Renaldo (47 page)

Instead, the chanteuse again pressed her lips to his once their eyes met.

She leaned against his torso, and he simply melted into her arms.

Even with his eyes closed and his heart pounding, he was still aware of

the firmness of her breasts against his chest, not to mention the inflamed heat

of her womanhood as the robe parted under the pressure of his concealed,

unyielding organ.

The embrace had unleashed a pent-up passion the young man never knew

he possessed, and his mind surrendered to the spell of her feminine sensuality.

His right forearm held her tightly to him. His strength and hardness took her

breath away. Their tongues excitedly explored uncharted waters, entwined in a

romantic dance of their own.

When she finally found it necessary to disengage and step back a few

paces to collect herself, her eyes were glossy and temporarily unfocused. She

then locked on to his massiveness and licked her lips with unconcealed lust.

“You may be just a boy in age, Renaldo, but you are more of a man than

I have ever felt. Look at you! Those trousers are about to rip at the seams. It’s

unbelievable! I never would have thought . . .”

He had turned scarlet in color and was trying vainly to conceal his passion

from her devouring eyes. Renaldo found it impossible to regain his composure,

however, for she stood in front of him with the robe askew, her lovely breasts

and light-brown bush fully exposed.

“I’m sorry, Simone, I should have been more discreet. It’s just that I have

never been . . .” She was at his side once more, her fingers pressed to his lips.

“Do not be sorry, Renaldo. Football is obviously not the only gift that

God endowed you with. There is no cause for embarrassment. I am totally in

awe!”

Her hand softly traced the outline of his straining member for a fleeting

moment. Her eyes traveled from his midsection to his handsome face and back

again several times before she abruptly stopped her explorations and addressed

him in a more controlled tone of voice.

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“Now, we must regain our composure, my love. Just look at me! You have

ruined my makeup, and I still have to dress for the show. I was not counting on

such a distraction to my normal pre-stage routine. So off you go. I don’t trust

myself in your presence anymore. Do you have the backstage pass that I gave

you?”

Renaldo was unable to form a coherent response for several seconds. He

could only stare at the embodiment of eroticism that stood before him. It was

only her look of mock annoyance that transformed him from his mute state.

“Yes, yes, most certainly. I slipped it into my jacket pocket just before I

left home tonight. I didn’t know if I would find you before the show, and there

was no way that I was going to be locked up in a room full of men while you

were on stage, World Cup Team or not! We went through our whole stage

ceremony this afternoon at the rehearsal. There is nothing to it, just line up in

order and walk out into the lights when they call our names. I’ll risk a tongue

lashing for being late to see you perform live any day.”

“I will sing just for you then. When you leave this room, display the pass

right away, for the area next to the stage is swarming with security. You won’t

be able to get close to it unless they see the pass. Can you come back here after

the show?”

The look of exhilaration suddenly left his face, replaced by almost painful

disappointment.

“Simone, I’m sorry. I know that you had hoped that we could go out

dancing, and I would love nothing more in the whole world than to spend the

evening with you. But Octavio Suarez, the team manager, is fanatical about

security and secrecy when the whole team is together. The only reason I was able

to escape to visit you now is that he was off inspecting the security precautions

throughout the teatro before we go on stage. In any event, he has informed us

that we are being loaded on a bus immediately following our presentation, and

then taken to an unknown hotel to spend the night. It is as though we are a

bunch of boy scouts. The man is obsessed! But we don’t leave for Mar del Plata

until the day after tomorrow. Do you have any time at all before then?”

He could see a similar disappointment in her eyes.

“No, my darling, I fly directly to Rio tomorrow to start a two-month

promotional tour for the World Cup. This was our only opportunity, and it is

lost. I suppose by the time I get back to Buenos Aires, you will be locked away

with your teammates. All we can do is wait for another chance to be together.

But know that you will always be in my thoughts, my Renaldo!”

She pressed tight to him again, her tongue flicking quickly over his hot

lips.

“Go now, my love. Find a place stage right, as close to the front as you

can. I will try to find you. There is one song that I will sing especially for you.

Now, you must be off.”

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She turned from him and crossed the room to her makeup table. Without

looking at him again, she proceeded to rectify the damage their hot embrace

had done. Renaldo stood and took one last lingering look, then without saying

a word, disappeared into depths.

As he sat in his private box just off stage left, Astor Gordero could not

help but feel proud of his latest accomplishment. The gala had been his idea,

an idea which he had nurtured and coddled through to fruition.

His assurance that he could deliver the nation’s hottest star in Symca,

convinced the local World Cup organizing committee that the event could be

both a financial and artistic success. Some of the older members of the committee

objected to the playing of rock music on the hallowed stage of Teatro Colon,

but Gordero insisted that the evening would be a cultural bonanza showcasing

all forms of Argentine music. To further persuade the dissenters, the cunning

lawyer showed them the latest projected loss figures on the staging of the

World Cup.

Those figures still ran into the hundreds of millions of dollars. That was

the deciding factor. The vote was unanimous to present ‘Musicale Argentina

’8,’ with Astor Gordero as its artistic director.

If the truth be known, it was Wolfgang Stoltz that had spent the last

month pulling things together. His job was made easier by the fact that

nationalistic pride and enthusiasm had never been more evident. It took very

little persuading to secure all the entertainers that Gordero had placed on his

‘A’ list. For after all, what entertainer could refuse a national radio and television

audience, as well as an association with World Cup ’78?

In the end, Stoltz was inundated with offers to perform in the gala.

Advertising and sponsorship by major corporations had covered all the broadcast

and staging expenses. The revenue pledged by this soccer mad nation, a nation

which was about to be whipped into a frenzy by the country’s most stimulating

personalities, would surely exceed all expectations. So now, with the evening

unfolding without a hitch, Gordero was ready to sit back and watch as his well

laid plans became reality.

The lawyer had talked to his newest client at the afternoon rehearsal. The

boy seemed remarkably calm and self-assured, if not just a little bit distracted

by the whereabouts of the evening’s headlining act. Renaldo had mentioned

how disappointed he was that the team would be spirited away right after

the show, revealing that he had hoped to spend some time with Simone that

evening.

“Now is the time to think about football, my young friend, not matters

of the heart. There will be plenty of time for romance once you have made the

team and secured the World Cup trophy for Argentina.”

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Renaldo knew that The Fat Man was right, but it didn’t diminish his

longing for the stunning female vocalist.

What Astor Gordero did not tell his protégé was that he had secretly met

with the boy’s mother a few days earlier. Wolfgang Stoltz had been sent to Casa

San Marco for the express purpose of personally delivering Gordero’s letter of

introduction. This was how proper society people made contact, and Florencia

was duly impressed. The salutation was suitably humble and flowery, yet it

contained the notion that the weighty lawyer wished to enlighten her about

some serious matters of business concerning her son, Renaldo.

Florencia De Seta accepted Señor Gordero’s invitation to discuss her son’s

future, primarily due to the persuasive charm of Herr Wolfgang Stoltz. She was

quite taken with the handsome German from the minute she laid eyes on him,

and eventually the lady found courage enough to ask if he would be attending

the planned meeting. Stoltz did not miss the smile on her face after answering

in the affirmative.

The meeting took place at the ‘Hippodrome Argentino,’ the posh race track

in Palermo. Gordero had a thick file on Señora De Seta, and he slyly deduced

that she would welcome a chance to ‘strut her stuff.’ His front row table in the

exclusive Turf Club section of the track was a perfect venue for the reclusive,

yet extremely attractive widow to do just that. He was not disappointed. Even

though Florencia ventured out in public infrequently, she considered the races

just the sort of opportunity that would give her both entertainment and some

escorted exposure.

Gordero had learned that the wealthy widow had not completely given up

hope of remarrying, or at least finding a gentleman companion. Florencia was

very old-fashioned, however, about being seen at social functions unescorted.

An acceptable male consort had been hard to come by of late, for the society

matchmakers had given up on her long ago, after she had rebuffed all their

handpicked suitors. The story now being spread by the Palermo gossipmongers

was that Florencia De Seta had become so disenchanted with her two sons that

she had thrown up her arms in disgust and said “to hell with them!”

Those two sons had strayed from Florencia’s deemed course, and the society

tongues were wagging. One had supposedly left home in a rage a few days after

Christmas to wander mindlessly around the countryside with his communist

girlfriend. The other had dropped out of school with the ridiculous perception

that he could pursue a professional football career. These actions had shattered

Florencia’s motherly aspirations to such a degree that she had returned to the

capital, intent on living her life for herself.

This meant kicking up her heels and exploring a lifestyle that she had

previously never considered. She had done away with her staid wardrobe and

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ultra-conservative attitudes and quietly leaked the word to the ‘hotline’ that

she was interested in enjoying some male companionship.

While Florencia considered Astor Gordero far too obese and grotesque

to be of romantic interest, she was certainly aware of his power and influence.

Perhaps his connections could be as beneficial to me in the long run as they might prove

to be for Renaldo,
she mused.

The appointment had started on a congenial note, with an impeccably

prepared meal and a few winning horses. Astor Gordero was a warm and

compassionate host, relating his great respect for the De Seta family and

conveying his sympathies for the tragic death of her talented and caring

husband.

He followed by complimenting her on what a fine job she had done raising

her two sons, at the same time dealing with the pressures of running the family

business. Gordero described his relationship with Renaldo, and exactly what it

would mean to the boy if he actually qualified for the final team.

It was at this point that Florencia turned icy. She had bluntly refused an

offer of gala tickets, turning down a chance to see her own flesh and blood in

the national spotlight. Instead, she gave the lawyer a long tirade on the evils of

football. The lady informed her host of how upset she was with her youngest

son for wasting his time with such foolishness. The lonely widow had gone so

far as to express her hope that Renaldo would be among the first players to be

dropped from the team.

“That would enable him to enroll in university at the start of the

next semester and get on with his medical career,” Florencia had stated

emphatically.

Again, Renaldo’s agent tried to enlighten Señora De Seta as to the material

benefits that could accrue, should her son be successful in his quest to make the

National Team. But she would have none of it.

“The boy does not need material benefits derived from that ‘filthy

occupation.’ My son was meant to be a doctor, just like his father. After he gets

this distracting malady out of his system, I am certain that he will repent and

proceed on the true course his life was destined to follow!”

Gordero was forced to turn the charm level to maximum while trying to