Read Online Needle in a Haystack by Ernesto Mallo - Free Book Online

tall, what might be described as normal stature in a country of shorties, but he has broad shoulders. He’s yet to develop the pot belly typical of men of his age, nor does he have hairs growing in his ears or nose. He’s thinning a little on top, but not too much, and his only grey hairs are the few around his temples, hardly noticeable. He looks quite athletic, which contrasts with the lethargy of his movements. If he were a little more dynamic, he could pass for being ten to fifteen years younger. She stops examining him when their eyes meet, which they do only fleetingly, because he looks away immediately and seems to blush. Although a tough guy clearly lurks behind his cool exterior, she would swear he was scared of her.
    They enter a typical neighbourhood bistro and the waiter greets him with some familiarity, as well as no little surprise that he has company. Without even asking her, Lascano orders the daily special for both of them, a jug of house wine and some sparkling water. She tries to comprehend the situation, but doesn’t manage in the slightest. When the food arrives, Lascano wolfs his down in four or five mouthfuls, then waits for Eva to finish. When she’s halfway through, he begs her pardon and lights a cigarette. He has paid her not the least attention
since they sat down and her desire to understand what’s happening starts to fade. When she loads the last mouthful onto her fork, Perro asks for the bill. He settles up and they leave. He holds the door for her and as she passes him he makes the most of the moment to gaze at her. The dress looks fantastic on her.
    In the cold night air, he feels the whirlwind of his mind calm down and he starts to recover his self-control and he distracts himself thinking about the incredible number of ways women can make themselves look beautiful. Not only can clothing never entirely hide their sexuality, most is designed to emphasize it. These days a woman must try hard to look ugly and really there are no ugly women, only careless ones, and Eva could not look ugly even if she tried, and by then he’s had enough of thinking. So he lights a cigarette. Three paces behind him, Eva feels as happy as a little girl on her birthday. She catches up with Lascano, takes him by the arm and holds on to him, in such a way that he feels her breast on his bicep and his sex gets playful and betrays him down in his trousers. Thus they walk the rest of the way home. Lascano doesn’t know whether he wants her to let go of him or for the journey to last for ever. She hums softly and now even rests her head upon his shoulder. Her pheromone-charged scent attacks Perro. His body feels the physical need for this other body with an intensity beyond any thought and he clenches his fists in his pockets to prevent himself jumping on her right there and then. But they’ve reached the narrow doorway of his building and they have to separate to get through.
    Outside the apartment, Eva leans against the wall and looks at him as he searches for his keys, but she
doesn’t look at him in any old way. Her eyes are full of provocation, her pupils fearless, her breasts rise and fall to the rhythm of her breathing. He opens the door and looks at her arse as she walks into the flat. She knows he’s looking, and he knows that she knows, and he asks himself how is it that a woman can tell when you’re looking at her arse. And he hears, or thinks he hears, the sad bolero about lost lovers. And she sees him cross the room and plunge into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and she doesn’t hear him cry because he cries in silence, but he does cry. He sleeps in his clothes. Tonight Marisa doesn’t come to visit him. Cross with him, no doubt. But when he sleeps:
    I am in the desert. It’s night-time. The immense sense of isolation is like being at sea. It’s alive, more than present. It’s everything. It surrounds me and drowns me. The desert and I start to become one being. It gets inside me. I