A Paisa Woman in Bogota
Alternate Title: My 1st Paisita and Now I Understand the Fuss about Medellin Women
After months of reluctance, I agreed to practice golf with The Mick. The Mick had scheduled to play golf as a class with a student of his, Maribel from Medellin.
Maribel was a tiny little dandy with short hair that stood and hung. She wore big lens sunglasses. She also wore black aerobics tights to show off her shapely legs. The tights were the cotton type with straps underneath the foot inside the shoe to keep the cotton tight (not the shiny, polyester tights that cyclists and old school hip-hop dancers wear). After Maribel and I did an airkiss greeting, she warmed her legs up by stretching her quadriceps with a foot in her hand. She bounced around and twisted her legs up and about as if warming up for a run. It was a little hard not to get caught looking.
She started mix it up with The Mick. They had a spunky relationship, getting in each other’s faces. I laughed when she called him a “fucking cunt” (apparently The Mick taught her his favorite insult). I asked her if she knew what a “cunt” was. She didn’t. I explained how I don’t have one but she does. Then I listed some Spanish equivalents: chucha, concha, panocha. She smiled and noted it’s not a nice word. She was grateful I told her the meaning; The Mick never would’ve.
I noticed her arms were a bit hairy and she had braces on her lower grill. And she’s tiny, a couple heads shorter than me and half my weight. So I dismissed the possibility of an affair but she seemed fun, a free-spirited aura. The Mick mentioned they smoked weed together sometimes and she was taking yaje that evening. A little bohemian paisa, apparently.
She and I walked next to each other while The Mick led us to the bus stop. I asked her questions in English. She said she’s originally from Medellin and that I must visit Medellin. She said it’s too small to live in but the culture is magnetic.
Consistent with what I hear, Medellin is the best source of Colombian culture: paisas, coffee, aguardiente, vallenato. The paisa people include Juanes, Pablo Escobar, Alvaro Uribe, Fernando Botero, and of course Juan Valdez. Most things Colombia is known for originate in Medellin. It’s the soul of Colombia, the purest source of Colombian culture and also the most modern city.
First and foremost about Medellin, people drool over the women. They get lots of plastic surgery: butts, lips, boobs. Their lure isn’t pure physical beauty, but their attitude. The paisa women are said to be warm and flirtatious. I’ve heard wives will accompany their husbands on business in Medellin, or call them repeatedly every night they’re in Medellin.
I agreed with Maribel that I should see Medellin, and asked about the Medellin women. The paisa women. Tilting her head and bowing, she said “Yes, I am a paisita.” When I asked what’s so special about the women, she said “They’re very beautiful,” while almost blushing and looking away. I didn’t believe that, and I sensed she didn’t either.
When we got to the bus-stop, The Mick had to detour around the corner to buy some weed. On the corner, I sat with the paisita waiting. She told me she fell and hurt her knee earlier that day. She pulled her knee up with her hands to show me while she rubbed it. This made a provocative shape with her leg in the aforementioned black tights. She moaned “Ooh,” while feeling her pain. And I got the first stirring in my pants for the day.
If you think that’s a shameless move, you’re correct. She didn’t have an ounce of shame in her self-pity about her painful knee. Nothing at all in the world to be ashamed about.
The Mick came back, hailed a taxi, and we went to play golf. The Mick taught us how to putt, which Maribel was hopeless at. Then we went to the driving range, where she was even more hopeless. I actually got the point where I could blast the ball, once to the 190 yard marker. The Mick’s a good teacher.
Maribel, however, was hopeless at golf. She gave up after ten minutes and picked out a nice spot in the grass to lie down. She laid face down with her shapely paisa butt in the aforementioned tights sticking out in the air. She closed her eyes and rested her head in her arms as if sunbathing. She looked completely natural relaxing and enjoying the peace.
I was distracted from golf by the sight of her tight butt. She’d mentioned a few times that she runs and plays active sports, and that golf was boring. Her lower body seemed to support her claims of physical activity. Her muscles were so tight I could see exactly where the butt, hamstrings, and calves stopped and started. A distinct line for each border. I wanted to go over there and knead the tightness out of them – massage the tightness out of both butt cheeks, both hamstrings, and both calf muscles with my strong hands. But I kept hitting balls.
If you think hers was a shameless move, you’re absolutely right. She was absolutely shameless because there’s nothing wrong with laying in the grass and enjoying the sun.
After The Mick and I hit all the balls, we went out front to leave. I stood with Maribel while The Mick was talking to someone he knew and waiting in line to pay. Maribel’s eyes lit up when she spotted a lovely spot in the grass to lie down. Once comfortable on her back, she carried on enjoying herself with an expression as if to say I was absolutely welcome to join her laying in the grass, and absolutely welcome to remain standing there thinking about laying next to her.
The Mick paid up and we all hopped into a taxi to get lunch. We had fish in Chapinero. While The Mick was off in the bathroom or somewhere, Maribel pulled her injured knee close to her face again, again making that wonderful view of her shapely thigh. She identified the exact spot on the top of her knee and caressed it in small circles with her index finger, moaning “ooh ooh” and then an “ahh, ahh.” All the while she looked me in the eyes. Her face and noises and thigh caused another stirring in my pants, this time a greater stirring.
If you think that’s a shameless move, you’re absolutely right. She was absolutely shameless because she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She’s simply living life as it comes and everything’s OK.
I had to go the bathroom when The Mick got back to the table, but only after a manual adjustment to my pants before standing up. After standing, I had to do some more adjusting after turning around because it wasn’t completely normal yet.
We finished lunch and had a dessert. When it was time to say goodbye, Maribel honed in and asked if I’d like to take yaje with them that evening. I gave a non-committal answer. She grabbed my arm and rubbed it up and down real hard, almost squeezing. Then she gave me a strong hug with all her body, a hug that showed just how tight and frisky her little body is. It felt good.
I can’t put into words how nonchalant she was in all respects. During lunch, golf, at the bus-stop, with her knee, everything, she was the embodiment of a fatalistic Latina woman. A free and fun spirit. Now I understand all the fuss about paisa women. I thought about her as soon as I got home. And again that night in bed. And again when I woke up the next day and one more time in the shower after playing basketball. Paisa women.
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3 Responses to “A Paisa Woman in Bogota”
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Engaging/Honest. Thank You.
Really interesting….I love your stories..they are the best!
The only thing I am missing are some pics….esp on the ladies…!
Take care!
Brilliant, mate. Just brilliant!!