Free The Wanderess by Roman Payne

kinds—silver, brass,
steel, I even had a gold Breguet! I was waiting for the hour to
strike twenty so I could get into Gordita’s freidurías and get a meal
of crispy fish. I was licking my lips with the thought of that fish
meal. Then I saw this young girl heading up from the sea. At first
she appeared very small, and I thought she were just a little child.
She wore a hood over her head that covered her hair completely,
except for one lock of golden brown hair that fell from her hood
and curved around her chin. Details like this always strike me. I
miss nothing.”
    ‘No, that’s true!’ interrupted Dragomir with a laugh,
‘Pulpawrecho misses nothing. Although he seems simple at times,
nothing gets by him…’
    ‘Right,’ continued the servant, “so here in the humid night
was this girl coming towards the street in the port; and I thought
it was too late for a young girl to be alone, walking up from the
sea. Then as she came close I saw she wasn’t a baby. She was
adolescent at least. Maybe thirteen or fourteen. Let’s say she was
thirteen. How beautiful she was! I had never before seen a
beautiful creature like this. She seemed to be hurried. Hurried
and baffled. Why do I say baffled?
    “The young girl looked left and right, as though she were
afraid of someone coming to snatch her. I admired her perfectly
formed and smooth beautiful face, and my groin began to burn
with the erection that was growing. I’m Pulpawrecho, you know,
so my penis turns purple when it’s hard. My penis grew hard and
purple in my pants and my thighs burned with scorching heat and
I wanted to catch this pubescent girl and succumb her and press
my lips all over her. She hurried past me, her neat little bottom (a
bottom the size of two fists of a man) rubbed its cheeks together,
and I saw her torn skirt ruffling in the speed of her walk, and the
tissue rising-up revealing the base of her cotton underwear (you
see how descriptive I am! That’s how I see the world!); her cotton
panties rose up revealing soft and tiny butt cheeks down to her
thighs, until reaching very thin and beautifully-formed calves—
smooth as the white meat of a fresh market chicken. What legs
she had! I began to follow her, those legs, that tiny bottom, never
leaving my sight. ‘Yam-yam!’ I smacked my lips. Of course, me
being nothing but a sorry Pulpawrecho, I knew she wouldn’t want
me like I wanted her. I could never have her… still, I wanted her!
    “…We turned down many streets, narrow streets smelling
of urine and rotting food. Finally she came to the street where we
are now (this, Master Dragomir’s street). She stopped as though
stunned, frozen before the wooden plaque that’s posted outside
the gate with Master Dragomir’s name stenciled in the wood. The
sweet girl stopped and brushed her little hands on her ruffled
skirt as she studied the sign for a moment, all the while, anxiously
looking around her, desperately almost. I hid in the shadows like
a wolf, watching…
    “Then, in a swipe of her hands, the little girl let the hood
fall from her head and a magnificent bouquet of hair toppled
down over her shoulders. She was dark-haired, but golden at the
same time, both pale and dark! I rubbed my hand over my groin
to settle the stiffness that was growing bigger and more
uncomfortable. I had to settle my desire! The girl’s desire
meanwhile stayed on that wooden sign over the gate. What did
the sign say?, I wondered. I saw her kiss her hands then. Why? I
don’t know, but she kissed her own hands. All the while, she
looked around with a way I can only describe as baffled. Dropping her dirty hands, she pressed the latch on the gate. The
gate opened and she hurried into the courtyard and was gone!
    “…I fled from the shadows and crossed the street and
planted myself where she had stood moments before when she
kissed her own hands. ‘Clairvoyant,’ I read on the sign, ‘A
clairvoyant? Very curious!’ . . . I pressed