The Mexican Fling

By Victor Bellini

A chance meeting between Adam and Blanca on a flight to Mexico City turns into a love story with unexpected consequences involving drug lords. He is a Canadian businessman charged with opening the Mexican market to a major multinational company, while she is a young attorney on a tourist tour of Mexico. They are both unattached, good looking, sophisticated and worldly. Their mutual attraction leads them to a quick, if ephemeral, first date with romantic overtones. They keep in touch and eventually they meet again. They take their relationship to a mesmerizing period of sexual ecstasy, where all clicked beautifully as if by magic. As Adam gets to know Blanca better, however, he suspects something strange about her that piques his curiosity. As a result, his business activities in Mexico are compromised by her personal needs, leading to dangerous situations with shady characters of the drug cartel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victor Bellini
• Release date: Apr 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310142093

Victor Bellini

Victor or Vittorio Bellini - a retired business executive - received his early education in Italy and later in England and Canada. He joined a multinational corporation and was fast-tracked to senior management postings in several countries. In his retirement he drew from his international knowledge to create engrossing stories in global settings. The author lives in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

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THE MEXICAN FLING

BY

VITTORIO BELLINI

The Mexican Fling

Copyright © 2014 Vittorio Bellini

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

Also by Vittorio Bellini

♦♦♦

In the Series

Adventures in Multinational Business

The Libyan Affair

The Casablanca Connection

The Mexican Fling

The Russian Oligarch

The Chinese Manuscript

♦♦♦

Other books by the same author

La Mano del Destino (in Italian)

A Secret

One-night stands

Sex in Vienna

Soul Mates Online

Available in digital and paperback formats

from most online bookstores

♦♦♦

Foreword

In the mid-eighties many multinational corporations operating in Mexico chose to set up their manufacturing facilities in a free-trade zone along the USA border. It was the ideal location for labour-intensive and cost-effective assembly lines staffed with unskilled workers on minimum wage.

That zone, known also as the maquilladoras (blue collar workers), was mired in typically third-world ways and was partly controlled by the drug trade. Foreign companies could not easily operate without local partners capable of dealing with corruption.

In that world, the bravery of a woman - helped by an adventurous businessman - challenged that modus operandi with incredible results, despite the dangers and the odds against her.

*****

Disclaimer

Certain historic facts related to some (not all) business practices and to the maquilladora operations in the free-trade zone along the Mexico-USA border are real, but all events, characters and most companies mentioned in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance with reality is fortuitous and purely coincidental.

♦♦♦

Primary Characters

Gene Toner, Miami

Blanca Duval, Brussels

Gerardo Santos, Mexico City

Cindy Cortes, Miami

Secondary Characters

Emilio, Miami, EIL President

Pablo, Mexico City, CAM President

Pedro, Ciudad Juarez, maquilladora manager

Fernando, Tijuana, Drug Lord

Gustavo, GFM President

Sofia Duval, Brussels

Cities and Towns

Mexico City

Miami

Brussels

Ciudad Juarez

Tijuana

Toronto

♦♦♦

Prologue

My Numero Uno

As VP of business development I was tasked with breaking into the Latin American telecom market with state-of-the-art digital technology. My company, Eastel, was a pioneer of that technology but had never been active in South America. Mexico was my first target for several reasons. It shared a border with the US; it had mostly bilingual professional people; it had an economy that was poised to grow; it started to liberalize its trading policies and, last but not east, it had a population of some one hundred million people badly in need of telephones.

I was on a flight from Dallas to Mexico City and sat behind a young lady whose long black hair hung loose over the back of her seat in front of me. It was so long that it almost reached my tray of food. It emanated a most seductive scent that drew my attention and made me want to touch it. I did so and felt its silky ends in my fingers. There being no one sitting next to me, I felt free to play with it without raising eyebrows, for no one could see me. I even leaned over to smell it closer. I wondered whose hair it was, I needed to know. I tugged on it gently and prepared to explain myself to her reaction, whether good or bad. Sure enough she turned around and propped herself up above the seat to have a good look at me. She stared at me scowling while I smiled.

Sorry about that, I said, I couldn’t help it. Your hair is practically in my tray, but I don’t mind because it’s beautiful and smells soooo good!

She seemed to like what I said and looked confused, as her scowl turned into a smile on a very pretty face.

Oh, I am sorry, she said, I did not know my hair was over the seat. She spoke with an accent I could not quite place. She had a rather small, round face with black eyes, thin lips and a pair of most becoming dimples that gave her a cheerful allure. She seemed to enjoy the conversation and kept looking at me wondering who I was.

Don’t be sorry, I replied, and you can leave it there for the rest of the flight if you don’t mind me playing with it.

She was intrigued in a pleasant way.

You like to tease people, she quipped.

I only tease pretty girls. Hi, I am Gene, Gene Toner, I said as I stretched my hand to shake hers.

This is not a very comfortable position for me to talk for much longer, she said, still propped up backward on her seat.

Look, there is no one next to me; would you like to join me?

Should I? she asked with a half smile.

It’s a long flight and it will help make it shorter if we can talk, I replied gallantly.

She hesitated a lot and gave me a suspicious look, wondering if she could trust me. She then turned around, fixed her hair over one shoulder and leaned across the aisle to talk to another young lady in a language I could not understand. It became clear to me at that point that she was not travelling alone. They kept talking and snickering as if amused by my invitation. I leaned over to her from my aisle seat and asked what language they were speaking.

Flemish, she answered cheerfully.

I was surprised about the language because, while her friend looked Belgian with blond hair and blue eyes, she did not. With her black hair, black eyes and a ‘tanned’ complexion, she looked like someone from southern Europe, probably Greece. But, then again, all of Europe is a mixed bag of different ethnic origins. As she leaned over to talk to her friend across the aisle I noticed a Numero Uno written on the back of her tee shirt.

You both have an advantage over me, I said blithely, I don’t understand what you are saying.

That’s good, it’s better that way, said the Numero Uno with another burst of laughter. She was the prettier of the two.

There must be a reason why they call you Numero Uno, I said teasingly, perhaps you can tell me why. I am curious to know.

She didn’t bother to answer but asked me where I was from and where I was going. I told them I was on a business trip to Mexico City and would stay there for a couple of days.

We are from Belgium, she explained, and we are travelling with a group of tourists from Europe on a two-week guided excursion of Mexico.

That sounds very interesting, I noted; there is so much to see in this country. How long are you staying in Mexico City?

Just a couple of days and then we take a bus to other destinations.

Well, look, if you have nothing better to do tonight, would you like to join me for dinner?

Oh, that’s very kind of you, but we can’t. We have a group dinner tonight. She looked disappointed while her friend looked amused by it all.

That’s too bad, I said with exaggerated sadness.

But tomorrow night we are free, she added quickly.

Tomorrow I have a business dinner.

They were both fun to talk to. We carried on conversing across the aisle in fits and starts, with a few quips and innuendoes of a sexual nature, but always with a good dose of humour. Our conversation made our flight appear much shorter than it was and took us almost by surprise when the plane landed and we prepared to say goodbye.

After retrieving their luggage, they joined their group and waved at me with a smile. I waved back and noticed a sticker on their luggage with the name of the hotel they were staying at. I made a mental note of that. It was not the Sheraton Maria Isabel where I was staying, but I later realized that it was within walking distance from it.

After dinner I decided to walk over to their hotel to see if I could find them. I was interested in the Numero Uno. I walked to the check-in counter and told the concierge I was looking for a couple of Belgian young ladies who checked in earlier as part of a tourist group from Europe.

Yes, two ladies from Belgium did check in earlier today, she confirmed.

Would you be so kind, I pleaded, as to call their room and tell them that their friend Gene is in the lobby?

She looked startled at my request wondering who I was. I quickly added that I was a friend from Europe and that I was told they were staying at that hotel. I looked like a distinguished forty-something gentleman, clearly not a criminal and persuaded her with all the charm I could muster that all I wanted was to speak to them on the phone. After some cajoling she agreed to call their room.

Whom do you wish to talk with?

Tell them I wish to talk to the Numero Uno! She gave me a funny look but took it as a joke. She placed the call and, after exchanging a few giggles on the phone, she hung up and told me that the Numero Uno would meet me in the lobby.

I sat down and waited for a long time, and there she was. All done up, nicely dressed with make up et al. She looked so different, more mature more ‘woman’ but still retaining that beautiful smile and funny accent.

Hi there, she said, how did you find me?

Any Numero Uno is easy to find in this world. There aren’t many of you around.

Funny, funny; seriously, how did you find me? Are you a professional spy?

I wish! No, it was quite simple really. I saw the hotel sticker on your luggage and you happen to be the only two Belgian tourists in the group, sharing the same room. So, it was no stroke of genius.

Okay, so what now?

Now I’d like to know your name. Mine is Gene, Gene Toner.

Mine is Blanca Duval, but you can call me Blanca.

Blanca is a Spanish name.

Yes it is. My parents liked it.

I like it too. So Blanca, I thought we could go for a walk and a drink somewhere, if you wish. It’s still early by Mexican standards and you are on vacation.

Okay, I can spare a couple of hours. Where would you like to go?

There is a fantastic Mariachi group playing nearby. If you like their music, we could go for a drink and listen to them for a while.

Okay. I like that. How far is it?

Ten minute walk. Are you up to it?

She agreed with a wink and a smile, and we walked out of the lobby side by side. It so happened that the Mariachi were playing in the night club of the Maria Isabel, my hotel, so it was very convenient for me and, I hoped, for her too, but I did not have ulterior motives in mind. As we got to the hotel, she recognized it and stopped at the door. She looked perplexed and suspicious.

This is the Sheraton, she exclaimed, is this where you are staying?

Yes, I am staying here, why?

Well ... how convenient! What do you have in mind exactly?

I thought you wanted to hear the Mariachis play. They are here, in the night club downstairs. Is there a problem?

No, but, but I don’t know any more. I get the feeling that you have other ideas, I mean, this is your hotel, you know?!

You sound like you are afraid to seduce me or succumb to my charm, as the case may be! I exclaimed jokingly. But I can assure you that, whatever the case, you are in control, not me.

I see, she said coyly, it’s up to me then, is it?

Absolutely; I shall always be at your service, like a humble servant.

At that point the stage was set for flirting openly, with amusing innuendoes and allusions. She played along beautifully and seemed to enjoy responding to my quips blow for blow, without missing a beat. We sat at a table for two as far away from the deafening sound of the Mariachis and ordered gin and tonic for both of us.

What do you do for a living? She asked.

I am a businessman. I am the marketing VP of a telecom multinational.

Are you married?

No, I am as free as a bird. What about you, what do you do?

I am an attorney. I work for my father’s law firm in Brussels.

Criminal or civil law? I feigned concern.

Relax, she chuckled. I specialise in corporate law. I am not here to incriminate you, but I will if you don’t behave like a gentleman.

I shall be very careful. You are not married are you?

Not yet, she smiled and then added: but I am looking for a husband. Are you interested?

Do I have to apply for the position?

You would have to queue up with the rest of them.

It sounds like a bidding process, is it?

Of course it is! The best bid will win.

Where do I get the tender documents?

I have all requirements in my head. Just ask me.

Okay, describe the major requirements.

Smart, good looking, well spoken, well educated, kind, compassionate, loving, not short and not tall, not old and not young, not rich and not poor.

In other words just like me, huh?

Wow, aren’t you conceited now!

I suppose I am, but you did forget something. I said tongue in cheek.

What, what did I forget?

The most important attribute for a man.

You are being impertinent.

Why, are you thinking what I am thinking?

Yes, I think so. Sex is also important of course, it goes without saying.

Well in that department I can assure you that I am fully qualified.

I never doubted it.

What made you think so?

The way you approached me; it’s obvious what you are after.

And?

And you are not going to get it ... not tonight anyway.

Then when?

If and when I know you better and if you qualify for all of the other attributes.

I’ll be on pins and needles while waiting for your decision.

She laughed so much at this point that she had tears in her eyes.

You are funny, aren’t you? she noted. You are a joker and therefore you are disqualified on the spot. She continued to laugh.

Given the loudness of the music it was difficult to have a conversation without shouting, which brought me close to her ear. In the process I took the lobe of her ear in between my lips. She pulled away gently and shook her finger at me reproachfully, but also with amusement. I took it as an invitation to dare more and kissed her lips lightly, waiting for her reaction. She did not object, but did not respond either. I then carried on savouring her cheek and slowly moving down her neck, where I indulged a bit longer, till I knew she was ready to respond.

Do you understand what they are singing? she asked as she shifted away from me.

Not a word, actually I understand only one word ... amor.

Everybody understands that, she said with another chuckle. What about ... besame mucho, do you understand that?

Hey hey, I know that. It’s part of a song. This is what it means.

I slowly moved back to her lips and there I found a most willing partner in a luscious kiss that lasted a very long time. That was it. The Mariachis continued to play and sing their deafening love songs with feeling and abandon, while we kissed and smooched and laughed at just about any silly remark. It became obvious after a while that we were both on fire and needed more privacy.

Let’s go to a quieter place, shall we? I suggested.

Quieter place you say, like where? she replied quizzically, gazing deep into my eyes, pretending not to understand.

My room is just a few floors away, I said cheerfully.

Funny, funny, you want us to go to your room, huh?

Yes I do.

I’ve yet to see your bid, she quipped teasingly.

It’s in the mail, I rebutted tongue in cheek.

She looked hesitant, uncertain, but she seemed to enjoy the challenge, much like a toreador facing a raging bull.

Okay then, let’s see what you are made of, she said as if throwing down the gauntlet, ready for a duel. She was the first to get up. She picked up her purse, flung her long pony-tail hair over her shoulder, and walked to the door without waiting for me. I quickly caught up with her and took her by the arm as we approached the elevator. She stopped and gave me a suspicious look, as I smiled and waited.

Oh what the hell, she suddenly blurted out. Okay, let’s go, but remember that I am in control. You promised!

Of course you are, it goes without saying.

I thought I was on fire until I saw how hot she was! As soon as we were in the elevator she unleashed all her seductive ways. I was overwhelmed. Then, as we entered my room, she slammed the door behind her and pulled me over with such energy that made me fall backward on the bed, with her on top of me.

Wow, I shouted, where did you learn to do that? Are you a black belt or something?

Oh shut up, she admonished. This is my show now. I am in control.

Okay, okay, just take it easy. I mean ... there is no need to rush, is there?

We ended up spending an inordinate amount of time on my king-size bed still in our clothes, rolling on top of each other, kissing and petting with occasional chats in between. I was allowed to freely explore all her private parts, but without being able to go further. Her kisses were absolutely volcanic in depth and ardour, but she resisted going further and fought off my attempts at removing her brassiere or unzipping her loose jeans. After a prolonged foreplay, she moved decisively on top of me and stayed there, teasingly shifting her body in rhythmic sideway movements. I was about to climax.

Hey listen, I mumbled in between kisses. Let’s get more comfortable before it’s too late. I can’t sustain this level of foreplay for much longer.

This is as far as I am willing to go tonight. She mumbled back and sealed my lips again, resuming her devilish movements. I could almost feel her vulva through her clothes as she continued to stroke without skin contact. Eventually I exploded. She realized what had happened and accelerated her rhythm in circular motion till I heard a scream and a final gasp of pleasure. Then she rolled over, away from me, still panting and sweaty.

You didn’t, did you? I asked.

Mmmm, yes, I did. It was so good.

But, but we didn’t do it right. We need an encore.

Oh no, I don’t want to make love all the way, not until I get to know you better. I told you, she added jokingly, If you are interested you have to bid for it and then, if you are selected, you have to negotiate all the terms and conditions.

It sounds like a long process. Why not do a trial run before bidding? She laughed.

Blanca was still in a playful mood, still speaking in jocular metaphors. I began to suspect that she was not being frank with me about her background. She was supposed to be an unattached thirty-something Belgian attorney, but maybe she wasn’t, I thought. Even her looks belied her origins, so I wondered.

Oh come off it Blanca, I said trying to be serious, we are not kids any more. What’s the problem?

My problem is that I never do it on a first date, she said with a giggle. Anyway, I must go now. It’s late.

You can stay here for the night. I won’t bother you.

No, I can’t, I must go back to my hotel.

Well, it’s up to you. You are in control, I added blithely, but you can stay if you wish.

No, really, I have to go. I am sharing a room with my friend and she will start worrying if I am not back soon.

She got up and walked to the bathroom to wash and fix herself up. I did the same soon after her.

I’ll walk you back, it’s not too far, I told her.

We walked hand in hand and felt very comfortable with each other. She was charming, smart and quite attractive, with long black hair tied in a ponytail, big black eyes and fleshy lips on a slim body of medium height. She walked with pride and self-assurance, strutting her ample bosom and conspicuous round derriere, just like a Spanish toreador.

It’s been wonderful, I said as we hugged in a tight embrace in the lobby of her hotel.

Yes, it’s been fun. Thanks for looking me up.

Will I see you again? I asked rhetorically.

I hope so, she said with a wink. You must submit your bid, remember?

Send me the tender documents and I will surely submit a very competitive bid.

Good, I look forward to receiving it then, she laughed and squeezed me to her for another warm hug.

We exchanged business cards and said goodnight. I returned to my hotel still shaken by the intensity of the experience, but also cavalier about meeting her again. I had had my share of one-night stands around the world and I believed Blanca to be just another one of those. In fact, I thought, she was probably a married woman with a lot of scruples about engaging in a full sexual act with a total stranger. I did not expect to hear from her again, but I was wrong. A couple of weeks later, I received a postcard from Brussels and then one from Ostend. Later I also received one from Madrid, which had a short note:

‘Hi Gene, remember me? I am in Madrid on a case for a Spanish client and thought you might appreciate a postcard from this beautiful city. Take care, Blanca.’

There was a return address on the card, a law office in Madrid, which confirmed her profession but made me wonder about her origins. With a name like Blanca, her Mediterranean looks and her work in Madrid, she may have had some connections with the Spanish world, I thought. I never bothered to reply to her cards, not because I didn’t want to, but because I did not feel the need to do so. We were an ocean apart, too far to establish a meaningful relationship, or so I thought. But, once again, I was wrong.

*****

Chapter One

Gerardo

My work in Mexico was focussed on gaining market share by leveraging Eastel’s leadership in digital technology, both in the public and the private telecom markets. The private sector was the easier to handle because business could be done with small projects and without major local partners. But the public sector was a different ballgame altogether, as it required strong support from an influential Mexican partner.

A major tender call was in the making at Telmex (Telefonos de Mexico) and was expected to attract competitive bids from all manufacturers in the business, mostly multinationals from Europe, Japan and North America. Telmex had just been sold to a group of private investors but it was still run as if state-owned. The company had total monopoly on all public telephone systems in the country and was poised to become a major player in Latin America. Eastel was at a disadvantage in that it was new to the market, while others had been there for decades. However, we believed that our well-known technical leadership would make up the difference and would give us a good shot at winning at least part of the bid. What we needed above all was a strong local partner to push the political buttons and work behind the scenes.

My local office manager, Gerardo Santos, was very good at setting up meetings and understanding competitive forces. He was also my interpreter. The line of attack was to first establish contacts with the who-is-who of the industry and then sensing who would be the best company to associate with. In so doing it became apparent that all influential companies with experience in the telecom sector were already associated with our competitors and none was free to partner with us. Further searches were leading nowhere and reached a point where Gerardo insisted that there was only one viable solution. He believed that we needed to partner with GFM (Gerencia Financiera de Mexico), a company that was already associated with NEC, a Japanese giant and a major competitor. I had my doubts.

How do you think they could possibly represent two competing companies? I asked.

They could do it for separate projects, not for the same one. NEC is unlikely to bid on the Telmex tender because they do not have a strong digital product line available. So, if they are not in the race, then GFM can represent our interests on an exclusive basis, stated Gerardo with some insistence,

The problem as I see it, I said, is that once GFM is familiar with our technology, their engineers could pass on such information to NEC. We all know how the Japanese operate. They are experts at copying and improving.

That assumes that they will be given the information.

They can buy it. It’s easy to corrupt a couple of technical people with enough money.

True but that’s a risk you would run anywhere. Technical information can be bought by outsiders, not necessarily from those we are associated with.

Well, let’s think about it, I said, sensing his determination to sell me on GFM. In the meantime why can’t we continue the search for a partner operating outside the telecom sector? Why does it have to be familiar with it?

That’s because in Mexico if you don’t oil the big wheels in command you get nowhere. It’s therefore important that our partner be well connected with the Telmex top management.

Okay I hear you. Let’s sleep on it.

Much as I believed Gerardo to be an honest guy with strong technical and business knowledge, his unabashed insistence on getting in bed with GFM gave me reason to reflect. I could not be sure that all potential candidates in Mexico had been duly vetted. I only had his word. Also, his whereabouts were a mystery. He was married and had children in a comfortable home in the outskirts of Mexico City, not too far from the office, but was rarely there. Whenever I tried to reach him at home I would get the usual not-home reply from either his wife or one of his children. Most of the messages I left for him at home were rarely acted upon in timely fashion. His explanation for missed or ignored messages was that his children did not understand English well enough to report them. I accepted that explanation but, in time, I began to feel like something was amiss and decided to check it out for myself. One day, at the end of a busy week, I put him to the test.

It’s been a very busy week and we have accomplished a lot, I told him just before leaving the office. I am very pleased with how things are going in the private sector, but I am not sure yet about Telmex. We need to talk more about it and I thought that maybe you and your wife can join me for dinner tonight. I’m sure Anna will enjoy a night out.

That would be great, he replied with a smile, but unfortunately we have other commitments. My wife’s parents are staying with us for the week-end and it would not be fair to leave them alone tonight. Maybe next time you are in town.

That was all I needed to know. To check him out I intended to take a taxi to his home later on and see for myself if indeed he had his relatives