Gays, gringos and vampires (part one)

Meeting Stella* was rough but to the point.

While buying a second hand mobile phone at Santiago’s Santo Domingo market, as the one I already had wasn’t compatible for South America, she suddenly nested her a$$ aggressively between me and the sales guy.

She cut me off and interrupted the guy with some insignificant questions just like that… while she personally wasn’t buying anything at all. Amazingly, the sales guy didn’t get irritated nor angry in any possible way. I was astonished.

She then turned around, looked me very naughty way and started to laugh loudly… all that without even saying a word to me. Nice.

The girl had a style - and definitely knew how to get someones attention in order to make her point.

Soooo, as she looked cute, had a: sweet & proportional “Latina” face, beautiful smile, extremely flirty eyes, long dark brown hair, leather black jacket, small dark brown leather ladies bag, extremely tight black jeans that accentuated every inch of her well shaped legs, silver jewelry, black boots with (not too) high heels, good (subtle) make-up (so far I’ve seen it on the streets of Santiago, the most of Chilean women are good with make-up!) - and last but not least - a great a$$ too… In a short, all necessary ingredients that turned me on - instantly!…

— Let’s say, a classic killer chic —

… I then laughed back to her and decided not to be forgiving. First we went to a pub (her sister was with her all the time, so she went with us too) - and then I took her with me later on that night. At the end it appeared she wasn’t aggressive and good looking only, but she was very passionate lover as well.

While on a top of me, she’d repeatedly whisper into my ear the words: “rrrrrrrrrrico gringo!”

Her sister however, was even more aggressive type, very calculative, demanding and dominant person. She would, for instance, insist that waitress regularly empties our ashtrays and/or clean the tables (in each pub we visited), would request from me to pay the cab and drinks or even food. I think she was picking on my wallet a little, or she at least, wanted to find out how deep my wallet exactly was. :-/

The second time we met, she came with Stella once again and said that “I shouldn’t go to Peru” as (according to her) “Peru stinks”, nor to Brazil as (according to her) “Brazil is dangerous.” She eventually said that “in worse case scenario, my airplane would crash somewhere or I’d otherwise get some nasty disease underway… so I better stay in Chile and have some fun with my new amigas.”

The waitress (who somehow heard all this theater masterpiece plea) got pissed off a little, as she coincidentally happened to be a pretty Peruvian woman. The compliments I then fired on the waitress, that “El condor pasa - is a beautiful song!”, did fix her pride a little, but not really her anger… so we could forget our “la ultima’s” in her pub at the end.

As on a top of the pie,” ‘da sister” eventually said, at the end of the evening, that “I should consider taking her with me sometimes too” and I said that “it’s was not going to happen”. Then she started to argue that “it’s normal in Chile..”, but I finally ended that part of conversation by saying that “I never mess with my (new) girlfriend’s sisters.” :p

The next days when Stella wanted to see me, I decided we should meet without her sister being around.

However, Stella couldn’t speak any English. Not a single word. Nothing at all. NADA! …which was very annoying at first, but just fine later. In a way, I saw it as perfect opportunity for me to learn some Spanish!

Mi profesora

The following days she became also my Spanish teacher. “La profesora”, or even better — “mi profesora.” :-)

Our meetings are now simple but effective, even though she seem either to be on automatic pilot - as she calls me — every second day! — or she’s otherwise under remote control of her sister, on very subliminal level… I think that latest, but I’ll never find that out I guess. So, our agenda goes (mostly) like this:

16.00 h: she gives me a phone call and asks if we could meet up for a drink.
19.00 h: we meet somewhere in the city.
19.00-21.00 h: we smoke a lots of cigarettes, drink coffee, eventually also some beer…
and we talk (Spanish) all the time.
21.20-22.00 h: she wants us to go to my place, so we go to my place and we f*ck.
22.00-22.15 h: we smoke one more cigarette together
22.15-23.00 h: we f*ck again
23.20 h: she then says she wants to go home. So, this time I smoke a cigarette alone,
pay my “Spanish lessons” and her “taxi”, and then she goes home.
She doesn’t ask any money from me - whatsoever, she’s OK with it if I give her some
because I want to…
23.21 h: on her way out, she gives me a couple of kisses, a smile and a delicate warning,
that: “my pe*is is, for the time being, hers - and hers only!”

I guess we’re both taking a little bit advantage of each other.

Make-up workshops in Wellington

Charl is South African guy whom I met at Nicole’s place in Wellington. He’s an all around artist, does graphics - and a little bit of webdesign, makes drawings and paintings, He’s one of Nicole’s students, where he learns stuff about bodypainting and prosthetics. Cool guy to hang around with.

While there, he asked me if I’d teach him something about make-up and I said I would. I gave him thus 2 make-up hands on workshops.

Although I was impressed by his achievement (what took me a year to learn at school, he learned more or less in just two days!), I eventually told him that if he makes the right choices at certain moments in his life, Hollywood would be too small for him. On that he replied that he has no intention to become a bodypainter of even a make-up artist, but he wants to know how different - art related - things work, in order to make his designs accordingly. Interesting! — whatever his designs might be.

So, this was his final make-up result:

Maraka, Charl’s friend.

Maraka 2, make-up by Charl.

Maraka & Charl, in Nicole’s studio, Wellington NZ. All pictures are taken by my small traveler camera and are unedited.

Which makes me wonder: is this guy a fu*kin’ genius, or am I a good teacher?

————
* Stella is a fictive name, her character is real.