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Chapter 1

Everywhere we look there's falling water. Down the track to the right is a lookout. Over the other side of the gorge is Brazil, where the cliff faces are covered by maybe a kilometre of falling curtains of white, windswept water. Here and there the curtains hang in gaps or are pushed aside by clumps of trees and bushes, like stagehands peeking out into a theatre before the performance.  

To the left, is a massive cascade that can be approached on a concrete walkway, suspended over the flat swirling waters below, in the mist of spray thrown up.

It's a wonderful bright sunny Saturday in Iguazú and the trees and flowers and fragrant shrubs are giving off that smell of contented growth in perfect conditions.  Even the local fauna is having a good time.  Already this morning I've seen several lizards and a ring-tailed coati, raiding the garbage bins for discarded delicacies.

And here I am shoulder to shoulder with this beautiful woman; leaning against the low handrail together on this deserted section of track; staring out into the bright mist; awed by the majesty of nature. Each of us aware of mounting arousal in the other, as we exalt in the power and volume of the numerous torrents before us.

***

There was no trouble finding Geraldo’s wife. She was wearing a light cotton dress in orange and lemon, fitted at the waist, flaring to a full calf length skirt, together with sensible matching orange canvas shoes with rubber soles in preparation for the boat. She was exactly where Geraldo had said she would be, about to take the boat-ride under the falls. It had been simple to wait until she arrived and then to follow her onto the boat.  It's un día perfecto para el amor, a day perfect for love.

Even the earlier hanging about waiting was auspicious. A tourist put his camera down on the seat when he took off his life-jacket. The wet jacket flopped to the ground just as his wife distracted him, calling for help to get out of hers. In all the fuss he didn’t even notice it was missing.  It’s a very nice Olympus ultra-zoom 7.1 Megapixels, with full video function. I’ll sell it when I get home but at least I’ll have the joy of ownership for a couple of days. In the meantime, it goes well with my new persona.

I wish all my work was this pleasant. I’ve tried being a private detective, a hired dick, but it's a hard way to make a living. So, mostly I’ve been a personal trainer; and on occasion, more literally, a gigoló. But I'm a boy from the Barrio. I have to live on my wits and that means: whatever I can get away with.  I've never expected too much more, so I'm happy.

The boat trip below the falls was great fun for us both. It goes right up into the neck of one of the falls tumbling down from Brazil, so that everyone can take photos.  And then all cameras are put into waterproof bags before it goes through the rapids and quickly under one of the falls, so that we all got wet. It's not the sort of thing I'd usually do but I loved it and so did she. 

It was the easiest thing to follow close onto the boat and sit beside her, at first simply holding her in place with my shoulder as the boat swerved and bucked. Within minutes she was grabbing my arm. She could obviously feel that I work-out and I’m pretty fit. And when the water wet her thin dress, and it became more transparent under her life jacket, I could see that she's in very good shape too, if you know what I mean.

Too soon the boat ride was over and we were back in Argentina, where, unlike that Australian fellow, I made sure that I didn’t let my new Olympus out of my sight. Soon, I was snapping away, telling her that I would send her a memory stick with the photos, if she gave me her contact details. At the same time, she was pretending to be a model, striking poses that were becoming increasingly naughty: hitching up her skirt; dropping a shoulder strap; as we got more comfortable together. I'll definitely be keeping some of those.

***

So here I am, just as Geraldo and I planned, standing in this romantic spot with my arm around his wife. 

I'm Latin, slim and medium height. Dark and handsome, all the Bocca girls tell me: como una estrella de cine, like a film star. She’s a Nordic type: fair skinned, with shoulder length raven hair that may not be its real colour. Even in flat shoes she's taller than me and a bit more athletic than I usually go for. Generally, I like younger, smaller girls, preferably with big pechos, who I can throw about on a dance floor. But dancing's not what we're here for; and I'm being paid, so the age thing is not an issue. In any case she's very beautiful, in a mature way, and immaculately groomed, as only women of her class can be.

Ever since she grabbed my arm on the boat, she's barely let go of me. 

I can tell that she really likes my muscular young body. She’s turning towards me now. I'm looking into her eyes. Yes, she's fallen completely in lust with me. And I have that tingling, aroused feeling, I get when sex is on the agenda. My mind is racing. Should I attempt to kiss her? If she kisses back, I'll know if my 'secret mission' is progressing as required.

Madre de dios! What a kiss! Her whole body seemed to consume me. I found myself wanting to take her now, right here, in full view. It's just as well she took control. I was right about how strong she is.

Around the bend people are talking, coming along the path. They sound Australian. We're back against the low rail pretending to look at the view. I'm hiding the camera; recovering my composure. What a surprise that was. They smile knowingly as they pass.

A little discrete squeeze of her hand and an acknowledging glance. We need a room. I’ll take her back to the car park and drive to: where? Her hotel or mine? 

I know it will be hers. Geraldo has left 'unexpectedly' for home to leave her alone in that luxury hotel room for the weekend. I’ll let her decide everything, then she’ll be entirely complicit.  It should be her own decision to have this 'little fling'.