Read Online The Long Day of Revenge by D. P. Adamov - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D. P. Adamov
Tags: Erótica
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short and in demand career as a novillero or aspirant, Manolo had taken the alternative, a ritual where he reached the highest rank in the profession. De La Torre, who had been at the Manzano ranch as well, bestowed the honors, where a man from Juarez named Teodoro Toledo served a witness. There was nothing spectacular to the ceremony. The men exchanged handshakes and capes, then Manolo was off to fight the full sized four year old bulls as a matador de toros, rather than the three year old novillos.
Clearly, he had arrived.
In rapid succession after leaving the hospital and training himself back into shape, Manolo had scored a series of triumphs. His novillero days were behind him, but so were afternoons leaving on the shoulders of the crowd in Tijuana, Guadalajara, Durango, Nogales, Juarez, Nuevo Laredo, Piedras Negras, and a number of other locations, leading right up to Plaza Mexico. It was in this gigantic punchbowl of a bullring that he cut ears and tail from both his bulls, and there he received the alternative shortly afterward.
He was able to afford his own car now. He also purchased several new suits of light, like the one before him.
Lucinda didn’t always come to the bullfights with Manolo. In truth, she did not like them that much and never had. It was also too hard on the nerves to sit in the stands and watch her lover risking death. Thus, if she was with him, they spanked and fucked in the hotel. If not, they did it in Agua Prieta before he left for the event.
Manolo had also informed her he was looking at apartments in Mexico City to be closer to the interior, but he had also spoken to Mario Soro, who owned the bullring in Nogales, which was the closest to Agua Prieta. She’d overheard the conversation about how two years from now, he wanted to rent the ring outright to promote his own event. Something was up that he wasn’t explaining. This was also the closest bullring, suspiciously enough, to the Eliseo Manzano ranch.
Yes, Manolo had survived his ordeal and prospered greatly from it, but he had been left scarred. It was not the scarring of his abdomen where Gaditano’s horn had entered that mattered. She and he were the only ones to see that now. It was a deeper scar, invisible to most, leading to an overwhelming hatred for a calf on a ranch that like him was growing. Behind the scenes, in a world as secretive as their spanking, he was preparing for a showdown. Clint Eastwood versus Gian Maria Volonte in Fistful of Dollars. A grand duel to the death at the end of a film. That was what Manolo was planning, and she was sure of it.
The long day of revenge was a phrase Manolo muttered from time to time, and while he never elaborated, it was discomforting to think of what he meant.
Manolo wanted to kill Gaditano for what the beast had done to him, though he should have perhaps been grateful. The goring was the springboard that made the Garza name famous.
Now they were in Tijuana, where Manolo was facing bulls of the Eliseo Manzano ranch again, though Gaditano was not yet one of them. The two alternates on the card were De La Torre and Tijuana’s own Fernando Callao.
Lucinda prayed Manolo would draw the best lot of bulls. Every sorteo filled her with fear for she knew, even if Manolo denied it, he was by no means invincible. That had been shown to anyone who would take notice back in Hermosillo. The incident, however, seemed like ages ago.
Manolo had a string of triumphs in Tijuana and had become a major draw there, known not only for suicidal courage with the capes, but for deadly skill with the sword. He was a killer of bulls in the truest sense of the word.
It was just a short time past noon, and Manolo had gone to the sorteo, where the numbers of the bulls were placed in a hat and the bullfighters drew lots to see who should fight what. It was a custom going back decades.
“This is like picking your own executioner,” Manolo had once described it. “It’s a perverse lottery. A bingo game
Clearly, he had arrived.
In rapid succession after leaving the hospital and training himself back into shape, Manolo had scored a series of triumphs. His novillero days were behind him, but so were afternoons leaving on the shoulders of the crowd in Tijuana, Guadalajara, Durango, Nogales, Juarez, Nuevo Laredo, Piedras Negras, and a number of other locations, leading right up to Plaza Mexico. It was in this gigantic punchbowl of a bullring that he cut ears and tail from both his bulls, and there he received the alternative shortly afterward.
He was able to afford his own car now. He also purchased several new suits of light, like the one before him.
Lucinda didn’t always come to the bullfights with Manolo. In truth, she did not like them that much and never had. It was also too hard on the nerves to sit in the stands and watch her lover risking death. Thus, if she was with him, they spanked and fucked in the hotel. If not, they did it in Agua Prieta before he left for the event.
Manolo had also informed her he was looking at apartments in Mexico City to be closer to the interior, but he had also spoken to Mario Soro, who owned the bullring in Nogales, which was the closest to Agua Prieta. She’d overheard the conversation about how two years from now, he wanted to rent the ring outright to promote his own event. Something was up that he wasn’t explaining. This was also the closest bullring, suspiciously enough, to the Eliseo Manzano ranch.
Yes, Manolo had survived his ordeal and prospered greatly from it, but he had been left scarred. It was not the scarring of his abdomen where Gaditano’s horn had entered that mattered. She and he were the only ones to see that now. It was a deeper scar, invisible to most, leading to an overwhelming hatred for a calf on a ranch that like him was growing. Behind the scenes, in a world as secretive as their spanking, he was preparing for a showdown. Clint Eastwood versus Gian Maria Volonte in Fistful of Dollars. A grand duel to the death at the end of a film. That was what Manolo was planning, and she was sure of it.
The long day of revenge was a phrase Manolo muttered from time to time, and while he never elaborated, it was discomforting to think of what he meant.
Manolo wanted to kill Gaditano for what the beast had done to him, though he should have perhaps been grateful. The goring was the springboard that made the Garza name famous.
Now they were in Tijuana, where Manolo was facing bulls of the Eliseo Manzano ranch again, though Gaditano was not yet one of them. The two alternates on the card were De La Torre and Tijuana’s own Fernando Callao.
Lucinda prayed Manolo would draw the best lot of bulls. Every sorteo filled her with fear for she knew, even if Manolo denied it, he was by no means invincible. That had been shown to anyone who would take notice back in Hermosillo. The incident, however, seemed like ages ago.
Manolo had a string of triumphs in Tijuana and had become a major draw there, known not only for suicidal courage with the capes, but for deadly skill with the sword. He was a killer of bulls in the truest sense of the word.
It was just a short time past noon, and Manolo had gone to the sorteo, where the numbers of the bulls were placed in a hat and the bullfighters drew lots to see who should fight what. It was a custom going back decades.
“This is like picking your own executioner,” Manolo had once described it. “It’s a perverse lottery. A bingo game
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