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Ed King broke into a smile as he crossed the Tijuana border and steered onto the main highway. Good riddance to his misspent youth. Goodbye to his disapproving father. Goodbye to his smothering mother. And a fervent fuck-off to the unwanted and undeserved diagnoses of all the headshrinkers he had been forced to go to since he was a boy.*Such bullshit. A little stubbornness they called ?pathological.? Not taking any shit from anyone, they called ?violent tendencies.? The constant fighting with his dad and his mother?s fawning over him -- her ?miracle baby? -- they called ?a complex.?**They were all quacks, Ed was convinced. Ed?s smile broadened as he thought of his last shrink. A prissy forty-year-old, Delphina Eisenberg, Ph.D. She was always pushing that ?complex? idea. Fucking Freudians were all the same. As far as she was concerned he was ?a danger to his father and overly close with his mother.? But what did she say, over and over, once he?d seduced her? What did she babble when she was bent over the arm of her office sofa? ?Oh fuck me, daddy! Give me that big dick, daddy. Spank me, daddy. Yes, daddy.? Ed was pretty certain it was Doctor Delphina that had a daddy complex.**But he was past all that now. Ed?s maternal grandfather, Nicholas Sopho, the only one in the family who ever really seemed to understand him, had left him a tidy sum of money as well as a plot of land in a tiny fishing village in Mexico. So at twenty, he kissed his mother goodbye, flipped his dad the bird, and headed out to build his own life. He?d show them.**His grandfather Nick had talked about this spot to Ed for years. After a few whiskeys, he?d pull out a map to point it out and tell the same story over and over, about how in the late fifties, he and his buddies had taken an old sailboat along much of the Mexican Pacific coast, stalking good fishing, good surfing, and good pussy. This particular spot, Xebes, was the one he was most crazy about. He went down there with his buddies year after Göztepe Escort year, until they died off, and then alone until his legs gave out on him. He said the locals were friendly, the fishing was amazing, and there was a point break on a little island at the edge of the small harbor that he usually had all to himself. At some point, he bought 10 hectares from the local caudillo who had come to favor the gringo, and he had built a cabana on the water?s edge.*That cabana in Xebes was Ed?s destination. He planned to build a boutique hotel for the surf tourists and live happily ever after, free of Mom and Dad. He turned south along the main highway, then turned west to join the rugged road that hugged the coastline. He took his time, stopping at every hamlet, every potential surf break, spending nights in cantinas or in a tent on the beach. His Spanish was passable, and his large physical stature and his generous gratuities to any authorities he ran into made his passage relatively uneventful. Until his fourth day of traveling.*Ed was happily following the curves of the mountainous road in his refurbished mustard-colored 1967 Bronco when he came up behind an old white Chevy pick-up spewing smelly blue exhaust. He passed the old truck and gave the guy behind the wheel a look of dismissal as he did so. Soon the Chevy was on his bumper, and the guy passed him with his own irritated look. But then he slowed down immediately after, once again bathing Ed in a cloud of blue smoke. Now Ed was pissed. It was rare that Ed ran into someone who was as big a stubborn prick as he was, but he seemed to have met his match. The two went back and forth, increasingly recklessly, for several miles.**As the hostile pair of old vehicles approached a hill, Ed moved to pass again. A farm truck appeared at the crest of the hill but Ed had plenty of time. Or, he did until the Chevy gunned it, preventing Ed from having enough room to tuck in. Not wanting to give in, Göztepe Escort Bayan Ed pressed the throttle to the firewall. But then so did the Chevy. In the end, Ed just barely got enough in front to sneak over the center line as the fruit truck laid on the horn and whizzed past. Ed was now fully enraged. He could have easily been killed. On an especially sharp turn, Ed overtook the old pick-up and let the Bronco drift, rubbing the Chevy and pushing it to the shoulder. The pick-up driver shouted ?Hijo de puta!? and shook his fist at Ed. Big mistake. With only one hand on the wheel, the Chevy driver lost control and careened forty or fifty feet into a ravine. Ed never even stopped. Serves him right, Ed thought to himself.**Ed continued on as he had, taking his time and eventually arriving in Xebes after more than a month of wandering the coast. It was as quaint and beautiful and perfect as his grandfather had described. When he explained to the locals that he was Old Man Sopho?s nieto (grandson), they welcomed him with open arms. When he mentioned he was thinking of building a little hotel, things got decidedly colder. Whether he owned the land or not, it was clear he would get no cooperation unless he had approval from the matriarch of the village, the daughter of the old caudillo, Jocasta.*Jocasta was described to him as a ?stern widow? and that formed a certain picture in his mind as he walked up the hill to the large manor house that overlooked the marina and village. That mental picture vanished when Jocasta walked into the large salon to greet him. Her widow status must have been fairly recent as she was still dressed in a black lace dress. But she was certainly a young widow. He guessed she was thirty, though he would learn later that she was actually thirty-six. She had long shiny, jet black hair and her body, despite the modest mourning dress, called for attention. Ed would have described her more as sad than stern. Her Escort Göztepe huge deep brown eyes had neither the sparkle of joy or the fire of anger. Her bee-stung full lips rarely opened wide enough to reveal her smile. But, despite her sad countenance, Ed thought she might be among the most beautiful women he had ever met.**Jocasta indicated no excitement over Ed?s hotel idea. She said that she was uncertain whether this project fit with the interest of the town or herself, but she was open to ?more conversation.? As Ed left and walked back to his tiny cottage he wondered why he wasn?t more disappointed in the outcome. He realized that he was as excited about ?more conversation? with the beautiful young widow as he was about his hotel.**Ed and Jocasta had dinner the following night. And the night after that. Jocasta was still fairly cold to the hotel idea, but she was clearly warming up to Ed. The sad eyes came alive, as did a brilliant smile. There was something about the young man -- fifteen or sixteen years her junior -- that she found mesmerizing. Like her, he had large, intoxicating brown eyes, and a thick mane of black hair. He was strapping, at least six feet two, with the strong wide shoulders of a surfer. He didn?t look much like the short, bald Old Gringo. ?Muy, muy guapo,? her maid had said under her breath as the young man left one evening, and Jocasta had to agree.**The sexual tension between them grew quickly over the next few weeks. It made no sense. It would be a scandal that would do them no good, and they both knew it. And yet, with each meeting, they stepped closer to what felt like the inevitable. One evening, Jocasta arrived for dinner, still in black as usual, but not in a stark, shapeless mourning dress. Rather it was a sundress which showed off her legs, back and generous cleavage. Ed?s eyes wandered over the beauty?s body and he was hard through much of the meal. As Ed left, Jocasta offered him a kiss on the cheek rather than a formal hand. Ed realized it was an invitation, but the obvious danger of what this could do to his prospects -- the widow to lose interest in him or he in her -- was too much. For once in your life, don?t let your dick do your thinking for you, he thought to himself as he walked back to his cabana.**