One day, having come home before I was expected, I saw our pretty Hispanic housekeeper sitting on the kitchen table, our gardener standing between her spread legs, the top of her uniform open, his lips suckling at her breast. It was all more than I could have imagined. I had barely seen a man and woman kissing, not being allowed to see movies unless my father approved them, not being allowed to watch TV programs that were not also approved. As I watched them from behind the door, a strange heat burned through my body. I felt a persistent pulsing between my legs. It scared me. I ran to my room and stayed there.Later, my father, my handsome, understanding father, knocked on the door and asked if I was OK. I said I was but he could tell by my voice that something was wrong. "Are you sick, honey?" he asked as he entered the room. "Lupe says you haven't been downstairs all afternoon." Something is wrong with me, Daddy," I sighed. "I think I have a fever."He felt my forehead and said he. Their passion had matched that of the opera, beat for beat, note for note. Robert marvelled at this and their boundless need for each other and infinite ability to excite each other. At the end of the opera, Robert with Juliana in tears at the death of Butterfly, gently wiped her eyes with his handkerchief before kissing her very deeply on the lips. “I am so sorry Robert, I know how it ends, but it always makes me cry anyhow,” said Juliana in sniffles. Robert put his arms around her and held her tenderly. Although she had been wanton with him having sex in the box, he was amazed how quickly she could become emotional and fragile. He really loved this side of her character and it made him realize just how beautiful and complicated a human being she was. He waited patiently for her to compose herself, his arms still tight around her before they made their way down the stairs. They found their way out of the opera house with the crowd leaving the building. It was a magnificent sight.
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