los l�mites de los melones. No volv� a o�r el �psst�. Mis manos se recreaban en las redondeces, como esas caderas perfectas que yo tanto envidiaba en la clase de ejercicios, unas curvas firmes, respondiendo a las caricias de movimientos r�tmicos al sumergir mis manos en la masa verde-oscura. Hundidos los brazos hasta los codos alguien me empuj� y escuch� el �You lose something, lady?�No pod�a seguir y empec� a liberarme de los melones que me aprisionaban. Al fin, pude sacar las manos y las frot� pues estaban lastimadas por todo el peso.

M�s all�, vi la mesa de las naranjas ombligonas y las toronjas sangu�neas y me fui acercando. Mirando la monta�a anaranjada con todos los ombligos art�sticamente mirando hacia el frente. Recorde que mi ombligo era as� tambi�n. Tuve necesidad entonces, de frotarme el ombligo, y al hacerlo escuch� un �ay, mamita, ay, mamita�. No sabiendo qu� hacer, de los puros nervios me toqu� el ombligo otra vez y nadie estaba cerca de m�. Sin saber qu� hacer, decid� oler las naranjas para saber si estaban frescas. Mi nar�z roz� la protuberancia m�s cercana y un �ay, mami�estall� en mis o�dos. Luego r�pidamente olfate� una y otra carnosidad mientras mi otra mano sobaba con la palma abierta todos los ombligos a su alcance. Me fui llenando de perfume de naranjo, como novia con sus azahares, con zumos virtiendo de m�. De pronto un codazo y un rudo �Hey, lady, make up your mind�me obligaron a escoger al azar cinco naranjas, pues eran a cinco por un d�lar. De la canasta donde rdaban las cinco escogidas o� unos �Esta noche, mamacita. No te desesperes, mi vida�.�

Buscando qu� m�s necesita, vi la mesa del cenro con los higos frescos, las uvas negras, las granadas y los aguacates mejicanos. Relucientes, brillaban como rub�s y esmeraldas. Empez� de pronto un coro de s�plicas �a m�, a m�� y para callarlas agarr� la granada m�s cercana, del mismo tama�o que mis senos. De repente sent� que mis pezones se me hinchaban y para no hacer un esc�ndalo en p�blico, empec� a acariciar las frutas aflamadas hasta que ya no me pude contener y mis dientes afilados penetraron sus carnosidades. El jugo vino tinto como chorritos de sangre, se escapaba de la comisura se los labios bajando por la barbilla dejando una estela encarnada en mi pecho. Me devoraba las pepitas, diminutas, hundiendo las yemas para descubrirlas todas en su fr�giles carnes, a medida que un resuello de places, emanaba de la fruta. A la vez los higos empezaron su letan�a �yo quepo, yo quepo�, y el aguacate con su ronca voz no cesaba de llamarme. No callaba, �qu� pod�a hacer? Acab� con la granada y para calmarlo ech� mano del primer aguacate que pude. O� �tu boca, tu boca color de granada, dame tu boca, un beso, belleza, un beso�. No paraba, y para que nadie lo oyera, me lo puse en la boca y le di un beso apasionado, y mi boca se llen� de verde pulpa. No se c�mo fue pero mi otra mano cogi� uno de los higos frescos, tan a mi tama�o, de pronto desde dentro de mi o� �quepo, quepo� en un quejido apasionado. Queriendo llevarme unas uvas negras, como tus ojos, le di un sacud�n a la mesa y el aceite de almendras que estaba en una repisa se desplom�. Me acord� como �se era el que usabaa mi masajista y c�mo me gustaba. Para no desperdiciarlo empec� a ungirme. Apenas hab�a empezado cuando gritaron �Hey, lady, you gotta pay first.��What are, nuts? What are you doing, lady?

Ya no me quedaba mucho tiempo. La voces alrededor no cesaban �No me olvides�. �Amorcito�. �A mi, a mi�. Si pensarlo, me lanc� encima de la mesa vecina, mi cuerpo cubriendo la pila de las fresas y las moras, sus sustancias jugosas penetr�ndome. Otras voces detr�s de mi: �Make way, make way. O.K. lady, take it easy. No one�s gonna hurt you.� Alguien me jal� las piernas y le dio un puntapi� a mi canato con las cinco ombligonas. Sus quejas de dolor se convirtieron en los m�os �no, no, my fruits.�Con mis labios verdes, mi pelo rojo, mis manos vino tinto y los higos dentro de mis pant�s, trat� de explicarles que los melones... Me ataron las manos y cuando me di cuenta que iban a olvidar a mis ombligonas grit� tanto que uno de los polic�as se compadeci� y las recogi�. el due�o vociferaba �who�s gonna pay? Look at this who�s gonna pay?�Yo miraba mis ombligonas, las habp�a salvado. �stas me consolaban �Ya, ya belleza, no es nada. Lo que importa es que estamos juntos�. Una sonrisa llen� mis labios.


                                           
Fresh fruit


                                          Mireya P�rez

The melons were to blame. I had entered the large store with its�
appealing open-air red, yellow, and green pyramids and above them the name "Fresh Fruit" spelled out in spray painted fruit. This was the place to find choice papayas fom the Caribbean, firm fine-fibered mangos, grapes from Chile, pomegranates, persian melons, fresh dates and figs from the Middle East. My fruit had to be first class just like my clothing was fine, elegant.�

I looked closely at the pile of melons wanting to select the best. One in the center with two yellow patches like rouged cheeks on its green face appealed the most to me. Around me, the other customers were busy making their own selections, palpating and lifting the melons to find the ones ready for eating. I did the same, but I also felt the need to raise the melon to my ear like a conch shell. Its smooth cool skin offered me some relief from the heat that was making me so uncomfortable. The high humidity had me dripping with sweat which was now snaking down between my breasts. As I was enjoying the coolness of the melon, I began to hear an insistent "psst, psst."�

Meanwhile my hand was getting tired from the melon's weight so I put it back in its place grazing some other melons as I did so. Again, I heard the "psst, psst," now even more persitent. I looked about me, but the other customers wre engrossed in selecting their fruit., I even spun around to see if someone behind me had called, but no one was there. I heard it again, this time a louder chorus of "psst, psst." I looked at the people about me, but no one was even looking in my direction. Meanwhile, my fingers accidentally had begun to trace the contours of the melons. The "psst, pssts" had gone silent. My hands enjoyed feeling the smooth curves which reminded me of those sculpted hips I so admired in my exercise class. These firm roundnesses responded to my rhythmic caresses releasing "ah, ah's" of pleasure. This so aroused me that I buried my hands deeper and deeper into their dark green mass. I had buried my arms to the elbows when someone bumped into me and I heard a grunted, "You lose something, lady?" I had to stop because the melons were pressing themselves more and more, pinning my arms, so that I could hardly move. With an immense effort, I pulled out my bruised arms and began to massage them.

Just beyond, I noticed the display table with the piles of navel oranges�and blood grapefruits, and moved towards them. The mountain of oranges were arranged with all the navels facing out. I remembered that my own navel was an "outy," and I got this overwhelming desire to rub it right then. When I caressed it, I heard the cries of pleasure "Ay Mamacita, ay Mamita" everywhere. The uproar made me so nervous, I didn't know what to do so I just rubbed my navel again. This unleashed a louder, "Ay Mami, ay Mami" exploding about me. I looked around and no one else was near me. What could I do? I decided to smell the oranges to know how fresh they were. My nose�brushed the budding growth nearest to me and another "Ay, Mami" burst forth in my ears. Then, I quickly smelt one engorged growth after another while my palm rubbed all the other navels I could reach. Like a bride crowned with orange blossoms, the orange fragrance filled me as juices poured from me.

Suddenly, someone jabbed me in the elbow, and I heard a rude "Hey lady, make up your mind." Which pressured me to hurry up and pick out five oranges because they were five for a dollar. The five chosen ones rolled about in the shopping basket whispering "Tonight's the night, Mamacita" and "Don't despair, my love." As I looked around to see what else I might need, I moved over to the center display table piled high with fresh figs, grapes, pomegranates, and avocados from Mexico which shimmered like rubies and emeralds.

Again the cries and sighs of "me, me" started up. To silence them, I grabbed the pomegranate nearest me which happened to be the same size as my breasts. My nipples swelled up, and to avoid a public scandal, I began to caress the hot fruit until I couldn't hold back anymore. I bit the pomegranate's fragile flesh, the wine-red juices staining my lips like drops of blood, dripping down my chin leaving a raw trail all the way down my chest. I devoured the minute seeds digging my fingertips more and more into its purple flesh as sighs of joy oozed from the fruit. That's when the figs started shouting "I fit, I fit" and the avocados with its deep voice wouldn't let up.�

It just wouldn't quiet down what was I to do? When I finished the�pomegranate, I tried to calm down the avocado and grabbed hold of the first one I could reach. Its deep voice sang to me "Your lips, your ruby lips, give me your lips my lovely, your lips." It kept on and on and I knew someone was going to hear it. To silence it I raised it to my lips, kissing it and filling my mouth with its green passionate flesh. I don't know how it happened but my other hand picked up one of the fresh figs which was just my size. From within me I heard the anguished cry "I fit, I fit." Trying to reach some grapes black like your eyes, I upset the table which caused the�almond oil that was on the shelf above to come crashing down. I remembered my masseur used this same oil, and how I loved it on lmy own skin. I didn't want it to go to waste so I started to anoint myself. I was just beginning when someone shouted at me, "Hey lady, you gotta pay first. What are you nuts? What are you doing lady?" I was running out of time. All around me I could hear the insistent whispers "Don't forget me," "My love," "Me, me." I jumped on the table next to me, and flung my whole body on the little mountains of strawberries and raspberries, their pulpety selves entering me. They were shouting behind me, "Make way, make way. O.K. lady, take it easy.�

No one's gonna hurt you." Someone grabbed my legs and this upset my shopping basket with the five navel oranges. Their agonized cries of pain joined mine as I called out for my oranges. With my green lips, berry juice dripping from my hair, my hands wine-red, and balancing the figs inside my panties, I tried to explain to them that it had been the melons. . . As they locked my hands behind my back, I realized that they were forgetting my oranges. I yelled so loudly that one of the officers took pity on me and picked them up. The owner, meanwhile, kept yelling "Who's gonna pay? Look at this, who's gonna pay?" I just looked at my navel oranges knowing I had saved them. Their murmurs "there, there, love, it's okay, we're together, that's what matters" soothed me. My green lips smiled.�

Copyright Mireya Perez 2000
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