Rodrigo Alejandro Tenorio walked quickly down the streets of Seville, Spain. He turned a corner through the picturesque views displaying white-washed houses in the Barrio de Santa Cruz opposite the castle walls and the floral beauty of the Murillo gardens. Just as he arrived at his destination, he heard the pealing bells of the Seville Cathedral, the third largest in the world after St. Peter's in Rome and St. Paul's in London. He knocked briskly on the door of the stately mansion. While waiting for an answer, he looked around him in appreciation of the estate's beauty.

The home was surrounded with an intricately designed wrought iron gate. Within the gate, a courtyard of bright floral painted tiles and two massive water fountains surrounded the imposing home. The face of the mansion bore statues of angels and saints carved into the stonewall exterior. Potted fusions of colorful flowers spilled from the balconies of every window.

The door opened and a Spanish domestic woman greeted him familiarly. Rodrigo returned her greeting warmly as she escorted him into the sitting room. The room was richly lavished as was the decor throughout the house. Heavy ornate furniture carved in the Moorish style dominated the room. Rugs of burgundy and blue and gold adorned the floor and matched the brocade curtains and wall hanging.

A young woman silently closing the door behind her skipped lightly through the doorway then rushed excitedly to Rodrigo. She embraced him passionately. "Querida!" She sighed and devoured his mouth hungrily. "I must appear at the bullfight procession so I will leave in a few minutes. I thought to have missed you. Why are you so late?" she demanded while holding him close.

He apologized and blamed his wealthy uncle, a prominent architect from an old Spanish dynasty who never missed the opportunity to criticize his nephew's nightly activities in the city. Rodrigo had been seen in the city gambling houses and sports car racing tracks, worse yet, he'd been suffering losses; specifically to his amour's guardian who so happened to be his uncle's bitter rival.

So much the better for me, Rodrigo thought pleasantly.

He pulled the young woman close and inhaled deeply of her floral scent--it reminded him of his mother's lavender scent. Her clear olive-skinned complexion and black hair were flawless. She wore combs and a flowing lace mantilla in her hair. She was draped in a traditional gown of white and burgundy with a low neckline, flounced and ruffled skirts, and huge puffed short sleeves. An ornate fan was conveniently attached to her skirts for easy access. She was lovely in her Spanish traditions.

"Promise me we'll spend the day in Rhonda tomorrow," she demanded.

He raised her delicate palm to his mouth and kissed her wrists. "For you, Carmen Isabella, I promise."

She smiled at him. "You are so handsome. My guardian must consent to our love." She threaded his thick shoulder-length black hair through her fingers, caressed the strong lines of his face with the same coloring as her own, and gently touched his full masculine mouth. "I love you, Rodrigo," she whispered seductively.

The old butler shuffled loudly into the room. His clothes were ill-fitting on his stooping body and his gray, full hair framed the abundance of wrinkles which wreathed his face. It was a mystery as to whether he either couldn't hear or simply didn't understand Spanish and it was a wonder to all as to why he continued in employment. Carmen Isabella ignored him as did all the family and servants.

He had arrived here last week with Carmen Isabella's cousin, Rosita, who was apparently several family lines removed and who she had previously not known or met.

Carmen Isabella was quite sure about the time of their arrival as the day prior, Rodrigo had captured her heart with the simple presentation of a rose after she had exited from the Arena during the opening procession of the bullfights. He was courteous, passionate, handsome, and had a wealthy family. It was a puzzle as to why her guardian objected to him.

Now her cousin, Rosita, entered the room. She was a large heavy woman in her sixties with darker skin than most Spaniards, owing to her hard years of labor in the grape fields of Andalusia in southern Spain; so she had told them. She wore a magnificent gown of the palest green that emphasized her huge bosom and, unfortunately, her large figure. The unattractive color of her bright red hair was upswept with several two-prong combs. She held herself stiffly regal as if pretending pompous arrogance as she swept into the room and sat with a straight back upon the sofa.

Carmen Isabella reached up and engulfed Rodrigo in a crushing hug before whispering seductively in his ear. "There's more of this for you in Rhonda tomorrow," she promised before he kissed her passionately in response.

"I can hardly wait."

Carmen left the room and the old man shuffled to Rodrigo to offer him a glass of wine. Rodrigo waved him away dismissively, irritated with his doddering senility. The woman, Senora Rosita, stared at him from her stiff position on the sofa.

A fleeting thought passed through his mind that his grandmother's name was Rosita, a beautiful Spanish woman who looked very much like this woman but with none of her arrogant affectations. He shook his head at the two pathetic characters. He wondered if they were longtime lovers and cringed at the thought. God forbid that those two should ever create any children!

The door opened again and Carmen Isabella's guardian entered the room. Senor Luis de Siloe was a grossly fat man who studied the tall young handsome man with contempt. "So you owe me a considerable sum. How do you intend to repay it?"

"As my uncle knows nothing of the debt, I'm prepared to work for you in exchange for repayment."

Senor Siloe laughed out loud. "What can a pitiful worm like you contribute to my wealth?"

"I understand you need laborers in your Malaga factory," Rodrigo suggested.

Senor Siloe watched the young man thoughtfully and a strange expression crossed his face, frightening in its intensity.

"Yes, my son, you can work for me on two conditions."

"They are?"

"First, you stay away from my ward, Carmen Isabella. Second, that you comply with my.demands."

"What is the job?"

"You've suggested it yourself. Work in my Malaga factory; at the lowest level so that it will take you the maximum amount of time to repay me."

Rodrigo shrugged indifferently and stole glances at the butler and Senora Rosita, both of whom wore expressions of boredom and disinterest.

Senor Luis de Siloe moved closer to Rodrigo. "Aren't you curious about my demands?" he asked then grabbed the young man with clammy hands that held him in a vice of steel.

Immediate alarm coursed through Rodrigo as he struggled to extricate himself from the stronger man.

Senor Siloe threw him to the floor and pinned him face down before ripping Rodrigo's shirt from his body in one swipe. The grossly fat man pounded Rodrigo's back with alternating open hands and fists with bruising strength. Then he licked the red welts and forming bruises with sloppy drooling wetness.

Rodrigo realized he was in the literal grip of a pervert and began to struggle in earnest. His back ached and he knew he would be badly bruised. He felt Rodrigo grab the back of his pants and yank them downward. With real fear, Rodrigo struggled to kick and buck the large man off him then he heard him grunt once before slumping over him with a great weight.

"Tristan, are you all right?"

"Wolf, baby, it's Mom."

Rodrigo knew he had obviously passed out and was in the grip of a terrifying nightmare. He was actually dreaming that his parents were in the middle of his very first DEA undercover operation. The great weight was lifted from his back and he painfully turned over onto his back; his abused back ached from the carpet fibers.

He noticed Senor Siloe now passed out beside him with a syringe still stuck menacingly in the great folds of his flesh. He turned his attention to the old decrepit butler who was indeed referring to him as "Tristan" with a voice remarkably like his father's. Senora Rosita was hovering above him and referring to him as "Wolf" in the manner only his mother could affect. His parents were at their home in Greenwood, Mississippi; in America! This was a fact that he prayed was still a fact. He didn't answer the pleas of the butler and the Senora for fear his nightmare would prove true.

"He didn't hurt you, baby, did he?"

His worst nightmare was true.

"Mom and Dad. What are you doing here?" he asked in whispering disbelief. Then he was yelled in fury and anger and bitter disappointment.

"What are you doing here!"

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