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Subject: RP: Spamhater Decoded: The Blackmailed Wife 1--05
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(Note: I am not the author, I am only the decoder.

There are two separate stories called  "Blackmailed Wife".  I am
reposting
them both, as BM1 and BM2.

If you are the author of this piece, I would like to get your name
connected
to your work in our archives, so you get the credit you deserve in all
future
reposts.  Please email me.

The following story deals with strong and explicit sexual themes.  If
you're
not old enough to be here, you're not old enough to read it.  Scram.)




                              BlkMldWf.zip - 5/17

                              The Blackmailed Wife
                                   Chapter 5

      The stands were completely jammed by the time Ann and Julia
arrived at
the bull ring.  Fortunately they already had their tickets so didn't
have to
stand in the long lines outside the ticket booths.

      The crush of the people in the long corridors was maddening.  Ann
held
tightly to Julia's hand as they were jostled along the passageway.

      Suddenly they emerged from the darkness into the stands and Ann
gasped in
surprise.  She hadn't expected the colorful spectacle that suddenly
burst upon
them.  Two Mexican bands were playing on each side of the arena and they
were
surrounded by the most colorful costumes she had ever seen.

      This was a special Fiesta and all of Tijuana had turned out in
typical
old Spanish dress.  The women wore lovely white and black lace mantillas
draped
over their shoulders.  The crowd overflowed the stands with their
multi-colored
gaiety.  The men wore the black, tight-fitting gaucho pants, short
jackets,
flat-brimmed Vaquero hats with small tassels dangling down from brims.

      "Why, it's like another world!" Ann exclaimed to Julia.  "I didn't
imagine it would be quite so beautiful."

      "This is one heritage the Spanish left the Mexicans that I'm
really
thankful for," Julia said.  "Wait until the fight begins, then you'll
really
see something."

      Their seats were on the shady side of the ring and in the first
row below
the Presidente's box.

      "We can get a good look at the matadors here,"  Julia explained
while
they were getting settled.  "They all have to come to the Presidente and
request permission to kill the bull.  They'll be right in front of us."

      Ann didn't tell Julia, but she had read Hemingway's "Death in the
Afternoon" last week when she had found they had won the contest.  It
was about
the bullfights in Spain and had stimulated her interest in seeing one. 
She was
just a bit nervous about how she would react to seeing an animal killed
in cold
blood but Hemingway had explained it in such poetic terms that she had
succeeded in justifying it to herself.  It certainly would not be more
cruel
than the methods used in the slaughter houses. From his descriptions she
gathered that if they were really good bulls, the matador was in almost
as much
danger as the bull.

      Ann was snapped back to the present by the sudden blast of
trumpets. The
noise from the crowd slowly subsided.  The trumpet's piercing notes
reverberating across the arena sent chills of anticipation running
through Ann.

      The gates on the other side of the ring swung open, and the
opening
procession began.  The three matadors, dressed in their magnificent
"Suits of
Light," led the parade.  They were followed by their assistants, who
later
would be stationed around the ring to draw the bull away in case the
principal
matador happened to be in trouble.  The picadors followed behind.  They
rode
horses that were padded on the side and in front and carried long
spear-like
poles that had short sharp points on the ends. These pics would later be
stuck
into the bull's shoulders to weaken him for the kill.

      The bull fighter proceeded directly across the ring and stopped
immediately in front of where Julia and Ann were sitting.  From this
position,
the girls could get a good look at the beautiful suits the matadors were
wearing.

      The matadors bowed gracefully to the presidential box which was
high up
behind the girls on the top row of the stand.

      Julia pointed out a slender, graceful-looking boy on the right
side,
saying he was Paco Camino, one of Spain's greatest fighters.  He was
dressed in
a white silk costume with brilliant gold designs embroidered beautifully
onto
the material.  Ann remembered reading that these suits cost at least
five
hundred dollars each.  She could understand why, after getting a close
look at
them.

      The matador in the center, Julia told her, was Curro Giron from
Columbia.
He was short and moved with a proud walk like a cocky bantam rooster. 
His suit
was blue and had the same type of gold designs set into it as Paco
Camino's.
He looked older, though not by much.

      The third fighter, Jose Rascon, according to the program, was one
of the
most handsome men Ann had ever seen.  He was tall and moved with the
grace of a
ballet dancer.  He was not as dark as some Mexicans but had a light
bronze skin
that made him appear like a well tanned and healthy Norteamericano.  He
had jet
black hair smoothed back from a narrow forehead and a straight classical
nose,
that reminded her of old silent films she had seen of Rudolph
Valentino.  He
was built in the classic style of bullfighters, with strong, broad
shoulders
that tapered down to thin graceful hips.  It seemed to Ann that he
hardly
touched the sand of the bullring when he walked.  He carried himself
with a
fatalistic pride, knowing he might die today but resigned to it if he
must.

      Ann caught an admiring glance from him as he bowed to the
presidential
box above.  Their eyes had locked for just a moment, but she felt
something
stir in her that she hadn't felt since the first time Dave had kissed
her.  It
was a delightful yet frightening feeling and she was ashamed that it
could
happen.  She shook her head slightly and regained her composure.

      How stupid, she thought of course I'm going to have feelings like
that,
every woman does, particularly when her husband has been away for six
months
and she has been accustomed to having him in bed with her every night. 
Some
men just bring the feeling on, she mused, but decided she had better
watch
herself -- temptation can be a difficult thing to fight sometimes.  The
opening
ceremonies being over, the fight began.

      Paco Camino had drawn the first bull and made some beautiful
passes with
his cape.  The crowd was enthusiastic over seeing one of Spain's great
matadors
in action and shouted "Ole!" each time the bull made a pass.

      Ann was glued to her seat with anxiety; she couldn't remember when
anything had affected her so much emotionally.  When he had taken
several
passes at the bull with his red cape, he turned and faced the Presidente
and
requested permission to pass the bull over to the new matador for the
kill.
This is when the alternativa ceremony is performed.  Julia explained to
her.
An old established bullfighter takes his turn with the bull and then
donates it
to the new matador for the kill.  The new matador then dedicates the
bull to
someone in the crowd.

      Jose Rascon chose to dedicate his first bull he killed as a
matador to
Ann.  He walked up to the barrero behind which she was sitting and
bowed, then
turned his back and threw his hat over his shoulder to her. She caught
it.
This is supposed to be good luck for him and, as it turned out, it was. 
He
gave one of the best performances of the afternoon.  The crowd shouted
and
applauded after the kill until the Presidente had awarded him two ears
and a
tail.  This was the greatest honor that could be bestowed on a matador. 
Ann
was proud.  She could feel the whole crowd staring at her as Rascon was
being
carried around the ring on the shoulders of some enthusiastic fans who
had
jumped into the ring after he had made the most beautiful kill they had
seen in
years.

      "You've made a hit, dear," Julia kidded Ann.  "Just watch yourself
and
don't get caught outside the ring with one of these bull fighters, he
might get
your tail, too!"

      "Oh, Julia!" Ann laughed, "I'm an old married woman -- and a
faithful one
too -- he wouldn't even look twice at me if he knew that."

      "You don't know men, my dear girl," Julia replied.  "With a body
like
yours he wouldn't care if you had six husbands!"

      "Oh!  Be quiet!  You've got plenty to offer too, Mrs. Taylor, so
you had
better watch yourself and stop worrying about me."

      Ann was warming up to Julia now and felt she could talk frankly.
Julia
seemed so worldly wise.  Ann was sorry now that she hadn't been more
friendly
with Julia before -- perhaps she wouldn't have been so lonely and Dave's
not
writing wouldn't have upset her so much.


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