“Great,” I thought, “That will really open him up to different people from all over Europe. His English will really improve!”
I was enthusiastic; until he came back to Madrid and told me that he had started going out after work with a consultant from England. My radar went up. Everyone knows the Brits are a lovely people but they can also be kinky as heck….
My concerns were confirmed the third week my boyfriend came home and he pulled me up in a bear hug and said, “You are a sexy mother-f……” I turned into a lead weight. Damn Brit! Corrupting my sweet Spaniard. I seethed, but silently, brooding over ways I might protect my darling innocent.
The following Friday my boyfriend announced with delight, “Steve will be coming to Madrid this weekend. He’s a great guy, you’ll love him!”
“I bet.” I said with clenched jaw.
We went to the Atocha train station to pick up Steve, a tall, angular fellow, hardly offensive and actually very pleasant-looking. We all greeted each other.
“I’ll ride in the back,” I offered, “I’m short.” So I slid into the back seat, figuring I’d also be able to keep an eye on the guys. We pulled out of the train station and Steve tapped his breast pocket, “I have the música!” And he took a cassette out of his pocket and slipped it into the cassette player. Percussion, horns blast, and Prince sings:
“In a word or two, it's you I want to do
No not your body, your mind you fool
Come here baby, yeah
You sexy motherf***er”
I relaxed, relieved that it has been Prince teaching my boyfriend naughty language and not the nice British guy in the front seat.