VENEZUELAThe tale of a desperate Latina and a desperate White ManStory by Maria My name is Trevor, and I’m a 40 year old business man who feels as if all is lost. A depressed business person, shocking…I know… Anyways I currently live in Charlotte North Carolina, the banking hub of the south. I work as a manager at a pretty big bank, so I make quite a decent amount of money, but I’ve been depressed since my wife divorced me and took my two little ones off to Washington State; only granting me visitation once a year. The money is nice, but I felt as if my life was devoid of any real happiness now. It began to take a heavy toll on me. After 6 months on my own and I wondered if I would be happier if I just left the world for good. I wanted to have a Leaving Vegas situation; where I go to a city and splurge all of my money. If I don’t survive, then whatever…. I wanted to go somewhere dangerous where I would get alot of bang for my buck. Somewhere that would almost certainly be fatal to me. I browsed the news for places to go…..North Korea…..Rwanda…..Honduras……Pakistan….. They didn’t really spark my interest, until I saw some terrible news about people going hungry in the glorious socialist republic of Caracas, Venezuela. Where people were forced to do labour, and there were only 2 work days a week due to power problems. People would have to wait 3 hours in line to get a loaf of bread each day, and people were forced to eat birds and stray a****ls. a****ls that ate rats and pests, which would spread a myriad of diseases in their absence It sounded miserable ….and perfect for me. I would most certainly get robbed there lugging around American money, but then again, I didn’t care. Maybe the robber would be so kind as to put me down for good. On Friday I purchased my one way ticket to Bagota Colombia and then Caracas, since there were no direct flights. I spent the weekend parting with my possessions. I didn’t tell my land lord that I had left, and I didn’t tell my company that I was leaving. The first step started on Monday morning, as I was driving on the Highway. On the West ramp was downtown Charlotte, where I worked. On the East ramp was the airport. I contemplated as I got to my figurative point of no return. My logic was pulling me west, but my heart pulled me East. I took a deep breathe and I got on East. Here I was, stepping off of the shoddy, empty runway of Caracas, Venezuela. I’ve been to ghost towns that were very eerie in my life; but this place was different. It was a complete ghost town, but what made it even more eerie, was the fact that there were millions of people living somewhere in this city. For the next few weeks I splurged my money on cheap beer and crappy food as I got to know the local populace. I had never seen so many shoddy backwards people. And yet, at the same time; I had never seen so many desperate hungry people. It was quite odd really. As if they were in the same boat of depression as me. Even though I chose to come here. I was robbed about 2 times in the first kocaeli escort month, although I didn’t get injured in the bouts. I got better at carrying my wealth and blending with the locals. I washed alot less and tanned alot more. I was still an unmistakable foreigner. With my 6 foot high demeanor,blue eyes and light brown hair. I would often have women go up to me, asking me to marry them, just so they could get out of this hellhole. I couldn’t blame them. I kindly turned them down. Most of the women here were tiny and fragile, due to malnutrition over the years. I also learned that their population was diminishing greatly due to starvation, crime and lack of medical supplies for birth and sicknesses. Everything changed on one rainy day in one of the cities slums. Like a man on a mission of no return; I decided to walk the slums under the dark rainy clouds with a heavy downpour. The slums felt very much similar to those of the Rio Favellas in elevation and design. I just sort of wandered, exploring the dreariness of the dying country. Walking along with my hands in my pocket, I wanted to know if there was anything else left in life now that I lost all that I cared for. I walked next to the angled shoddy shacks and smiled at the people I passed. People that didn’t have the energy to smile back. Or maybe they were wondering what the hell this white guy was doing in this place. I came about a corner, when a force pushed me face first into a large puddle. I knew I was being attacked. I turned onto my back to see some Dickwad in shades pointing a pistol down at me. It was quite a surreal sight, as if the grim reaper was here for me on this beautiful Gothic rainy day. “Su dinero puto!(Your money, bitch!)” The guy demanded. I had a pretty decent understanding of Spanish, but what I did freaked the man out. I just started letting out a crazy maniacal laugh. Pointing and laughing at him on the floor. I had really lost it. I had really given up. “su loco…..quiero su dinero hombre.(Your crazy….I want your money man.)” I shook my head while still smiling at him, trying some Spanish on him. “No tengo dinero, mi amigo, Pero, no quiero vivo mas…..Asi, Attacke a mi! (I don’t have money, my friend. But I don’t want to live any more. So ATTACK ME!)” The man was shocked, and figured nobody would hear the shot in the rain. Or even care for that matter. He was about to pull the trigger on me. I was finally at peace. Hopefully it would be quick. I started to close my eyes and grinned. Before they were fully shut I caught a glimpse of a figure behind the man. A beautiful woman with long black hair wrapped in front of her shoulder approached the man from behind with a bat and swung at the back of his head. The bash blasted him forward and he landed next to me face first on the concrete. Was he alive after a hit like that? Maybe he was u*********s. That question was soon answered after, the rainwater by his head turned red. This woman was the grim reaper of my grim reaper. She reached izmit escort her hand out to me and I slowly took it. “Come.” she said as she waived me down through a couple of cold wet alleyways. We kept running until she took me to her shack near the outer edge of the slums right next to the jungle. We went in and the place was pitch black and only had a cot and a towel on the floor as secondary bedding. I was only able to see this after she lit a candle, dimly illuminating the damp room. Water was leaking all over the dirt floor. I felt my nose for the first time realizing it had been sc****d against the concrete during the failed robbery. “You need to rest, and you shouldn’t be in this city.” she said opening her makeshift fridge to get me some water and a rag as she ushered me to the flimsy cot. “You speak English?” I asked, quite surprised. “Two years abroad in Canada when I turned 18. And my name is Marissa” she responded.”Now we aren’t allowed to leave the country, so no one has any hope….So what were you doing here anyways. Were you expecting to be safe out there?” “No, not at all.” I said as I started to notice her beautiful features. Her brown skin, well shaped body, and gorgeous face. She was certainly the most attractive woman here. “Then tell me….What is a handsome white guy such as yourself doing in a place like this?” I smiled at her compliment and told her my story and how I got to where I was today.As night began to fall along with the continuous rain, I wanted to ask her some things. But I began to shiver in the freezing cold. “No heater or fire.” She said. “We have to use body heat.” she crawled onto the cot which completely took me by surprise. She crawled under the thin blanket that she gave me and we faced eachother in a spooning position keeping eachother warm with their body heat. Was she attracted to me, or was this just survival. Maybe both. Would she have saved me if she wasn’t the least bit interested in me. No matter. I liked where I was and so I embraced her in the bed, even though we both still had our clothes on. “So how does a beautiful woman such as yourself end up in a place like this?” echoing what she asked me.She told that she was from a wealthy family that had it’s property and business seized and nationalized by the socialist government. Leaving them homeless and poor. Her father was also taken away by the government for fighting against having his livelihood taken away. She hasn’t seen him in years. Also, last year, her entire family was taken away after she protested the seizure of her father. They took her mother, cousins, siblings, and even pets. Taking all but her; to punish her transgressions against the “Glorious Prosperous Socialist Republic of Venezuela” she described.As she got further into the story, it was as if I could feel my soul again. As if I could care for something or someone again. The peak of this came when she described how she lived in this shack for two years now, saying it was basically the life bodrum escort of most of the cities populous. As she continued, I saw a lone tear run down her eye falling towards the pillow, since we both were still facing eachother, laying down. I slowly raised my hand and wiped away the tear with my knuckle. She looked deeper into me with her sad eyes, as if she wanted to cry more, but couldn’t. I looked back at her and slowly placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m just so lonely Trevor.” she said as she slightly sobbed. “Me too, Marissa…..me too.” I pulled her head under mine and we embraced tightly. Maybe we were two lost souls that were meant for eachother, in order to be made whole. “Promise you’ll stay with me, I just can’t go on alone any more.” As I heard this, a tear fell out of my eye as well.” You have me.” We then began to slowly kiss one another as the passion of our growing love culminated. For only a short time, we were able to remove our clothes and we received heat from the friction of our bodies becoming one under the sheet. I was careful, delicate, and slow in my thrusting, so I wouldn’t break the flimsy cot. As we copulated, the sound of Marissa’s soft breathy moans kept me going in this cold dark wasteland. “Keep me warm inside, Trevor.” she said to me. “Cum inside me.” I never thought of my semen as being used as a literal survival mechanism. But out here crazy things happen. I shot my seed into her and she moaned with pleasure and relief. “I’ve never felt anything so warm.” She said amorously to me right afterwards. It was still the same usual warm temperature, but this time it was extremely soothing and warm for her due to the cold weather. We layed next to eachother for the rest of the night. She embraced me once more. For the next few weeks we lived together, siphoning my money for our survival. After four weeks together Marissa brought wonderful news. She was pregnant. We were both so happy. That night I gave her the cot and slept on the floor to ensure she and the baby stay healthy. There was no way in hell I would let my baby grow up here in this way. These two had given me something to live and fight for again. I crawled on the mat and felt Marissa’s slight bump and kissed it. I then got to her level and began cuddling. “Let’s leave this country.” I said at a random point in our cuddling. She looked up at me. “But Trevor, if they catch us, they’ll-” “I know, but before we met, we were both people with nothing to live for. If we stay here we will be happy together, but physically miserable. If we leave we can be happy in both ways. And if we fail, at least we failed trying. And I can’t let the baby grow up in this place.” She smiled and nodded in agreement and put her head against my chest.”Trevor, I love you. Keep me and our baby safe please.” she said falling asleep. “With my life.” I said Two days later Marissa and I hopped on an empty supply train that was bound for Bogota, Colombia. It was best to do it early before she got too physically inhibited by the baby growth. From there I managed to transfer my remaining funds and we flew up to the U.S. Virgin Islands, where we could start our lives anew. I became a tiki bar-tender; much better than an office mule. Marissa became a housewife as we had 3 more babies over the next 4 years. Our lives had finally found meaning once again.