Cuba Libre by S.M. Pratt

Author:S.M. Pratt [Pratt, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-988639-44-4
Publisher: Creative Communication Solutions Ltd.

The warm wind felt a tad cooler as we headed to my room. Finding myself sitting next to the hot teacher in her pink Cadillac convertible had been a pleasant surprise. She’d offered to take me with her as long as I didn’t take too long to pack up the things I’d need for my short stay at her place.

Oh the places my mind went.

If things went to plan, I wouldn’t need much clothing at all. But a toothbrush and deodorant would be handy. I should probably pack other things, and most definitely my sexiest lingerie. I still wasn’t sure if the teacher was straight, bi, or a straight-up lez like me, but I was most definitely determined to test her orientation. Heck, converting women, or at least getting them to experiment, was something I’d gotten quite good at since my surgery.

I gave directions to the teacher as she drove. I only lived a few streets over from where she held her classes. After blocking the road to other cars, she stayed in the driver’s seat as I rushed upstairs to my room. The road wasn’t wide enough for parking, so she repeated that I had to be quick.

“If I’m not here when you come back, that means a car needed to go through, so just wait for me here, and I’ll be back.”

I nodded and unlocked my front door. After notifying the lady in charge that I’d be away for a few days, I went through my clothing to pick the best and sexiest things I owned. I tossed it all in a bag, along with a few toiletries, some jewelry, and a razor. There was no time to prepare now, but I could later.

When I returned to the street, Valentina had wrapped her head in a scarf and donned large sunglasses. She looked like a beauty from the sixties. I took a mental picture, tossed my bag in the back, and opened the wide door to sit on the passenger half of the wide car seat.

With a loud roar, the engine came back to life, and we drove off down the narrow street until we reached and turned onto the wide Malecón.

As we sped up, I relaxed and leaned back, letting my head rest as the warm wind disheveled my hair, ignoring the sculptures and art pieces that dotted the famous seaside walkway. I wondered what the pedestrians thought of us driving with the top down in a convertible. If it had been anywhere other than Havana, we would have stood out a bit more, I was sure.

But to tourists visiting Cuba, we probably looked a little like Thelma and Louise: two gorgeous women riding in a well-maintained convertible.

I sure hoped our thrill ride would end on a much, much more enjoyable ending, though.

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