For The Crime of Love: by Killingsaray

For The Crime Of Love
FOR THE CRIME OF LOVE

by killingsaray
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killingsaray
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For you.
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Chapter 1:
Syllabus
"We're most who we are. Unrestrained. Ourselves."

-Vanessa Ives, "Penny Dreadful"
Fucking Mondays.
Twisting her body like a cat, Macarena Ferreiro stretched her
limbs, luxuriating in the delicious loosening of each muscle.
She rolled with the sensation, yawning wide and exhaling what
was surely unruly morning breath.
“Ow!”
The blonde had accidentally rolled too far and managed to end
up in a heap on the floor, tangled in her bedsheets. The
movement yanked on her cell phone’s charging cord and the
phone landed beside her and that’s when she saw it.
09:38, it read.
“Shit!”
Macarena scrambled to get up. Of course she was late for the
first day of her final year of graduate school. Macarena
Ferreiro, M.S. had a nice ring to it. One more year in school and
she would be on her way to spending the rest of her life digging
deep into the psyche of criminals in hopes of helping make the
world a better place. The work was tough but intriguing and the
money that she would make would be incredible.
If she managed to make it to class before graduation.
She showered quickly, managing to brush her teeth in
between the shampooing and conditioning processes.
Macarena was pretty sure she achieved some sort of world
record for the fastest dresser because before the condensation
on her bathroom mirror had evaporated, she was snatching her
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backpack off of the living room floor where she left it the
previous night. And then she was out the door.
***
“...in this class, I do not tolerate excuses, absences,” the door to

the lecture hall slammed shut behind Macarena. More than two
dozen sets of eyes turned to peer at the interruption, including
those of the gorgeous, raven-haired woman in the front of the
room. She stared directly at the blonde as she finished, “or
latenesses.”
Thoroughly scolded, and as quietly as she could, Macarena
took a seat at the back of the room, closest to the exit to avoid
further interrupting the class.
Or to make a quick getaway; she hadn’t decided.
“If you read the syllabus, assigned chapters, complete the
homework, and participate in class discussions, then
congratulations, you will pass my class. Those of you who fail to
even show up on time, well,” Dr. Zahir shrugged, “you’re
fucked.”
A wave of laughter when around the class, ending with
Macarena who sunk further down into her seat.
Dr. Zahir was written across the blackboard in a decadent
scrawl that didn’t match the professor’s badass exterior.
Sleeves of her micro-houndstooth printed blazer pushed up to
the crook of her elbows, band tee half-tucked into the
waistband of her ash-gray skinny jeans and combat boots,
Macarena’s new professor looked as if she kicked ass first, took
names second, and rarely took any shit from anyone. Yet, there
was a split second where Macarena swore she saw a flash of
amusement cross her face.
“Okay,” she pulled herself up to sit on her desk, “any

questions?”
A young, brown-skinned girl with wild curls raised her hand.
“Sí?”
“I was just wondering what we should call you.”
“I’ll answer to Dr. Zahir, Professor Zahir, and if I can recall
correctly, my nickname around campus is elfo del puto
infierno.” A louder swell of laughter flooded the room, slowly
easing the tension.
It was true; Zulema Zahir had a reputation for being the
professor that refused to accept anything less than perfection
from her students. She was the harshest grader, with the most
complex midterm and final exams. Zulema was, without a
doubt, the best professor of criminal psychology that the
University of Madrid ever had.
Silence.
Macarena looked around, and then slowly raised her hand. Dr.
Zahir’s eyes shifted to the movement before her head swiveled
completely. “Rubía, if you’re wondering what time class starts,
it’s ten minutes before you get here.”
More laughter and Macarena scoffed. It was only the first day
of class and she was already being publicly humiliated by one of
the toughest professors on campus. “Um, previous students
mentioned that you hosted the prison experiment, and I was
wondering if you planned on doing it again this year.”
Zulema squinted briefly at Macarena. “What’s your name?”
“Ferreiro. Macarena Ferreiro.”
“Ah, sister to Roman Ferreiro, class of 2015, I believe?”
Maca sat up a little taller, chest suddenly puffing up with
pride. “Yes.”
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“He was a pain in my ass,” admitted Zulema with a fond smile,

“but he was my best student that year.”
Macarena smiled, and Zulema noticed that her posture
straightened even more. She turned her attention back to the
entire class.
“For those of you who don’t know what the prison experiment
is, it was introduced by Stanford University in 1971 to
investigate the psychological effects of perceived power with a
concentration on the relationship between prisoners and
guards. Every year, our department is given funding to recreate
the experiment at the end of the year. Those that make it to the
end of the experiment are exempt from the final exam.” Excited
chatter interrupted Zulema’s thought. “But, you will be
responsible for writing an eight-to-ten-page paper on which
psychological subjects you experienced during the three-day-
long experiment.”
That still sounded like a better option than suffering through a
two-hour exam.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. First things first,”
Zulema reached behind her and picked up the textbook, “let’s
open to chapter three.”
The flurry of movement as books opened and pages turned
was like music to Zulema’s ears. She loved her job. Teaching a
new class of future profilers and psychologists was always
interesting. She could almost always tell which of her students
would go on to become successful in their fields, and which
ones would wind up working in dead-end jobs that had nothing
to do with their degrees.
“Alright. Chapter Three: Offender Profiling,” Zulema began.
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One hour and fifteen minutes later, the clacking of keyboards

ceased, books were shut and the zippers of backpacks echoed
through the lecture hall.
“Your homework for this week is to go through the cold case
archives in Martinez Hall and find any case from before 1981
that sparks your interest. Write a two-page paper on how the
case agent could have used the four major components of
offender profiling to solve the case. Ferreiro,” Zulema called,
“see me in the front.”
Macarena slung her backpack over her right shoulder and
walked down the steps to the front of the lecture hall, heart
pounding harder and faster with each step that brought her
closer to Dr. Zahir.
“First day and you’re already in trouble, rubía.” The curly-
haired girl from earlier teased as she walked past Macarena.
“Lucky me,” Maca muttered back.
Standing before Dr. Zahir’s desk, Maca was able to get a closer
look at the older woman. She was beautiful. Dark features,
large emerald eyes painted with black kohl and green liner. Her
dark hair was tied back in a low ponytail, save for her perfectly
cut bangs. Iron Maiden was the band featured on her faded t-
shirt and Maca briefly considered the fact that she was
currently salivating over a woman who was probably older than
the band itself. Sensing her close proximity, Zulema’s eyes
flicked upward and Maca suddenly felt like she was seven
again, standing before the nun that taught her first-grade class
in Catholic school.
“Profesora, I’m sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.”
“I hope it doesn’t,” Zulema told her, slipping books into her
leather messenger bag. It looked expensive and Macarena
wondered just how much Zulema was paid to teach. “Your
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brother was a brilliant criminology student and it was my

recommendation that put him on the fast track to profiling with
the CNI. I want to be able to do the same for you, but I won’t
pass you simply because of how good your brother is. Nepotism
gets you a cushy job, but it will never get you the respect you
crave.”
“What makes you think I crave respect?”
Zulema closed her bag and stood to her full height, crossing
her arms over her chest. “Just now, the first thing you did when
you reached my desk was apologize to me despite how I poked
fun at your lateness twice in front of a room full of strangers.
This tells me that you want to be known for being the bigger
person. You take the higher road because it’s been ingrained in
your mind that the person who does that is generally the better
man.”
“Is that not true?”
Zulema shrugged a single shoulder. “In polite society, maybe,
but in the real world, specifically in the world of criminal
profiling, you need to stand strong in your actions. Criminals
smell fear.”
Macarena couldn’t help but smile at that. “You sound like
you’re speaking from experience.”
It was Zulema’s turn to smile. “Something like that.” She
slipped her messenger bag over her head and pulled a set of
keys from the pocket of her blazer. “See you next week,
Ferreiro.”
Suddenly, Mondays didn’t seem so bad after all.
***
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After her final class of the day, Macarena sat in a quiet corner
of the library, her MacBook opened to a blank screen, its cursor
flashing accusingly.
Write something. Write something. Write something.
“Here’s a hint,” the warm voice startled Maca into looking up,
only to see the curly-haired beauty from Professor Zahir’s class,
”you're supposed to put your fingers on the keys. When you tap
them, they make words.”
Macarena laughed. “Oh, is that how this thing works?”
The brown-skinned babe held out a hand. “Estefenía, but
everyone calls me Rizos.”
Maca shook her hand. “Macarena—.”
“Ferreiro. I remember.”
“My friends call me Maca.”
“Pues, mucho gusto, Maca.”
“Igual.”
“I don’t know if it’s your scene, but my ex-girlfriend is a DJ at
Cruz. It’s a bar downtown.” Rizos pulled a flyer from her bag
and handed it to Maca. “A bunch of us are going tonight to have
some drinks and unwind after the first day.”
Maca took the flyer and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“I hope to see you there.”
“Maybe you will.”
Rizos smiled her infectious smile and then disappeared as
quickly as she came.
Despite how the first day started, Maca was beginning to think
that it would end so much better.
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Chapter 2:
The Chicken Or The Egg?
The first thing that Maca noticed about Cruz was that,
despite it being a Monday night, the place was packed. Set
in the heart of the Salamanca district in Madrid, Cruz was a
modern discotheque that catered to its high-energy crowds.
The drinks were strong, the music was loud and the dancing
never ended.
The moment Maca entered the dimly-lit club, she walked
past a neon sign that reminded her that the world was hers.
Feeling the bass in her chest, she took in as much of the
sights and sounds as she could under the blue lighting.
Maca made her way to the bar and tried, in vain, to flag
down one of the bustling bartenders.
“Rubía, you came!” A voice to her right shouted. Maca
turned and smiled, relieved to see a familiar face. She
allowed Rizos to pull her into a tight hug as if they’d known
one another for years. It was nice, Maca admitted to herself.
Rizos’ energy was so familiar and inviting. It was clear that
she could make friends wherever she went.
“I did.” Maca shrugged. “I figured what’s the harm in
having a drink or two?”
“That’s the spirit!”
“If I can ever get the bartender's attention.”
“What do you want?”
“Tequila, any kind.”
Rizos nodded. She put her fingers in her mouth and blew
out a loud whistle, attracting the attention of the bartender
and a few unimpressed patrons.
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“Rizos,” he grinned, leaning over the bar, “what can I get

you?”
“Two shots of tequila and another round for our section.”
“You got it.” He tapped the bar twice and disappeared to
make their drinks.
“Are you a regular here?”
Rizos shrugged. “Sort of. I used to come here all of the
time when I dated the house DJ.”
“Is that how the bartenders know you by name?”
Rizos laughed. “No, that’s Valbuena. He’s been trying to
sleep with me since freshman year of undergrad.” She took
Maca’s hand and led her through the crowd to a sectioned
off corner of the club with the best view of everything.
“Is this your ex?” Maca asked Rizos, pointing to the DJ
currently laying down tracks.
“God no,” Rizos said over the thumping bass, “she’s on in,”
she checked the time on her phone, “another ten minutes.”
“Mola.”
In the meantime, Rizos went around and introduced her
circle of friends to Macarena. There was Yolanda, the tall
brunette with kind energy who hugged Macarena tightly as
if they had been friends their entire lives. Tere, who was a
little older than the rest of the group, but looked as if she
could party with the best of them. Luna had tried to shake
Maca’s hand and light a blunt at the same time, ultimately
deciding to light the blunt first before offering it to her new
blonde friend. And lastly, there was Nerea, Rizos’ current
girlfriend, Maca had learned, who was in the police
academy.
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“Oh, there she is!” Rizos shouted, grabbing Maca’s arm

and pointing towards the tall brunette that had just taken
over the DJ booth. “That’s Saray, my ex-girlfriend.”
“She’s cute.” Maca nudged Rizos, teasingly.
“Yeah, but a pain in the ass.”
There was obviously a story there, but Maca didn’t want to
pry. After all, she and Rizos hadn’t been friends long
enough for that conversation. Mostly because if Rizos
revealed something about herself, Macarena would feel
obliged to do the same and she wasn’t there just yet.
“Come on,” Rizos pulled both Maca and Nerea down three
small steps, “let’s dance.” Maca allowed herself to be led
towards the stage. She turned briefly to see that half of the
VIP section was currently following them, pushing through
the sweaty bodies on the dance floor until they were mere
meters from Saray.
Saray spotted Rizos immediately and winked at her before
giving a jut of her chin to Nerea. The tall brunette picked up
the microphone, shouting over the blaring music to ask the
audience if they were ready to have a good time. The
resounding screaming and whistles confirmed what she
already knew and Saray followed up by playing a house
version of one of the most popular songs that Maca had
heard on the radio just that afternoon. The crowd went
wild.
For the next couple of hours, Macarena found herself
losing track of time and the number of drinks that her new
friends shoved into her hands. She laughed, and drank her
fill, using her entire body to feel the incredible set-list of
music that Saray kept playing. It was just past one a.m. and
Macarena had been winding her hips to a hip-hop song with
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Yolanda when she turned in a semi-circle and watched as a

shorter, dark figure nudged its way through the crowd,
towards the stage, drinks in hand.
Maca had to do a double-take because she was almost
certain that was—.
“Is that Dr. Zahir?” Maca shouted in Yolanda’s ear.
“Oh yeah! She’s like best friends with Saray!”
“What?”
It was an odd duo, for sure. Saray was at least ten years
younger than Zulema, as far as Maca could tell, but it was
quickly dismissed by Yolanda. “Yeah. Long story.”
Dr. Zahir looked… hot. Dark hair, free from its elastic
prison, a few strands pushed behind her ears, fell just past
the shoulders of her bomber jacket. Underneath, there was
an oversized hoodie pulled halfway onto her head. The hood
slipped a bit as Zulema —or her doppelgänger, Maca still
couldn’t believe it through her tequila-induced haze— held
one of the shots of cloudy liquid up to Saray. Saray leaned
down to take it from her, never losing her rhythm as she
grooved to the beat. They clinked the shot glasses together,
tapped them against the turntables, and then knocked them
back. Zulema took the empty glass from Saray, and just as
she turned, for the briefest of moments, she locked eyes
with Macarena. Zulema sucked her bottom lip into her
mouth, biting on it in contemplation as she took in Maca’s
tight jeans and slinky top.
And… was that a tattoo on her face? Maca squinted in a
vain attempt to get a closer look, but in a flash, Zulema had
pivoted towards the exit and disappeared into the crowd,
leaving Macarena to wonder if she’d made it all up in her
head.
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***
The week dragged by slowly.

Tuesday, Maca was hungover in her first three classes, but
after a two-hour nap where she dreamed of emerald-green,
kohl-lined eyes, she woke up raring to go for her final class
of the day. Wednesday and Thursday were uneventful. She
only had a single class each day, and the rest of her time was
spent in the archives of Martinez Hall trying to find a case
that grabbed her attention to write her paper or Dr. Zahir’s
class.
Dr. Zahir.
Macarena hadn’t been able to get the older woman off of
her mind since she’d seen her in Cruz. She was gorgeous,
sure, but seeing her outside of class was like an out of body
experience. Zulema had looked so badass, and Maca
couldn’t help but wonder what she was like as a friend.
Certainly, there was a boundary there that could never be
crossed, but something told Maca that Zulema Zahir was
more than just a criminal psychology lecturer.
Friday was a busy one. Two of her longest classes were
back to back, leaving her completely drained. She declined
an invitation to Rizos’ off-campus apartment and, instead,
spent the evening in the house trying to relax. Saturday, she
spoke to her family, happily using her paper for Dr. Zahir’s
class as an excuse as to why she couldn’t attend brunch with
them. She loved her family, sure, but when the more she
studied the psychology of humans, the more she could see
the very cracks in the facade of her parents’ marriage, as
well as her brother’s engagement. So, it was best if she
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stayed away until she learned better to compartmentalize

better, or so she told herself.
On Sunday, Macarena set aside the homework she had
from other classes to work hard on her paper for Dr. Zahir’s
class. After half a bottle of wine, a shit-ton of research, and
a major rewrite, Macarena finally felt satisfied with the
result, and she was certain Dr. Zahir would be as well.
Monday morning came quickly, and Macarena was careful
not to make the same mistake she’d made on the first day of
classes. She awoke early, giving herself plenty of time to
shower and dress. She made it to campus an hour early and
decided to grab a coffee and a quick breakfast at the cafe in
the lobby of the psych building.
Maca had been served —avocado and egg toast and a large,
hot coffee with a double shot of blonde espresso— and she
picked a corner table just away from the crowd. There was a
single moment of peace after biting into the warm breakfast
before she heard the barista call out—.
“Zulema!”
Green-hazel eyes shot up and she watched as Zulema, hair
tied back into a low ponytail, stepped forward to claim her
large coffee. Then, Maca’s heart began to pound as she
realized that Zulema had turned and was walking directly
towards her table. Closer and closer she stepped. Maca’s
brain rapidly flew through every possible scenario that
could happen, only for Zulema to walk directly past her
table and towards the condiments against the wall. Maca
breathed out a sigh of relief and began to shove her
breakfast back into its to-go container. Maybe if she
gathered her things quick enough, she could avoid what was
sure to be an awkward conversation with her professor. Bag
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over her shoulder, coffee, and breakfast in hand, Macarena

stood from the table only to nearly bump into someone.
“Rushing off to my class, I hope.” Zulema’s voice made
Macarena’s spine shoot ramrod-straight.
“Dr. Zahir, fancy seeing you here.”
Fancy seeing you here? What the fuck?, Maca mentally
kicked herself.
“I’m here every Monday morning.” Zulema held up her
coffee in explanation. “Breakfast of champions.”
Maca held hers up as well. “Same.”
“I’m glad to see you’re excited to turn in your first paper
for me, but my class doesn’t start for another half hour.”
“Yeah, well, I have to be on time. I’m afraid my professor
will actually turn into an elf from hell if I’m late again.”
Maca’s eyes bulged at her faux pas. She had no idea if that
nickname was offensive to Zulema, so she quickly added,
“That was a joke. I’m kidding. I don’t think you’re capable of
that. I just—.”
Great, now she was rambling. Zulema grinned but refused
to put Maca out of her misery.
“I-I’ll see you in class,” Maca muttered and scurried off,
leaving behind an incredibly entertained Zulema.
***
“There are five questions that one should always ask

themselves when applying criminal psychology in a real-life
case study.” That was how Zulema started class that
Monday morning. “Show of hands, who has heard the
existential question: what came first, the chicken or the
egg?” Zulema asked. She watched in amusement as her
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students looked at each other in sheer confusion. “I

promise, it’s not a trick question.”
A few unsure hands went up.
“Excellent. In the world of applied criminal psych, we have
a question similar to it. What came first: the crime or the
mental disorder?” Laughter went around the room and
Zulema grinned. “I know. It sounds silly, but this is the true
test.” As she spoke, Zulema paced back and forth, one hand
pushed into the front pockets of her dark jeans, while the
other gestured freely.
Without even asking, Zulema commanded the attention of
every student. Heads swiveled left and right as they kept
their eyes trained on her as they hung onto her every word.
“Either this patient or unidentified subject has one or
more severe mental disorders, or their lawyer is just trying
for an insanity plea. It’s your job to use the other four
questions to determine if that defense is viable or if they’re
simply trying to get over on you.”
It was incredible, really, how different Zulema looked.
Here, in the lecture hall, she was composed. Reserved,
even. Totally in her element, as she spoke passionately
about criminal psychology. In a Metallica crew neck shirt,
black jeans, and black blazer combo with heeled booties, Dr.
Zahir’s work outfit was far cry from what she wore to Cruz.
Zulema turned to write something on the board and Maca’s
eyes drifted downwards, admiring the way her ass looked in
the jeans. The writing motion caused the older woman’s
hips to twist side-to-side briefly and Maca crossed her legs
while biting on the cap of her pen.
Suddenly, Zulema spun back around and looked directly in
Maca’s direction and she saw the blonde jerk to attention.
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She yanked the pen from her mouth and her eyes flickered
back to Zulema’s face. If she didn’t know any better,
Macarena could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smirk
pull at Zulema’s lips. But no sooner had it appeared, it was
gone again, and Macarena was forced to look down at her
paper and pretend to take notes if only to avoid further
embarrassment.
She refused to look back up for the remainder of the class.
If she had, she would have noticed the way Zulema’s brows
had knitted together.
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Chapter 3:
Office Hours
Named after a wealthy ancestor of the school’s

headmistress, the Aguirre Library on South Campus was
where Zulema had squirreled herself away. Tucked quietly
at a table behind the seldom seen volumes of psychology
encyclopedias, the brunette poured over the first
assignment she’d given her students. Between four day
classes and a Thursday night evening class, Zulema had her
work cut out for her, but she wouldn’t trade her job for the
world.
Red ink pen in hand, she pulled her legs up under her bum
and adjusted the clear frames on her face as she read
through yet another two-page paper. She circled a few
errors and was just about to grade the paper when she
heard a high-pitched whistle meant to capture her
attention. Zule raised her gaze to see her best friend poking
her head around a cherry-oak bookshelf with a grin on her
face.
“How’d you find me?”
“Mm,” Saray revealed two to-go coffee cups and a brown
carryout bag, “I can remember having to lug your lunch up
here when I was your teaching assistant.” She handed
Zulema one of the cups of coffee and then plopped down in
one of the three empty chairs at the enormous table.
“Bless you,” Zulema said, gratefully accepting the
caffeinated beverage.
“I also know that if no one reminds you to eat, you won’t.”
As Saray spoke, she shuffled Zulema’s papers together and
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pushed them to the side, much to Zulema’s chagrin. But

before the older woman could complain, Saray revealed a
lentil soup, half a sandwich, and an apple and placed it in
front of Zulema.
“You’re not supposed to have food in the library.” Zulema
scolded, jokingly as she pried the lid off of the soup bowl.
“What are they gonna do? Expel me?” Saray kicked her
feet up onto the chair next to her. She reached forward and
picked up the stack of papers and a red pen.
“Let’s see,” she said, clearing her throat, “‘1979 Pascagoula
and Offender Profiling’, an analysis by Macarena Ferreiro.”
Zulema’s spoon slipped out of her hand, clanged against
the table, and fell to the floor. Saray looked over the top of
the paper, catching Zulema’s furtive glance that abruptly
shifted to the spoon on the ground. Saray’s dark-lined eyes
squinted, a move she’d learned from Dr. Zahir, herself.
Zulema quickly reached to pick it up and sat it beside her
bowl, clearing her throat.
“Ferreiro,” Saray repeated to gauge Zulema’s reaction. She
received nothing for her trouble. “Why does that name
sound familiar?”
“I taught her brother, Roman. I think you were still my TA
then.”
Saray thought for a moment before a lightbulb went off in
her mind. “Oh yeah, the know-it-all that didn’t know it all.”
“Mhm,” was all Zulema replied while picking up her apple.
“Does she live up to the Ferreiro legacy?”
“Not sure.” Zulema took a much too large bite of the fruit.
“Only had two classes so far. First class, she was late.”
“And you humiliated her, I’m sure.”
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Zulema grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “She seemed

to take it pretty well.”
“I see.” Saray sat Macarena’s paper down.
Zulema refrained from rolling her eyes. “You see what?”
“She challenges you.”
“Not yet, but she will,” Zulema replied confidently as she
swallowed.
Saray leaned in closer. “How do you know?”
“She needs to please authority figures. Comes from being
the younger sibling of someone with a Type A personality.
Doesn’t want to be left behind or seen as the fuck up. She’ll
start speaking up in class, debating with me and her peers
once she sees that I enjoy a challenge.”
Saray bit into her cheek, trying to keep a smile off of her
face. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh, Zule?”
“It’s my job.”
“Mhm. It’s not your job to profile your students,” Saray
reminded her. “Or your friends. Keep doing it and you’ll be
single for the rest of your life.”
“Who says I don’t want to be single for the rest of my life?”
“Because Zule,” Saray sighed, “you crave deep connections
with the people you like. You only get bored when you can’t
dig deep into their minds.”
“Now who’s profiling whom?” Zulema asked, dropping the
half-eaten apple back into the brown paper bag.
Saray simply shook her head. “I can’t wait for the day
when someone changes your mind.”
“When that day comes, I will dance on the bar during one
of your sets at Cruz.”
***
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“I’ll be frank,” Zulema began class the following Monday,

“I’m not pleased with these papers.” She held up the stack
so the class could see the red marks on the first one. “That’s
exactly what I expected.” As she spoke, Zulema walked up
and down the aisles to personally hand each student their
corrected assignment. “Great profilers don’t happen
overnight. Amazing psychologists aren’t formed over
several days of research. All of the best criminal
psychologists have started at the bottom. Even me.”
Once she finished her rounds, Zulema walked back to the
front of the classroom and opened up her laptop. As she
tapped a few buttons, Maca looked down at her own paper.
A C+! What the fuck? she screamed internally.
“This is my first ever assignment for Professor Miranda
Aguirre. You guys may know her as Headmistress Aguirre.
Many, many many years ago,” Zulema paused as the class
laughed, “she started as a professor here. I was one of her
students. The assignment I gave you all was the same
assignment she gave us on our first day of class.” She
tapped another button and the white projector screen lit up,
revealing the scanned copy of an essay with a big, fat ‘D-
‘ circled at the top right. “This was my grade.”
Sure enough, on the top left, Maca could see Zulema’s
name and title of her essay on the top left of the page.
Suddenly her C+ didn’t seem so bad after all.
“She didn’t expect us to be excellent on our first try, and
neither did I. Now, each of you has strengths and
weaknesses that I want to talk about and throughout these
next few months together, I want to be able to give each and
everyone one of you an A+ on your final papers. So, during
26

this next week, I want you all to use the sign-in sheet
outside of my office door to have a one-on-one meeting with
me to discuss what I think you should work to improve this
year.”
Maca’s heart started to pound. She rubbed the palm of her
left hand over the leg of her jeans, trying desperately to
calm her stirring nerves.
It was moot.
Because one day this week, Maca was going to be alone in
a room with Zulema Zahir.
***
Maca tried so hard to play it cool. She told herself to wait

until at least Wednesday to sign up for whatever office
hours were left.
She barely made it to lunch on Tuesday before she found
herself in front of Zulema’s office door, pen in hand, signing
her name in an open spot.
On Friday at 17:45, she was sitting in the waiting area of
Zulema’s office, fidgeting with the zipper on her sand-
colored leather jacket. The sound of an instant message
chimed from the computer of Zulema’s pale-faced secretary.
“Macarena Ferreiro?”
Maca jumped at the sound of her name. A shy smile from
Casper, as Maca had nicknamed the young girl at the desk,
did nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering around in her
stomach.
“Professor Zahir will see you now.”
Maca stood up, backpack in hand. She opened the door
marked Dr. Z. Zahir, and stepped inside, shutting it behind
27
killingsaray
her. Zulema was standing and shrugging out of her blazer.

Maca watched as Zulema took care in draping it over the
back of her chair. She gestured for Maca to sit before
steepling one hand on her desk and the other on her hip.
A slight smirk appeared on her face.
All Maca could do was try to remember how to breathe.
28

Chapter 4:
Passing Moments
The first thing Macarena noticed was the gothic-style tattoo

wrapped around her right bicep. And it reminded her of
their brief encounter at the club that Rizos had invited her
to where she could have sworn Zulema had another tattoo
on her face.
Maca’s eyes flickered up to Zulema’s face and she squinted
slightly. Sure enough, there was a faint line under her left
eye, hidden underneath a thin layer of foundation. Her eyes
drifted up further and she was met with dark green eyes
dancing with amusement.
“You’ll make a good profiler,” Zulema said, crossing her
arms over her chest. “You look at everything.”
Maca felt her cheeks getting warm.
“It’s a compliment.”
“Th—,” Maca cleared her throat, trying again, “thank you.”
Zulema finally sat in her office chair and opened a leather-
bound journal. Watching as she flipped through a few pages
filled with elegant handwriting, Maca cleared her throat and
shifted uncomfortably.
“Don’t be nervous,” Zulema told her without looking up
from the book.
“I’m not nervous.”
Zulema glanced at Maca’s body language and smirked,
looking back down at her notes. “I can’t tell by the way
you’re gripping the armrests of your chair for dear life.”
Maca quickly pulled her hands away from the chair and
folded them in her lap.
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killingsaray
“So, I wanted to talk to you about the strongest aspects of

your paper and the ones I felt were your weakest.”
Maca nodded once. “Okay.”
“So, first you seemed to understand the overall concept of
what I was asking from you which is a lot more than I can
say for some of your peers.”
Maca smiled at the compliment.
“But what blew me away was how in-depth your
knowledge of the four steps of profiling is already. For the
case you chose, you did reach a bit as far as the analysis of
the criminal’s motives, but it was still fairly creative, to say
the least.”
As she spoke, Maca’s vision became tunneled and she
found herself focusing more on Zulema’s lips and less on
the words that were coming out of them. Her hands fidgeted
in her lap and she brought one to her mouth, biting on the
corner of her thumbnail.
Zulema was different than anyone Maca had ever dated.
For one thing, she was older and more knowledgeable. And
sure, perhaps Macarena had only heard Zulema talk about
criminal psychology and profiling, but it was always with
such passion and dedication to her craft. The blonde
wondered what else Zulema knew, and with what intensity
could she teach Macarena.
Fuck.
Her cheeks got warmer and the flush spread from her
cheeks down to her chest. The thought of Zulema with her
hair down, in one of her vintage band t-shirts, glasses, and
not much else flashed through Macarena’s mind.
“So, I think that’s something you could focus on,” Zulema
said and Maca nodded. That fantasy was definitely
30
something she wanted to focus more on. For the love of god,
the older woman had the body of a twenty-year-old
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“How old are you?” Maca heard the words leave her mouth
before she could stop them. Her eyes widened and she
leaned forward, both hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m
sorry. That was rude. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my
business. Y-you just look so… young. Not that you aren’t
young, but I just—.”
Zulema smiled. Just like in the coffee shop a few days
prior, Macarena’s ranting was incredibly adorable.
Especially because Zulema knew she was the cause of it.
This time, Zulema decided she would put the young blonde
out of her misery. She pushed away from her notes and rose
from her chair. Rounding the wooden desk, she came to a
halt beside Maca’s left leg. The same leg that started to
bounce slightly as Maca shifted in her seat.
Zulema slipped her hands inside of the front pockets of her
jeans and leaned against the desk. Ducking her head to
catch Maca’s eyes, the brunette asked with a conspiratorial
scrunch of her nose, “How old do I look?”
She noticed Macarena’s chest rise and fall at a quicker rate.
And she had resumed chewing on that goddamned
thumbnail.
“Thirty?” Maca guessed.
Zulema’s smile widened. “Are you being polite?”
“No?” Macarena replied.
“Is that a question?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Maca was entirely too flustered by Zulema’s proximity.
“I’m forty-eight.”
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killingsaray
Maca’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking with me?”

Not yet, Zulema thought fleetingly. She shook her head to
clear it. “No.”
“Age is nothing but a number, huh?” Macarena said, but it
was mostly to herself. “Not that it matters.”
“Tell that to my constant neck pains.” Zulema half-teased.
“You still seem cool, though. I mean, the other night when
I saw you at Cruz, you looked chill.”
Laughing, Zulema shook her head. “Ah, special
circumstances. My good friend was the DJ that night.”
“Saray? Yeah, she used to date my new friend Rizos. That’s
how I got the invite.” Not that Zulema had asked.
“Rizos,” Zulema nodded, clearing her throat. “She’s a
character.”
“I can already tell.”
“Word of advice?”
Maca sat up straight and nodded eagerly. Any advice from
someone as successful as Zulema Zahir, she would take to
heart.
“Keep your head in the books and try not to let Rizos pull
you into her party-girl lifestyle. You have a lot of potential,
and I’d hate to see you lose out on any opportunities that
may come your way.”
“Noted.”
Zulema looked at Maca for a moment longer and when she
was satisfied that her student was taking her seriously, she
pulled one hand from her jeans pocket and held it out.
“Thank you for coming in to see me. I expect great things
from you, Macarena Ferreiro.”
32
Maca stood up and slipped her backpack over her

shoulder. She slipped her hand inside of Zulema’s and
shook it gently.
“Thank you so much, Professor. I appreciate you taking the
time to sit with me. I won’t let you down.”
Then, it happened.
A small moment passed between the two of them as they
continued to slowly shake hands, neither making the
appropriate decision to end it first.
Their eyes met.
Emerald searched olive.
Macarena’s lashes fluttered. Zulema noticed.
“Zule, I have five minutes to sign these papers then I have
a—oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were still in a… meeting.”
Maca abruptly pulled her hand away from Zulema’s and
she took a step back as a confident brunette strolled into
Zulema’s office as if she owned it.
“Helena, meet Macarena Ferreiro. Macarena Ferreiro meet
—.”
“Professor Helena Martin. I know who you are. I’ve read
both of your books. It’s an honor.”
“Pleasure’s all mine. Should I—?”Helena pointed over her
shoulder and started to back out of the room.
“No, no. I was just leaving.” Macarena said. She turned
back to Zulema, meeting her eye one final time. “Thanks
again, professor. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Until then,” Zulema replied.
Helena watched Macarena leave and as the door shut
behind the blonde, she turned back to Zulema with a
knowing expression on her face. Zulema scoffed and
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killingsaray
rounded her desk once more until she stood at her own
chair.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What?” Helena grinned, crossing the room and standing
before Zulema’s desk. “Do I have on my ‘keep it in your
pants, Zule’ face on?”
“You’re ridiculous.” Zulema bent forward, pushing aside
papers to find the one she was searching for.
“Am I?” Hands cupped around the lip of the desk, Helena
leaned forward, asking with an unnecessary air of
sensuality, “Or are you just busted?”
“Am I busted?” Zulema tilted closer to Helena, matching
her posture and tone, “Or do you just get jealous of any
woman that I’m in a room alone with besides you?”
“I think you’re projecting, Zule.”
Zulema chuckled and stood to her full height. She plucked
a pen from her organizer and held it up for Helena. “Just
sign the damn paper.”
“Fine. Who else is coming to this lecture or do I have to
carry this whole department on my back?” Helena asked as
she signed the consent form.
“You really should see someone about those delusions,”
Zulema remarked.
“That’s what Fabio and a bottle of tequila are for.”
Zulema grimaced. “You’re still seeing him?”
“The only way to get over someone is to get under someone
new, right?”
“I can’t even begin to unpack what is wrong about that
statement,” Zulema said, “but to answer your first question,
Saray is also going to be at the lecture.”
“Excellent. Just like old times.”
34
“Speaking of time, make sure you’re punctual.”

“Fine. Drinks this weekend?”
“Yeah. Let me know when and where.” Zulema confirmed.
Helena left and Zulema plopped down into her office chair.
Almost immediately, her mind strayed to Macarena
Ferreiro. The blonde was cute, sure. But what Zulema
actually enjoyed was how absolutely worked up Macarena
got whenever Zulema was around. The fun she could have
with Maca if she just allowed herself to. They were both
adults; Zulema a bit more than Maca, but still.
Zulema sighed heavily and then told herself, “Keep it in
your pants, Zule.”
35
 

killingsaray
Chapter 5:
Late
Fuck, she was late again!

Maca ran down the hallway towards Dr. Zahir’s class,
clutching the strap of her messenger bag. She reached the
end and swung open the door, nearly tripping her way
inside of the lecture hall. A dozen heads turned to look at
her. Maca caught her balance and stood to her full height
and the first set of eyes she found were those of Professor
Zahir. The amused smirk that she reserved especially for
Macarena was ever-present and Maca pleaded with her
eyes for Zulema to take pity on her.
“Miss Ferreiro, glad you could join us. Find a seat.”
Zulema gestured with her hand to any of the empty desks,
but before Macarena could slink sheepishly into a chair,
her movements were halted. “Front row, please.”
Maca did her walk of shame down the flat steps of the
lecture hall and towards the front row where she plopped
down in a plastic chair right next to Rizos.
“Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” Rizos sing-songed.
Macarena opened her mouth to respond, only for Zulema
to clear her throat and raise a brow at the two women.
“Ferreiro, see me after class.”
The blonde groaned and sank further down into her seat.
Maca blinked and the time passed quickly. The class was
over and as she listened to the sounds of her peers packing
up and shuffling towards the exit, Maca remained seated.
Zulema stood before her desk, palms against the wood and
one ankle crossed over the other. The blonde watched as
36
long fingers drum patiently on the desk. Zulema smiled

and nodded politely at the students who took the time to
say goodbye to her.
The last student finally exited and Zulema’s head swiveled
slowly until her dark green eyes met Maca’s light ones.
Sighing heavily, she crossed her arms and nodded her
head towards her desk, wordlessly commanding that
Macarena cross the room.
And the blonde did.
With almost no hesitation, Macarena stood and crossed
the room to Zulema’s desk. Her hands balled into tense
little fists at her sides and, under the intense gaze of
Zulema Zahir, she shifted her weight from one foot to the
other.
“Miss Ferreiro, I thought I made it clear that I don’t
tolerate latenesses,” Zulema said. Her voice was lower
than Maca remembered. And her eyes twinkled with
something that made a chill run down Maca’s spine.
“I’m sorry, professor. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s what you said the last time, so forgive me if I don’t
believe you.”
“My alarm never went off and I—.”
“Your alarm is an inanimate object. So, was it your lack
of consciousness and respect for me and my class that
stopped you from setting the correct alarm?” Zulema
wondered as she pushed off of the desk and walked in a
semi-circle around Maca, stopping on her right. She
reached up and slipped a soft tendril of blonde hair behind
Maca’s ear, leaning close and murmuring, “Maybe you just
need to be taught a little respect.”
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killingsaray
Maca’s eyes fluttered closed and she exhaled a shuddered

breath. “Yes, please.”
She didn’t have to see it to know Zulema was smiling. A
firm hand on the small of her back made her flinch just a
little and she was pushed forward.
“Hands on the center of the desk.”
Maca bent forward, nervous palms splayed wide on the
center of Zulema’s paperwork. Her ass poked deliciously
out toward Zulema who had shifted until she was standing
behind her younger student. Adept fingers reached around
her waist and unbuttoned and unzipped Macarena’s pants.
She shimmied down her waist, over the curve of her hips,
and left to rest at her thighs. A practical, black cotton
thong perched perfectly atop the globes of Macarena’s ass.
Purposely, Zulema brushed against her and grabbed a
ruler that had seemingly appeared out of thin air.
Oh god yes, Maca thought and she swallowed roughly.
If she was going to be punished, there was no better
person than Zulema. Instinctively, Maca bent lower just a
tad more, causing her rear end to lift higher. She heard the
soft exhale of a chuckle from behind her as Zulema reveled
at the sight of Macarena Ferreiro poised and ready to take
whatever she was willing to give.
“Ten blows. One for each minute you were late. And you’ll
count each one out loud.” Zulema grabbed a fistful of
blonde hair and pulled until Maca’s back arched and
Zulema’s lips touched her ear. “Just like the nuns used to
do.” She let go of Maca’s hair and before the younger
woman could brace herself, Zulema cocked her arm back
and then brought it forward. Macarena heard the sound
before she felt the pain, but she barely had time to register
38

it, a rolling wave of pleasure crashed through her core and

seeped its way into her panties.
“One,” she panted.
Another slap of the ruler against her ass and Maca
moaned.
The blaring of her alarm startled Maca. Her eyes shot open
and she used her free hand—the one not shoved into her
pants— to reach over and tap blindly at the stop button on
her phone.
She sighed as she lay back against her fluffy pillows.
Lifting her knees and spreading them wide enough, Maca
slid her hand between cotton and soft skin. Down.
Down.
Down until--.
“Two!” Maca groaned. Eyes wrenched shut, she
summoned the image of herself bent over Professor Zahir’s
desk, ass up. Then, there was Dream Zulema just behind
her, delivering blow after stinging blow of her wooden ruler.
Maca circled two fingers around her clit, swirling her
natural lubricant round and round. She used the fingers of
her other hand to squeeze at her hardened nipples that were
covered by her shirt. Her hips circled and as Dream Zulema
pulled her thong to the side, real-life Macarena did the
same. One probing finger dipped inside, testing her
readiness. She couldn’t wait much longer, so she sank two
of them in, as deeply as they could do, and used the digits
on her other hand to rub gently against her clit.
Another spank with the ruler and Maca’s legs raised even
higher in bed until her pointed toes were no longer touching
anything. The fingers on her clit rubbed faster.
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In her mind’s eye, she took all ten strokes of Zulema’s

ruler, but she knew that if it ever happened in real life,
Macarena wouldn’t last past number four before she was
begging for Zulema to fuck her. When she finally did ask
fantasy Zulema to do the honors, she pictured herself flat on
her back and spread wide open for the older woman.
Faster and faster, went her fingers. And she added a third
to fill her perfectly as she reached her peak, and the
moment fantasy Zulema’s ruler smacked firmly against her
cunt, Macarena came.
“Fuck.” Maca panted, wiping her fingers on her shirt.
This was not good at all.
***
To the cafe, she went, desperately hoping to avoid a run-in

with Zulema while simultaneously wishing that she was
there.
I’m here every Monday.
When Macarena first entered the campus coffee shop,
Zulema was nowhere to be found. Macarena let out a sound
that doubled as a sigh of relief as well as one of
disappointment. Still, it gave her time to gather her
thoughts. Her main thought being: how on earth was she
supposed to sit through an hour-and-a-half lecture while
being forced to watch as Zulema walked back and forth in
front of her godforsaken desk?
As her luck always did, it ran out; no sooner had Maca
received her order and turned to grab a few napkins, there
she was. The woman who she’d fantasized about merely an
hour ago as she writhed around her bed knuckle-deep
40
inside of herself sat at a table, red pen in hand, with her

brows furrowed in concentration. The brunette muttered
something to herself and then shook her head before
drawing a long, red line across the paper before her.
As if sensing someone’s eyes on her, Zulema looked up.
She searched the room for a moment before she spotted
Maca over the frames of her glasses. Her eyes dropped
down and then inched back upwards and then—.
That fucking smirk.
41

killingsaray
Chapter 6:
War
That fucking smirk.

The one that said oh, the things I could do to your body
rubía. Or was that just in Maca’s mind? She gave a small,
awkward wave of her hand. Zulema didn’t return the
gesture. Her amusement became more apparent, she shook
her head slightly and turned her attention back to the
papers in front of her.
What the fuck am I doing, Maca thought to herself. Her
little crush on Zulema was too obvious and she was going to
do nothing but hurt her own feelings in the long run.
Deciding that she would recycle the sexual energy she felt
for Zulema and put it towards focusing on her studies,
Macarena straightened her posture, held her head high, and
strutted out of the small coffee shop.
Half an hour later, she sat in the back row of Zulema’s
class next to Rizos. As Zulema started Monday’s lecture by
reading the first few pages of chapter four in their
textbooks, Macarena reminded herself to keep an impassive
expression on her face. Zulema gave them an exercise to
finish by the end of class and even as she walked up and
down the rows, leaning over her students’ shoulders to
analyze their work, Macarena remained focused.
Until Zulema stopped at her desk and leaned over her
shoulder, one hand on Maca’s desk. Neither of them spoke,
but as her scent took over Maca’s senses, she found herself
gripping her pen tighter.
She could have sworn she heard Zulema chuckle softly.
Macarena turned slightly, brows furrowed and lips pouted
42
like a petulant child, but Zulema was already slipping past

her to stop at Rizos’ desk.
Before she did, Maca would have bet her tuition check that
she felt a slight tug on her blonde ponytail.
Class finally ended, but not before Professor Zahir
mentioned that there would be a lecture on Friday in Diaz
Hall.
“I’ll leave a sign-up sheet here. It’s first-come, first-serve,
but I’ll be remiss if I didn’t mention that those who sign up,
will receive extra credit.”
Though Macarena said otherwise, Rizos dragged her to the
front of the room to sign the sheet.
“With the way Zulema grades, we could use the extra
points.” She mentioned.
So, Macarena stepped up to the desk that she fantasized
about, cleared her throat, and lowered her eyes to the paper.
As she signed her name, a war waged within her as she
internally screamed at herself to not look up at the dark
green eyes that were staring a hole into the top of her head.
In the end, she lost the battle. She looped the cursive ‘o’ in
her last name and then her eyes flickered up.
Zulema grinned as if she’d been waiting for it all along.
***
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Macarena was excited, to

say the least. She had invited Rizos over for a drink
beforehand.
“Joder, rubía. This place is nice.”
Macarena waved a hand, humbly responding, “It’s nothing
major, but it’s home.” She’d opened a bottle of a robust
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killingsaray
cabernet sauvignon when Rizos texted that she was on the

way over. Pouring the dark liquid into two glasses, she slid
one across the countertop to her friend.
“To new friendships.”
Macarena raised her glass in agreement and tapped it
against Rizos’. “I can’t believe you’re coming to the lecture
tonight.”
“Why?”
“Well, isn’t your ex one of the guest speakers tonight?”
“Yeah, but,” Rizos sighed, “our relationship is
complicated.”
Maca rested her forearms on the counter, grinning. “And
what does Nerea think about this ‘complicated
relationship’?”
Rizos swirled the red wine around in her glass and smiled
back. “She likes to remind Saray that she carries a gun and
knows the best places to hide a body.”
Maca tossed her head back and laughed. “Okay, wait, be
honest with me: you like that they have pissing matches
over you, don’t you?”
Rizos shrugged, a faux shy expression on her face, and
then she broke out into a wide grin. “Yeah, I love it.”
The two women snickered conspiratorially.
They sat in the kitchen for a while, chatting and sipping
their wine. Maca learned that Rizos had a twin sister with
two children. Their parents weren’t always around, but they
had a pretty good life regardless. Maca told Rizos about her
mundane parents who were seemingly perfect. And about
her brother, Roman, who Maca always seemed to outshine
even when she wasn’t trying. The conversation steered
towards what their dream jobs were once they were finished
44
with the master’s program. Rizos wanted to work with

juvenile delinquents, while Macarena wanted to follow in
the footsteps of her brother and work with the CNI.
“Well, that’s if I can get Zulema to write me a glowing
recommendation.”
“Oh, Zulema, huh?” Rizos replied. “Are we on a first-name
basis with our hot, crim-psych professor now?”
Maca rolled her eyes. “Dr. Zahir! You know what I mean.”
“Mhm,” teased Rizos, “I know exactly what you mean.”
Maca turned to look at the clock on the microwave and her
eyes bulged.
“Shit, we’re going to be late! I’m going to get dressed
quickly and then we’ll go.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were headed out of Maca’s
apartment and stepping into their awaiting Uber car.
***
Diaz Hall, South Campus, 7:27 PM

Diaz Hall consisted of three lecture halls that were a
fraction larger than the ones for classes. They each had a
platform stage accessible by four small steps on either side,
designed specifically for guest speakers.
When Macarena and Rizos walked in through the side
door, they were surprised to see that the hall was nearly
filled and the hushed chatter of dozens of conversations
filled their ears. The front two rows had a few empty seats,
three in the middle reserved for the school’s headmistress
and the two guest speakers. Rizos pulled Maca to the second
row, where they sat three seats, giving them the perfect
vantage point of the curved stage.
45
killingsaray
A few moments later, the lights in the audience dimmed,

leaving the stage illuminated enough for everyone to see
Zulema enter stage left and stand in the center. Almost
immediately, the audience settled, giving their attention to
el elfo. It was funny to Macarena that despite Zulema’s
short stature, she intimidated nearly everyone she came in
contact with.
But what Macarena was beginning to understand was that
it wasn’t because she was scary, it was because she was
charming and mysterious. People were always intimidated
by something that they couldn’t so readily label as one thing
or another.
“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to tonight’s lecture on
Modern Day Profiling. Tonight, we have two special guests
to speak with you. First, is Saray Vargas de Jesus. Many of
you know her as one of my former teaching assistants and
resident badass,” Zulema joked, tickling the audience, “but
now she is a criminal psychologist who works with inmates
at Cruz Del Norte Correctional Facility. Second, is my dear
friend and colleague, Dr. Helena Martin, bestselling non-
fiction author of Marked for Error: Nature vs. Nurture and
Killing the Past: Mind of a Murderer. Please give them
your undivided attention and the warmest of welcomes.”
Zulema started the applause and the audience followed as
Saray and Helena appeared on the stage, all smiles and
waves for the group of students and faculty that had come
to hear them speak.
Macarena watched as Zulema walked down the small steps
from the stage. Panic shot through her chest when she
realized that the brunette was walking in her direction. She
stepped up one of the flat steps, past the first row and to the
46
second where she stopped at the empty chair to Macarena’s

left. Heart thumping in her chest, Maca’s lashes fluttered
and her breathing deepened when Zulema smiled at her.
Actually smiled.
“Is this seat taken?”
Maca swallowed and her lips parted. To her right, Rizos,
who had been watching the exchange with intrigue, elbowed
her.
“Nope, it’s free,” Rizos spoke up and Zulema sat down.
“Rizos,” Zulema greeted.
“Zulema,” Rizos replied, smirking at Macarena. Macarena
gave her a look that screamed stop that. Before Rizos could
respond, Saray’s raspy voice came through the sound
system and everyone’s attention was drawn to the front of
the room.
“Okay,” Saray began, her hand in the air, “show of hands,
who here has a cell phone?”
A few laughs of disbelief as nearly the entire lecture hall
raised their hands.
“Keep your hand raised if you have a laptop or home
desktop with internet access.”
No one’s hands dropped.
“Congratulations, you all have the potential to become
victims of modern-day predators.”
A collective incredulous expression on people’s faces as
they looked around at the room made Saray smile.
“It’s not your fault, that’s just the risk we take living in the
twenty-first century. Allow me to explain…”
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killingsaray
Chapter 7:
Pictures & Pitchers
“It’s not your fault, that’s just the risk we take living in the
twenty-first century. Allow me to explain…”
Saray walked back and forth across the stage as she spoke,
her hands gesticulating with purpose as she went. “The
Internet has made it incredibly easy for predators of all
sorts to find their next victim, but social media has made it
even easier. Now, let’s say you take a photo of your favorite
breakfast and geotag the cafe where you bought it. Not only
is that free advertisement for the cafe, but also, free
advertisement for where to find you every Sunday morning.
Another example is when you post a fun video of you and
your friends dancing at a club. All it takes now is for a date
rapist to find you at the club and slip something into your
drink.”
Maca’s posture straightened and she began to chew on her
thumbnail.
Rizos leaned over and whispered, “Sounds like your
Instagram, rubía.”
Maca shushed her quietly and turned back to the lecture.
Just as she did, she felt Zulema shift in her chair until her
left leg was outstretched and the other leg bumped against
Macarena’s. With a furtive glance to her left, Maca noticed
that Zulema made no effort to move it and she was focused
solely on Saray’s lecture. Untapped energy forced Maca’s leg
to start bouncing. Up and down it went, the friction
between her leg and Zulema’s warming her skin.
48
But it was nothing compared to the heat she felt through

her jeans when Zulema reached over and rested a firm hand
against Macarena’s knee. She silently willed Maca’s leg to
stop bouncing uncontrollably and at the same time caused a
tidal wave of arousal to flood into Maca’s panties.
Satisfied that Macarena’s leg would remain still, Zulema’s
hand lifted away from her knee and she fell back into her
own lap.
Saray stopped in the middle of the stage and reached into
her pocket, pulling out a small remote. “If you take Dr.
Zahir’s criminal psychology class, you may know about
offender profiling and the three things that profilers look at
when establishing a pattern of offender behavior. One of
them being victimology, which includes an offender’s type.
So, let’s say your offender likes blondes,” she clicked a
button over her shoulder at the general direction of the
projection screen and Macarena watched in sheer horror as
her Instagram profile was suddenly on full display to half of
the student body, “he has a world of bikini-clad blondes
right at his fingertips.”
Macarena sank further down into her chair, leaned one
elbow on the armrest, and tried unsuccessfully to hide half
of her face. In her pocket, her phone began to buzz,
undoubtedly with new follower notifications.
“If they prefer curly-haired party girls,” Saray clicked a
button and Rizos’ profile was shown next, “they wouldn’t be
hard to find.”
Someone in the audience let out a wolf-whistle. Rizos
stood from her seat, arms outstretched. As the entertained
crowd began applauding, she gave a theatrical bow, then
gave a pageant wave to her adoring fans, before sitting back
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killingsaray
down. Maca turned to look at Zulema, who pushed her

tongue against the corner of her mouth, trying to refrain
from laughing. Saray continued on, explaining how though
social media made it easier for predators, it also made it a
bit easier for law enforcement to catch them.
Eventually, there was a brief intermission between Saray’s
lecture and Helena’s. Maca and Rizos stayed in their seats
but as the crowd lights rose, Zulema pushed herself out of
her chair and headed to the stage.
Macarena’s eyes followed her every movement. Saray was
in deep discussion with Headmistress Aguirre when Zulema
snuck up behind her and tugged at her long ponytail.
Maca’s eyes widened a fraction. Maybe she hadn’t imagined
the pull on her own hair in class on Monday. She’d spent
the majority of the week wondering if it really happened
and if it had… what did it mean?
Now, she witnessed Zulema do the same to Saray and now
she had more questions than answers. Did Zulema and
Saray have a… thing? Were they more than just best
friends like Rizos said? Is that why Rizos and Saray broke
up?
Just as she leaned over to ask Rizos, Helena gently hip-
checked Saray to the side and Saray put her hands up in
surrender as Helena pulled Zulema into an embrace. When
they separated, Helena’s hand slid down Zulema’s arm and
toward her hand, their fingers linking briefly before they
pulled apart.
Rizos murmured, “Looks like you’ve got some competition,
rubía.”
“What?”
50
Rizos jutted her chin towards the stage. “Looks like Helena
is trying to get back with Zulema.”
“Wait, they were together? How do you know?”
Rizos gave her a look.
“Right,” Macarena acquiesced, eyes rolling, “you know
everyone and everything.”
Rizos grinned, “And don’t you forget it.”
“What about Zulema and Saray?”
“What about them?”
“Did they ever date?”
“Gross, no. They’re like sisters. Saray really looks up to
Zulema, and whether she knows it or not, Zulema looks up
to her, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, apparently Zulema didn't have a very structured
upbringing, so Saray is sort of her conscience at times.”
Macarena nodded, soaking up the information like a
sponge.
“Have you taken any classes with Professor Martín?”
“Helena? Nah, but she seems cool. A bit cocky, but it
clearly works for her,” Rizos mentioned with a shrug.
“Yeah,” Macarena distractedly replied, “clearly.”
She took her eyes away from the stage for a moment and
then turned back to it, Saray was walking down the steps
and towards them. She knelt on the empty seat in front of
them and leaned over the back of to reach for Rizos.
“Estefanía.” She said with a grin. They greeted one another
with a double-kiss and then Saray turned to Macarena,
holding out a hand. “Saray Vargas.”
“Macarena Ferreiro, although, I guess you already knew
that,” Maca replied, nodding towards the stage.
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“Yeah. Sorry if we embarrassed you. It was easier to go

through Rizos’ friends’ list than to pick someone completely
random. Plus, Rizos and Zulema say you’re a tough cookie. I
knew if anyone could take it, it would be you.” Saray threw
her a wink and then turned back to Rizos. Maca pinched
Rizos’ arm.
“Ow!”
“You knew she was going to use my profile and you didn’t
warn me?” Macarena asked in disbelief, laughter dripping
from her tone.
“It was more fun that way.”
Saray smiled. “Don’t be mad. It’s sort of a rite of passage
around here to be pushed into the spotlight when you’re
friends with Estefanía.”
“Oh, I’m not sure we’ll be friends for much longer,” joked
Macarena.
Rizos put her arms around Macarena and squeezed tightly,
Maca’s cheek squished against her own. “You don’t mean
that.”
“You guys should hang around after Helena’s lecture. A
few of us are going to get drinks at The Academy tonight.”
“Mola,” Rizos responded. “We’ll be there.”
“Cool,” Saray pushed off of the seat and left them alone.
“What’s The Academy?” Maca asked.
“Cop bar just off of Calle Huertas. Strong drinks, cheap
prices and hot people, some still in their uniforms.”
“You know,” Maca touched a hand to her neck, “suddenly
I’m parched.”
Rizos laughed. “Yeah, I thought you might be.”
A few moments later, the lights dimmed again and Zulema
returned to her seat beside Macarena for Helena’s lecture
52
which touched on the effects of social media on the psyche

of a predator. She wasn’t as interesting to Macarena as
Saray was, but Macarena took special care to watch
Zulema’s reaction to Helena. But the older woman gave
nothing away. She either had the greatest poker face, or she
was genuinely unaffected by Helena’s presence.
Maca did notice, however, that at some point, when
Zulema’s forearm dropped against the armrest that
separated her seat from Macarena’s, the backs of their
hands touched and Zulema looked… well, a little less
unaffected. Maca saw her lashes flutter and Zulema’s chest
rose and fell just that much quicker.
A childlike giddiness made Macarena’s heart feel so light
as if it could float away at any moment. And when she felt
the soft knuckles of Zulema’s hand brush against the back of
her own, Macarena could have died happily just then.
***
The Academy was a warmly-lit, smoky bar where the

bartender, a retired cop himself, knew everyone by name
and the majority of their orders as well.
At a tall, round table near the billiards corner, Macarena
and Rizos sat on high stools with Zulema, Helena, and
Saray. Within thirty minutes, Nerea made an appearance
much to Saray’s chagrin followed by a gentleman by the
name of Fabio who seemed to rub Zulema the wrong way
for no apparent reason. It eventually became clear that he
was sleeping with Helena if the way he constantly touched
her was any indication.
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killingsaray
Zulema was right about Macarena. She did look at

everything. She watched the way everyone interacted with
each other and when they were by themselves. It was
obvious that Rizos and Saray were the life of the party,
constantly making jokes and laughing boisterously.
Macarena found herself enjoying everyone’s company. She
assumed they would take themselves seriously, but when
Saray began a game of “guess my crime”, Macarena became
all too aware that she was sure she’d found the group she
wanted to be around for a long time. They pointed to
random people in the bar and tried to guess their
personality based on body language and what type of crime
they would commit.
At some point, Fabio poured the last bit of the beer into
Helena’s glass and a collective, disappointed “aww” went
around the table.
“No worries,” Maca replied, grabbing the pitcher, “I’m on
it. Next round’s on me.”
As she waited at the bar for the next round of beer, Zulema
appeared next to her. Macarena cleared her throat and
shifted slightly to the left, just in case she was in Zulema’s
way.
Zulema bluntly inquired, “Do I make you nervous, rubía?”
“I wouldn’t say nervous,” The blonde confessed. “You
intimidate me, but I have a feeling you enjoy that.”
Zulema neither confirmed nor denied Macarena’s
statement. She held up two fingers to the bartender and
then slid her credit card towards him.
“Why don’t you ever say more than ten words to me at a
time?” Macarena asked. Both Zulema and Macarena were
54
sure it was the alcohol giving her the confidence to ask, but
at least she finally asked.
“I’m still trying to figure you out.”
That was… okay, yeah that’s fair, Maca thought.
“What’s there to figure out?”
“Everything.”
“You could just ask.”
“I could,” Zulema turned to her and smirked, “but what
fun would that be?”
Maca shook her head, expression matching Zulema. “Fine,
I’ll let you continue to be intimidating.”
“Let me?” Zulema laughed and Maca’s eyes dropped to her
mouth.
“Yeah,” teased Maca, “let you.”
“Vale.” The two pitchers of beer and a receipt were placed
between the two women.
“Word of advice on being intimidated by something or
someone,” Zulema offered, signing her name on the credit
card receipt, “if you can’t get past the fear, go for it anyway.”
Maca’s jaw dropped. Zulema turned to walk away with the
pitchers of beer before stopping in her tracks. “That was
twenty-one words, by the way.”
Macarena grinned.
“Venga, rubíta,” Zulema called over her shoulder. “You
can get the next round.”
55
killingsaray
Chapter 8:
Black Tie
Macarena felt like she was floating on air when she got
home from the bar. She went through her nighttime routine
with a dopey grin on her face as she relived the last couple
of hours.
When they’d returned to their table of friends, Zulema
made it a point to stand next to the right of Maca’s chair.
Rizos noticed and when no one else was looking, she gave
Macarena a wide-eyed ‘I see what’s going on here’
expression. The small touches continued with Zulema’s arm
brushing across Maca’s shoulder as she leisurely rested her
arm on the back of her chair. At one point, as the
conversation shifted to the pros and cons of using profiling
tactics in a relationship, Saray wrapped an arm around
Zulema’s neck and whispered something in her ear. Zulema
looked at Maca, then back to Saray before shrugging. The
dynamic duo disappeared to the bathroom not long after
that, and when they returned, the group slowly began to
disperse, calling it a night.
The blonde turned off her bathroom light and padded
barefoot into her bedroom, scooping her phone from her
bedside table as she went. Maca flopped down into her bed,
pillows attempting to suffocate her with their fluff. She
unlocked her phone and opened the Instagram app,
scrolling through the pics Rizos had tagged her in. She
found one of her, Rizos, Saray, and Zulema. Zulema wasn’t
tagged.
But Saray was.
56
She clicked on Saray’s tag and was immediately brought to

the woman’s Instagram page. The most recent photograph
was of her and Zulema, taken under the red lighting in the
bathroom of The Academy. No doubt during their bathroom
trip.
Zulema was tagged!
Eagerly, Maca clicked on it and thanked the heavens that
Zulema’s page was public. She scrolled further and further
down, opening each picture and reading captions and
comments. Zulema’s aloof nature in person was completely
different from the way she interacted with her friends in the
comment section. She was witty, yet concise in her
responses and, more than once, Macarena found herself
chuckling out loud. Before long, Macarena had reached the
end of Zulema’s page and all she wanted was more. So she
began to tap through the photographs that Zulema was
tagged in. Most of them also included Saray as well.
Eventually, she was beginning to recognize faces and put
together how Zulema and Saray knew certain people.
Then she made a mistake. Under one particular picture of
Saray and Zulema in a car, Saray jokingly commented on
how the sun enhanced her own bare-faced beauty. In the
replies, Zulema said ‘careful, your narcissistic tendencies
are showing’.
Maca laughed out loud before tapping the little heart
beside Zulema’s comment. Instantly, her heart started to
pound and she quickly unliked it. But the damage was done.
Zulema was sure to get a notification that Macarena had
liked a comment on a picture that was nearly six months
old, and it wasn’t even on Zulema’s actual page!
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killingsaray
“Way to go, stalker.” Macarena scolded herself. She began

to play scenarios in her head about Zulema’s reaction.
Would she be flattered? Annoyed? Would she begin to build
a profile on Macarena?
Maca had just opened her web browser to google ‘how to
pass a class without ever showing your face again’ when
her phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram at the
top of her screen:
@zulemazahiroficial started following you!
Macarena sat up on her bed, eyes wide. That bubbly
excitement returned in full force. A muffled squeal escaped
her throat and she kicked her feet childishly.
Maybe, just maybe, their next interaction would be a lot
less awkward than Maca thought.
Across town, Zulema and Saray had been sitting in
Zulema’s den, laughing at someone Saray said. It was a
regular thing for them; when they were having a good time
they didn’t want it to end, so Zulema enticed Saray over
with the promise of good whiskey and good laughs. At some
point, Zulema had picked up her phone to find an email that
she was telling Saray about. As she scrolled through, Saray
shifted a few times on the couch, getting comfortable. Then
something happened, she got a notification from Instagram
at the top of her screen and she had to do a double-take.
Clicking on it, it brought her to an older photo of herself
and Saray.
So, Macarena Ferreiro had been looking through her
pictures, Zulema deduced.
"Saray, guess what?"
"Mm?" Came a sleepy response. She looked over the top of
her phone to see Saray snuggled up on the couch under a
58
mountain of decorative pillows with her eyes closed. Zulema

shook her head and turned back to her phone.
Would she be crossing a line if she started to follow
Macarena? Zulema prided herself on professionalism, but
there was something about Maca that Zulema found herself
absolutely drawn to, and it was getting harder and harder to
resist the magnetic pull between them.
So, she tapped Macarena's username and then hit the
'follow' button. Zulema waited for a few moments to see if
Macarena would return the gesture, but nothing happened.
Sighing, Zulema pushed off of the couch and just as she sat
her phone down, it vibrated. Zulema picked it back up and
read the notification.
@maca.ferreiro started following you!
With a satisfied nod of her head and a soft smile on her
face, Zulema replaced the pillows covering Saray with the
blanket from the back of the sofa. She turned the lights out
and headed to bed.
***
As the next few weeks seemed to fly past, Zulema and

Macarena had settled into a little routine. Over the
weekends, they would post short pictures or videos on their
Instagram stories, and wait impatiently for the other to
watch them. Then, on Monday mornings, there were the
accidentally-on-purpose run-ins at the campus coffee shop.
Sometimes, Zulema would pull her into a brief
conversation, usually beginning it with praise or criticism of
Maca’s most recent assignment. It never lasted longer than
the time it took for a barista to fix their drinks.
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killingsaray
In class, Maca sat in the front row with Rizos beside her
and an eager-to-learn expression on her face. She watched
Zulema intently as the older woman paced back and forth,
lecturing them in criminal psychology.
On one particular Monday, Macarena had been focusing
extra hard on Zulema and the way she moved and spoke
and gestured with her hands because she’d totally zoned out
and didn’t realize it until Rizos nudged her.
“Rubía, class is over. Let’s go.”
“Qué?” Maca looked around and saw some students
packing up while others were already heading for the door.
“Sorry.”
Maca looked over at Zulema, who was sitting at her desk,
fingers clicking away at the keys. Rizos followed her gaze
and grinned. She leaned over Maca’s desk, whispering, “Hot
for teacher?”
“What?” Maca scoffed. “No! Don’t be ridiculous.”
Rizos’ brows disappeared under curly bangs. “The lady
doth protest too much, methinks.”
“Remind me again why you’re taking Intro to
Shakespeare.”
“Because I’m trying to become more cultured.”
“Mhm.” Maca said in disbelief, gathering her things, “and
the professor?”
“Not bad to look at.”
Maca laughed and slung an arm around Rizos’ neck.
“That’s the Rizos that I’ve come to know and love.”
The pair started towards the door and just before they
rounded the corner, Maca turned back around to see
Zulema looking directly at her, an unknown look dancing in
her eyes.
60
***
Two weeks before Halloween, Macarena was walking

around her apartment, half-heartedly cleaning while talking
on the phone to Rizos when a knock sounded at her door.
“Hang on, there’s someone at my door.”
“That’s so weird, someone just rang the buzzer here too,”
Rizos responded.
Macarena opened her front door but there was no one
there. She looked down and on her doorstep was a gold
envelope and a red rose sitting on her welcome mat.
Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, Maca
scooped down to pick it up and as she opened it, she heard
Rizos chuckle.
“What happened?”
“Saray is having her annual Halloween murder mystery
dinner.”
Maca pulled out a black, heavy stock invitation. In gold
calligraphy, it announced the exact same dinner party that
Rizos had just mentioned.
“Oh, looks like I was invited too.”
“Really?” Rizos’ excitement suddenly shot through the roof
and she squealed happily. “Maca, it’s going to be so much
fun! We get all dressed up, Saray has this incredible
company to cater dinner. We drink, eat, and profile one
another in order to figure out who the murderer is.”
Rizos launched into a very detailed description of the
previous year’s dinner. It was the only year that no one had
figured out who the murderer was, and naturally, it was
Zulema.
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“She outsmarted everyone and even managed to pass the

suspicions onto other guests. It was great.”
“Okay, I’m actually getting really excited. This sounds like
so much fun.”
“It is. Plus,” Rizos added, “Saray makes this drink called
The Necromancer that has absinthe in it and, let me tell
you, a lot of unexpected hookups happen.”
“Seriously?” The thought of Zulema hooking up with
someone that wasn’t her sent Maca into a tailspin.
“Yup.” Rizos gasps again. “We have to go shopping.”
That got Maca’s attention. “Yes!”
Then they spent the rest of their phone call planning a
shopping date.
***
Pozuelo De Alarcón, Madrid, Saturday, Halloween, 8:17

PM
Black-tie was the dress code, and despite trying on dozens
of dresses in just as many stores, Maca and Rizos still ended
up being fitted for dinner suits. Maca’s with exaggerated
shoulders and sequined lapels offset Rizos’ sheer pants and
the sleeveless bodice worn underneath. They decided on
splurging for an uberBlack where they were picked up and
driven to their destination in a black-on-black luxury SUV.
They pulled up to an extraordinary Tuscan-style villa just
east of Las Encinas set amidst a sprawling vineyard that
could just barely be seen under the brilliant moonlight.
Macarena and Rizos were led through a beautiful maze-like
garden to a backyard that was more the size of a park by a
62
hostess dressed in a gold corset, white satin shorts, and a

matching tuxedo jacket with long tails.
“Bienvenido a El Oasis,” she said as she gestured for them
to roam freely.
White string lights gave the backyard a soft glow across the
six sixty-foot sailcloth event tents. A long rectangular table
clothed in black linen was decorated with white candles
floating in rectangular glass vases filled with water. The
light danced and gave the white ginger lilies placed beside
them an almost-angelic glow. Expensive white china was
paired with gold utensils, SV etched at the handle, were
placed in a formal Italian setting, complete with table
numbers. Tall, white candles were safely and strategically
placed to give the seats a more intimate feeling.
A dozen or so guests were scattered about, not including
the servers who weaved in and out of the guests, holding
hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne.
“Wow,” Macarena said.
“Yeah, Halloween is Saray’s second favorite holiday. She
goes all out.”
“So, I see.”
Macarena looked around, raking in everything that was so
beautifully decorated, but she’d be lying if she said she
wasn’t looking for something in particular.
Or rather… someone.
“Don’t worry,” Rizos said, pulling off the last two
champagne flutes from the tray of a passing server and
handing one to Macarena, “she’ll be here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Macarena
smirked.
“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”
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“Speaking of people being here,” Maca said, “I can’t help

but notice Nerea isn’t here tonight.”
“She didn’t get an invite,” Rizos admitted.
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“Yes, very.”
“Oh, come off it, Rizos. You’re planning on hooking up
with Sar—.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the hostess from earlier
interrupted, “everyone has a place at the table and if you’ll
be so kind as to find yours, the evening will commence.”
The guests walked around the long table, searching for
their names and pointing to others if someone needed help.
Rizo’s name was on the right, beside the head of the table
that undoubtedly belonged to Saray.
Maca turned to read the two name tags she was standing
in front of her, one to Saray’s left and one just beside it.
“Well, well,” came a voice that was cigarettes and sex and
all of Macarena’s deepest desires at once, “it looks like
you’re stuck next to me tonight.”
Macarena turned to find Zulema in sheer black stockings,
black high-waisted pin-up shorts, a lace bustier, and a
blazer with the sleeve rolled up. Her jaw dropped.
“Wow.” Maca breathed.
“Yeah, I’ve been getting that reaction a lot tonight,”
Zulema said as she pulled out her chair.
And then, came that godforsaken smirk.
64
Chapter 9:
La Asesina y La Inspectora
No sooner had everyone taken their assigned seats, there

were a few moments of silence before a loud shriek
sounded. And everyone craned their necks to find where the
noise had come from. The scantily-clad hostess from earlier
ran from the garden maze.
"There's been a murder!" She shouted.
"You are now in Venice, Italy,” Saray’s voice appeared
before she did.
She exited the house via the French doors, forcing
everyone to turn around. One hand in the pocket of her
tailored tuxedo pants and the other holding a lit cigarillo,
she continued, “The year is thirteen-hundred. You, the rich,
elite, and corrupt, are all witnesses, whether you know it or
not. There are thirteen not-so-innocent bystanders. One
victim." As she spoke, Saray stalked around the dinner
table, touching her guests while gesticulating with her
smoking hand as she spoke, until she finally reached her
chair at the head of the table. "If you will look under your
dinner plates, a card with your character for the evening.
Every card has a list of characteristics necessary for your
cover. Be charming, strategic, clever. There is a twist in this
year’s game. This time there is one murderer and one
accomplice. The murderer’s mission is to find their
accomplice by the end of the evening, but be careful,”
warned Saray, “don’t mistake your accomplice with the
inspector. If you don’t have a card under your plate, you are
the victim.”
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killingsaray
The guests all lifted their plates and retrieved their cards.
Except for Rizos.
“Aww,” she pouted.
Saray ran the knuckle of her finger down Rizos’ cheek.
“Sorry, cariño. Looks like you’ll have to sit this one out with
me this year.”
Zulema and Maca looked at one another, each giving each
other a knowing look.
“Mingle, drink, investigate, find out who knows what.
Along with these appetizers," servers began placing plates of
food in front of the guests, along with small notebooks and
pens, "are your interview notepads. Use them wisely. Before
dessert, you will place your guesses in these hats." Another
of the servers showed off a black tophat with a Vanna-White
flourish. "One for the murderer. One for the accomplice. Be
sure to write your name on your submission and include
motive, weapon, and/or opportunity. There's a wonderful
prize for whoever figures out who the murderer and
accomplice are first."
Saray held up her glass of champagne and finished with,
"Happy hunting."
Maca opened her card and read it.
Character: Murderer.
Personality traits: Avid gardener. Avid reader.
Mysterious. Seductive.
Motive: Secretly in debt. Needs to collect on a multi-
million-dollar insurance policy in which you are the
beneficiary to run away with your lover (accomplice).
Weapon: Hemlock, fed to a quail. Quail fed to the victim
as their last supper.
This was going to be fun.
66

***
After they’d tasted the appetizers, the guests were permitted

to roam the grounds, admiring the villa as they tried to
solve the mystery. Maca mingled and found herself
speaking with some incredibly brilliant people. Saray really
knew a wide range of personalities, and they all seemed to
mesh well together. There was a fellow DJ, a few profilers, a
couple of therapists, and even Helena was in attendance.
Zulema watched everyone.
Macarena watched her.
It seemed that no matter where she was in the garden, her
eyes automatically gravitated towards her professor. She
saw the brunette looking at everyone’s body language,
watching for any signs of guilt. But it was their faces that
she really focused on. She tilted her head when she spoke
with people, and her eyes squinted suspiciously when she
chatted with others.
Just before the first course was served, it dawned on
Macarena that Zulema was the inspector.
“You’ll make a good profiler,” Zulema said, crossing her
arms over her chest. “You look at everything.”
Zulema had been speaking from experience. A slow grin
crept across the blonde’s face.
The premise of the game was fun, but now… well now
Macarena was absolutely delighted by the idea of trying to
outsmart Zulema Zahir.
“She’s enchanting, no?” A voice came from over
Macarena’s shoulder. She whirled around, careful of her
freshly topped off champagne flute.
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“Who now?”
Helena jutted her chin towards Zulema. “It’s her
mysterious nature, I think. She gives just a little to pull you
in, make you think she’s yours, and then you spend the rest
of your life wondering if you ever really had her to begin
with.”
“Beautiful things aren’t meant to be possessed,” Macarena
replied, shocking even herself with the statement. She
didn’t know where it’d come from, but there was something
about Helena that rubbed her the wrong way.
“Of course they aren’t but the fun comes with trying.”
Maca hummed in disagreement. “And how does that
normally work out for you?”
Helena’s eyebrows rose. She opened her mouth to
respond, but they were interrupted by Rizos who slipped an
arm around Maca’s waist.
“Okay, how fun is this?” Rizos quipped.
“You’re dead, how are you having fun?”
“I’m trying to solve my murder from beyond the grave.”
“Who do you think it is?” Helena inquired.
“Not sure yet, but if you don’t mind, I want to steal Maca
to take a few pictures in the garden.”
“Oh, of course.”
With a polite smile, Rizos steered Macarena away from
Helena.
“I hope you don’t mind me pulling you away, but it looked
like you were going to smack her.”
Maca laughed as they reached the garden where Rizos
proceeded to force Maca to take a dozen pictures of her in
front of a rose wall before she turned the camera on Maca,
herself.
68
Eventually, they were herded back to the dinner table for

the main course where Macarena took her seat beside
Zulema. To her pleasant surprise, Zulema was the first to
initiate conversation.
“So, what do you think of the evening so far?” Crossing her
legs and shifting her upper body to face Maca, Zulema
rested her forearm on the back of her chair. Her free hand
twirled one of the many rings on her fingers. Maca’s eyes
dropped to watch the movement and the image of that ring-
clad hand around her neck flashed through her mind at
lightning speed.
“I’m enjoying myself.”
“Enjoying yourself? With murder afoot?” Zulema asked,
dramatically, a hand suddenly pressed to her own chest.
Macarena laughed. “Any suspects so far?”
Macarena shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to many people, but
Helena is on the top of my list for now.”
Zulema tilted her head to the side. “Oh? Why?”
Because she thinks she still has a chance with you.
“I have my reasons,” Maca said.
The main course —seared chicken, grilled asparagus, and
jasmine rice— was served along with a crystal tumbler of a
cloudy green substance.
The Necromancer.
“Dinner tonight is served with an absinthe cocktail. Drink
at your own risk. Buen provecho.” Saray said and they
tucked into their meals.
“What about you?” Macarena wondered.
“What about me?”
“Any suspects?”
“Everyone.”
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“Even me?”
Zulema’s voice seemed to drop another octave when she
replied, “Especially you, rubía.”
Macarena smiled. “Well, you can relax. I’m just an
innocent bystander.”
“Hm, sounds like something a murderer would say.”
“Or an innocent bystander. Look at this face.” Maca
gestured a circle around her own head. “Is this the face of a
murderer?”
Zulema took the offered opportunity to gaze at Maca, eyes
tracing over her features. “Ted Bundy had a pretty face too,
and we both know how that ended.”
Macarena’s dimpled smile was sudden, lighting up her face
and Zulema seemed to understand the implications of what
she’d said.
She thinks I’m pretty, Maca thought happily.
Zulema suppressed her own smile before shaking her and
turning back to her food. “I don’t know what secret you
have, Macarena Ferreiro, but I’m going to figure it out.”
“Well then,” Maca said, cutting into her chicken, “happy
hunting.”
Across the table, Rizos and Saray who had been watching
the exchange, looked at one another, knowingly.
***
Macarena Ferreiro was far from a lightweight. She could

drink tequila until the cows came home and still be
coherent enough to take a field sobriety test. Absinthe, as it
turned out, was nothing like tequila. The first thing Maca
noticed was that color seemed more… colorful. Her
70
movements felt slower, despite the fact that she was

speaking and moving at a completely normal pace. But the
most exciting effect was that she could feel the way every
little touch set her nerve endings on fire. A gentle tap to her
wrist to get her attention or a hand on the small of her back
to squeeze past her all succeeded in doing one thing:
turning Macarena on.
She’d just turned to murmur as much to Rizos when a
knife tapping against a glass caught everyone’s attention.
“If you’ll all be so kind as to follow me into the house, we
have a special treat for you this evening.”
When Rizos said Halloween was Saray’s second favorite
holiday, she hadn’t been exaggerating. The entire first floor
of the villa had been coordinated perfectly with the
evening’s events. Dark tapestry hung from floor-ceiling
windows. The overhead lights were dimmed to the perfect
setting in order to shine a spotlight on the flickering
candlelight of the dozens of candelabras that were placed
strategically throughout the rooms.
They found themselves in a grand room, home to a baby
grand piano and gleaming marble floors. The lights were
just that much dimmer and the candles seemed to make the
room feel a little more intimate than it was. Saray sat at the
piano and started to play.
You lean on the edge of the bar

And you look at me
With such eyes and what if its a dream
You pass by me and say
Hello, your smile is like a little girl
Is this a crime
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killingsaray
When you touch my hand

And I feel the sky
Zulema appeared out of nowhere and as she began the

next verse, she traipsed slowly towards the piano.
And I’m wondering if this a crime

When you passed behind
You touch my hips on the better sides
Laid out
And then I pass behind
And it's a game they told me not to play
And then you kill my doubts saying, smile
And then you hold my hand strong
You get me, you take me, you break me
Oh what a sweet suicide
Zulema rounded the piano and leaned against it as she and

Saray sang the next few lines to one another. It was slow,
and dark, melancholy even, and Macarena didn’t want it to
ever end. They were both equally as talented, with sultry,
smoky vocals that filled the room.
When they were finished, the room erupted into applause,
Maca and Rizos’ the loudest and the sound echoed through
and through. Saray stood and took Zulema’s hand and
together they took a couple of bows. Saray walked towards
Rizos whose arms were outstretched for a hug.
“You were so good!” Was the last thing Macarena heard
Rizos say before she watched as Zulema disappeared from
the room.
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***
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” Maca said when she
found Zulema outside in the back garden, lighting up a
cigarette.
Zulema chuckled. She took a drag and then blew a steady
stream of smoke from her lips.
“Doctor of psychology, profiler, professor, and singer?”
Macarena crossed the small divide between them and
smiled. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Trigonometry. It just doesn’t make sense to me.” Zulema
joked, waving a hand at the idea.
“Well, now you have my attention. What else can’t you
do?” Maca asked and she plucked the cigarette from
Zulema’s fingers. Zulema was momentarily disarmed by the
power move and the only way to regain the upper hand was
to make a power move of her own.
“A ver,” as she pretended to think, Zulema pushed off of
the stone pillar she’d been leaning against and shifted until
she was standing directly before Macarena, “I can’t cut my
own hair. Tried a few times. The first result was disastrous.”
“That’s a shame,” Macarena feigned pity.
“I can’t ride a bike for too long.”
“No?”
“God no. The side cramps are a bitch.”
“Well, we all have our strengths and weaknesses,” quipped
Maca.
“And for the life of me,” Zulema finished, “I can’t seem to
stay away from you.”
It was then, and only then, did Macarena realize that her
back was now pressed against the same stone column that
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Zulema had been resting against with mere centimeters

separating them now.
“Why would you want to?”
“Moral and ethical conflict?” Zulema took a step closer and
rested her hand beside Macarena’s head. She inhaled and as
she exhaled, she let her eyes drop the Macarena’s lips, her
heaving chest, heeled feet, and back upwards.
“Pesky morals,” breathed Macarena.
Zulema took her cigarette back and took another pull from
it with every intention of shotgunning the smoke into
Macarena’s mouth. She slowly leaned in, eyes bouncing
from Maca’s lips to her eyes, giving the younger woman
ample time to make a decision.
So. Close.
And then someone cleared their throat, forcing the two
apart as if they’d just been caught planning a jewelry heist.
“Hate to interrupt,” Helena said.
“I’m sure you are,” Zulema deadpanned.
Maca slipped around Zulema, murmuring, “I should go.”
She walked swiftly through the house, passing guests as
she went. She eventually reached the front hall, which
resembled the lobby of a hotel rather than an actual house.
There, under the cover and quiet of the otherwise empty
room, Rizos and Saray sat on the left side of the grand
staircase.
“Wait, Maca, where are you going?” Rizos called after her.
“Yeah, we haven’t figured out who the murderer is yet!”
Saray yelled.
But it was to no avail. Maca just wanted to put as much
distance as she could between herself and Zulema Zahir.
74
Just as she headed down the dark path towards the front of
the house, she remembered that she hadn’t driven.
Fuck.
She reached for her clutch to pull out her cell phone, but
her hands were empty.
Way to go, Cinderella, she scolded herself.
Rizos was sure to come out after her, especially seeing how
upset she was. But there was no way that she was walking
back inside. Taking the moments alone as a chance to
breathe deeply and attempt to clear her mind, Maca put her
hands on her hips and looked towards the sky as she paced
up and down the narrow walkway.
“Get it together, Ferreiro,” she coached herself.
Sure enough, a few moments later she heard the even
click-clacking of heels on stone coming from behind her.
Finally, RIzos was there to rescue her, hopefully with her
clutch in hand.
Except before she even turned around, somehow
Macarena knew that it wasn’t Rizos.
“Rizos wanted me to give this to you,” Zulema said.
Macarena turned around and took the silver purse from
Zulema’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Zulema didn’t leave.
Maca noticed.
“Maca, look, I know this is complicated, but I find that I
can’t stop wanting to get to work on Mondays. And yes,
there are probably… no, definitely some ethical reasons why
I shouldn’t do this, but—.”
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killingsaray
Whatever she was going to say was caught off by the

blonde rushing forward, arms wrapping around her neck,
and Macarena pressing her lips against Zulema’s.
76
 
Chapter 10:
Rules
Macarena had been kissed a lot. Some good, some not so

good. Something that she’d come to realize about kissing
men was that they either kissed like they were kissing a
relative, innocent and composed, or they kissed as if they
were in a hardcore porn scene.
Kissing Zulema was on an entirely new level. And it wasn’t
just how she quickly embraced the way Maca launched
herself at the older woman. It was also the way that one of
Zulema’s arms wrapped around Maca’s waist and pulled her
impossibly closer. And it was how her other hand slid up
Macarena’s arm, across her shoulder and around until deft
fingers were stroking the soft hairs at the nape of her neck.
With one hair fisted into dark tresses and the other gripping
Zulema’s dinner jacket, Macarena couldn’t tell where she
stopped and Zulema started.
The absinthe had been strong, sure, but there was
something about the softness of Zulema’s lips that told
Maca that, even sober, she would always feel Zulema’s
kisses everywhere. The tingling started at the top of her
head and worked its way downwards, tickling her eyelashes
and flushing her chest. Zulema’s hand slid into her hair and
Maca moaned softly, giving Zulema permission to slip her
tongue into her mouth, and suddenly that tingling feeling
dropped into the pit of her stomach where it swirled into a
fiery ocean of desire that flooded her panties.
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killingsaray
Maca’s fingers released Zulema’s blazer and fell against

Zulema’s waist, winding around until her fingers touched
the warm skin at the small of Zulema’s back.
Zulema pulled away just enough to murmur, “Fuck,” into
Maca’s mouth and it took every ounce of the blonde’s
energy not to respond, “Yes, please”.
“Well, I came to see if you were okay, but it looks like you
are just fine.”
For the second time that evening, they were forced apart.
This time, by Rizos and the overjoyed visage on her face.
Standing next to her, hands in the pockets of her tuxedo
pants, was Saray, shaking her head with the biggest shit-
eating grin on her face.
“Don’t stop on our account. Really.” Saray pulled a hand
from her pocket with the sole purpose of making a gesture
for them to continue. Rizos scoffed and took the offending
hand, pulling Saray back towards the villa.
“Dessert’s in ten minutes, so make it a quickie!” Saray
called over her shoulder.
Alone again, Zulema cleared her throat and exhaled
deeply. “You know, it would be rude to leave before we find
out who the murderer is.”
Macarena nodded. “I guess it would.”
Zulema stepped forward and Macarena let out a small
noise that sounded a lot like a yearning whine. The brunette
looked amused by that. Zulema ran a thumb underneath
Macarena’s bottom lip, wiping away Zulema’s shade of
lipstick in one smooth swipe.
“We should have drinks tomorrow evening,” Zulema
suggested. “To talk.”
78

“No. No alcohol. I have to be able to think as clearly as I

can with you around.”
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Zulema’s lips and she
nodded.
“How about just dinner?” Maca suggested.
“Dinner is a first date meal.”
Macarena tilted her head. “Brunch?”
“That’s what you have with your grandmother or gay best
friend.”
“Is everything a debate with you?”
“Yes,” Zulema admitted. “Get used to it.”
“Fine. Let’s make a deal.” Macarena said.
“Vale.”
“Vale. If Rizos hooks up with Saray tonight, I pick which
meal we have, and if they don’t hook up, you decide.”
“You have a lot of faith in your friend’s powers of
seduction.”
“No, I actually have faith in your friend’s.”
That made Zulema chuckle.
***
They made it back in time to write down their votes and

drop them into the tophat before taking their places at the
table under the watchful gazes of Saray and Rizos. Dessert
was served, Saray was handed a piece of paper and when
she opened it, she laughed aloud.
“Come on, Saray, don’t keep us in suspense. Who won?”
“Vale, vale. So, will our murderer please stand?”
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Macarena stood from her seat and smiled, waving at

everyone. A round of groans went around the table from the
people who guessed incorrectly.
“And our accomplice?” Saray prompted. No one else stood,
and there was a bit of confusion until Saray’s bubbling
laughter started and that’s when it dawned on them that
Saray had been the accomplice. Macarena hadn’t even
guessed that one correctly, mostly because Rizos had
monopolized Saray’s attention for the majority of the night.
Maca hadn’t even had a chance to speak to Saray.
“And how about our inspector?”
A moment of silence before Zulema stood from her chair
briefly.
Well, at least I’m not complete shit at profiling, Macarena
thought to herself.
When Zulema sat back down, she crossed her legs and
rested her arm on the rest closest to Maca.
“Zulema also happens to be the winner of tonight’s
games,” Saray announced. “She was the only one who
guessed everyone’s roles correctly. She knew I was the
accomplice and she knew Macarena was the murderer.”
A round of applause sounded. Zulema turned to Macarena,
placing one arm on the back of Macarena’s chair and the
fingers on the other tangled with Macarena’s under the
cover of the table. She leaned over to mutter into Maca’s
ear, “Caught you.”
Macarena’s thighs clenched together. Zulema’s eyes shot
downward to witness the movement. Not that she had to.
Not with the way Maca’s fingers had suddenly flexed against
Zulema’s.
“How did you figure it out?”
80
As mysterious as ever, Zulema replied, “I think I’ll keep

that to myself for a little while longer.”
***
As Maca’s luck would have it, Rizos had managed to keep it

in her pants for the evening, even going so far as to take an
uber back to Macarena’s apartment. They sat in the living
room for a bit, talking about the dinner and how fun it was.
Eventually, Rizos couldn’t take the small talk anymore.
Hands cupping a mug of tea, Rizos finally said, “Maca,
fuck the villa and its decor, what’s going on between you
and Zulema?”
Maca curled up under a throw blanket, dropped her head
back onto the couch, sighing to the ceiling. “I have no clue. I
mean, obviously, I like her. Who doesn’t? But I think it’s
like you said, hookups happen at Saray’s dinner parties.”
Maca shrugged and looked into her mug of tea, playing with
the teabag.
“I don’t know. That kiss seemed to say she likes you too.”
“She’s our professor, Rizos.”
“So?”
“So, it’s complicated, and I’m sure breaking some sort of
unwritten rule.”
“Rules are made to be broken.”
Maca’s head lolled to the side to look at Rizos. “I’m not a
rule breaker. Plus—.”
“Plus what?”
“We all had a little too much to drink tonight. That
absinthe cocktail was pretty strong.”
“You’re kidding right?”
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killingsaray
“No, why would I be?”

“Ay Dios, you’re never going to make it as a profiler if
you’re distracted from the details by the beauty of your
target.”
Maca lifted her head from the couch and looked confused.
Rizos sighed dramatically.
“Zulema didn’t drink the absinthe,” Rizos pointed out.
“She had a glass of champagne that she pretty much nursed
all night.”
That didn’t make Macarena feel any better. In fact, it made
her feel a little worse. She groaned and her head went back
to the couch.
“What now?” Rizos half-laughed. “That’s a good thing.
That means she was sober enough to make the decision to
kiss you.”
“No,” whined Maca, “I kissed her! What if she thinks I’m
just a drunk slut who goes around kissing people every time
she drinks?”
“You’re overthinking this, rubía.”
“Am I? Or are you just underthinking this?”
Rizos asked Macarena how the kiss was even initiated.
Maca went through the story from start to finish with only a
few interruptions from Rizos in between.
“She wishes for Mondays?” Rizos asked, one hand on her
chest. “Why is that the most romantic thing I’ve ever
heard?”
Macarena rolled her eyes. “Calla.”
“Maca,” Rizos said sincerely as she reached over and
squeezed her friend’s hand, “she likes you too. Zulema is
just--.”
“Enigmatic?”
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“Broken.”
That wasn’t what Macarena expected. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”
“It means that Zulema’s fortress walls that are made of
profiling and psychoanalyzing everyone are just a defense
mechanism.”
“I don’t know if I have what it takes to break them down.”
“Well then, for the sake of your sex life, I hope her walls
aren’t as impenetrable as you think they are.” Rizos
laughed.
“You’re disgusting.” Maca laughed with her.
***
The blonde was awakened by the obnoxious sound of a

phone buzzing on one of her bedside tables. Head still
hidden under the pillow, she stretched her arm, blindly
searching for her cell phone, to no avail. She pushed the
pillow and blankets off, sitting up in bed confused. Then she
felt movement. Turning to the side, she watched as a brown
arm was also reaching blindly for the phone that was
threatening to vibrate itself right onto the floor. Rizos
grabbed it in time, rolling onto her back and pressing it to
her ear.
“Dime?” Rizos groaned. “Saray, it’s like six in the
morning.”
Maca looked at the red numbers of the alarm clock that
read 09:28. She snorted, rolled her eyes, and then lie back
in bed, trying to get more sleep. Before her head could even
hit the pillow, she felt Rizos jolt up in bed.
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“What? When?” Then she smacked Maca’s arm a few times

to get her attention.
“Ow! What?”
“Zulema wants your number?”
“What?”
“She texted Saray that she wants your number. Can I give
it to Saray to give to her?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Rizos said into the phone. “Saray says she wants
to get a late breakfast with you.”
Maca tossed her head back and laughed heartily.
“She’s laughing,” Rizos told Saray. “I don’t know. Inside
joke maybe?”
“I recommended brunch and she said—… Nevermind, you
had to be there.” Maca said.
“Yeah, inside joke,” Rizos confirmed. She took the phone
away from her ear and tapped at the touchscreen a few
times. “Okay, I just sent you Maca’s number.” Rizos listened
to something Saray said before laughing heartily.
“What? What?” Maca asked.
“She said we’ll be the best woman and maid of honor at
your wedding.”
Maca rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should get through
breakfast and pass her class first.”
Rizos was just about to respond when they heard Maca’s
phone chime. In unison, their eyes widened and they both
started tossing covers and pillows to the side to find Maca’s
phone in the bed. Rizos lifted it up in triumph and handed it
to Maca, who unlocked the screen and quickly read through
the first message.
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-Good morning, Maca. It’s Zulema. Would you be

interested in having breakfast with me this morning?
-Of course. Did you have a place in mind?
-HanSo Cafe? In an hour?
-See you then.
“I have an hour to look presentable.”
“Saray, I gotta go. I have to do damage control.” Rizos
hung up the phone and jumped out of bed in the shirt and
shorts that Macarena lent her to sleep in. She made her way
to Maca’s closet and pushed open the sliding doors. Hands
on her hips, she scanned the wardrobe. “Maca?”
“Yeah?”
“What the hell are you waiting for? Go shower!”
Maca scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Rizos sighed to herself. “These two idiots are made for
each other.”
***
Maca lifted her blue-tinted sunglasses onto the top of her

and scanned the café, almost immediately spotting Zulema
in a corner seating area. In a men’s gray button-up, dark
pants, and her clear-framed glasses that made Maca
absolutely feral, Zulema scrolled on her phone as she
waited. Maca took a deep breath, tousled her still damp hair
to give it a little volume, and started towards the table.
Sensing someone approaching, Zulema looked up from her
phone and smiled when she saw Macarena. She sat her
phone down and took her glasses off, smiling softly.
“Hi,” Zulema said.
“Hi,” Maca replied as she sat down.
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killingsaray
“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”
They gazed at one another for a few moments. Then, the
unlikely pair chuckled softly.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.” Maca said,
gesturing between herself and Zulema.
“Have a conversation? Normally, I say something then you
respond, and so on and so forth,” teased Zulema.
“Oh, you have a sense of humor? Nope, this will never
work. I’m always serious,” Maca replied in jest.
“Always serious, and lacks time management skills. Your
resume is writing itself.”
Maca’s feigned offense. “I beg your pardon, I’ve been on
time for the last,” she pretended to count on her fingers,
“eight classes.”
Zulema pointed to the menu, “Should I order you a
cookie?”
Maca grinned. “No, I’m counting calories?”
“Why? You look amazing.”
That put a pause on their playful banter. Zulema cleared
her throat and looked down at the menu, seriously this
time.
“Thank you,” Maca said, sincerely.
It was weird how she’d gone from extremely nervous to
absolutely comfortable back to nervous and shy in less than
five minutes in Zulema’s presence. She’d always been
confident but there was something about Zulema that made
Maca want to please her.
In more ways than one.
“But I should be saying that to you. Last night, your outfit.
You looked incredible.”
86
“I did, didn’t I?” Zulema teased. She laughed at Maca’s

incredulous expression. “I’m kidding. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
A barista came over to take their orders, and as she
collected their menus, Maca took the moment to think of
what she wanted to say next.
“So, I—.” Maca started at the same time as Zulema began,
“Last night—.”
“Sorry, you first,” Zulema suggested.
“I wanted to apologize for, you know, lunging at you last
night.”
Zulema smirked. “To be fair, it wasn’t an unwelcome
lunge.”
“I don’t want you to think that I just lunge at everyone
after a couple of drinks.”
“I don’t think that.” Dark brows knitted together. “I just
think we both should set some ground rules if we are going
to be lunging at one another.”
Maca sat up straight like she did whenever Zulema
emphasized the importance of a topic in class. “Rules. Okay.
I’m ready.”
“First rule: no special treatment.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good. Second rule: we shouldn’t do anything that could
get us in trouble on campus.”
Well, Maca mused, there goes my desk-ruler fantasy.
“Okay.” The blonde nodded.
“And thirdly, I like to keep my private life private. And I
know Rizos is your best friend, but—.”
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“Say no more,” Macarena interrupted. “Something tells me

if I told her anything, Saray would know within 30
seconds.”
Zulema exhaled in annoyance. “You have no idea. For exes,
they sure do share a lot.”
“It’s weird, no?” Maca replied.
“Oh god, beyond weird.”
Zulema sat back in her chair, fingers picking at a loose
string on the tablecloth. “Any rules for me?”
“I think we should compartmentalize when it comes to
personal versus professional. Like if you’re mad at me for
something, it shouldn’t be taken out on my work.”
Zulema nodded. “I agree.”
Their orders were delivered to their table and Zulema
picked up her coffee and held it up. “To new adventures.”
Maca tapped her ceramic cup against Zulema’s.
In the back of her mind, Maca kept hearing Rizos’ warning
about Zulema being a softer person than she let the world
think she was.
And just before the bill came, Zulema looked up from her
coffee and her dark green eyes shifted to Macarena and
there was a look in her eyes that Maca couldn’t believe was
there. But it hit the blonde right in her heart.
Please don’t hurt me, they said.
And suddenly, it was Maca’s mission to make sure she
never did.
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Chapter 11:
Tribe
Macarena was lying upside down on her couch, blonde hair

dangling to the floor, as she looked at her television. Feet
crossed at the ankles on the back of the sofa and a phone to
her ear, she laughed freely.
“Okay, so, now they’re at the bonfire and this is where it
gets good. They’ll be able to see everything that their
significant others have been doing on the island.”
On the other end of the phone, Zulema shook her head as
she cut up vegetables for dinner, chuckling at Macarena.
She looked up and was able to see the television from her
spot at the kitchen island. The same TV show was playing,
only muted, and Zulema struggled to understand the appeal
of it, but apparently, Macarena loved it, and so… she would
at least try.
“So it’s basically a social experiment.”
“If you want to look at it that way.”
“It’s the only way I can look at it, otherwise what’s the
point of it?”
“There is no point, Zulema. That’s the point.”
“Ah, so just a waste of time.”
“Exactly. It’s meant to be a senseless drama that helps you
to escape reality. At least, for an hour.”
“Escaping reality is for people whose lives aren’t what they
want them to be.”
Maca flipped over and pushed herself up completely onto
the couch. “You can try, but you can’t ruin this for me. I am
in my Temptation Island zone.”
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Zulema laughed and used the knife to shuffle the

vegetables into the sizzling saucepan on the stove. “I’m not
trying to ruin this for you. I’m just saying if you’re going to
fill your brain with this useless information, at least take
something away from it.”
“Like what?”
“If I told you that then I would be enabling your reality
show addiction,” teased Zulema, “but I just think you can
use your craft even in the most unlikely places.”
Macarena smiled softly even though Zulema couldn’t see
it. “Oh, I get it, I’m talking to Dr. Zahir right now. I thought
you were off the clock.”
Macarena could hear the laughter in Zulema’s voice when
the brunette responded, “I always have time to teach you a
lesson.”
There was a pregnant pause where they both contemplated
the weight of those words.
“I—.”
Didn’t mean it the way it sounded? That would have been
a lie.
“I know,” Macarena confirmed because she knew that
while they were both there physically, they had yet to get
there mentally and emotionally.
And something within Macarena let her know that all
three had to align before she and Zulema took the next step.
Besides, for now, they had only shared a drunken kiss and
a few small moments shared between them. They’d yet to go
on a proper date, but when they did, Maca hoped beyond
hope that she and Zulema were as compatible intellectually
and emotionally.
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Lightening the subject, Zulema asked, “Okay, so what’s the

narcissistic blonde’s deal? Is she with the sociopathic frat
boy?”
Maca gasped. “You’re watching it?”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“Oh, it’s so a thing,” Maca said before launching into an
excited explanation as to who the two people were.
Macarena found herself explaining the characters to Zulema
using psych terms and personality traits.
Huh, she thought, maybe Zulema was onto something.
***
Try as she might, Macarena was not able to squeeze her

eyes tightly and wish away midterm exams. Come day or
night, hell or high water, there was a book constantly glued
to her hand and a pen and highlighters in every color close
by. Her bathroom mirror was practically covered in neon-
colored sticky notes for her to study as she performed.
Index cards littered the bottom of her backpack and
handbags, alike, yet she still felt unprepared.
Macarena was mainlining coffee to cram until sunrise only
to regret it later as she tried desperately not to doze off in
class. A task that she failed miserably during Zulema’s
lecture one Monday morning. The loud slap of a textbook
being dropped onto a desk jolted Macarena out of her semi-
conscious state, eyes popping open.
“Miss Ferreiro, sorry we’re keeping you awake,” Zulema
scolded.
“Sorry, profesora,” Macarena replied, sitting up straight
and picking up her pen to take notes.
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When Zulema turned back to the blackboard to write

something down, Rizos leaned over to Maca.
“You know, you could get us all As if you just fucked her
already, right?” She murmured.
“Calla!” Maca hissed back, nudging Rizos away with her
elbow.
“I’m just saying if you hook up with Zulema, maybe she
wouldn’t be so serious all the time.”
“Rizos, it’s not going to happen,” whispered Maca. “What
happened at Saray’s dinner was a one-time thing. Let it go.”
“And what about breakfast?”
“We talked about the fact that it was inappropriate and
wouldn’t happen again. That’s all.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“What are you, my ther—?”
“Ferreiro and Kabila, is there something you’d like to share
with the rest of the class?” Professor Zahir inquired. The
two women turned to find Zulema leaning against the front
of her desk with her hands slipped into the pockets of her
dark gray chinos.
“No, professor,” the pair responded in unison.
“See me in my office after class. Both of you,” Zulema said.
“For now, I think it’s best if you separated yourselves for the
remainder of this lecture.”
“Thanks a lot, Rizos.” An embarrassed Macarena packed
up her laptop and moved across the aisle to the empty seat
on the end. And for the remainder of their time in Zulema’s
lecture, she pouted and refused to make eye contact with
either Rizos or Zulema.
***
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Macarena and Rizos had sat on opposite sides of the waiting

room to be seen by Zulema for what felt like ages. Rizos
looked bored.
Not that it mattered because Maca was actively ignoring
Rizos’ attempts to get her attention, and her frustration
presented itself in the form of her leg bouncing. Her mind
couldn’t stop thinking up scenarios that would probably
never happen. The first was Zulema kicking her out of the
course for falling asleep. The next was Zulema forcing her to
write “I will not fall asleep in class” more than a hundred
times.
And she was just halfway through a delicious conjuring of
thoughts of Zulema bending her over her desk and
punishing her with that same godforsaken ruler from her
fantasies when Zulema finally opened her office door.
“Maca?”
Maca’s head shot up and she pulled her thumbnail out of
her mouth.
“Venga,” the brunette summoned, gesturing with her
head. The blonde stood and followed Zulema into her office.
The soft clicking of the door shutting behind her sent chills
up Macarena’s spine and she realized she was, once again,
alone with Zulema. Nothing would happen, she was sure of
that. Not that anything could happen, not without breaking
one of their rules. Still, being alone with Zulema was
strangely sexy.
“Sit,” Zulema told her and Macarena sat. At first, Zulema
looked at the chair beside Maca, contemplating the
closeness, before ultimately rounding her desk and taking a
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seat. Her hands fell to the armrests of her chair and she
leaned back.
“You look exhausted.”
“Cramming will do that to you.”
Zulema nodded. “I really wish you wouldn’t put so much
undue pressure on yourself. You’re a smart woman. You’ll
do just fine without trying to fit three months’ worth of
coursework into a few hours.”
“That’s easier said than done, but thank you for the
compliment.” Maca smiled at Zulema.
“I can quote at least three different studies which prove
that stressing your brain out can have effects that last well
after college.”
“By scientists and psychologists who probably crammed all
night in college to earn their titles.”
Zulema smirked. “True, but I’m sure they wish they were
told what I’m telling you now.”
Macarena shrugged once.
“There are all kinds of things that could help you relax and
unwind.”
Maca’s mint green eyes flicked upwards to meet Zulema’s
and in unison, they both seemed to realize what she’d said.
Each looked away, lips curling into knowing smiles. Maca
reached forwards and tilted Zulema’s letter opener until it
was set straight along the edge of her desk.
“I’m sorry about what happened in class. Rizos can be…
persistent.” Macarena told her.
“Just keep in mind what I said.”
Keep your head in the books and try not to let Rizos pull
you into her party-girl lifestyle.
“I will.”
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For a few heartbeats, the duo simply looked at one another

as they both tried to decide what else could be said or done
without breaking any of their rules.
“Would you want to go to dinner with me?” Maca blurted
out.
Zulema inhaled and reached forward to shuffle some
unruly papers together. “I would.”
“Okay.” Maca smiled.
“After midterms,” finished Zulema.
“What?” Macarena asked. “But that’s a whole week away.”
“Well then, rubía, you’ll have something to look forward
to.”
Maca groaned. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Zulema repeated, smirking.
It was nice for her ego to know that Macarena couldn’t
wait to be alone with her in a less professional atmosphere.
The feeling was mutual. But, at least for now, Zulema
wouldn’t say as much. Hell, she wouldn’t allow herself to
put too much energy into the thought. Mostly because there
were things beyond Macarena’s current purview that kept
Zulema’s emotional walls built high around her. Plus, there
were the rules.
But there would always be that magnetic pull to want to
touch Macarena. So when she dismissed the blonde, she
went against her better judgment and walked Maca to the
door. Before she opened it, Macarena turned abruptly,
unaware of how close Zulema was. Her breath hitched and
as Zulema went to take a step back, Maca wrapped her
middle and ring fingers around Zulema’s, stopping her.
“I really am sorry for today in class. It won’t happen
again,” Maca whispered, eyes searching Zulema’s.
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“You can make it up to me by acing my exam.”

“Oh, but no pressure or anything,” joked Maca.
“Exactly.” And as Macarena turned the knob to open the
door, she finally let Zulema’s fingers go. “One week.”
“One week.” Zulema nodded. Maca disappeared out of the
door to her waiting room and Zulema finally turned her
attention to Rizos.
“Kabila,” she sternly commanded and Rizos stood to her
feet and headed to her sentencing.
***
A loud knock sounded at the door of Macarena’s apartment.

She pushed her laptop away from her on the bed, adjusting
the hoodie on her head and removing her glasses as she
padded down the hallway and towards the front hall.
She peeked out of the peephole and sighed with a roll of
her eyes. Opening the door, she leaned against the doorway,
crossing her arms.
“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble with Professor Zahir
today,” Rizos said.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry and if you’ll let me, I want to
make it up to you.”
Macarena squinted, suspicious. It was then that she
realized Rizos had her messenger bag hanging off of one
shoulder and in her arms was her laptop and a textbook.
“How?”
Rizos turned to her left and said, “Come on, guys.”
“‘Guys’?” Maca asked, standing back and letting Rizos
push open her front door. She walked inside, past Maca,
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and following her was Saray, who dropped a carryout bag

into her hand.
“Yo, rubía, where’s the kitchen? This shit is heavy.” Saray
said, holding two more bags in one arm and a laptop in the
other.
In a state of shock, Maca gestured vaguely towards her
kitchen before moving to shut the door.
“Damn, Maca! Closing the door on guests is super rude,”
came another voice. It belonged to Yolanda, the tall
brunette she’d met in Cruz after the first day of classes. She
held up two bottles of wine. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred
red or white, so we got both.”
And behind her was Luna, the one who’d offered her a
blunt in the club that very same night.
“Listen, I come bearing gifts as well, but I can’t just wave it
around like these putas,” teased Luna. She planted a kiss on
Maca’s cheek and sashayed into the apartment too. Maca
peeked out into the hallway to make sure there were no
more special guests before she shut and locked it.
“What is all of this?” Maca asked, walking into her kitchen
where the group had congregated. She couldn’t help the
smile on her face as she placed the carryout.
“Study party,” Luna said, pivoting so that Maca could see
her designer backpack.
“Saray, you’re not even a student anymore.”
“No, but,” she pointed a finger at Maca, “I was Zulema’s
TA and aced her midterm and final exams with flying
colors.”
“Well, then welcome to my humble abode,” Maca laughed.
“Oye, Maca, glasses?” Yolanda asked, peeling the tin off of
the first bottle of wine to reveal its cork.
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“Top left cabinet, bottom shelf.”

Saray began pulling the contents of the first grocery bags:
candy, popcorn, chips, sunflower seeds, waters, and ready-
to-drink iced coffees.
“The essentials.” Rizos grinned.
“Maca, that’s Chinese takeout. We just ordered a bunch of
everything.” Yolanda said, pouring wine into glasses she’d
found. At the mention of the food, Saray with a mouthful of
popcorn already reached over and tore open the bag to
begin pulling everything out.
“What’s in this one?” Maca asked.
Luna peeked inside and started to pull some stuff out.
Toilet paper, paper towels. “Well,” Rizos told her, “with all
of this food and wine, we figured we’d be using up your
amenities, so we thought we’d replace them.”
“You guys didn’t have to do that.”
“We know. We wanted to,” Rizos told her.
Each of the women was handed a glass of wine by Yolanda
who held hers up.
“To success, ladies. May it always be just out of our reach
so that we’re reminded to work hard.”
“To success.”
Their glasses clinked together and it was a done deal. They
were friends now.
“Alright, the rules of our study party are as follows,” Saray
announced, “no one tells Zulema I was here, and I won’t
have to murder you all. Got it?”
“Whatever,” Luna said, grabbing a paper plate from the
carryout bag to fill with food.
98

“Actual rules of this study party is that we start with the

classes we have together and then the ones we don’t,” said
Rizos.
“Vale and no one leaves until they feel confident enough to
take their midterm,” added Yolanda.
They nodded in agreement and as the girls headed to the
living room to start setting up their laptops and workbooks,
Maca bumped her shoulder with Rizos’.
“Apology accepted.” She told her friend. Rizos pulled her
into a hug, grinning broadly.
“I still think you could get us an easy A, though.”
Maca scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully. “Dios,” she
groaned, “give it up. It’s not gonna happen.”
Rizos shrugged a shoulder, a cheeky grin on her face,
picked up her wine glass, and headed off towards the living
room. Feeling a lot less alone than she had been a mere ten
minutes prior, Maca grabbed her wine glass and started
towards the living room, calling out, “Okay, who is taking
Public Lecturing with Professor Palacios?”
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Chapter 12:
Impressions
The Academy, Friday, 19:47

“Let it never be said that a bottle of wine and Chinese
takeout can’t help you pass midterm exams.”
That was Rizos’ Friday night toast after five days of
midterm exams. Post-Monday night study party, Macarena
felt so incredibly grateful to Rizos and the rest of the girls
for helping her get prepared. No repayment seemed
sufficient enough, so she had called to invite them for
drinks. Her treat. She recommended The Academy.
“For the atmosphere,” she’d told Rizos, who had seen right
through her game.
“You sure you aren’t just hoping to bump into your
favorite professor?”
She could lie to Rizos, terribly of course, but she couldn’t
lie to herself. She had hoped that Zulema would be at the
bar, but they’d been there nearly two hours and there was
no sign of the brunette.
“Maca? Another round? On me?” Luna asked, pulling the
blonde out of her thoughts.
“I told you guys, tonight is on me. Just put it on my tab.
Oh, and order some loaded nachos, too!”
“You got it.”
Macarena hadn’t seen Zulema since her midterm on
Monday and it was true torture. They’d spoken on the
phone a few times that week, but they were short
conversations because both were so busy. She just wanted
to see the brunette again. Be around her. Be alone with her.
100
“Earth to Maca,” Rizos said, snapping her fingers in front

of Macarena’s eyes.
“Sorry, what?”
She noticed the table had been cleared and Rizos was
pointing a thumb behind her where the other women had
disappeared.
“Game of pool?”
A loud commotion came from around the corner of the
sectioned-off pool area. The boisterous laughter that
belonged to Saray and Luna floated towards Macarena’s
ears. Her heart was suddenly alight with the possibility that
wherever Saray was, Zulema wouldn’t be too far behind.
She followed Rizos to the pool tables and the moment she
turned the corner, she scanned the small area. Zulema
wasn’t there. Rizos magnetized towards Saray and she took
the cue stick and chalk from her hands, suggestively
rubbing chalk the stick while staring Saray dead in the eyes.
Maca scoffed, playfully, eye reaching the heavens. “Get a
room, you two.”
“Thank you!” Saray exclaimed arm outstretched. “That’s
what I’ve been telling her. What do you say? For old time’s
sake.”
“In your dreams, Vargas.”
Maca sat her nearly-finished drink down on one of the
high-rise tables along the wall.
“Where are you going?” Rizos asked her.
“Bathroom. Watch my drink.”
“Vale.”
Macarena went into the bathroom, pushing an abundance
of alcohol out of her system. A toilet flushed a couple of
stalls over and hers followed shortly after. And when she
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opened the door of her stall, she had to blink a few times to
make sure she wasn’t drunk.
Standing at the sinks, washing her hands was Zulema.
The brunette looked up and gave Maca a secret smile, but
didn’t say a word. She turned back to her task as Maca
crossed the room and dispensed soap into her hand to begin
her own. She lathered her hands and rinsed them off,
reaching over to flick a little of the water against Zulema’s
forearm as she reached for the paper towels beside the
brunette’s head. Zulema smirked and allowed the blonde to
reach across her upper body. Handing one paper towel to
Zulema, Maca used the other for herself. Then she kissed
Zulema’s cheek, tossed the towelette into the trash, and
exited the bathroom.
A couple of games of pool and across-the-room eye-
fucking between Zulema and Macarena later, the two
groups of friends decided to part ways. Rizos, Maca, Luna,
and Yolanda headed back to one side of the bar, while
Zulema and Saray headed to the other side.
Somehow managing to keep her eyes off of Zulema for an
entire half-hour filled Macarena with pride. Still, there was
a giddiness about her that had nothing to do with the
outrageously funny things that came out of Luna’s mouth.
She knew it had everything to do with the fact that she’d
gotten a moment with Zulema, however brief it may have
been.
A little while later, the owner who also served as the
bartender, brought over a round of drinks.
“A little birdie told me that you ladies just finished your
midterm exams.” He said as he placed the drinks in front of
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them. “Congratulations, girls. I look forward to seeing you

here in uniform someday.”
As the girls went about their conversation, he
conspicuously placed a folded napkin beside Maca’s elbow
on the table. She looked down at it and then back to him
with questioning eyes. He threw her a wink and then off
went on his merry way.
Maca pulled the napkin towards her and opened it.
Congratulations on passing my exam. Dinner tomorrow?
Maca’s eyes snapped up in Zulema’s direction. The
brunette, whiskey rocks in her hand, was gazing directly at
her. Saray’s eyes were glued to the TV watching whatever
game was on and paying absolutely no attention to Zulema
and Macarena.
She gave Zulema a subtle nod and Zulema grinned into the
next sip of her drink.
Holy shit, Maca thought, I have a date with Zulema Zahir.
***
Zalacaín Restaurant, Saturday, 20:02

With a classic-contemporary setting that provided the
backdrop for cuisine that combined past and present,
including an impressive tasting menu and half-portion
options, Zalacaín was the perfect balance of comfort and
intimacy. Macarena and Zulema were sitting in The Lounge
at a table that was much too large for two people alone. The
ambiance was lovely: beautiful flowers and candles
flickering in the middle of the table. Good wine. Expensive
food. Attentive waiters.
Still, something was missing.
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“What’s wrong?” Macarena asked.

“Hm? Nothing,” dismissed Zulema with a soft shake of her
head,
“Tell me.”
“This doesn’t feel—.”
“Right?” Macarena grinned.
“You think so, too?”
Macarena shrugged. “I just expected something,” she
picked her own brain for the right word, “different.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t picture you as the deconstructed
lobster bisque type of person.”
Zulema chuckled. “Well, I’m normally not, but isn’t this
what a first date is all about? Impressing the other person.”
“I’m already impressed with you, Zulema. Besides, I’ve had
haute cuisine. Practically lived on it my whole life.”
Macarena made a cheeky face, her nose scrunched up, and
shook her head. “It does nothing for me.”
Zulema pushed her whiskey rocks away from her and sat
back. Tongue pushing against the corner of her mouth, she
grinned as she signaled their waiter.
“Vale. Tell you what: I happen to know the best place in
the city to get lamb skewers and grilled potatoes. What do
you say?”
“I say I’ll be the judge of that.”
***
They pulled into a residential complex filled with beautiful

homes separated by two and three-car garages, and
sprawling, neat patches of the greenest grass.
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“Where are we?” Maca asked as they pulled up to the

house at the head of the cul-de-sac. Zulema drove the car
into the driveway, put the car in park, and looked over at
Macarena.
“My place.”
She took in the surprised expression on Macarena’s face
for just a moment before grabbing the key fob from the cup
holder and opening her door.
“You coming?”
Still surprised, Maca quickly pulled herself together
enough to exit the car and follow Zulema up the walkway.
Once inside, Zulema dropped her keys in a stained glass
dish on a table in her front hall before grabbing Maca’s
hand and wordlessly lead her further into the house. Just as
Zulema suspected, Macarena looked at everything. Over her
shoulder, she watched in amusement as the blonde’s eyes
bounced from wall to surface to ceiling, taking in whatever
she could.
“Grand tour or food first?”
Macarena’s stomach grumbled in response before her
mouth could.
Zulema grinned. “Vamos, rubía.”
Despite her curiosity at what the other rooms of the
brunette’s house looked like, she allowed herself to be led to
Zulema’s incredible kitchen.
“Sit,” Zulema said and pulled out a high, bar stool and
Macarena climbed up into it, giving her the perfect view of
everything.
Zulema crouched down to open up a wine fridge across
from the stove. She pulled out a bottle and then reached
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high for two glasses. The glasses were filled halfway and one
was placed across the marble countertop to Macarena.
Then Zulema crossed the expansive kitchen again and
opened the fridge, revealing an incredibly organized set up
inside. Water, beer, and mango juices, all perfectly aligned
on the top row, labels faced forward. Macarena squinted as
Zulema knelt to open the crisper. The second and third
shelves were just as put together as the first and it made
Macarena briefly wonder if Zulema was obsessive-
compulsive. Her eyes started to roam around the kitchen
again. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing. Even the
labels of spices along the steel rack were facing forward.
“Can I help with anything?”
“No, you’re my guest,” Zulema told her as she pulled out
fresh cherry tomatoes, an onion, green and red peppers and
a wrapped package of what Macarena assumed was lamb.
“I’ll feel awful if you don’t let me do something.”
Zulema washed her hands and then the vegetables before
returning to the large island counter space. Looking up at
Maca, Zulema laughed at the exaggerated pout on her face.
“Fine,” she relented and pulled a knife out of a drawer
beside her hip, “find us some music to listen to.”
“Point me in the right direction.”
Zulema used the knife to point behind Macarena into the
dark TV room. Maca took her wine and stepped through the
open concept archway into the next room, easily finding the
lightswitch on the wall. The room illuminated softly,
revealing exposed brick across the northern wall where an
enormous tv was mounted high above an electric fireplace.
A comfortable-looking couch, complete with a soft throw
blanket tossed decoratively over the back, sat in the center
106

of the room. She walked further into the room and to her
left was a beautiful stereo system sitting on a floating shelf.
Just below were several rows of CDs and below those was
an extensive collection of vinyl records.
To her left, on the easternmost wall was a glass and crystal
vinyl player that looked like it cost more than Maca’s
tuition. She peered through the vast CD collection before
deciding on a Miles Davis vinyl. She put it on and within
seconds, the place was filled with soulful jazz tunes.
While Zulema prepped their lamb and veggie skewers,
Macarena took a lap around the TV room, trying to piece
together Zulema’s life story with only a few photographs
and knickknacks on display. She was just beginning to smell
the sharp scent of food being cooked on a grill when she hit
paydirt.
There, on the metal and glass bookshelf above the vinyl
player, was a picture of teenaged Zulema, middle-finger
raised to the camera, and her signature smirk on display.
She was surrounded by what looked like a group of bikers in
front of a bar.
“Ah, you found juvenile delinquent Zulema,” came the
brunette’s low voice from behind her.
Maca looked at the picture again and then over her
shoulder at Zulema. "So you were a little badass, then?"
"Mm." Zulema hummed in amusement. "My mother says I
was the only hell she'd ever raised. Everyone from my old
life is surprised that I became a criminal psychologist
instead of a professional criminal."
Maca grinned up at Zulema, her dimples deepening. "I bet
you still have a little bit of bad in you."
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Zulema's lips twitched in some semblance of a smirk.

"That's for me to know…”
“And me to find out.”
“Something like that.”
Maca kept perusing the photos, stopping at one that stood
out from the rest. Maca touched the silver photo frame of a
younger Zulema and an extremely handsome Egyptian man.
“And who is this?” Maca asked.
Somehow, Zulema managed to tell an entire woeful tale in
a single word.
A name.
“Hanbal.”
Macarena wanted to ask. Wanted to know more about this
person who clearly meant a lot to Zulema. But she could tell
it wasn’t the right place, nor time.
“Come on,” Zulema said, grabbing her hand. “I’ll show you
one of my culinary secrets.”
Macarena followed Zulema into the kitchen and out of the
French doors that opened onto a beautiful deck that
overlooked her lush garden.
And, for the moment, Zulema forgot her melancholy as she
stood by the grill and mixed up a mouthwatering glaze for
the skewers.
***
Dinner was a success.

Macarena confessed that Zulema’s lamb skewers were, in
fact, the best in the city. They found themselves back in the
TV den, sitting on the couch, each with their half-finished
dinner wine in hand.
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“So, earlier, you said you grew up on haute cuisine. What

do your parents do?”
“My dad owns a few restaurants. Mom was a chef for a
while before she had my brother and me. Now, she’s just... a
homemaker.”
Zulema's eyes squinted briefly. “You say that with
disappointment.”
Macarena shrugged. “Maybe.”
Zulema’s body tilted forward just a bit, and she ducked her
head to catch Macarena’s eyes. “Why the disappointment?”
“I don’t know. I mean, she tells these stories all the time
about how she would travel to the most exotic places to
learn how to create beautiful cuisines from all over. She
would be asked to do residencies in some of the finest
restaurants, and now,” she shrugged again, “now she just
cleans the house and cooks for the family.”
Zulema hummed in understanding. “So, you think she left
her dream behind because she had you and your brother.”
“I suppose.”
“That explains the cramming.”
Maca smiled and her brows knitted together in confusion.
“How’s that?”
“You want to work hard. To go above and beyond to fulfill
your dream. It’s either because you don’t want to become
your mother or you want to make her proud so you feel like
she didn’t leave her dream behind for nothing.”
“Profiling on a first date is very rude, you know.” Macarena
grinned into the next sip of her wine.
“She says because it’s the truth.” Zulema teased.
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“It is,” Macarena confessed. “I wonder, though, why do you

psychoanalyze everything? Is it because of your control
issues?”
Zulema didn’t say anything, but her eyes danced with a
challenge. She was waiting for Macarena to continue.
“Something happened to you that makes you have to
control everything that happens in your life. I mean, down
to the smallest details. Your organized fridge and spices.
The way you don’t allow anyone to help you in the kitchen.
Hell, even your CDs are in alphabetical order. Your records
are sorted by year.” Macarena watched Zulema’s lips part,
but before the brunette could interrupt, Maca kept going,
“Everything has to be precisely the way you need it to be so
that you can reach the necessary outcome for you to remain
comfortable.” She looked up and around, gesturing with the
hand that held her wine glass. “That’s why we’re here, after
all, on your turf. Home-court advantage and all that. I guess
that it has something to do with whoever Hanbal is and
whatever he means to you. He wasn’t an abusive ex because
then you wouldn’t have his picture in your house. And that
ring that you wear every day, the one that you’re twisting
round and round on your finger right now, tells me that you
were married to him.”
Zulema immediately stopped twirling the ring.
“So… messy divorce? Did he want kids and you didn’t?”
“He died.” Zulema blurted out.
“Joder, Zulema, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
They’re quiet for a few moments before Macarena asked
the question that they both knew she was going to ask.
“How?”
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“He was murdered,” Zulema said and knocked back the

remnants of her wine, setting the glass down on the coffee
table, “by a psychopath that I was building a profile for
when I worked exclusively with the CNI.”
“Jesus. Did your profile ever help catch him?”
Zulema looked up and away as if she tried to collect her
thoughts and emotions and it was all the answer that
Macarena needed.
“So yes,” Zulema said, clearing her throat and looking to
Maca again, “the emotional part of me thinks that if I can
control things, there’s a smaller chance of my life spiraling
out of control like it did when Hanbal died.”
“You are a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an
enigma,” quoted Macarena.
“‘But perhaps there is a key,” Zulema finished for her.
They gazed at one another in silence. Macarena looked at
Zulema with new eyes. And Zulema had finally figured
Macarena out.
The brunette shook her head and smiled. “You officially
know too much and now you understand that I’ll have to kill
you.”
Macarena’s head tilted backward and she laughed loudly.
“Oh, of course. I would expect nothing less.”
“More wine?” Zulema inquired. Maca nodded and handed
her glass to Zulema. The older woman stood from the
couch, grabbing her glass from the table as she went. Maca
watched her carefully, studying the way she walked. The
way she brought the corner of her bottom lip into her
mouth as she opened a new bottle of wine and poured it
into the glasses. And she noted that Zulema never did
anything without a purpose. She gave her entire
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concentration to the smallest of tasks, and Macarena

couldn’t stop her thoughts from shifting into a less-than-
innocent zone.
If Zulema cooked food and poured wine and kissed with
such dedicated precision, what was she like when she was
trying to draw out an orgasm from a lover?
The blonde’s feet carried her from the living room to the
kitchen where Zulema was placing a gilded stopper into the
wine bottle.
She observed Maca’s hesitant stride around the island. The
placement of her hands on the edge of the counter as if
attempting to stop herself from reaching out for Zulema.
How her eyes seemed to zero in on Zulema’s hands. It
wasn’t hard to figure out what she was thinking or feeling.
She smirked.
And that seemed to be the thing that broke the handcuffs
of Macarena’s self-restraint. She slid the glasses of wine and
the bottle away from Zulema, sliding into the narrow space
between Zulema and the counter itself.
“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Ferreiro?”
Miss Ferreiro, that was… hot. Maca put a pin in that note
to come back to at a later date. For now, she bit her bottom
lip, head tilted coyly. She nodded, a deep “mm-hm” coming
from her throat. Hands slipped up Zulema’s shoulders and
around her neck and Zulema automatically wrapped an arm
around her waist, holding her close.
Maca angled in. Slowly, to give Zulema time to make a
decision.
And she did.
She closed the eighty-percent distance, taking the twenty
percent that Maca offered. Soft lips brushed against supple
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ones for about as long as it took for Macarena to inhale the

fruity acidity of the sweet Lambrusco wine mixed with
Zulema’s lipstick— all-day matte, thanks very much.
“Joder,” Zulema breathed and something inside the both
of them just snapped.
In the blink of an eye, Zulema had Macarena sitting on the
counter, unworried about spilling any wine on it. Nor was
she concerned about shattering the glasses. All Zulema
would concern herself with was the fact that Macarena’s
kiss was all-consuming. Craving turned to raw hunger and
Macarena was a full-course meal.
“Zulema,” Maca whispered when Zulema’s lips found her
chin. Her neck. The pulsing jugular that she nipped at
softly. She needed to feel Zulema’s skin against hers, so she
moved Zulema’s hand from her clothed waist to the warmth
of her thigh, effectively snapping Zulema out of her spell.
“Maca,” Zulema panted, pulling her mouth away from the
blonde and took a step back.
“Que?” Macarena asked, reaching out to bring Zulema
close to her again. Zulema almost gave in, and Maca could
see the internal battle playing out over her face. Her brows
furrowed and she had to force her fingers to stop stroking
the soft skin of Macarena’s exposed thigh.
“I really,” her fingers pressed a little harder against Maca’s
leg, “really want to get you in my bed, but--.”
“I know,” Maca said. She pulled Zulema back to her and
this time, Zulema allowed her too. Their lips collided once
more. Maca moaned into Zulema’s mouth and the brunette
gratefully swallowed it as she wrapped her hands behind
Maca’s knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the
counter. Maca’s right leg instinctively wrapped around
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Zulema’s waist. One arm around Zulema’s neck, Maca’s

other hand came up to rest on Zulema’s face. The touch was
both desperate and tender at once and it was a combination
that Zulema hadn’t felt in a long while. It was a true lover’s
touch and it was while Zulema was secretly desperate for
more, something about this setting was off. She didn’t want
the first time she took Maca to bed to be a quick fuck on her
kitchen counter. She wanted more with Macarena and that,
in and of itself, was enough to stop Zulema in her tracks.
Breath sawing in and out, Zulema pulled back, smiling
when Maca tried to follow.
“I am not trying to control this, rubía.” Zulema gestured
between their bodies. “It’s just been a long time since I
wanted to be with someone more than just—.”
“Physically?”
“Exactly.”
Macarena understood completely. She wanted more too.
So she let her hands slide down Zulema’s body until they
were grabbing ahold of the brunette’s hands. She lifted one
to her lips and kissed her fingertips. Her palm. The inside of
her wrist. Zulema’s lips parted as she felt each of the soft
kisses warm her skin.
“You know,” Maca said, leaning in as if she had a secret to
tell, “I’m an episode behind on Temptation Island because
of midterms.”
“Oh, for the love of—.” Zulema rolled her eyes as she
grabbed her wine and started back towards the living room.
Maca hopped off of the counter and followed suit, wine
glass in hand. By the time she got back to the tv room,
Zulema was already flicking through the menu to find the
ridiculous show for her. She sat on the couch and Macarena
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sat down beside her, leaning close to Zulema who lifted her
arm for Macarena to cuddle into her side.
Once they figured out which episode Macarena had
missed, they snuggled in, a warm blanket draped around
them, and they watched the drama unfold until their wine
was gone and their eyes were heavy.
And eventually, they were both sound asleep.
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Chapter 13:
Secrets
The first thing Zulema felt when she woke up was well-
rested. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so
soundly, but she was certain it had been quite a while. The
second thing she felt was the warm temperature of the body
wrapped around her like a baby koala. She looked down and
couldn’t stop the sleepy smile that spread across her face,
nor could she stop her hand from reaching for silky blonde
hair and twirling the ends between her fingers.
Maca hummed her approaching wakefulness, brows
furrowing in objection.
“I can hear you thinking,” the blonde’s groggy voice
murmured. Green irises wrapped in honey opened slowly
and Maca looked up at Zulema. “What are you thinking?”
“That this is the first time I woke up with a woman I didn’t
have sex with.”
“Oh, that’s really romantic,” Maca teased, closing her eyes
again. She felt as Zulema’s chuckle rumbled through her
chest.
“I thought you might like that one.”
Somewhere in the house, Zulema’s phone started ringing
and she groaned.
Maca’s hand slid up her chest and rested on her face,
finger tracing Zulema’s bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”
“I will bet my career that’s Saray calling.”
Maca pushed off of Zulema’s chest, letting the throw
blanket fall to the ground.
“Where are you going?”
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“To pee. Give you a chance to talk to Saray.”

Zulema missed Maca’s warmth, but she was right. It was
better if she answered Saray’s call the first time because if
the tall brunette had to call more than once, she’d let herself
into Zulema’s house with her emergency key. After directing
the blonde to the master bathroom —up the stairs, down
the hall, and make a right— Zulema got up from the couch
and followed the shrill chime of her cell to the place where
she left it in the kitchen last night.
“Dime, Saray.”
“I fucked Rizos.”
Zulema looked at the wine bottle far back on the counter.
A memory of Maca pushing it there flashed through her
mind followed by another of Zulema picking her up and
sitting her on the island.
“How?” Zulema asked as she turned to open the fridge,
pulling out fresh fruit, berries, and ingredients for
breakfast.
“Well, she was sitting on my lap and my hand just—.”
“Calla!” Zulema chuckled as she popped a few blueberries
in her mouth. “I meant what led up to it?”
Saray started her story, stopping now and again for a
hilarious anecdote that Zulema could’ve done without. She
had just gotten to the point where alcohol was involved
when Maca re-emerged from upstairs. She’d taken off last
night’s makeup and finger-brushed her hair. And when she
leaned in for a kiss, Zulema could smell her brand of
mouthwash on the blonde.
The phone still to her ear, she pointed to the fruit and
mouthed ‘eat’ to Macarena.
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“Saray, you made your bed and fucked Rizos in it. Now you
have to deal with the consequences.”
Maca’s eyes widened and she pointed to the phone.
They fucked? She mouthed to Zulema. Zulema nodded.
Maca found her phone as well, and sure enough, there was a
missed call and a text from Rizos waiting for her.
-I did something bad last night.
-Saray? Maca responded.
-Yes, followed by a facepalm emoji immediately hit Maca’s
screen and she shook her head.
-Late lunch/early dinner tonight?
-Yes. My place, 4?
-I’ll be there.
Sitting her phone down, Maca lifted a strawberry to her
mouth and took a bite.
Zulema watched her mouth.
Maca watched Zulema.
The energy shifted and Zulema’s pupils dilated. It wasn’t
hard for Macarena to decipher exactly what Zulema was
thinking. She held up the strawberry to Zulema’s mouth.
Zulema’s lips parted and Maca swiped the red fruit across
her lips. Then she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s
neck. Her tongue followed the path of the berry before
dipping inside of Zulema’s mouth. Zulema groaned softly
into Maca’s mouth, eyes closing briefly as Macarena pulled
away.
“Yeah, but is she going to leave her girlfriend for you?”
Zulema asked. She started to prepare breakfast and it didn’t
take long before the house was filled with the
mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs. Just before they
sat down to eat, Zulema ran upstairs to change into
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sweatpants and a hoodie, bringing down a pair of sweats

and a hoodie for Maca as she came back down.
After breakfast, Zulema drove Macarena back to her flat
where they sat outside in the car for a few moments, neither
wanting to leave the other.
“What are your plans today?” Maca inquired.
“I have a lunch meeting with some of the staff and then I’ll
be free. What about you?”
“Late lunch at Rizos’.”
They looked at one another for a few moments.
“Ask me what you want to ask me,” Zulema suggested.
It would be useless for Macarena to ask how Zulema knew
she wanted to ask her something. The woman could read
body language from a mile away and it was something that
Macarena needed to learn from her.
“If it’s not late when I leave Rizos’, would you want to
come over for a nightcap?”
Elbow on the windowsill, Zulema leaned her head against
her closed hand and looked at Macarena. “Maybe. If I do, I
still expect you to be on time for class tomorrow.”
“Si, profesora.”
Zulema’s eyes flashed. Maca gave her a cheeky grin.
“Get out,” Zulema jokingly told her.
They leaned over at the same time, meeting in the space
where their seats were connected by the center console. Soft
lips pressed against even softer ones and then Maca, in
Zulema’s oversized hoodie and sweatpants, exited the car,
heading into her flat.
***
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The moment she stepped into Rizos’ apartment, all hopes of

a quick dinner and serious talk with her best friend were
thrown out of the window. Yoli had opened the door with a
broad smile on her face. As Macarena walked further into
the flat, she was greeted by Luna who was rolling a joint on
the couch. As she walked towards the kitchen to find Rizos,
she saw Saray sitting on the counter beside the stove as
Rizos stirred something that smelled amazing in a large pot.
“Maca!” Saray called, hopping off of the counter and
opening the fridge to pull out a beer for their newest guest.
Maca waved to everyone and then took the proffered beer
from Saray. Rizos took Saray’s beer and handed her a
wooden spoon, forcing her to take over at the stove. She
took Maca’s hand and pulled her into the hall, voice lowered
and pleading.
“Before you say anything, she showed up to talk and I
didn’t want to be alone with her again so I text Yoli and
Luna to come over too.”
Macarena put her hands up. “Where is Nerea?”
“On duty.”
“Are you going to tell her about you and Saray?”
“Do you think I should? It’ll ruin everything.”
Macarena leaned her head against the wall and crossed her
arms.
“Don’t do that!” Rizos pointed at her.
“Do what?”
“Make your judgment face.”
Macarena fixed her expression. “Fine, but don’t expect me
to be her best friend at dinner.”
“Just be civil.”
“Vale.”
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“Thank you.” Rizos opened her arms for a hug, and Maca
rolled her eyes. She pushed off of the wall and embraced her
friend.
Back in the common areas, Maca sat on the couch beside
Luna, shaking her head when offered a hit of weed. Her
phone buzzed in her pocket and when she saw who had
messaged her, a swarm of butterflies began to flutter
around her stomach.
-I’m sitting in this meeting and I can’t stop
thinking.
-What are you thinking about? Maca typed, smiling at her
phone.
Zulema was still in her work meeting and she was thinking
about Maca!
Three little dots appeared at the bottom of her phone
screen and Maca’s smile widened.
-Of all the ways I can ruin you, Zulema texted back.
-Who says I won’t ruin you?
The three dots reappeared. Then disappeared. It took a few
minutes, but Zulema finally responded.
-Who says you haven’t already?
Macarena responded to Zulema with an angel emoji before
she was called to the dining room. Last to the table, the only
spot left was to the right of Saray. She tried to keep her
attention on Luna and Yolanda. But at one point, Rizos had
gotten up to use the bathroom and Saray turned to
Macarena, gaining her attention by nudging her shoulder.
“What’s the problem, rubita? You’ve said maybe ten words
to me all night.” Saray inquired.
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”I don’t think it’s right that you guys are doing this behind
Nerea’s back. She’s a good person. So, you and Rizos need
to sort your shit out before someone gets hurt.”
“Hm,” hummed Saray, head nodding. “Zulema is a good
cook, no?”
“Que?” Maca asked, confused.
Saray pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen a few
times, scrolling until she found what she was searching for.
She sat her phone on the table between them. “Couldn’t
help but see that you had a hearty breakfast this morning.”
She pointed to the photo that Macarena had posted on her
Instagram story that morning. “Those plates were a gift
from me to Zule a few years back. So, Rizos and I aren’t the
only ones with a secret.”
Saray tilted her head, made a tsking noise out of the side of
her mouth, and then shrugged a shoulder. The brunette
seemed more hurt than angry, and not all of the blame was
on Macarena. Zulema was her best friend and the older
woman had kept something from Saray. Something huge.
Still, one picture wasn’t exactly proof of anything. For all
Saray knew, Zulema had invited Macarena over for dinner
to talk about a teaching assistant position. At least, that was
the lie that Macarena told herself to make her feel better.
She locked her phone’s screen and before Macarena could
respond, Rizos had plopped back down in her chair across
from them.
“What’d I miss?”
“Just showing Maca a funny Instagram post.”
“Rizos!” Luna pulled Rizos’ attention away before the
brunette could ask to see it and Maca sighed in relief. Her
appetite was gone. For the remainder of their meal, Maca
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simply pushed her food around her plate and listened to her
friends’ conversations. The worst part was that all she
wanted to do was call Zulema, but… she couldn’t.
Was this a violation of their rules? She hadn’t technically
told Saray anything, but it was her fault that Saray
suspected.
Stupid fucking Instagram.
She should have known better. Especially after Saray’s
lecture on social media.
-...I think Saray knows.
She pressed send on the text to Zulema.
Zulema didn’t respond.
***
It wasn’t too late when Macarena finally arrived at home.

She was tired, but more importantly, she was anxious.
Restless because of Saray, and even more nervous for
Zulema’s response. Maca had checked her phone
throughout dinner, and then again before she drove home.
She went through the motions of her night routine:
washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed her hair into a
low bun, and then opened a bottle of white wine in an
attempt to calm her nerves. Maybe she should’ve taken
Luna up on her offer earlier.
Maca had just gotten comfortable in bed and turned on the
TV for the background noise as she scrolled on her phone
when her doorbell rang. She rolled her eyes, knowing it was
probably Rizos coming to finally have a heart to heart. Maca
was not in the mood. In a pair of shorts and Zulema’s
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sweatshirt over a tank top, the blonde made her way to the
front door and unlocked it.
“Zulema,” Maca exclaimed in surprise.
Zulema looked much like she had that morning when she
dropped Macarena off. The only difference was that she’d
switched her sweatpants for a pair of dark cargo pants.
Hoodie half-on and half-off and hands in her pockets,
Zulema leaned against the doorway of Maca’s apartment
and raised her brows.
“It’s rude to let guests stand in the hallway, rubita.”
“Sorry! Come in.” She opened the door further, shutting
and locking it behind them.
“What were you doing?”
“Watching TV in bed.” It wasn’t a lie. The television was
on, albeit muted.
Zulema took Macarena’s hand and started down the dark
hallway to the only room with light. Once inside, Zulema
looked around as she kicked off her shoes. She turned and
flopped down onto Macarena’s bed, feet crossed at the
ankles.
“Are you waiting for an invitation into your own bed?”
“I’m just surprised that you’re here. In my bed.”
Zulema grinned and opened her arms as if to say ‘here I
am’. Maca climbed into the bed with her and crawled up
Zulema’s body until either of her knees were pressed into
the mattress and she’d settled against Zulema’s lap.
“Nice sweatshirt,” commented Zulema.
Maca looked down and then back at Zulema whose eyes
were dancing with mirth.
“Thanks, some hot professor let me borrow it.”
“Hm, sounds like she really likes you.”
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“I hope so because I really like her.” Maca took hold of the

strings on Zulema’s hooded sweatshirt and sighed.
“So…” The blonde said, reaching for the white wine on her
nightstand. She took a sip and then handed it to Zulema
before launching into the story of the conversation with
Saray. When she was done, and so was the glass of wine, she
looked at Zulema, expectedly.
And then the older brunette started laughing. Actually
laughing! Maca’s jaw dropped.
“It’s not funny, Zulema!”
“The situation isn’t funny, but you have to admit that the
foreshadowing of Saray’s social media lecture was
incredible.”
Maca scrunched her nose up and tugged on the hoodie
strings, tightening the hood around Zulema’s head. Catlike
reflexes forced Zulema’s hands to grip Macarena’s wrists,
holding them with one hand while the other loosened her
hood, pushing it back. Maca’s eyes dropped to her hands
trapped in Zulema’s and she squirmed in Zulema’s lap.
Zulema looked down at Maca adjusting her position, trying
to ease the sudden tension. She thought about how easy it
would be to just slip her hand into those tiny fucking shorts.
This was a dangerous game for them to play. The
chemistry between them was unreal and it was getting
harder and harder for either of them to resist.
Zulema cleared her throat and let Maca’s hands go. “I
guess I should know better than to keep things from Saray.
After all, I did teach her pretty much everything she knows.”
“True, but still, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
Maca nodded. “More wine?”
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What Zulema wanted was a goddamn cigarette, if only to

calm herself down. Shaking her head, Zulema gave her a
throaty ‘mm-mm’ and she pulled Macarena down by the
strings of her hoodie, kissing her softly.
Firm, warm hands slipped under the sweatshirt and when
skin touched skin, neither of them could stop what
happened next.
Zulema lifted Macarena’s hoodie up over her head and off.
And then Macarena whispered into the next kiss, “Stay the
night.”
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Chapter 14:
Body Language
Stay the night.

In the moments after Maca’s whispered plea, Zulema could
feel her self-restraint drain completely from her brain and
pool between her thighs. The sight of Macarena’s hardened
nipples peeking through the thin cotton of her tank top
made Zulema’s pulse speed up and her hands ache to reach
out and squeeze.
If Maca didn’t stop her, she was not going to be able to
restrain herself. Not with the blonde kissing on her neck,
and definitely not while she was rolling her hips and
grinding down against Zulema. The final straw was when
Maca nipped at Zulema’s pulsing jugular before biting
down.
Hard.
Zulema’s hands gripped her waist and rolled them to the
right until Macarena was flat on her back with Zulema
between her legs, the belt of her cargo pants pressed exactly
where Maca needed it most. Their lips collided once again.
Maca took Zulema’s hand and rested it against her breast,
showing Zulema just how much pressure to use. When
Zulema did the same with her other hand, Maca arched into
the touch.
“Espera espera espera,” Maca said. “It’s only been one day
since we agreed to wait for,” she gestured between them,
“this.”
She was right. Of course, she was right. Zulema pushed
herself up until she was kneeling between Maca’s thighs.
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She nodded, trying to center her breathing.

“Right. We were gonna wait until we got to know one
another better.”
“Exactly.” Maca shifted until her elbows were propping her
up.
“So, let’s talk. Get to know one another better.” Zulema
flexed her hands against her lap, keeping them from
reaching out for Maca’s bent knees.
“A ver, you already know about my family,” Maca mused.
“Oh! I like to go to the boxing gym in my spare time.”
“Mola,” Zulema replied. “I used to have a pet scorpion
named Fatima.”
“Oh, that’s sweet.”
They stared at one another, each struggling to keep their
hands off of the other.
“I think that’s good enough for now. Don’t you?” Maca
quipped.
Zulema sighed gratefully, “Oh, thank god.”
Maca’s hands immediately reached for Zulema’s belt,
unbuckling it and then unbuttoning her pants. Zulema
whipped off her hoodie and her mouth found Macarena’s
again. Her palm flattened against Maca’s clothed center and
she used the heel of her hand to add the perfect amount of
pressure. That, mixed with Zulema’s lips kissing downward
until her mouth attached to Maca’s neck, had Maca writhing
underneath Zulema. The brunette loved how responsive the
younger woman’s body was to her touch. Impatient whining
filled in the silence as Macarena tugged unsuccessfully at
Zulema’s shirt. She wanted Zulema naked, and she wanted
her naked right then and there.
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Zulema, of course, wanted nothing more than to make

Macarena wait, but when she exhaled Zulema’s name, the
brunette found that Maca’s wish was her command. She
pushed up just long enough for Macarena to pull off her t-
shirt. Zulema’s bare tits greeted Macarena and the blonde
wasted no time in pressing her hands against warm skin.
She grinned into their next kiss when Zulema groaned.
Maca’s shirt followed the same path as Zulema’s and then
her cute little shorts weren’t far behind. Zulema had to take
a moment to witness the absolute beauty that was an almost
completely naked Macarena Ferreiro. Whatever she was
doing at the boxing gym was working for her. She was fit,
but still so fucking soft and Zulema knew she would not be
able to keep her hands off of the young blonde.
Running a sure hand from neck to navel, Zulema stopped
at the waistband of Macarena’s panties. Then further down,
over Maca’s swollen clit that she teased with the pads of her
fingers. Maca’s knees pressed together forcing Zulema to
stop her teasing to push them open again.
“I want to see you.”
Maca’s already choppy breathing became much more
labored. Zulema tugged at the damp scrap of material
covering her pussy and pulled it to the side. She dipped
forward to kiss Macarena once more before she lowered
herself between slick thighs and flattened her tongue
against Macarena’s aching pussy. At the same time that
Macarena cried out in pure pleasure, Zulema groaned in
utter delight at the sheer taste of this woman.
She was candy, and now Zulema had a sweet tooth. The
brunette knew without a doubt that she would crave the
taste of Macarena for the rest of her life.
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Macarena allowed herself to be pulled under by Zulema’s

mouth as it worked wonders. She was pressed hard against
Macarena, but the blonde grabbed dark hair and pulled her
impossibly closer. Spreading wider for Zulema, Maca’s feet
lifted off of the bed, toes pointed and back arching into the
sensations that Zulema created inside of her. Tongue firm
and pushing inside of Maca, Zulema hummed gratefully
while coaxing more and more of Maca’s essence from her,
swallowing it greedily.
Maca’s mind registered the light and airy feeling that
always came just before she did too slowly and her eyes
wrenched shut, tears forming behind her lids. Zulema was
entirely too good at that. Tongue spiraling through wet silk
and towards Maca’s clit, Zulema slid her hands up Maca’s
thighs and rested them underneath of her knees, holding
her wide open. Her lips wrapped around Macarena’s clit
and she sucked firmly. Maca bucked upwards, crying out at
the sensation. Her hips wriggled and her back arched
almost to the point of pain and with a strangled moan, her
body released every ounce of sexual tension she’d been
holding in from the moment she met Zulema Zahir.
Zulema worked her through her orgasm before testing the
waters by slipping one hand down and teasing the tip of her
middle finger inside. Maca groaned and attempted to wiggle
away from Zulema, but the brunette wasn’t having it. She
raised on her knees again and then leaned over Maca,
kissing her deeply while slipping the finger completely
inside. Her ring finger trailed after, entering Maca and
curving upward.
“You feel so good,” Maca moaned into Zulema’s ear.
130

“Yeah?” Zulema teased her, lips finding Maca’s at the same

time that her thumb pressed against Maca’s clit.
“Yes!” She clenched around Zulema’s fingers, hips tilting
forward to take more of Zulema’s fingers inside. Zulema
gripped Maca’s chin, turning her to face Zulema; the
brunette wanted to see every little expression on her face.
More importantly, she wanted Maca to see who was making
her feel this fucking good. Not that Macarena would ever
forget, especially with the way she was exalting Zulema’s
name, chanting it with every stroke of Zulema’s fingers.
Sudden pulsing around her fingers forewarned Zulema
that the flood gates were about to open between Macarena’s
legs. Doubling her efforts, Zule pushed inside as deep as she
could and circled her thumb around Macarena’s clit.
Shining eyes popped open, Macarena’s opened and her
entire body shook violently as she came a second time. She
pulled her face out of Zulema’s grasp, turning instead to bite
Zulema’s arm, directly above her tattoo.
Zulema was pleased with herself. Macarena could tell
because when she pulled out of Maca’s jerking body, she
flexed her fingers, admiring the shiny result of her work.
And then she lifted her arm to assess the bite marks there as
well. She grinned at Macarena, cocked brow shooting up
under her dark bangs.
“Shut up,” Macarena huffed, still unable to breathe
properly. The words held no weight. Especially not when
her body jolted as Zulema continued to gently massage her
soaked pussy. “And why do you still have pants on?”
Maca pushed herself up, effectively forcing Zulema
backward until she was on her knees and Zulema was
propping herself up on either of her elbows. She made quick
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work of pulling off Zulema’s cargo pants and socks,

throwing them off of the bed.
Wearing black underwear and a smirk, Zulema looked—.
“You’re beautiful.” Maca blurted the words out before she
could stop herself. Zulema looked surprised. The good kind
of surprised; like it’d been a while since she had heard
something that made her feel so oddly secure. As if it’d been
a long time since she let anyone close enough to her that she
even needed to feel that safety.
Maca remembered the way Zulema looked at her during
brunch.
Don’t hurt me, her eyes had said. And the only thing
Macarena wanted to do was make Zulema feel as good as
she’d made Maca feel.
So Maca lurched forward, tits pressed against Zulema’s
and a hand immediately gravitating to Zulema’s side,
holding her close. Fervidly kissing Zulema, Maca had a brief
internal moment.
This is happening. This is really happening.
Off came Zulema’s panties. Maca wrapped her lips around
one of Zulema’s nipples, squeezing the other as the fingers
on her other hand slipped downward until they glided
through Zulema’s smooth folds until they found treasure.
Macarena strummed Zulema’s clit, swirling her honey
around it. Zulema turned her head to the side and slipped
an arm over her eyes. But when Maca slid two fingers inside
of her tight channel, Zulema pulled her bottom lip between
her teeth, and a groan came from somewhere deep within
her.
Maca smiled as she switched her attention to Zulema’s
other nipple. She sucked softly and then took the hardened
132
nub between her teeth as she pulled away. Zulema hissed in

pleasure and her hips jerked against Maca’s hand.
As it turned out, her body was just as responsive to
Macarena’s touch.
When Zulema came, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t
have to. Macarena could tell by the way her body bowed
forward against Maca, and how her fingernails clawed down
Maca’s back.
“Oh,” Maca said, looking down at Zulema’s still moving
hips and then back up at Zulema’s face, “Oh! You’re—.”
Zulema nodded feverishly.
“Vale,” Maca murmured just before she lowered her
mouth to Zulema’s pussy. In and out, her fingers pumped
underneath her chin as Maca’s sucked Zulema’s clit into her
mouth.
Zulema held Maca’s head exactly where it was, while she
bit down on the fingers of one hand trying to stop the
inevitable.
“Fuck! Maca!” She gasped. “Don’t stop! Right there! Right
fucking there!”
So Maca stayed right fucking there, tongue alternating
between flicking round and round Zulema’s clit before
sucking it back into her mouth. All the while, her fingers
worked steadily to pull yet another orgasm from the
brunette.
The feeling was indescribable, and when her climax
washed over her, it was so earth-shattering that Zulema
actually thought she might cry.
Trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts,
Zulema reached for Macarena. The blonde crawled up her
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body until she was laying atop Zulema. Zulema wrapped an

arm around her and allowed Maca to kiss her lips.
Cheeks.
Nose.
Neck.
Eventually, she settled against Zulema, staring at the
peaceful look on the brunette’s face.
“Bedtime?” She asked.
Eyes still closed, Zulema smirked. Maca’s surprised squeal
turned into full-blown laughter as Zulema rolled them back
over until she was on top.
“You wish, rubía.”
***
“Isn’t there an unwritten rule that if the professor is fifteen

minutes late then we can all leave?” Rizos asked no one in
particular. The lecture hall was quiet, save for a few
conversations in the back row that only started because of
Rizos’ comment.
“Probably, but she’s only seven minutes late. Everyone has
a bad morning.”
Or a really, really good morning in Zulema’s case because
Macarena had awakened the brunette by sucking softly on
her pussy until two hands found the top of her head and
held her there until Zulema came.
Loudly.
And then, of course, there was the five-minute make-out
session against Maca’s front door where Zulema kept
pulling her closer despite whispering that she had to go.
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“Buenos dias, clase. Sorry, I’m late,” Zulema said as she

entered the room.
How did she manage to look as if she’d gotten nine full
hours of rest? Meanwhile, Macarena had thrown on a
hoodie underneath an oversized flannel shirt.
Zulema dropped her bag on the desk, and when she looked
up, her eyes immediately found Maca. Maca chewed on the
back of her pen, crossed her legs, and tried to calm her
breathing.
“Today,” Zulema turned her full attention to the class, “we
have two special guests, one of whom is an expert on
microexpressions and body language, an important
component to offender profiling. The other is an expert on
using these specific tools in the psychoanalysis of
criminals.”
No sooner had Zulema mentioned the guest speakers, two
women entered the room. The first was Professor Helena
Martin. With a roll of her eyes, Macarena sat back in her
chair and her pen began to tap incessantly against her
notebook. The second woman was a bit older. Short and
stout. Her face was round, but her body was much smaller
as if she’d recently lost a tremendous amount of weight in a
short period. She had friendly eyes and a warm smile and
Macarena recognized her as the kind of woman that could
make everyone feel as if they were at home when she was
around.
The woman rounded Zulema’s desk and took both of
Zulema’s hands on her own before kissing either of
Zulema’s cheeks. They were close, it seemed, and Maca
watched in amusement as Zulema peered at her class,
clearly embarrassed by the show of affection.
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“Okay, let’s get started, shall we? I’m Dr. Soledad Núñez
and most of you already know Professor Helena Martin.”
Helena gave a small wave and a smile to the class. Maca
scoffed under her breath.
“Let me start by saying that while every human is different
and the way we physically act on our emotions always vary,
the one thing that we all have in common is our facial
expressions. Specifically, our microexpressions. These are
the small ticks and twitches that our bodies make during
any interaction with another human and they can prove to
be incredibly valuable in our line of work. May I?” Dr.
Núñez asked of Zulema. The brunette gestured for her to do
as she pleased and moved out of the way to sit on a stool
beside her desk.
Everyone watched as the expert tapped at Zulema’s
keyboard and then slipped a plug in the computer. In an
instant, the whiteboard behind her lit up with images of
three different well-known celebrities.
“Who can tell me what this expression is?” Dr. Núñez
asked.
“Frustration?” Someone called from the back of the class.
“Good answer, but not quite.”
“Embarrassment,” Macarena said. Dr. Núñez looked
shocked.
“Why?”
“I mean, I can see why someone would assume frustration
from the knitted brows. But when you add that to the way
their hands are touching their left brow and how they’re all
looking down as if reliving a mistake in their mind, it seems
more like an embarrassment to me.”
136
“You are correct. All three of these celebrities have a sex

scandal attached to their names. These images are pulled
from a press conference, an interview, and a social media
video where these people were apologizing to their fans for
what they’ve done.”
The slide changed. The side-by-side images were moving
this time. Only for two seconds each. “What about these?
What are these people feeling?”
When no one else responded, Macarena spoke up.
“Amusement.”
“Right again. How can you tell?”
“The barely-there smirk. The subtle inhale, and the way
they all readjust their posture. It looks like they have a good
secret but won’t ever tell. It’s the same look Dr. Zahir gets
before she surprises us with a pop quiz.”
The entire lecture hall broke into a small bout of laughter,
including the three instructors at the front of the class.
“Okay, here is the last slide, these are a bit harder.”
Barely, Macarena mused inwardly.
“Anger.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up. Their faces didn’t even
move!” Rizos joked and the class laughed again.
“No, really,” Maca replied, pointing to the screen. “Look at
the defensive posture and clenched jaw. The dude on the
left looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel.”
“You are right,” Dr. Núñez chuckled. “It’s hard to tell with
just one or two of these details, but when you combine them
all, you have what is called involuntary nonverbal
communication.”
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“Exactly,” Helena chimed in. “And then people like me and

Zulema put together all of these factors and they can help to
build a profile on a criminal.”
“De verdad. We’ve even used this sort of science to help
understand if someone is lying and we have even helped to
stop acts of terror. Essentially, this ‘pseudoscience’, as most
people still call it, could quite possibly make beatable
polygraphs a thing of the past.”
Macarena was intrigued. Reading other people for a living?
It seemed easy enough and the thought of being a human lie
detector would make dating so much easier. She made a
mental note to do some research on the field.
Dr. Núñez clasped her hands together. “Today, Zulema,
Helena, and I are going to play a little game where I am
going to read them. I want you all to write down a question
on a piece of paper and pass it to the front. I’ll ask each of
the questions at random in between what are called baseline
questions. A baseline question is one that’s used to establish
how their bodies and faces react to a factual question. For
example,” Dr. Núñez turned to Zulema, “is your name Dr.
Zulema Zahir?”
“Yes,” Zulema responded. Right before Maca’s eyes,
Zulema’s posture seemed to relax and she even cracked a
small smile as she nodded in the affirmative.
The game was fun enough, most people had written down
pretty tame questions that they wanted to know about
Zulema.
‘Do you have kids?’, ‘How old are you?’, ‘Do you like your
job?’ were among the top-ranking questions.
Zulema answered them all honestly and Dr. Núñez pointed
out Zulema’s body language and facial movements for the
138
class to see. Helena explained the psychoanalysis behind

each movement and why humans used them as defense
mechanisms or indicators of positive behavior.
The final question picked out and asked by Helena,
“Would you ever date one of your students?”
Zulema’s eyes flashed and broke contact with Dr. Núñez as
she readjusted the lapels of her blazer before clasping her
hands together. “No.”
Dr. Núñez’s eyes squinted and Zulema prayed to God that
she would let it go.
“As always, Zulema, you’re the only one who manages to
stump me.” Dr. Núñez smiled softly. Zulema breathed a sigh
of relief, grateful to Soledad for not calling her out in front
of her entire class.
“Well,” Helena said, checking her watch, “I think we’ve
taken up enough of your time.”
Zulema checked her watch as well then hopped off of the
stool. “Class dismissed. The homework you all have is to
enjoy your holiday break and I’ll see you all the following
Monday.”
Macarena couldn’t help herself. She desperately wanted to
speak with Dr. Núñez. She made their way to the front of
the class and held out her hand.
“Dr. Núñez, I’m Macarena Ferreiro. I just wanted to say
this was one of the most astounding lectures I’ve
witnessed.”
“Sole, please,” the older woman replied and took Maca’s
hand into both of hers, “and I must say, I am equally as
impressed with you. I believe you are what we call an
‘Instinctual’.”
“What’s that?”
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“It’s someone who is born with the ability to focus on

microexpressions without any formal education or
training.” Sole reached into her pants pocket and pulled out
a business card, handing it to Maca, “If you’re interested in
learning more, here’s my card. Feel free to call me anytime.”
“I will. Thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Sole smiled and shook Maca’s hand again. The blonde shot
a glance at Zulema who had been watching the entire
interaction while leaning against her desk with her arms
crossed.
“Sole, I hope you’re not trying to steal my best student. I
have big plans for her with the CNI.”
Maca beamed.
Sole looked between Macarena’s brightened expression
and Zulema’s playfully defensive demeanor.
“Something tells me I would be chasing the impossible.”
Rizos approached and tossed an arm around Maca’s neck.
“Loved the lecture, doc. I’ve got to steal this one or we won’t
make it to Professor Palacios class on time.”
Maca waved again to Sole and allowed herself to be pulled
from the lecture hall by her best friend. Not long after, Sole
made Zulema promise that they would get together for a
meal soon before she headed off as well, leaving Zulema
with Helena.
“Let’s get into something tonight. Dinner. Dancing.
Something fun.”
“I can’t. I have plans.” She had promised Macarena that
she’d sleep over again. Not that much sleeping seemed to
happen the first time around.
“Anything good.”
“I have office hours tonight and then dinner plans.”
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Main course: Macarena Ferreiro.

“If I didn’t know you any better, Zulema, I’d say you were
hiding something from me.”
“Well then,” Zulema said, shutting her laptop and slipping
it into her messenger bag, “maybe you don’t know me as
well as you think.”
***
Macarena’s apartment, 21:21

“So, you and Helena, huh?”
Zulema stopped kissing Maca’s neck. Her forehead
dropped against the younger woman’s shoulder and she
groaned. To be fair, she knew this conversation was coming.
Zule could feel the waves of jealousy radiating off of the
blonde from the moment Helena stepped into the lecture
hall earlier.
She just didn’t expect Helena to be the subject while a still-
damp, towel-clad Macarena was sitting on her lap.
“We have to work on your dirty talk.”
“Zulema.” Maca crossed her arms.
“Joder.” Zulema leaned her head back onto the couch,
hands still on Maca’s thighs, and cleared her throat. “Vale,
tell me what you’re feeling. Come on.”
Maca shrugged. “I don’t get it.”
“What?”
“Helena. What you saw in her. She’s a narcissist.”
Zulema looked impressed. “What else?”
“Her books aren’t even that good.”
“Oh?” Zulema was entertained. Maca’s pout deepened.
“And what else?”
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“And she has stupid hair.”

Zulema laughed. She pulled at Macarena’s arms until they
unfolded and forced the blonde to place them around her
neck. In turn, she wrapped her arms around Maca’s waist
and started to kiss her neck again.
“No wonder I don’t want her. What with her boring
books,” another kiss to the opposite side of Maca’s neck,
“and stupid hair.”
Maca craned her neck to give Zulema better access, pout
yet to disappear. “And her narcissism,” she reminded
Zulema.
“Of course.” Zulema placated the softening blonde. Just as
Zule began tugging at the powder blue towel, Maca leaned
back, holding it closed.
“You know she still thinks she has a chance with you.”
Zulema sighed. “She doesn’t.”
“Think that?”
“Have a chance,” Zulema clarified.
“Why not? You’re technically still a single woman.”
Macarena was fishing for information on where Zulema’s
head was and she was not as subtle as she thought.
“Am I?”
Arms crossed again, Maca feigned disinterest as she
shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“Well, let’s see,” Zulema pretended to think. “I only spend
time with one woman. I only think about woman one. I only
kiss one woman.” She kissed Maca’s lips. One hand slid
under her towel and through wet folds. “And I’m only
fucking,” two fingers slipped inside of Maca with
embarrassing ease, and the blonde’s eyes closed, “one
woman.”
142
“Zulema,” Macarena exhaled her name like a prayer.

Looking up at the blonde’s expression, Zulema had to ask,
“Do you always get this wet this fast?”
Macarena shook her head, eyes closing and hips moving.
“Only for you.”
Maybe Maca was better at dirty talk than Zulema gave her
credit for. She traced wet circles around Maca’s clit with her
thumb and she leaned forward, sucking one of Maca’s
hardened nipples into her mouth.
“Yeah,” Maca panted hotly.
A twist of her hips.
A squeeze of her inner muscles.
“Zulema, por favor.”
“I’m right here.” Though one couldn’t tell with the way
Maca was gripping her bomber jacket, trying to pull her
closer.
“Please. More.”
“Oh, I know what you need.” Zulema grinned and
alternated between squeezing Maca’s tits with her free
hand. Maca continued rocking against Zulema, riding her
fingers. “Open your eyes,” Zulema demanded.
Macarena did, trying her hardest to keep them open as
Zulema began to stroke at the perfect place inside of her.
“Maca, do you want to be my girlfriend?” Zulema asked, a
wicked grin on her face. Maca’s pussy tightened around
Zulema’s fingers as they strummed against her g-spot.
“Yes!” Maca cried out as she came, her delight seeping
down into Zulema’s palm.
Zulema smiled and gave Maca a quick, chaste kiss as she
pulled out of her. “That’s all you had to say.”
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Maca took Zulema’s wet hand and started to dry her

fingers on the towel. “Fall break starts this Thursday.”
It was strange, really, the way they could fall easily into a
normal conversation as if Zulema didn’t just force her to
confess her feelings while she orgasmed. Almost as if they’d
been doing this forever.
“So it does.”
“I told my brother and parents that I will go and visit for
the weekend, but I’ll be back on Sunday.”
“Okay.”
Zulema’s words don’t give much away. Ever. But it was the
almost undetectable squint of her eyes and twitch of the
corner of her mouth that let Macarena know that Zulema
was amused.
“Is this the part where I solemnly swear that I won’t hit a
strip club with Saray while you’re away this weekend?”
“No, this is the part where I fuck your brains out to give
you something to remember me by while I’m gone. Venga.”
Macarena climbed off of Zulema’s lap and took the older
woman’s hand in her own, pulling her up and towards the
bedroom.
***
Zulema had just started to drift off to sleep when she felt
Maca’s fingertips tracing the lines of her face.
“Detente, rubía,” Zulema muttered.
Down her nose, across her lips. And then there was a
pause in her movements before Maca slid her finger down
Zulema’s tattoo. Zulema inhaled deeply.
She knew what was coming next.
144
“Tell me about your tattoo.”

“Joder.”
Well, she was up now. Zulema’s arm reached over to her
bedside table, blinding reaching for her cigarettes and
lighter. She found them, pulled one from the pack, and lit it.
Once she’d taken a hit, she exhaled her nerves and looked
down at the blonde woman snuggled against her side.
“I don’t cry,” Zulema explained. “Well, not anymore.”
“Ever?”
Zulema shook her head and took another drag. “When
Hanbal was killed, I cried for months. Every morning when
I woke up and every night when I got home. Then one day I
just didn’t. Couldn’t. I was just numb for a while.” Zulema
blew out a stream of smoke and offered the cigarette to
Maca who took it. “That was the day I met Helena. We
fucked a few times and the guilt was unbearable. I woke up
one morning and thought ‘am I betraying him? Forgetting
him?’ So,” she shrugged and tapped at her face, “I got this. I
don’t know, I guess I figured that every time I looked in the
mirror, at least I’d never forget.”
“Zulema, you punished yourself. You deserve to be happy,
you know?”
Zulema took the cigarette back, took one last puff, and
then extinguished it in the ashtray on the nightstand. It
sounded nice, the idea that she could find happiness again.
What was also nice was the disgustingly warm feeling in
her heart that was trying to tell her that Maca was right.
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Chapter 15:
Cold Case
Thursday came around much quicker than Macarena would

have liked. After her final class of the day, Maca headed
home and packed her weekender with everything she would
need during the fall break. By the time she finished, she
realized that it was just past three and if she wanted to get
to her parents before it got dark, she should hit the road.
But first, she’d promised Zulema that she would say
goodbye before she did.
Back on campus, Maca parked in the car lot in front of the
building where Zulema’s office was located. The entire
campus was practically a ghost town. She headed inside and
up the stairs, noting how strange it was not to see Maria,
Zulema’s assistant, at her post in the waiting room, but not
unexpected. She was a student, after all, and had probably
gone home for break.
Zulema’s office door was partially ajar and she rapped
twice on it, peeking her head inside. Zulema looked up from
the documents before her. When she spotted her favorite
blonde, she shut the file quickly, offering her a small smile.
“Maca. Come in.”
Maca pushed the door open wider and Zulema’s lips
parted.
“Guau.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Zulema replied, leaning back, “I just discovered
something about myself.”
146
Maca shut the door behind her and walked further into the
office, dropping her keys and clutch on Zulema’s desk. She
walked around it until she stood before her.
“And what exactly would that be?”
Zulema’s eyes dropped below Maca’s face to take in her
crewneck sweater and button-up combo. It was paired
beautifully with a chiffon miniskirt, wool thigh-high socks,
and heeled booties to create a perfect fall look. It also served
to drive Zulema wild.
“I like you in miniskirts.”
Macarena’s dimple appeared and Zulema ached to pull the
blonde to her and kiss it. But they were on campus. In her
office.
And there were rules.
Stupid fucking rules thought Zulema.
Macarena looked just as pained that she couldn’t reach out
to touch Zulema.
“Are you all packed and ready?”
“Yeah.” Maca thrust a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m
actually on my way now. I just stopped by to see you before
I go.”
Against her better judgment, Zulema reached out to finger
the material of Macarena’s skirt. “Are you gonna miss me?”
She asked.
Macarena was going to respond except Zulema’s finger
trailed down until it reached soft skin before hooking into
the elastic of her thigh-high socks and tugging gently.
Macarena watched Zulema’s bottom lip pulled between her
teeth and it wasn’t hard for her to figure out what was on
the professor’s mind.
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“Yes.” The breathless response sounded so sincere, but

also so very much like permission to keep moving her
fingers up and down Maca’s thigh. Zulema’s eyes met
Maca’s and they were wide and earnest. She wanted to say it
back, to tell Macarena that she would miss her too because
it was her truth. But it was unlike her to be so transparent.
So, instead, Zulema smiled and said, “Good.”
Each gazed at the other for a few passing moments, both
wondering how easy it would be to yield on the rules for just
a moment so they could kiss. Zulema exhaled a puff of
laughter, shaking her head. If they kept this up, kept
looking at one another like they were ready to pounce, they
really would. “You should go before it gets too late.”
Late.
That made Macarena smile.
Then it gave her an idea. She looked at the clock on the
shelf behind Zulema.
There was time.
“Sabes,” Macarena purred, “you were late to class this
week, Dr. Zahir.”
She pulled herself up onto Zulema’s desk.
“Maca,” Zulema warned, but her eyes dropped to her bare
thighs and knee-high socks. “We’re at school.”
“Yes, but ‘in this class, we don’t tolerate excuses absences
or latenesses’, do we?”
Zulema swallowed and her head shook slightly. “No.”
Maca readjusted her position on the desk, legs spread
wide, feet on either arm of Zulema’s chair. Her skirt shifted
just enough for Zulema to see that she was, at the very least,
wearing panties.
“What, I wonder, should be your punishment?”
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It amused Zulema that Maca thought she had the upper

hand. Her hands touched the blonde’s ankles and as they
trailed up, Zulema rose from her chair until she was leaning
over Maca and her hands were on the blonde’s waist.
“Bold of you to assume, I’ll be the one receiving a
punishment.”
Maca’s lids fluttered and her panties dampened.
“You, Miss Ferreiro, are breaking one of the rules.” Zulema
inhaled through her nose and shook her head, feigning
disappointment.
“Lo siento, profesora.”
“Oh, you’re not sorry yet.” Zulema rose to her full height,
hands slipping into the pockets of her pants. “But you will
be.”
It was Maca’s turn to swallow harshly.
“Stand up.”
Maca stood. Zulema made a spinning gesture with her
pointer finger and Macarena turned around.
“Hands on the desk.”
Oh fuck.
She placed her palms in the center of the desk and had the
most delightful sensation of déjà vu. The warmth of
Zulema’s body heat disappeared and out of her peripheral,
Macarena watched as Zulema crossed her office to lock the
door. Then, as she made her way back to Macarena, her
hand reached out and pulled the dark drapes closed. She
resumed her rightful place behind Macarena, hands
immediately gravitating to her thighs. Up they moved, until
they slipped under her skirt, pushing it up and over her ass.
Zulema found the top of her cheeky panties and she tugged,
slipping them over the curve of Macarena’s thighs, down
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her legs, and off. Squeezing one globe, Zulema used her
other hand to push Macarena against the desk.
Then there was silence as Zulema took in Maca’s perfect
body bent over the desk; face down and ass up. She wasn’t
sure there’d ever been a more beautiful sight. It had always
been a secret fantasy of hers to have sex on her office desk.
But, the rules had always been in place.
Even with Hanbal.
It was hard for a woman in her field to be taken seriously,
so Zulema was always determined to remain professional
while she was on campus. There was, however, something
about Macarena Ferreiro that she couldn’t put her finger on
that made her want to break all of the rules.
A drawer opened to Macarena’s right, then shut. The next
one that opened came from her left. A few rustling sounds
followed by Zulema making a hum of satisfaction. Try as
she might, Maca couldn’t see what Zulema had retrieved
and it filled her with nervous excitement. Macarena jumped
when she felt the cool sensation of something running up
her left leg while the warmth of Zulema’s body pressed itself
against her back. Her eyes closed briefly and then she heard
metal clank against the desk.
“Hm?” Zulema said in question. Maca turned and looked
down to see a gold-plated metal ruler in Zulema’s closed
fist. The blonde couldn’t stop the moan if she tried. This was
her very fantasy coming to life. She nodded in the
affirmative and that was enough for Zulema. She pressed a
quick, rough kiss to Maca’s lips and then pushed off of
Maca’s body.
Unprepared for the pleasurable sting of the ruler, Maca
moaned. Her hands reached the other side of the desk,
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curling around the lip and she prepared herself for the next
spank. When it came, her pussy clenched and she cried out.
Again and again, Zulema alternated spanking either side of
Maca’s ass and then soothing the warm skin by squeezing it
firmly. By the time Zulema got to number ten, Macarena
was a sobbing mess and the evidence of her gratification
was sticking to her inner thighs.
“Please, Zulema!” Maca whined, ass poking out just that
much more. And thank fuck that Zulema took the hint
because Maca wasn’t sure she would be able to form the
right words.
She heard the wind from the ruler’s arc before she felt the
sharp slap against cunt. Her inner muscles fluttered and no
sooner did she think she was going to come from the
spanking alone, the ruler clattered against the desk as
Zulema dropped it, and then, Maca felt Zulema’s fingers
enter her from behind.
“Oh, god, yes!”
Zulema pumped in and out, working hard to bring
Macarena to her peak. She shushed the blonde’s heightened
moans, threatening her with more punishment as she railed
into her from behind, but that only served to egg her on.
“I want to see you come,” Zulema whispered and whirled
her around, picked her up, promptly sitting Macarena on
the edge of the desk. She lifted one of Maca’s legs until her
ankle met Zulema’s shoulder and then slipped back inside.
Maca’s hands went for Zulema’s pants, undoing them until
she could wiggle her hand inside. In between soft skin and
the rough material of her pants, Maca found liquid gold.
She wasted no time sliding inside of Zulema, pressing her
thumb against the brunette’s clit. She worked them in and
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out, determined to make Zulema come with her. Zulema

gripped Maca’s chin, holding her gaze as Maca’s hips rocked
forward.
“You feel me?” Zulema gritted through clenched teeth. She
was trying to hold off her own impending orgasm. And
Maca knew it. And she knew what Zulema wanted to hear.
“Yes,” she moaned. “You feel so fucking good.”
Zulema groaned in response and doubled her efforts. She
was close and Maca was—.
“Don’t stop. I’m gonna come.” She added a third finger
inside of Zulema and Zulema’s hand slipped from her face.
It found purchase against Maca’s waist and squeezed as she
worked hard to keep her legs from giving out. Her face fell
into Maca’s neck and it muffled her loud moan as Maca’s
fingers massaged her inner walls.
The desk quaked but took their frantic motions and Maca’s
added weight in stride.
“Kiss me,” Zulema panted because they had already
crossed so many lines in this office. What harm would one
more do? Macarena’s free hand slid to the back of Zulema’s
neck, pulling her close and kissing her lovingly, tongue
gliding against Zulema’s with the same rhythm that her
fingers were stroking Zulema.
“Come with me,” Maca pleaded.
And Zulema couldn’t help it. She had to obey. Her hand
wrapped tightly around Maca’s waist and she cried Maca’s
name into the blonde’s neck. Maca leaned back, bringing
Zulema’s face to hers. Her legs spread wider and she
grabbed hold of Zulema’s wrist pulling her deeper inside.
Zulema flexed her fingers, forcing Maca to feel everywhere.
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Maca’s head lolled backward and her eyes wrenched shut as

she let her orgasm wash over her entire body.
“Zulema!”
Ten minutes later, Zulema was buttoning her pants back
up and crouching down to pick up Macarena’s discarded
panties. She dangled them smugly on one finger in front of
Maca’s flushed face. Macarena snatched them from her,
shaking her head with a poorly hidden smirk.
“I have to go.”
I wish you didn’t Zulema wanted to say.
“I know.”
“I’ll see you on Sunday?”
“Mhm.” Zulema nodded. She allowed Maca to kiss her
again.
And then, she was gone.
***
Her family was happy to see her. It’d been so long since the
last time Macarena had gone home. It was intentional, of
course, although it would be a lie if she said she didn’t miss
them too. It was nice to be wrapped tightly in her dad’s
arms as he lifted her as high as he could in his older age.
Her mother, Encarna, had smiled warmly before ushering
them both inside to ward off the fall chill.
They had a fantastic dinner —grilled halibut, roasted red
potatoes, and carrots— followed by drinks and after-dinner
conversation. Her brother, Román wowed them with stories
from his work at the CNI, which refreshed his memory.
Tipping his wine glass towards his sister, he recalled,
“Maca, you have Dr. Zahir this year, no?”
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Macarena nodded. “Yeah, she’s tough but fair.”

“Yeah, she’ll work you hard until she’s satisfied with the
result.”
Macarena flashed back to that afternoon of Zulema’s ruler
sailing through the air harder and harder each time. The
welts on her ass tingled. She cleared her throat and crossed
her legs.
“Yes, she will.” Maca gulped down the remainder of her
wine and held her glass out for more. Román eyed her
suspiciously but poured more anyway.
“Her recommendation got me into the CNI.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Along with your hard work and dedication,” added
Encarna.
“True, but her word means a lot to the higher-ups. You
know people still talk about her at the job?”
“Really?” It sounded too eager, even to her own ears. She
readjusted her tone and tried again. “What do they say?”
“That she was one of the best intelligence agents they’d
ever had. They say that she was in the running to become
Director one day. Then her husband died and she just quit.”
“That’s a shame,” Leopoldo interjected.
“I agree. He was young too.”
“How young?” Maca couldn’t help herself.
“Late twenties? Early thirties? I can’t remember exactly. I
think he may have been a student of hers at one point, but I
could be wrong.”
Maca sat back in her chair with a huff, thinking as she
chewed on her thumbnail.
So, this wasn’t anything new for Zulema? Good to know.
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Zulema always said in class that information was key to

arming yourself while getting to know your target.
Well, Maca thought, she was right.
***
“Are you happy, mom?”

Macarena asked the question as she and her mother were
walking along the illuminated garden path towards the
sitting bench a few yards from the back patio.
“Am I happy?” Encarna repeated. She took a moment to
consider it as she looked up at the night sky, stars twinkling
brilliantly. When her head lowered, eyes crinkling as she
smiled, she told Macarena, “I’ve never been happier.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I guess I’ve always wondered if you had to give up your
happiness as a chef to have Román and me.”
“You couldn’t be any more wrong.” Her mother reached for
her hand, squeezing it. “I gave up a stressful career to
obtain my true happiness. You and your brother made my
life so complete. When you’re both here,” she shrugged, “the
joy I feel is unparalleled.”
Maca took her mother’s hand in her own and brought it to
her lips, kissing the back of it.
Zulema had been right. All these years, Macarena had
assumed that Encarna wasn’t happy being a homemaker.
Just because she wasn’t flying off to exotic locales to cook in
a snobby five-star restaurant for the elite didn't mean she
was any less passionate about her life.
“What makes you ask?”
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It was Macaren’s turn to shrug. She looked off towards the

back patio where her father and brother were enjoying
cigars and whiskey.
“Curiosity, I suppose. I wanted to know if you could have a
passion for someone else without compromising what
you’re trying to accomplish for yourself.”
Encarna smiled. She knew what was happening here. Her
daughter was falling for someone. “It’s all about balance.
Share yourself equally to what you like and who you like. If
they like you too, they won’t hold you back. If anything,
they’ll push you harder to be the best possible version of
yourself.”
Maca nodded.
“So,” Encarna prodded, “Is there someone pushing you to
be the best possible version of yourself?”
“Maybe. Or so I thought, but maybe it’s not as special as I
thought it was.”
Encarna’s brows knitted together. “What makes you say
that?”
Maca tossed her hands up and shook her head. “I don’t
know. Too much wine,” she dismissed the conversation.
“Well, if it’s still happening around Christmas break, we’d
love for you to bring them around,” Encarna said hopefully.
“Yeah, maybe.”
A while later after Maca was finished her nightly routine,
she slipped her phone out of her bag and checked it for
messages. She’s sent Zulema a text to let her know she
arrived safely. Zulema had simply ‘loved’ the message but
that was all. As she considered sending a goodnight
message, a knock sounded at her bedroom door.
“Come in.”
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Román entered and leaned against the doorframe. “Just

came to say goodnight, and that I know your dirty little
secret.”
“Oh yeah?” Macarena replied, coolly even though she was
internally panicking.
“You have a crush on Dr. Zahir.”
“I do not. Even if I did. According to you, students are her
thing anyway. Why would I give her the time of day if all she
does is seduce students?” Maca tossed her phone to the foot
of the bed before sitting down on the edge.
Román, whose expression had been smug, suddenly had
enough to put the pieces together. “I was kidding, but that
bothered you.”
“I’m not bothered,” she lied.
“You’re a terrible liar.” Román slipped his hands into the
pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I said I wasn’t sure if her
husband was a student of hers.”
“Well,” Macarena gestured with her hands for him to
leave, “go find out.”
“Or, if your relationship is what I think it is, you could just
ask her.” He shrugged his shoulders and then started to
leave, “Just a thought”, he mentioned before closing the
door behind him. Macarena crossed her arms, annoyed at
the thought that Zulema could just be a student-chasing
teacher, and more frustrated that she allowed herself to fall
for the older woman.
I guess I do still have a lot to learn, Maca thought before
she turned out off her light and tossed and turned for the
next eight hours.
***
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Zulema’s house, Friday, 17:03

Zulema sat in her rarely used home office, distracted by
the paperwork before her, willing away the raging migraine
that threatened to take over. She hadn’t eaten in the eight
hours she’d been pouring over every single piece of
information. The brunette took a few sips of water from the
glass in front of her and then jotted down some notes on a
legal notepad.
“Zule!” Saray’s voice called.
“That key is for emergencies, Saray!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” was Saray's reply as she followed
Zulema’s voice to the office and entered, holding up a
carryout bag. “I figured I’d find you here since the campus is
closed.”
The food was placed down onto the file Zulema was
reading. Zulema moved it to the side and Saray rolled her
eyes. She opened the bag herself and reached inside to pull
out Zulema’s dinner. Pulling the top off of the container, she
waved it towards Zulema in an attempt to distract her with
the delicious aroma of her favorite Mediterranean chicken
wrap. But even that wasn’t enough. So, Saray went another
route.
“Zule?” Saray tried.
“Hm?” Zulema replied, reaching for another piece of
paper.
“Remember when you told me to tell you when you’re
obsessing?”
Zulema’s eyes flicked up, peering at Saray over the top of
her glasses. “Am I obsessing?”
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In response, Saray looked deliberately at the desktop full

of case notes and the boxes of evidence copies in the chair
beside Zulema. Zulema sighed and took the proffered food
from Saray’s hands. “I’m just missing one thing. If I can just
figure out what that thing is, I know I can find this
motherfucker.” She took a bite of the wrap and chewed
thoughtfully.
Saray popped a french fry into her mouth, mentioning,
“It’s been four years, Zulema.”
Zulema swallowed, sadly reminding Saray and herself,
“Five soon.”
“Still,” Saray conceded, “you have to give yourself a break.”
“Saray, no one else is looking for this piece of shit. I’ll take
a break when I find him.”
“People are looking for him. You just have to have
patience.”
Zulema gave her a look. She lifted the file folder that she
was reading to show the bright blue ‘COLD CASE’ stamp
that nearly covered the name on the front: Hamadi,
Hanbal.
“It’s been four years!” Saray exclaimed, this time in
absolute disbelief. She took the file from Zulema’s hands.
“They can’t just label this a cold case already!”
Zulema shrugged. “According to Castillo’s intel, there are
new protocols for cases open longer than two years without
any new leads.”
“That’s bullshit,” Saray said, lifting two pages to scan the
third. “Can he do anything?”
“He’s retired. What can he do?”
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Saray grabbed a highlighter off of the desk and emphasized

something on the page while Zulema snagged a fry. “He still
has friends in high places. Friends that owe him favors.”
Zulema sighed and sat back in her chair, nibbling on half
of the fry. “I don’t want him to have to use them until I have
the perfect profile and a top-five list of suspects.”
She allowed Saray to be her fresh pair of eyes as she
finished her food and then started to clear the trash.
“Saray?”
“Hm?” Now, Saray was the distracted one, jotting down
notes on the corner of the file to come back to later. When
Zulema didn’t respond, she looked up into dark, doe-like
eyes. She knew what her best friend needed: reassurance.
“We’re going to find this guy, Zulema.”
Zulema nodded.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to hole yourself up in
here to do it. Live your life. You know Hanbal would have
wanted you to be the same wild and free woman that he
loved. You deserve to be happy, Zule.”
Zulema looked down and smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just,” Zulema tapped at the black and white
picture of Hanbal on the piece of paper in front of her,
“Maca said that, too.”
“So she said the same thing I’ve been telling you for years
now. What’s the difference now that she said it?”
Zulema looked Saray dead in the eye and cocked an
eyebrow.
A look of confusion, followed by one of realization crossed
Saray’s face. “You did fuck her!” Saray shut the folder and
160
tossed it onto the desk. “Was it good? Was she experienced

in the ways of the lady parts?”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“That’s a yes!” Saray’s laugh sobered just a bit before she
looked at her best friend sincerely. “Zule, why didn’t you tell
me about her? She clearly means something to you.”
“There’s nothing to tell. It’s still new.”
Saray sat back and shook her head. “But it’s happening.
You called me at three a.m. the first time you slept with
Helena.”
“Because I was scared, and I felt guilty and I wanted to talk
it out.”
“And now?”
“No guilt, but I’m still terrified.”
“Because you like her. Mark my words, next thing I know
you’ll be shouting to the world that you love her. Saray
grinned. “I’m happy for you.”
“Shut up,” Zulema scoffed playfully. She pointed a finger at
Saray. “And if Rizos finds out about this, just know I know
how to rid a crime scene of any evidence.”
Laughing, Saray held up her hands in surrender. “Vale,
wrap this shit up. We gotta go.” She reached into the
container of lukewarm fries and ate another before tossing
it into the bag with the rest of the trash.
“What? Where are we going?”
“I figured you’d be spiraling without your little blonde here
to distract you, so I got us a spa weekend,” Saray told her,
already halfway out of the room.
Zulema groaned and her head hit the desk.
“Ten minutes, Zule! I’ll be in the car!” Saray called from
down the hall.
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162
Chapter 16:
Moving Forward
As much as she hated to admit it, Saray was right. The spa
weekend had been exactly what she needed to relax,
rejuvenate, and take her mind off of Hanbal’s case. There
were massages and facials and aloe-mud baths that left her
skin with a tingly kind of newness. She and Saray slept in
the spa’s hotel in a suite that separated their bedrooms by a
small kitchenette and a sitting room. In between spa
treatments, they lazed with Saray’s head lying on Zulema’s
lap as they watched tv and caught up with each other’s lives.
When she returned home on Sunday afternoon, she neatly
packed up Hanbal’s case leaving the boxes atop her desk for
later investigation. Then she showered, washed her hair,
turned her cell phone back on, and headed downstairs to
start dinner. She had just finished chopping onions to
sautée when her phone started ringing.
Maca, Zulema thought, hopefully. She said she would call
when she got back to her off-campus apartment.
Mi gitana, her phone screen read.
“Mi amor, we just spent the weekend together. You have to
give me time to miss you, Saray,” Zulema teased.
“Ha ha,” deadpanned Saray. “Come to The Academy.”
“I just started dinner.”
“Slap some plastic wrap on it. Castillo’s got shot specials.”
Zulema’s ears perked up.
“I need food.”
There was a shuffling sound and then she heard Saray
yelling an order of wings and fries to someone in the
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background. Her voice was clear again when she told

Zulema, “Done. See you in twenty.”
Before Zulema could respond, the line went dead.
***
The Academy, Sunday, 21:01

Zulema was pretty sure her liver was going to fail before
classes restarted the following Monday. Saray had somehow
managed to get three tequila shots down her throat before
Zulema had even eaten two fries and a boneless buffalo
wing.
The isolation of the weekend was now balanced perfectly
with the social interaction Zulema was receiving from their
small group. Zulema and Saray sat around two high circular
tables that had been pushed together to make room for
Helena, Fabio, Valbuena —the bartender who made Saray’s
drinks during her sets at Cruz— and Nuria Millán, a guard
who worked with Saray at Del Norte prison.
They were a rowdy bunch, that much was certain,
completely thanks to Castillo keeping their table drowning
in alcohol. Millán, as she went by, was regaling the table
with a story of their newest inmate.
“I shit you not, this chick is towering over me with muscles
out to here,” Millán made a gesture with her hand and arm,
“and I’m thinking ‘please don’t give me lip because I’m not
sure I can take you’.” The table chuckled as Millán finished.
“Anyway, she opens her mouth, and out comes the sweetest,
most high-pitched voice I’ve ever heard and she asks me if
there’s a suggestion box where she can suggest some added
features to ‘brighten up the place’.”
164
The table laughed hard at that before Millán hit Saray’s

shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t laugh, Saray. I
think she’s one of yours.”
“Que?”
“Yeah. Apparently, she’s a black widow. Killed like four
boyfriends and attempted to kill a fifth but he got away so
she’s got a mandatory psych eval with you.”
“Madre mia,” Saray muttered. “I need another drink.” She
raised her at Castillo and gestured for another round.
Zulema shook her head and held up her hands. “I’m out.
I’ve had enough.”
Millán looked flabbergasted. “We can do that? We can just
say ‘no more shots’ to Saray?”
Zulema grinned, picking up her phone. “If you enjoy
having a healthy liver, learn to say no to Saray Vargas.”
“Oye! Don’t teach the newbie that I’m a bad influence.”
Zulema grinned as her phone vibrated. She tapped the
notification, pulling up her Instagram app, and clicked on
the green bubble around Maca’s story icon. A pic of
Macarena with her brother smiling brilliantly for the selfie
greeted Zulema. The next was of her mom and dad, holding
hands with their backs turned to the camera, watching the
sunset. Another someone had taken of Macarena standing a
few feet from the edge of a lake, looking over her shoulder
at the camera with the ghost of a smile on her lips. And the
final photo was Macarena’s hand holding a pool cue under a
filter that made the photograph look as if it were nineties
vintage, date, and time stamp running along the side. In the
background behind her hand were two shots lined neatly
along the wooden edge of a pool table. Rizos’ screen name
was tagged on one of the shot glasses, and at the bottom of
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the screen was the geotag for The Academy Sports Bar &
Grille. Zulema’s eyes flickered up to the top of the screen.
Posted six minutes ago.
Distractedly, Zulema replied to Saray, “You are a bad
influence.”
Zulema vaguely heard Saray scoff in response and try to
persuade Millán that she wasn’t, but she was too focused on
her troubling blonde.
Why hadn’t Macarena text her to let her know she was
home?
“Oye. Rizos is here?” Zulema murmured to Saray because
if anyone knew where Rizos was at any given moment, it
was Saray.
Saray turned around and her eyes began to scan the main
bar. When she didn’t see her curly-haired lover, Saray
looked at Zulema and shook her head, shrugging. Zulema
decided to respond to Macarena’s story instead.
-You’re here? At The Academy, I mean.
-Yes. Blowing off some steam with Rizos. Are you here?
-Yes. Everything okay?
There were a few moments of contemplative thinking on
Macarena’s end before she finally replied to Zulema’s
message.
-We need to talk.
Another message followed quickly after the first. Can I
come by later?
-Yes.
Twenty years of investigative work and a very instinctual
part of Zulema told her that whatever this was… wasn’t
good.
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***
It was nearly midnight when Macarena showed up at

Zulema’s. The brunette had only gotten in about twenty
minutes before the doorbell rang. When she opened the
door for Maca, the blonde entered timidly, unable to meet
Zulema’s eyes. She didn’t crane her neck up to kiss Zulema
and she hesitated before finally deciding to wrap her arms
around Zulema’s waist and embrace her tightly.
Zulema held her in return, resting her chin on top of
Maca’s head for a few moments. When she pulled back and
put both of her hands on Maca’s face, Zulema ducked down
to catch her eyes, giving her a small smile. “Talk to me.”
When Maca’s lips parted but nothing came out, Zulema
took Macarena’s hand in her own and led her to the
television den, and sat the blonde on the couch. She
disappeared for a few moments, and Macarena could hear
her rustling around in the fridge. Returning a few moments
later with two frosted glasses of water, handing one to
Maca, who gulped down one-third of it gratefully.
“Que paso, rubita?”
“I have to ask you something. Don’t get mad.”
Zulema turned her body to face Maca’s, leaning her back
against the arm of the couch, right leg resting on the
cushions between them. She gestured with her hand for
Macarena to continue.
“Do you do this,” the blonde gestured between herself and
Zulema, “with students? Often, I mean.”
Macarena could practically see Zulema’s defensive
emotional wall as it started to rise from the height that
Zulema had pushed it down. For her. For Macarena. And,
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with a single question, Macarena somehow knew she had

brought Zulema back to square one.
“I know that,” Macarena gulped, terrified to bring up
Hanbal’s name because she knew just how raw Zulema still
was, but she had to know, “your husband was much
younger than you. Was he your student, too? Is this just
something that you do? Fall for people who you can teach
and train and mold?”
Zulema’s body temperature had skyrocketed and her eyes
seemed darker than normal. She wanted to say so many
things, none of them very nice. So, she took a few moments
to gather her thoughts because, on one hand, clearly there
had been some sort of miscommunication that Zulema
wanted to clarify right then and there. On the other hand,
the accusation was appalling, and was that really what she
thought that Zulema did?
The brunette was torn; it took a lot of courage for
Macarena to ask what she was asking. In her own way, she,
too, was attempting to clear the air once and for all. But her
presentation and delivery were severely lacking. Especially
when the subject was incredibly delicate and sensitive for
Zulema.
“Well?”
Zulema blinked.
Macarena was becoming increasingly agitated by her lack
of response. It was now or never. And she didn’t know if it
was the alcohol giving her enough courage to share such an
important part of her journey with Macarena, but what she
did know was that she felt uncomfortable enough with
Macarena’s frustrations to understand that the blonde
needed some sort of explanation.
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So, Zulema inhaled and exhaled, centering her breathing.

Then she took Maca’s hand. “Let me show you something.”
She stood from the couch and started towards the corridor
to the front hall. Up the stairs and down the hall, she went,
leading Macarena to the walk-in closet of the master
bedroom and pointed to a small chaise lounge. “Sit.”
Maca sat. She took a look around at the enormous closet.
Three walls were full of clothing, organized perfectly by
color, light to dark. The fourth wall housed a floor-to-ceiling
mirror and in the center was a large island that held
multiple pairs of shoes for every occasion. It looked like
something Macarena would see in a home makeover show.
“Hanbal Hamadi was one of the best profilers that the CNI
has ever known,” Zulema started, walking to the east wall,
to the right of Maca. She ran her hand along a series of
hooded sweatshirts, a few of which Macarena had seen
Zulema wearing. “I hated that he was so young and so
brilliant because some things that took me years to learn,
took him a day,” Zulema smirked. “He thought he was hot
shit.”
Macarena grinned.
“My boss at the time paired us together on a case that the
locals in Valencia just couldn’t seem to close. It took us just
under a week to find their unknown subject. We must have
gotten, I don’t know, thirty-six hours of sleep total that
week. Stayed up until the sun rose, chasing down leads.
Knocking on doors. Interviewing suspects. One morning, he
woke me up to tell me he’d found a new lead, but before he
could get it out, he just stared at me. Really stared at me as
if he was seeing me for the first time.” Zulema shrugged.
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“Anyway, after that case was closed, our boss wanted us

together all of the time. We solved case after case and our
closing rate skyrocketed. Our work-life blended into
personal life. You spend that much time together, especially
on the road, and you learn things about your partner: where
they come from, their family, what they like and dislike.”
Zulema ran a hand down the sleeve of a sweatshirt. “We
learned that we had more in common than we thought. And
that we really, really liked each other. The only difference
was our ages.
“One thing led to another, and after we closed a case one
night, we had drinks. A lot of them. Listened to some vinyl
records, had a ridiculous amount of sex, and then we were
just… addicted to one another.”
Macarena shifted in the chair, pulling her knees up to her
chest and listening to Zulema’s story. Despite the brunette’s
distant concentration as she told it, Macarena felt so much
closer to the brunette.
“Saray explains better than I do, but we became a sort of
safety blanket for one another. Kept each other safe and
protected, at work and outside of it. So, when he died, I
remember feeling so raw and exposed. Until,” she pulled at
the strings of her hoodie, “I put on one of these.”
Macarena was beginning to understand. When Zulema
wore Hanbal’s oversized clothing, she felt a sense of
comfort. It was like armor; a shield against the outside
world.
“You still love him,” Macarena said.
“Wouldn’t you?”
Macarena thought about it for a moment and then nodded
her head. “Of course, I would.”
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Zulema rounded the island, pulling herself up onto it, feet

dangling off of the floor.
“But, do you ever think that maybe while wearing Hanbal’s
clothing is a defensive coping mechanism, that it’s also
inhibiting you from being open to someone else wanting to
be there to protect you?”
Zulema smiled. “Why do you think I haven’t asked for his
hoodie back?”
It was Maca’s turn to blink. “The one you let me borrow
when I was here?”
Zulema nodded. “I think in my mind if I had one less to
wear or if I didn’t miss it, it was my way of telling myself
that I’m ready for something more with someone else.
Maybe it was my way of reminding myself that even though
moving forward is hard, it’s possible.”
Macarena was surprised.
“So,” Zulema sighed, hopping off of the counter and
crossing the space between them, crouching by Macarena’s
feet, “to answer your question: no, I do not do this with
every student. With any, actually. I don’t fall for people that
I have to teach or train or mold. What I like is someone who
challenges me, and has their own way of thinking. Someone
who looks at me like they’re always seeing me for the first
time. And someone to have ridiculous amounts of sex with.”
Macarena laughed and reached out, pressing one hand to
Zulema’s face. “‘You’re a riddle, wrapped in a mystery,
inside an enigma’,” she repeated the words she’d spoken to
Zulema on their first date.
“But, perhaps, you’ve found the key,” Zulema replied,
leaning forward to kiss Maca.
“Let’s go to bed,” the blonde whispered into the next kiss.
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And her bubbling giggles turned into full-blown laughter

as Zulema maneuvered to pick her and carry her out of the
closet.
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Chapter 17:
Friendsmas!
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity for Maca

and Zulema. With winter break on the horizon, Macarena
found herself churning out paper after paper for the
majority of her classes. Zulema, on the other hand, worked
on closing a series of lectures for hers. They’d established a
comfortable nighttime routine; Mondays and Wednesdays,
Zulema would spend the night at Maca’s apartment. She
said it was because she was too exhausted to drive home,
but Maca had the sneaking suspicion that it was because of
something she said over dinner once.
“I don’t like you driving home so late at night.”
It didn’t matter that Zulema had been driving home ‘so
late at night’ before she met Macarena. Still, while Zulema
wouldn’t admit it aloud, she liked that Maca worried about
her.
Their weekends were spent at Zulema’s. Most Friday
evenings, Maca found herself writhing underneath Zulema’s
naked body, coming undone as the brunette murmured
filthy things in her ear. And by Sunday afternoons, Zulema
would be dripping down Macarena’s chin after a late lunch,
and the blonde would leave her a quivering mess until they
saw each other again in the cafe on Monday morning.
It wasn’t all about the sex, though. Maca was in awe of
Zulema’s mind. The woman read published psychology
journals for fun, and on more than one occasion, Maca had
found Zulema pacing in her home office, phone to her ear,
as she consulted on a case with former colleagues.
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Macarena noted that Zulema was a woman of few words, so

when she did speak, she was passionate, determined, and so
goddamned charming. She was falling hard for Zulema
Zahir, and it was fucking terrifying.
Zulema watched Maca intently. She saw how hard Maca
worked on any- and everything. How thoughtful and
considerate Maca was. But what Zulema really liked to see
was that when something unsettled her, Maca kept pushing
until she conquered it. It was partially why Zulema was so
receptive when Macarena voiced a topic that would
otherwise make Zulema uncomfortable.
Maca had come from the boxing gym two hours prior.
“How was the gym?”
“Good, I’m going to be sore in the morning.”
She’d showered not long after a late dinner but was
discouraged by Zulema from dressing in the nightclothes
that she’d brought with her. There, in Zulema’s ridiculously
large bed, she relaxed as the brunette massaged her
already-aching muscles.
“Zule?” She murmured, turning her head to the side.
Zulema hummed in response as she kneaded Macarena’s
shoulders.
“You know how Saray knows about us?”
“Mhm,” the brunette replied, distracted by the soft skin of
Maca’s back.
“I was thinking that maybe I could tell Rizos.”
Zulema’s hands slowed to a stop. She watched as the
blonde’s muscles that she’d just spent ten minutes
unknotting suddenly tensed up again.
What was the harm? They’d already broken rule number
two by fucking in Zulema’s office, and Saray knew about
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them which broke rule number three, so it was only fair,

Zulema decided.
“Okay.”
Shoulders relaxed. “Okay?”
Zulema leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade. Then
the back of her neck. “Is it important to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then okay.”
Macarena turned in bed with a radiant smile and Zulema
was dazzled by it. She tried to stop her own smile, but she
couldn’t. Macarena had that effect on her, and she loved it.
“Are you just saying that because I’m half-naked in your
bed?”
Zulema shook her head and looked Maca up and down. “I
don’t have to impress you. You’re already a sure thing.”
Maca’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened just a fraction,
but before she could protest Zulema was leaning forward
and kissing her softly. Once. Then again. And one more
time until Macarena became pliant in her arms.
For Zulema, Maca realized, she would always be a sure
thing.
***
“Friendsmas!” Saray said, slamming her hand onto the

table.
“Gesundheit,” Maca teased, slipping back into her seat and
depositing three fresh beers between them.
They had been studying for final exams and Saray had
offered her services once more to the group of friends. Luna
and Yolanda had called it a night nearly a half-hour ago.
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Maca played hostess to her last two guests, and in the back
of her mind, she wondered if the two were avoiding their
own homes.
Had her apartment become a safe house for their
clandestine affair?
Rizos rolled her eyes and laughed. “It’s Saray’s version of
Christmas.”
“Yeah, so my family doesn’t really celebrate, but I love the
holidays, and since Zulema is Muslim, I came up with a
neutral, religious-free holiday of my own celebrated a week
before Christmas.”
“Friendsmas,” Maca deduced.
“Exactamente.” Saray looked pleased with herself. “An
entire weekend of winter-themed fun at a cabin in the
mountains that ends Sunday night where everyone gets
dressed up for an incredible, catered dinner. Some drinks. A
gift exchange, maybe a holiday-themed photo booth for the
memories. I’m probably biased, but it’s my all-time favorite
holiday.”
Macarena remembered how amazing Saray’s Halloween
dinner had been and that was only her second favorite
holiday; it made Maca excited to see what Saray came up
with for this one.
“Are you getting the Christmas carolers to deliver the
invitations again this year?” Rizos wondered.
Saray considered it for a few moments before shaking her
head in the negative. “I have to come up with a clever way of
doing it this year because Zule likes to slam her door in
their faces.”
Maca snorted her laughter.
“Toss them down people’s chimneys,” laughed Rizos.
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“That’s actually a good idea!” Maca exclaimed, before

pouring. “Wait, no, I don’t have a chimney.”
“Zule has one, though, and since you’re always there, I can
just...,” She trailed off when she saw Macarena’s eyes
widened and shifted over to Rizos’ face, “...go fuck myself
because Rizos didn’t know. Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you always at Zulema’s?” Rizos asked her friend.
Realization dawned, and she tilted her head, confused.
“Wait, are you seeing Zulema?”
Maca opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded her
head.
“How long?”
“Since that brunch that you helped me get ready for.”
“That was months ago!” Rizos looked affronted. “And you
didn’t tell me?” She stood from the table and crossed the
room.
“Rizos, I was going to!”
Maca sighed as Rizos walked towards Maca’s balcony.
“Maca, I’m sorry.”
Maca held up a hand and shook her head. “It’s okay, Saray.
Really. I should go talk to her.”
Saray nodded and started to clean up the table while
Macarena headed towards Rizos. Stepping out into the cool
night, Maca rested her forearms against the railing of the
balcony a few inches from Rizos.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and Zulema. I was
going to.”
“When? At your wedding?” Rizos huffed.
“No, really. There were rules. We had to be careful because
it’s a delicate situation. If anyone at the university found
out, who knows what would happen.”
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“There’s no law against it. You’re both consenting adults.”

“Yeah, but would I be allowed to graduate or would I have
to repeat Zulema’s course next year with another professor?
And how would the other staff look at Zulema?”
Rizos nodded, she was beginning to understand, but what
still wasn’t clear was why Maca hadn’t confided in her, so
she verbalized the question.
“You know a lot of people,” Maca replied. “If one person
found out, it would only be a matter of time before everyone
knew.”
“So, you thought I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth
shut?”
“No,” Maca pleaded because she didn’t think that, “but
look what just happened with Saray. What if you were the
one who slipped up around someone who wasn’t in our
circle?”
Rizos sighed. Macarena had a point.
“You’re my best friend.” Maca grinned and nudged Rizos’
shoulder with her own. “I don’t know how it happened, but
you are.”
Rizos smiled softly. “It’s because I’m charming.”
Maca laughed. “Yes, you are. And funny, and generous,
and the least judgmental person I know.”
“You forgot gorgeous.”
Maca draped an arm around Rizos’ neck, kissing her
cheek. “The most gorgeous.”
Rizos turned to face Maca and slipped her arms around the
blonde’s waist, hugging her. Maca squeezed her best friend,
tightly and steered her out of the chilly night and back into
the apartment.
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“All forgiven, no?” Saray asked hopefully, arms spread

wide.
“Yes,” Rizos responded.
Standing around the kitchen island, Macarena cleared her
throat. “Now let’s talk about what you two are going to do
about this little affair.”
Rizos held her hand up. “There’s nothing to talk about. We
ended it.”
Maca looked surprised. “Really? What changed?”
“Saray got a girlfriend,” teased Rizos.
“She is not my girlfriend.”
Rizos gave Maca a look and used the corner of her mouth
to murmur, “Yet.”
“Who is this not-yet girlfriend?”
“A coworker. Pretty. Tall. Brunette. Nothing like me, of
course.”
“How do you know what she looks like?” Saray asked
Rizos. The curly-haired vixen shrugged once.
“I can’t reveal my sources.”
Saray and Maca looked at one another, declaring in
unison, “Instagram.”
“Whatever, the point is Saray and I have come to a mutual
end like the responsible adults that we are.”
There was a brief moment of silence before the three of
them burst out into sputtered laughter.
“I don’t know about responsible adults but I am glad you
guys decided to stop before anyone got hurt.”
Rizos’ phone chimed. “Vamos, it’s time for Temptation
Island.”
***
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One week later…

The weather was crisp, just cold enough for a jacket, but
not cold enough for winter accessories like scarves or
gloves. Still, Maca had pulled a gray beanie hat on, mostly
for fashion, and laughed freely at something Nerea said
while leaning on Rizos’ shoulder. She couldn’t remember
the last time she’d felt so carefree. It helped that they were
going to spend a beautiful weekend in a gorgeous cabin on
acres of land that sprawled farther than the eye could see.
They were a two hours drive from the city, and it was worth
it. The air was fresher and nature sang all around them.
Saray had arrived the day before and spent all night
decorating the house from top to bottom in elegant, yet
simple holiday colors.
Macarena got to the cabin last, just after lunch. A glass of
wine and an itinerary of the weekend’s festivities were
immediately pressed into her hand by Yolanda, and she was
offered an assortment of drugs by Luna.
It wasn’t until she found that Rizos had brought along
Nerea and Saray had invited her coworker, Millán, that the
free-flowing alcohol made perfect sense. But so far,
everyone seemed to get along.
It was nearing dinnertime and the group lounged out on
the rear patio of the cabin, waiting for their welcome dinner
to commence. A long, wooden table had been set up outside,
off of the patio, nearly surrounded by a thicket of trees,
complete with battery-operated candles and a winter-
themed floral arrangement.
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The blonde turned, eyes scanning the lush grounds,

looking for the one person she wanted to share this
happiness with.
It didn’t take long to find her.
There she was.
Zulema.
Gazing back.
She was slouched leisurely in an Adirondack chair beside a
cracking bonfire pit, hoodie halfway on her head, and a
smirk on her face. She raised her beer subtly to Maca and
Maca returned the gesture with her wine glass, feeling just a
little giddy.
“Vale, bolleras!” Saray said, tapping her beer bottle with a
fork. “Dinner is served.”
She made her way to the table, followed by three wait-staff,
each wheeling out a cart loaded with covered, savory dishes.
Saray’s guests trailed behind, careful to sit in the seats
assigned to them by the bright red place cards.
“Well, well,” Macarena said, dropping into the seat beside
Zulema, “who would’ve guessed I’d end up next to you?”
Zulema grinned. “God is funny that way.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling Saray now?”
As a deep chuckle came from the back of her throat,
Zulema rolled a piece of gum from one side of her mouth to
the other and Maca fixated on the movement, suddenly
wondering how soon she could get Zulema naked.
Zulema leaned over her armrest to mutter, “Stop looking
at me like I’m dinner.”
“How about dessert, then?”
Zulema didn’t respond. She gave Macarena her signature
smirk and turned to mention something to Saray.
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An hour or so later, the sun had nearly set on their first

evening. The sky was pink, purple, and blue and a chill had
begun to settle, but Macarena could barely feel it. All she
could register was the warmth of Zulema’s hand resting on
her leg, fingers curled around the inside of her knee. It was
as if it were second nature to Zulema, to always touch
Macarena in some way, even as she spoke with the guests
surrounding them. She used her other hand to gesture as
she debated with Rizos about the pros and cons of
networking.
Macarena wondered briefly how Zulema would act
towards her this weekend. Luna and Yolanda didn’t know
about them yet; and while they weren’t her students, they
were still pupils at the university. Zulema answered her
question when she lifted her hand from Maca’s knee and
ran the back of it down the blonde’s cheek before resting it
on the back of Maca’s chair. The smooth action happened so
swiftly that Macarena wasn’t sure it even happened at all
until she clocked Rizos’ amused expression.
“Oye, Saray, where’s everyone sleeping?” Yolanda asked as
the wait-staff reappeared and started to clear the table. It
was a good question. When they arrived, they had left their
bags in the front foyer, as instructed, thus no one had seen
their rooms yet.
Saray grinned. “Open up your place cards.”
The place cards, folded in half and sat before their plates
like little tents, were picked up. Inside was smaller writing
with a room assignment and their bunkmates for the
weekend, along with a small game.
“Saray, what’s the candy cane game?” Millán inquired,
holding up her place card.
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A satisfied smirk on her face, Saray leaned forward, the

flame of the faux candle casting a warm glow on her skin. “A
reindeer game, if you will. The first of many. There are
eighty candy canes, not including the ones on the Christmas
trees, hidden in plain sight. The team, composed of you and
your bunkmate, with the most candy canes at the end of the
weekend will win a prize. Happy hunting.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me for this festive weekend,”
Macarena said as she and Zulema stood.
Zulema grabbed her beer, taking a swig and wrapping that
same arm around Maca’s neck. They started towards the
cabin, trailing behind the group.
“I’ll have to check the naughty list to see if you’re on it,”
Zulema husked.
“I may be,” Maca replied, grabbing the front of Zulema’s
hoodie as they crossed the threshold, “but I promise I’ll be
really good to you tonight.”
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Chapter 18:
You Feel It Too?
The room that Maca and Zulema had been assigned was
breathtaking. Upon entering, the first thing Maca noticed
was the slanted bleached wood ceiling that came to a point
to the east where the wall had been replaced by a beautiful
window that overlooked the estate. It was too dark now, but
Zulema was certain that, come morning, they would be able
to see the fog-capped mountains in the distance. The decor
was stunning: white linens with tan and gray accents. The
bed was situated towards the far left and there was an
expansive space of floor in between, separating it from the
lounging area near the window. A small couch, table, and
even a Friendsmas tree, decorated to match the room’s
color scheme, beside an electric fireplace inhabited the large
space.
Maca had disappeared into the en-suite bathroom shortly
after they dropped their bags beside the door. Zulema heard
the toilet flush followed by the sink turning on and then an
excited squeal a few moments later. Maca reappeared,
practically skipping out of the bathroom. “Carí, look what I
found!”
If the pet name took Zulema by surprise, she didn’t show
it. She simply turned from the wall of windows and saw
Maca holding a candy cane in each hand.
“In the toothbrush holders,” she said, absolutely pleased
with herself.
Zulema grinned and watched as Macarena crossed the
room, a giddy smile on her face. Her arms slid perfectly
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around Zulema’s neck and Zulema’s seamlessly

encompassed Maca’s waist. Maca kissed her softly.
“Where do you think the other candy canes are?”
“I don’t know,” Zulema sighed, taking a quick scan of the
room. “But I swear if I get into bed and suddenly there’s a
candy cane in my ass, Saray and I are gonna have a
problem.”
Macarena couldn’t stop the laugh if she tried. Head tossed
back, face to the ceiling, the sounds of pure joy escaped her
mouth. It was music to Zulema’s ears. Her eyes studied the
brunette’s face and she wanted to kiss her senseless. And
then she remembered that she could. So, she did. Zule
pulled out of the hug and used a hand to grip either side of
Maca’s face, bringing their mouths together. Macarena
wasn’t sure if she could blame the alcohol but something
was different about the kiss. Time stood still when Zulema’s
lips met hers, and it was almost addictive the way Maca's
taste and smell caused a sensory overload inside of the
brunette.
There was no telling how long they stood there, in the
center of the room, lips colliding, tongues caressing, hands
roaming. But eventually, Maca found herself lying on the
soft faux fur rug between the fireplace and the small tree
while Zulema undressed them both, only removing her
mouth from Maca’s when necessary.
Macarena felt the energy shift. Zulema took her time
pulling off their shirts and pants. Took care to massage
every inch of Maca’s body before her mouth followed suit.
She kissed from Macarena’s jaw to her neck and all the
down her chest before reaching underneath to expertly
unhook and remove Macarena’s bra. The material was flung
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haphazardly away as if Zulema wouldn’t wait to get her

hands on Maca’s tits. She kissed and sucked and nibbled,
drawing out the sweetest noises from the impatient blonde.
There wasn’t a single spot that Zulema missed on her way
down Maca’s body. Dipping her tongue inside of Maca’s
navel, she continued downward, biting the soft skin just
underneath as she hooked her pointer fingers inside of
Macarena’s panties and pulled. Over her thighs, and down
her legs they went until they, too, were flung out of reach.
“Zulema,” Maca said for lack of anything else to say. It was
just so quiet and she was feeling so many things; among
them, she felt sexy and secure and like a goddess as Zulema
worshipped her body. She wanted to ask Zulema what this
was about and what she was feeling. Was it the same thing
Maca was feeling? Could she feel the way they’d gone so
far so past the city limits of Zulema’s boundaries and
Maca’s insecurities? Did Zulema also see that they’d
reached a fork in the road where they could turn towards
stagnant lust or towards something… more?
“Oh!” Maca moaned as she felt Zulema’s mouth where she
needed it most. Zulema’s tongue slid between her folds and
had discovered that Macarena was positively drenched. It
didn’t matter; she was already eagerly lapping up Maca’s
juices, trying her hardest to get Maca even wetter. Her
tongue explored Macarena, slipping inside with a shallow
rhythm before pulling back out and lavishing her clit with
attention. A hand got lost in dark hair as Maca bit down on
two fingers on her other hand. She tried her hardest to keep
her eyes open, but when Zulema pushed two fingers inside
of her, she lost that battle.
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She moaned and clenched around the digits, taking

Zulema’s further in. In slow, sure strokes, Zulema glided in
before pulling almost completely out. Over and over again,
she did it, finessing a third finger inside. Maca’s eyes and
mouth opened in surprise and then she noticed it.
The full-length mirror behind Zulema where she could see
Zulema’s head moving side to side and the flex of the
muscles in her arm as she firmly drove in and out of
Macarena.
“Oh god!” She cried out and Zulema looked up. She pulled
her mouth away, but her arm never stopped moving.
Turning to see what caught Maca’s attention, Zulema
grinned darkly and Macarena knew she’d made a terrible
mistake. The brunette pushed herself up onto her bare
knees and managed to remain deep inside of Maca as she
maneuvered until she helped Maca into a sitting position
and slid behind her. And now, Macarena had the perfect
view of Zulema’s fourth finger slipping inside of her. With
Zulema’s front pressed against her back, warm breath
against her ear, Maca nearly came when Zulema whispered,
“You look so good with me inside of you.”
“Zulema, please.”
“Please what?”
Maca grabbed Zulema’s wrist, pulled the brunette deeper
inside, and fuck she felt so full, and yet all she wanted was
more. She wanted to take everything Zulema wanted to give
her and then some.
“More,” she breathed and Zulema’s eyes searched hers.
“Are you sure?”
Maca nodded quickly, panting desperately. And if that
wasn’t enough permission, she squirmed underneath the
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brunette. And thank god Zulema took the hint because

Maca felt like she would go crazy if she didn’t have more of
Zulema right then and there.
Zule folded her thumb toward the inside of her palm and
then slipped that inside of Maca.
Bare tits reached Zulema’s line of sight as Maca’s back
arched off of the carpet. Her mouth slack and her eyes
wrenched shut, she moaned her pleasure, Zulema’s name
on the tip of her tongue. Pushing damp hair off of Maca’s
forehead, Zulema kissed down Macarena’s sternum. Her
cheeks reddened and her chest flushed when she realized
that the wet sounds echoing in the room were coming from
her pussy.
“Feel me, rubía?” Zulema whispered, smirking. Her arm
moved slow and steady and it drove Maca insane how
Zulema always seemed to know exactly what she needed.
“I always feel you,” confessed Macarena.
The next time Zulema pulled out, she allowed her thumb
to escape and pressed it against Maca’s clit. Maca watched
in awe as four of Zule’s fingers disappeared inside of her.
Over and over and over again. That combined with her
thumb circling her clit and the open-mouth kisses against
her neck, Maca couldn’t take it anymore.
“More! God yes! Don’t stop, I’m gonna c—!” She couldn’t
even finish her sentence. She was too busy squirting onto
the faux fur rug.
Shocked and out of breath, Maca looked at Zulema in the
mirror and laughed blissfully. “I swear that’s never
happened before!”
She turned in Zulema’s arms and pushed the brunette
down, straddling her, slick cunt smearing her essence
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against Zulema’s right leg. She leaned down and kissed the
brunette softly, only deepening the kiss when Zulema
moaned into her mouth.
Zulema felt exposed. And not just because Macarena had
her completely nude in front of uncovered windows and
across from a mirror. Zulema was emotionally naked as
well. And what was even more confusing to her was that she
liked it. She liked how she wasn’t afraid of what was
happening. And how she was almost positive that Macarena
felt the same way.
And she especially liked the way Maca was kissing her
neck as her knee pressed against Zulema’s drenched
underwear. The blonde squeezed both of her breasts, wet
mouth dropping down to encompass either of her hardened
nipples. Zulema tried to stop herself, but couldn’t help the
way she arched upward, craving more of the soft sucking
sensation.
The husky rasp of a moan floated into Maca’s ears as her
hand slid into Zulema’s panties. Her eyes closed as she felt
just what she’d done to Zulema.
“Para mi?” She asked, cheekily. Zulema attempted to roll
her eyes, but they closed tightly instead as Maca pushed two
fingers as deeply as she could inside of Zulema.
“Maca!” She pushed upward, using one hand to prop
herself up. Face-to-face with Maca, Zulema pulled her into a
passionate kiss as Maca continued to pump steadily in and
out of her.
It was unreal how perfect the moment was. Crackling fire
casting warm light over their sweat-slicked skin. Zulema
circling her hips to take more of Macarena. The blonde
began to roll her hips, Zulema’s leg serving to relieve the
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ache that was rebuilding inside of Maca’s cunt. The heel of

her hand pressed fixedly against Zulema’s bundle of nerves,
Maca wrapped the other around the back of Zulema’s head,
holding her close. Zulema held her waist, securely, and they
used each other’s bodies to ride the wave of pleasure
straight into the plundering depths of oblivion.
“You feel so good,” Maca panted as she twisted her wrist
back and forth, effectively corkscrewing her fingers in and
out of the brunette. Zulema’s head fell to Maca’s shoulder,
biting the soft skin there as she felt her body immediately
respond to Macarena’s words.
What the fuck was happening? Why could Zulema feel her
orgasm taking over her entire body? From the top of her
head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between.
Maybe this was why she always wanted to know if Maca
could feel her. Inside. Outside. Prickling every nerve ending
and sending signals coursing through her bloodstream and
landing directly in her heart.
Because that’s what Zulema felt. Not just then as her
orgasm washed over her, but every time she was with
Macarena. Any time Macarena touched her. Or looked at
her.
It was terrifying. And overwhelming. And—.
“Oh, fuck!” Zulema cried out as Maca’s fingers curled
upward and caressed her g-spot.
Partly because of the intensity of her climax, but mostly
because she knew exactly what was happening.
***
Saturday, 9:09
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Saray wasn’t kidding when she said candy canes were

hidden all over the house in plain sight. Maca found three
more in the utensil drawer as she helped set the breakfast
the following morning.
She found another tucked in the centerpiece of the
breakfast table, and Zulema handed her one that she’d
found in the butter compartment in the fridge. It surprised
Maca that Zulema even bothered with the silly candy cane
game. For Zulema, all that mattered was that Maca was
happy and enjoying herself, so she would track down as
many candy canes as it took to see the childlike grin on
Maca’s face whenever she handed her one.
Breakfast was incredible. Rizos, Maca, Yolanda, and Luna
had outdone themselves; waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon,
sausage, fruit salad, the works. The table buzzed with
conversation as Saray explained what they would be doing
all day. Her reindeer games sounded fun, but it was once
the first bottle of champagne was popped and mimosas
were created, that everyone really started to get into the
holiday spirit.
“Seriously, though, did everyone sleep well?” Saray asked,
popping a grape into her mouth.
“We know who didn’t get any sleep last night.” Yolanda
quipped.
Nerea cocked an amused eyebrow at Rizos, who in turn,
looked at Luna while trying to stop herself from smirking.
Trapped in their own little conversation, Maca and Zulema
hadn’t a clue that the table was talking about them.
“Oye, Maca!” Saray reached forward and picked up the
tray of mixed fruit and berries. Blonde ponytail whipped
around as Macarena gave Saray her attention. “Here, I
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know you could always use ‘more’.” When Saray moaned

the last word, the entire table broke out into a fit of
laughter. Maca blushed furiously and turned to look at
Zulema in disbelief.
Yolanda, seated across from Maca at the rectangular table,
leaned forward and whispered, “The walls are thin.”
“Your secret’s safe with us,” Luna replied, sending a wink
Maca’s way.
“Yeah, no one’s gonna say anything, Zule, what were you
doing to la rubía? Making her take your whole fi—.”
“Saray!” Millán scolded gently, reaching over to tug on the
long ends of Saray’s hair. “Leave them alone.”
“Vale, vale,” Saray digressed, clasping her hands together,
“who is ready for the first of many games?”
“Let’s do it,” Millán replied.
***
Zulema Zahir. Doctor of psychology. Professor of criminal

psychology and profiling. And all-around little shit for
purposefully shouting out incorrect answers during games
of dirty Friendsmas charades.
“Zule, calla!” Saray laughed as she continued to act out the
topic on her game card.
Sandwiched on the couch between Rizos and Millán,
Zulema’s tiny frame was nearly swallowed whole by the
comfortable couch. Knees pulled to her chest and one arm
reaching for the refreshed glass of wine that Maca was
holding out to her.
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Maca took a seat on the floor in the space between Zulema

and Rizos’ legs. She rested her arm on Zulema’s knee and
leaned her head against her closed fist.
“What is she doing?” Maca asked.
Saray repeated her gestures. She pressed a finger to her
lips and then made a vulgar thrusting gesture with her hips.
“Oral sex?” Rizos called.
“You wish,” quipped Saray. Nerea rolled her eyes and
Millán snorted.
Saray kept repeating the gestures as the timer on the table
ticked loudly down to its cycle completion.
“Quiet fucking?” Luna wondered.
“Saray do something else! We’re not getting it!” Millán
called.
“Oh wait!” Maca clapped her hands together once. “I think
I got it! Is it ‘secret lover’?”
Eyes wide with excitement, Saray pointed at Maca. “Yes!
Finally!” The timer dinged cheerfully and Luna reached
over to turn it off.
“Maca, since you guessed the answer, it’s your turn now,”
Yolanda explained.
“No. I don’t want to,” Maca whined.
“Those are the rules. Get up there.” Rizos used her foot to
nudge Maca. A series of encouraging words —and a few not-
so-encouraging ones— flew around the room until,
begrudgingly, Maca pushed herself off of the floor and
headed towards the front of the room. Luna fanned out the
stack of game cards and Maca closed her eyes as she pulled
one from the middle. She opened her eyes to read the card
and laughed loudly.
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“Vale, Rizos, ven aca,” Maca gestured with the card for
Rizos to come to her.
“Ohhh, we have props, ladies! This is gonna be good!”
Nerea shouted. That earned a round of applause as Rizos
made her way to Maca, stepping over Luna and Yolanda to
get to her.
Maca pointed to the floor, silently commanding Rizos to lie
down. Millán let out a wolf-whistle and Zulema leaned
forward until her feet rested on the floor. She took a sip of
wine before her forearms pressed against her knees and she
focused her undivided attention on the two friends.
Once Rizos lowered herself onto the floor, knees still
raised, Maca dropped down after her, slipping one denim-
clad leg over Rizos’, the other underneath.
“Missionary?” Luna asked.
Maca shook her head. She lifted Rizos’ leg up and over her
shoulder and a series of hooting catcalls floated around.
Maca looked down at a giggling Rizos and they both burst
out into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“Scissoring!” Nerea added.
Maca pointed at Nerea and then made a ‘keep going’
motion with her hand. She was so close.
“The technical term,” explained Maca. Nerea looked lost
then.
“Tribbing,” came Zulema’s voice. It was deep and quiet
and yet the sound made goosebumps form on Maca’s arms.
It was the same tone she used when Macarena knew she
was ‘in the mood’.
“Is that right?” Yolanda asked, looking at Maca.
“Yeah.” She slid off of Rizos and onto the floor, helping the
latter sit up. There was a brief moment that passed between
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Zulema and Macarena where they had a silent conversation

with their eyes.
And then the timer went off.
“Is anybody else hot now?” Rizos asked the room teasingly
as she pushed and pulled on her shirt in rapid succession to
get some air.
“Callate,” Maca responded and pushed her away.
“Zulema,” Yolanda said, holding up the stack of game
cards, “it’s your turn.”
Zulema sat her wine glass down and pulled herself up and
off of the couch. Stepping around everyone, she got to the
front and stood beside Maca. Zule took a card from Yolanda
like everyone else had and smirked, her head shaking in
disbelief.
“Vale, start the timer,” she told Yolanda.
“Ready, and go!” Yolanda permitted.
The brunette put a hand to her own throat, making a
halfhearted motion.
“Pearl necklace,” shouted Rizos, gaining a mixture of
disgusted and entertained reactions.
Zule rolled her eyes, muttering, “Joder.”
The brunette crouched down until she was face-to-face
with her blonde counterpart. One hand grabbed Maca’s
neck and the other reached behind her head and took a
fistful of blonde hair. Maca’s breath immediately hitched as
the grip on the sides of her neck became more firm. Her
breathing sped up and she suddenly felt her heartbeat in
her pussy.
She couldn’t believe that Zulema was doing this. Right
here. In front of everyone. It was so different. So unlike her.
So… hot.
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Calm down, Maca. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. It’s
just a—.
“Choking!” Yolanda yelled, and thank god she did because
Macarena had been a nanosecond away from lurching
forward and kissing Zulema.
Macarena and Zulema had disappeared after that round.
They were only meant to be gone for ten minutes, but an
hour later, Saray had to trek up to the third floor and knock
on their bedroom door to announce that lunch was ready.
Maca had been on top of Zulema, hips sensually rolling her
soaked pussy square against Zulema’s.
“Coming!” Macarena shouted, and while she had actually
been announcing her orgasm, Saray nodded on the other
side of the door, satisfied and she made her way back
downstairs to the large dining room.
By the time they made it to lunch, everyone else was
practically finished.
It wasn’t their fault, Maca decided.
Sex was one thing. And fucking was another.
But now that Zulema and Macarena had discovered
lovemaking, it was a completely different ballgame. They
got lost in one another; touching, tasting, scratching,
squeezing. Time didn’t matter, and when it was just the two
of them, Macarena and Zulema were beginning to realize
that it was all they wanted.
And it was all they needed.
During that afternoon’s reindeer games, however, Saray
had other plans for them. If she wasn’t getting laid, no one
was.
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Chapter 19:
El Regalo
“You have my best friend head over heels for you,” Saray
said. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her cuffed
chinos and steered Maca to the left. They walked slowly
down a wooded path. The weather was that of a crisp, fall
day compared to what it should have been in mid-
December. Still, Maca had her hands shoved into the
pockets of her jacket.
“Do I?”
They both gave one another an amused expression as they
continued on the trail. The other guests were on a drunken
scavenger hunt and were meant to return to the cabin with
their treasures in the next half hour. Because Saray had
been the one to hide the prizes, she was automatically
disqualified and had to choose a partner to sit out with.
Naturally, she’d chosen Macarena. It was the perfect
opportunity for Saray to get Macarena alone for an
obligatory ‘if you hurt my best friend, I’ll kill you’ speech.
“I know you see it. Everyone does. You won’t be able to
hide it for much longer.”
“I don’t want to hide it. Hide us. Zulema is incredible.
She’s brilliant and funny and terrifying.”
“But?”
“There’s no but. We just have a couple more months and
then I graduate and we can do whatever we want.”
Saray nodded. “Zulema is as badass as they come. She’s
seen a lot and been through even more. It’s made her
tough.” She rounded Macarena’s left, coming to stand
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before her. “But she still has feelings, no matter how deeply
she suppresses them.”
Maca’s eyes searched Saray’s. “I would never hurt her, but
I understand that you’re just trying to protect her.”
Saray gazed at Macarena for a few moments longer before
they continued to walk down the path, eventually circling
back to the cabin.
“About you and Rizos, though,” began Maca.
Saray chuckled and reached above her, pulling a leaf off of
a tree. “I know you want to protect her, and I get that too.
But I love her more than life itself. I would die for her, even
if that means dying emotionally while watching her live her
life and be happy with someone that’s not me.”
“That’s not healthy, Saray.”
The tall brunette laughed. “And that is why even therapists
have therapists.”
Maca grinned. “Still, do you think you’ll ever be able to
move on and be happy with someone else?”
Shrugging, Saray twirled the leaf between her fingers.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“With Nuria?” Macarena asked, teasingly.
“You’re too smart for your own good.”
“And to be so smart, you are such an idiot. You could be
here with her, getting to know her better instead of asking
me to be your partner.”
Blowing air out of her mouth, Saray looked down at the
leaf in her hand and started to pluck the tips off, dropping
them as she went. They cleared the thicket of trees and the
cabin was on the horizon, and they could see that the small
group had congregated on the back patio, holding their
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checklists and small trinkets in their hands. When Saray

didn’t respond, Maca looked over at her.
“Oh, I see.”
“There’s nothing to see,” the brunette replied stubbornly.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of anything.”
“Except that maybe you’ll fall for her and forget about
Rizos,” Maca said, knowingly.
Saray looked to Maca. They both smiled at the same time.
Saray pulled a hand out of her pants pocket and lazily
pushed at the blonde’s shoulder. “Like I said: too smart for
your own good.”
Maca looped an arm through Saray’s and pulled her
quickly toward the house. “Just tell her how you feel. Who
knows? She might just be exactly what you need.”
The closer they got to the cabin, Maca’s eyes found Zulema
almost immediately. Millán, who she’d been paired with, for
obvious reasons, was holding a cell phone up to Zulema
who struck a silly pose as she leaned on the picnic table
beside the lit fire pit. At the last minute, Luna and Yolanda
jumped into the back of the pic, each with a different
ridiculous pose to match Zule’s. Once Millán gave them the
thumbs up, they circled her to take a look at the picture and
laugh.
Maca realized something.
Zulema wasn’t hiding underneath one of Hanbal’s hoodies.
Or a pair of cargo pants. Her signature combat boots were
in full view, but tucked into them was an all-black nylon and
spandex bodysuit that hugged her perfect body and her
bomber jacket to ward off the afternoon chill.
The blonde was stunned.
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At that exact moment, Maca watched as Zulema looked

around the patio as if she was missing something. She
turned in the direction that Saray and Maca were coming
from and her dark green eyes found Maca. Even with the
dark shades covering her eyes, Maca could see the relief
spread across her face and a smile tugged at the corner of
Zule’s lips.
It was strange, yet comforting to know that no matter how
far apart they were and no matter how many people were
around, they somehow managed to find each other.
***
A few hours later, after a group decision to nap away the

effects of day drinking, they met in the game room after
another fabulous dinner. Saray had poured more alcohol,
declaring that everyone should be prepared for the next
game.
“Vale,” Saray said, leaning onto Millán’s shoulder as she
sat down on the floor, “so everyone brought a generic gift
that anyone can appreciate, no matter their tastes. They’ve
all been wrapped obscurely, to hide their contents, and that
is for a good reason.” As she spoke, Saray gestured around
the circle as everyone sat or stood with the gifts they’d
brought with them. “This game is called ‘Who Killed Papa
Noel?’ I’m going to tell a Friendsmas murder mystery story
that heavily emphasizes the words ‘left’ and ‘right’. When I
say the right, you’ll pass the gift to the right and you’ll keep
passing the gifts to the right until I say left, and that’s when
you’ll begin to pass the gifts to the left. The rights and lefts
200
will eventually alternate quicker the longer the story goes

on, so be mindful.”
“Saray, we’re too drunk for this.”
“Exactly,” Saray responded with a cheeky grin. “Once the
story stops, you get to keep the gift that you end up with,
but I guess I should mention the twist. While you’re
passing, you have to pay attention to the story because, after
the gift contents are revealed, the first person to guess
which character from the story killed Papa Noel, will get the
chance to steal the gift they like better. Listos?”
“Vale, let’s go. I’m ready to win,” Yolanda quipped.
“Not if I win first,” Luna shot back.
“Looks like we have some friendly competition! I like it.
Alright, let’s do this.”
The story was ridiculous and filled with so many twists and
turns that Maca had given up on trying to guess who in the
story had killed Papa Noel. She could barely focus on
passing the gifts to the right and left, and the exciting flurry
of motions only served to worsen her focus. In the end,
Nerea had won the bonus gift.
After they’d finished the game, there was a moment where
Saray had turned up the music and pulled Millán into her
arms to dance. That began an entire night of pure laughter
as they switched between dance partners, remembering
how to do old dance trends that had long been forgotten
and learning some new ones. They danced and drank until
they dropped, some making it to bed, and others sleeping
right there in the game room.
***
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Sunday, 17:30
Their final day at the cabin was to be spent exactly the way
they wanted. So, after breakfast, Zulema and Maca went
back to their room to prepare their clothes for the big
dinner that evening. Then, they hopped back into bed and
just… talked. Well, Maca talked, and Zule listened. She told
Zulema about her plans after graduation, and Zulema spoke
encouraging words into her ear while scratching gently at
Maca’s scalp.
They made love. Showered, together. And got ready
together. Maca helped Zulema pull her dark hair up into an
elegant bun that matched the aesthetic of the hand-painted
couture jacket she wore. Maca slipped into a black dress,
heavy with chiffon and a dramatic split that revealed her
toned legs whenever she took a step. She pinned her golden
hair to the side just in time for Rizos to come barging into
the room asking for Maca’s help with her blue, strapless
dress.
Arriving downstairs was a treat in itself. Saray —and an
incredible staff of ten— had managed to transform the
modest cabin into a winter wonderland while Maca and the
remainder of the guests were off getting ready for dinner.
Faux snow and holiday garland covered in “frost” tastefully
covered the dinner table, chairs, and even the Friendsmas
tree in the corner. The lights were dim and real candles
burned softly, bouncing off of the crystal chinaware and
glass ornaments in the centerpiece. Saray had truly outdone
herself yet again and she beamed with pride as her friends
oohed and ahhed over the beauty of it all.
Dinner was served, the wine was poured and the
conversation flowed effortlessly. Somewhere between their
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entrée and dessert, Maca had looked around the table at her
friends laughing or enraptured in an interesting
conversation and suddenly understood what her parents
meant when they said that life was about the fun moments
with people that she held dear.
Elbows on the table, hands clasped together and head
tilted to the right as she gazed adoringly at Zulema.
“Qué?” Zulema asked, not bothering to hide her smile.
“Nothing. It’s just nice to see you out of your comfort zone.
You seem different. Happy.”
They both knew she wasn’t going to say it aloud, so
Macarena would just have to be content with the way
Zulema used her eyes to confirm. She sipped from her wine
and then sat the glass back down before reaching into the
pocket of her couture jacket. The raven-haired pulled out a
small, flat gift box wrapped in black wrapping paper.
Tapping it gently to gain Maca’s attention, Zulema slid the
small gift box across the table, nonchalantly. Chin resting in
her palm, her eyes flickered up to gauge Maca’s reaction.
“Zulema, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“It’s small. Nothing crazy. But I wanted you to have it.”
Zulema raised her brows expectantly so Maca picked it up.
Its lightweight only served to further intrigue Macarena.
She unwrapped the paper to reveal the box inside.
Shimmying off the lid, it was Maca’s turn to raise her brows.
The blonde looked at Zulema and gave her a questioning
look.
“Keys. To my house,” explained Zulema.
Maca’s jaw dropped as she picked up the keyring that held
two keys: one silver and one gold. There was a pure silver
keychain attached, shaped like a tiny silver scorpion.
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“Fatima,” Maca said and Zulema smiled, shrugging

slightly. With an air of nostalgia, Zulema mentioned, “I
really liked that scorpion.”
Macarena shook her head and leaned over her seat.
Zulema met her halfway and kissed her softly.
When they pulled away, Maca smiled. “Zulema, I-I don’t
know what to say.”
Zulema shrugged. “That you will use it, rubía.”
“Of course I will.”
204

Chapter 20:
New Year
In the end, Macarena had decided that it was too soon to

bring Zulema home to her parents for Christmas, and while
it was only for two nights, the pair still sent an abundance of
text messages. Maca confessed to Román that her ‘crush’ on
Zulema had turned into something much more. Naturally,
he wanted details, but Macarena quickly changed the
subject by asking about the hints of a secret relationship
that he’d been dropping on his social media accounts.
For New Year‘s Eve, Macarena, Rizos, and a gaggle of their
friends went to see DJ Vargas spinning at Cruz. Zulema
arrived just after ten and was pulled up onto the stage with
Saray.
“Is that Zulema up there?” Rizos had shouted over the
music.
Maca turned from her place at the bar and her jaw
dropped. There, at the DJ booth was Zulema, cigarette in
hand, bobbing to the music. Saray was next to her,
recording on an iPhone and cheering her on. Macarena
had nearly spat out of her drink.
Was there anything the brunette couldn’t do?
And as the entire crowd counted backward from ten,
Zulema’s eyes found hers. Macarena desperately wished she
could have gone up to the stage, hopped up, and pulled
Zulema down into a searing kiss.
Instead, while everyone shouted ‘Happy New Year!’ and
kissed their significant others —or whatever stranger that
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was next to them— Maca and Zulema raised their glasses to

one another.
The next thing Macarena knew, it was the second full week
of January, and classes had resumed. Her class load was
lighter than it had been during the fall semester, but the
classes, themselves, were heavy in content. This was her
final semester in graduate school and it could make or
break her career. She promised herself that she would give
her all, and would not let anything or anyone distract her
from her final goal.
“Congratulations, you have all made it to spring semester,”
Zulema announced as she breezed into the lecture hall. She
dropped her bag and laptop on the desk in front of the class
and looked at her class. In faux leather skinny pants, one of
her signature band tees, no blazer, and her hair pulled back
in a ponytail, Zulema looked cool.
“Some of you sailed through the fall semester, while others
skated by with the grace of God.” She pulled herself up onto
her desk, slipping one ankle under her thigh and picking up
her travel mug. “That will not work this semester. The next
five months will be the most challenging of your entire
school career. So, say goodbye to your tequila-filled
weekends and Temptation Island marathons.”
The class laughed. Macarena and Rizos playfully rolled
their eyes over to look at one another.
“Vale,” Zulema said, taking a sip from her coffee, “let’s
start easy. What is the one thing you need to keep in mind
when profiling an offender?”
No one said anything and a few people turned to look at
their peers in confusion.
206

“Everyone lies,” Zulema told them, “especially offenders.”

A few heads bowed as people started scribbling notes on
sheets of paper or typing them onto their laptops. “You will
have offenders who lie about committing crimes. ‘No, I’m
innocent’, or even ‘yes, I did it’. And others will lie about the
nature of their crimes. Some will exaggerate the number of
their victims for more notoriety. Others will downplay their
victim count. They will even lie about their own lives.”
A hand raised in the back and Zulema jutted her chin at
the student.
“Isn’t that a cynical way of looking at the world?”
“Perhaps,” Zulema answered with a shrug, “but if you want
to work with criminals, you have to be a realist, and
realistically the truth is that everyone lies. The average
man lies about forty-two times a week and the average
woman lies about twenty-one times a week.”
The topic sparked an incredible debate that made the time
pass quickly and before Zulema knew it, her watch buzzed
against her arm and she looked at it, brows raised.
“Looks like we’re out of time, guys, but just remember the
series of lectures for the next few weeks will prepare you all
for the prison experiment in April, so you’ll need very
detailed notes. Also, sign-ups for the prison experiment will
start in two weeks. I should warn you all that participation
in the experiment is on a first-come, first-serve basis. Your
assignment for the week is to read chapters twenty through
twenty-five and write a three-to-five-page summary on
them. Class dismissed.”
***
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“Rubia, if you don’t already know, Zulema’s birthday is this

Friday.”
Maca knew. She also had to convince Saray not to throw
an enormous party because Zulema despised the idea of
getting older. One night, post-coital and drifting between
wakefulness and slumber, Zulema admitted that she hated
the idea that she might die before Maca. That, of course,
opened a door of emotions that Zulema quickly shut.
“Who says I won’t die before you?” Maca had asked.
Almost immediately, she wanted to kick herself. She hadn't
considered… Hanbal.
“Then I would probably die of a broken heart.”
The next morning, they didn’t talk about it at all, but
Zulema had kept her in bed a little longer and Maca had
kissed her a little softer.
So, with a lightened course load, Maca was left with a lot of
free time on her hands and she decided to spend the
entirety of her Wednesday trying to find the perfect gift for
Zulema. She dragged Rizos through both Calle de Preciados
followed by Calle Gran Vía in search of something that
would reward Macarena with that childlike smile that lit up
Zulema’s entire face.
It was nearly dinnertime when they stepped out of the final
store. Right forearm weighed down by things she’d bought
for herself, Maca carefully held her unique find in both
hands.
“I can’t believe you bought that for Zulema.”
“It means something. She’ll love it.”
“You know her better than I do.”
They stepped out to cross the road towards Maca’s car and
as Maca shoved her bags into the backseat, Rizos noticed a
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note tucked under the windshield wiper. She plucked it

from its spot and handed it over to Maca as she climbed
into the car behind her.
“What’s this?”
Rizos shrugged as she put on her seatbelt. “Probably a
party flier.”
Maca opened it up and scanned its contents. In quick
scrawl was: Who do you think you are? Stay out of the way.
Maca looked around. People bustled past on the busy
sidewalk and others crossed the street to reach the other
side of the shopping plaza, but none seemed to pay them
any attention.
“What the fuck?”
“What an asshole.” Rizos, who’d read it over her shoulder,
rolled her eyes and snatched the note. “A simple ‘make sure
you’re not in two parking spots next time’ would have
sufficed.”
“People can be so rude after the holidays.”
Tearing up the note, Rizos put it in Maca’s cup holder and
distracted her friend as they pulled out of the parking space.
“So, I think you should surprise Zulema naked.”
Maca laughed as they sailed down the street, careful of any
crossing pedestrians. “You always think someone should
surprise someone else naked.”
“Because the look on their face is always priceless!”
Maca simply shook her head in amusement as Rizos
mimicked Nerea’s shocked expression.
Maca’s outrage at the note was completely forgotten.
***
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Friday.
Finally.
It was a special day: Zulema’s birthday.
Maca opened the front door to Zulema’s house with the
key she’d been gifted, balancing two brown paper grocery
bags and Zulema’s delicate gift in her arms. Zulema wasn’t
meant to be home for another hour or so, and by then
Macarena had planned on having dinner cooked and a
romantic table for two on Zulema’s patio ready for when the
birthday girl arrived.
She found her way to the kitchen and placed the groceries
on the island. Her phone became a stereo and she danced
around the kitchen as she started to prep dinner. The sound
of the floor creaking above her made her pause in her
movements. She pressed pause on her phone and then
waited for a beat to see if she would hear it again. Sure
enough, there it was. She checked the time and her brows
furrowed. Zulema’s car hadn’t been in its usual spot in the
driveway when Macarena pulled in.
Up the stairs and down the hall she went to investigate the
source of the noise. The kitchen was under Zulema’s guest
room. Maca had never been inside of it; there was no reason
why she would. When she slept over, she shared Zulema’s
enormous bed, and the only other room that she’d seen
Zulema in was her home office.
The room at the opposite end of the hallway was normally
wide open and the natural light of its bay window usually
shone beautifully in the hallway. The door, however, was
only slightly ajar. She made her way towards it and peeked
inside to find Zulema knelt on the floor with a flowy chiffon
tunic shirt and cropped linen pants. Before her was a large
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glass bowl filled halfway with water. The brunette dipped

both hands into the bowl, caressing the water against the
skin of her hands, and then flicked them dry towards her
left side. She did it twice more in succession and then
washed each arm up to her elbows three times.
Macarena felt as if she was interrupting a private moment,
so she turned on heels and headed back downstairs quietly
to finish dinner.
***
“Earlier, what were you—?” Maca trailed off, wondering if

she was overstepping. “Were you praying?”
Zulema’s chewing slowed and she looked at Macarena,
clearly amused. The blonde didn’t think she was going to
respond until she visibly swallowed her food and smiled.
“Always so curious.”
Maca grinned, shrugging nonchalantly, though Zulema
could tell she wanted to ask more questions.
“It was a purification wudhu, a sort of partial ablution.
Cleansing parts of the body before formal prayers.” Zulema
shrugged and pushed the tines of her fork into another
roasted red potato. “I figured I’d start this new year of life
the right way.”
Macarena looked at Zulema, eyes twinkling with wonder.
“Well, the part that I did see was beautiful.”
Zulema smiled but changed the subject. “Thank you for
dinner. This is all I wanted tonight.”
“Really?” Maca asked, cheesing broadly and leaning closer
to Zulema.
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“Really,” Zulema reassured her and mimicked her body

language, kissing the blonde softly.
“I have a gift for you.”
“Dinner isn’t my gift?”
Maca shook her head and kissed Zulema again before she
jumped up from the table to retrieve Zulema's gift. She
returned to the table with the small silver box, setting it on
the table.
“Pull the top off gently,” instructed Maca.
Zulema did as she was told, pulling off the lid. The four
corners of the box fell flat onto the table, revealing a small,
live scorpion.
“Macarena,” Zulema breathed. She picked up the scorpion
by its tail and sat it in the palm of her hand, bringing it to
her eye level.
“The exotic animal store owner said she’s a girl and she’s
almost a year old.”
“Maca, you don’t know how much this means to me,”
Zulema confessed.
“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so maybe one day you’ll tell
me.”
Zulema leaned over and kissed her again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What are you going to name her?”
Zulema considered that for a few moments. “Maisa.”
“That’s pretty. What does it mean?”
“‘She who walks with pride’.”
Macarena wanted to ask why she chose that name, but she
had a feeling Zulema would tell her in her own time.
A little bit after dinner, Zulema had made Maisa a
temporary home in a large shoebox in her closet before
hopping in the shower while Maca prepared dessert.
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Zulema walked out of the en-suite into her bedroom, towel

drying her hair. She froze when she saw what awaited her:
Macarena Ferreiro was on the bed in nothing but Zulema’s
glasses, holding a small, chocolate cake in the palms of her
hands.
“Happy birthday, Professor Zahir.”
Rizos was right. Zulema’s face was priceless. Her lips had
parted, and her gaze shifted down and back up. Her eyes
reached the heavens and she mouthed ‘thank you’.
She dropped the towel she was using to dry her hair onto
the ground and launched into the bed, making Macarena
squeal with laughter.
“You’re going to make me drop the cake onto the bed.”
“Rubía,” Zulema rasped, “I’m about to devour you both, I
don’t care what the sheets look like after I’m done.”
She swiped at the buttercream frosting with her middle
finger and held it out to Maca who leaned forward and
sucked the digit into her mouth.
Emerald eyes darkened and Macarena knew she was in for
a treat.
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Chapter 21:
San Valentin
Zulema’s newest lecture series broke down the informal

rules and tactics used by herself, as well as some of the best
criminal psychologists with whom she’d been acquainted.
Each week, she delivered an important aspect of
investigative psychology, and the following week, she would
collect a five-page paper on her lecture and its
corresponding chapters of their text. Zulema hadn’t been
joking when she said the spring semester would be the most
intense ever. The work was exhausting, but the content was
incredible. Like many of her classmates, Macarena truly felt
like Zulema was singlehandedly preparing them to become
professionals in their industry.
It was a crisp February evening when Macarena sat cross-
legged on the floor of Zulema’s TV room. She was
alternating between highlighting passages in her textbook
and typing a paper on her computer while Zulema cooked
dinner when the doorbell rang. Before either of them could
stop their tasks, the front door opened and then slammed
closed. Saray called Zulema’s name as she walked down the
front hall.
“Cocina!” Zulema yelled back. Moments later, the tall
brunette made an appearance, holding up a file folder. She
dropped it on the bar top and then plucked a carrot from
the pile of vegetables that Zulema had been slicing.
“Qué es esto?” Zulema asked, jutting her chin towards the
folder.
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“Interesting case that you may want to take a look at,”

Saray made her way over to the stove and lifted the top off
of one of the pots to see what was boiling. She stirred its
contents for Zulema and then went to sit in one of the bar
stools while mentioning, “There are some similarities
between that and the profile you started on Hanbal’s case.”
Zulema’s eyes flickered up to where Macarena continued
to work on her paper while pretending she couldn’t hear
their conversation. Saray noticed and turned to look over
her shoulder to finally notice Maca’s presence. Gaze
returning to Zulema, Saray lifted her brows and smirked.
Zulema's eyes rolled back to the vegetables, ignoring Saray’s
unspoken comments.
“How’d you get a copy of his file?”
“The girl in the records room of the prison likes me.”
Zulema scoffed. “Of course she does.”
“Don’t hate the playa, Zule. Hate the game.”
“Noted,” Zulema replied, tone dipped in sarcasm and
amusement.
“Anyway, one of my patients at the prison is trying to get
time off for good behavior. His cellmate is getting out in a
week and confided in him that he was considering a
reoffense.”
“And?”
“Read the file. See what he went in for,” Saray responded.
Zulema glanced up and they had a silent conversation for a
few moments.
“Are you staying for dinner?”
Saray shook her head. “No, Nuria is cooking at her place.”
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Zulema used the knife to push the vegetables into a bowl

and then picked up the glass of wine beside her. She
smirked into the sip she took.
“So you like this one, no?” Zulema asked. Saray dismissed
the conversation and Zulema’s wordless offer of the wine
glass with a wave of her hand.
Picking up the tan folder, Zulema opened it up and
scanned the summary on the left.
“Twenty-five-year-old power reassurance offender. He was
eighteen when they handed him a thirteen-year sentence.
They're releasing him after only seven years?”
Saray nodded. “The police didn’t think he worked alone.
According to my patient, he seemed to be a more
submissive type.”
“So he had a more dominant partner. Probably planned
the entire assault and murder and then let him take the
fall.”
“Yeah, he was young when he started.”
“You think the dominant partner groomed him to become
a murderer?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Saray rested her forearms on
the countertop but her hands still gesticulated as she spoke.
“Most likely an older male. Late forties, maybe early fifties.
In a position of power. Brilliant enough to not only plan the
murder but to manipulate this kid into believing that going
to prison would benefit them both.”
Zulema shook her head, returning the file folder to her
best friend.
“His dominant counterpart can’t be Hanbal’s murderer.”
“Why not?”
216
Zulema sighed. “Because my unsub prefers to work alone.

Every detail matters to him. There’s no way he’d let another
player into his game. Especially not an eighteen-year-old
kid who could potentially fuck it up.” She made her way to
the stove, turning up the heat and adding the rest of her
ingredients. “He’s a motherfucker, Saray, but he’s still a
genius.”
“We’ll get him.” Saray’s voice was full of the pitiful kind of
hope better reserved for helping a friend find their lost pet.
Exasperated, Zulema tilted her head towards the ceiling,
eyes closed as she tried to breathe through her oncoming
emotions.
“Yeah,” was all she said.
After Saray left, dinner was ready and Maca could tell by
the way Zulema pushed her food around her plate that the
conversation with Saray had soured her mood. After the
table was cleared, she holed herself up in her home office,
pouring over any possible discrepancies in her profile.
“Hey, you coming to bed?” Maca had asked after rapping
on the doorframe with her knuckles.
“Yeah. I’ll be there shortly.” Zulema didn’t look up from
her computer when she responded.
And she didn’t crawl into bed until well after Maca had
drifted off to sleep while trying to wait up for her.
***
Rizos’ apartment, Friday 22:08

“Valentine’s Day,” Saray announced to their table resulting
in a series of groans from her dining companions. “Que?”
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“Saray, is there any holiday that you don’t make a big deal
about?” Macarena asked.
“Labor Day,” Saray replied as if it was the most obvious
answer.
Maca snorted.
“Anyway, Zulema has a great idea if you guys are in.”
Macarena looked over at Zulema whose facial expression
gave nothing away. “Zulema Zahir? A secret romantic?” The
corner of Zulema’s mouth twitched upward, but that was all
she would give away.
“Las Moradas de San Martín is having a wine tasting with
a special theme for Valentine’s Day.”
“What’s the theme?” Rizos asked.
“Aphrodisiacs,” Saray grinned at Millán who was sitting
beside her. “Along with the wine, there will be little treats
and meals that are considered aphrodisiacs. So, chocolate,
strawberries, figs, oysters.” She waved a hand as if to say
‘and so on’.
“We’re in,” Rizos said, leaning against Nerea who kissed
her temple.
“Yeah, it sounds like a good time,” Nerea agreed.
“What about you two lovebirds?” Saray inquired,
mischievous eyes dancing between Zulema and Macarena.
While it was hard to distance herself from Zulema on
campus, there was something about having a secret
relationship with one of the most respected professors on
campus that made Maca’s body tingle whenever she and
Zulema were in the same room with other people. But it was
nice to be able to spend time with Zulema in front of their
friends and not worry about their relationship becoming the
above-the-byline story in the campus newspaper.
218
“Well, since I came up with the idea, it’s really up to

rubía.”
Maca smiled. “Of course I want to go.”
Saray clapped her hands together once, excitement in her
face. “Then it’s settled. Operation Cachonda is a-go.”
“Ugh, Saray!” Rizos picked up a cherry tomato at the same
Maca picked up an olive and in unison, they both tossed
them at Saray who caught them easily.
“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”
Just before they left, as Rizos gathered their jackets from
the hall closet, Nerea pulled Maca to the side. Zulema
noticed, but said nothing, despite her body temperature
rising by five degrees. Especially when Nerea pulled
Macarena into a tight hug.
***
Las Moradas de San Martín Vineyard, Valentine’s Day,

13:59
Nestled on the edge of the region of Madrid, Las Moradas
was one of the most idyllic wineries. Despite only being
twenty years old, its family of winemakers had been
practicing their craft for centuries, perfecting the velvety
wines that the group of friends had planned to taste.
Their tour guide, Carolina, walked quickly and gave them
interesting anecdotes about each section of the winery as
they passed by. She told them the history and process of
each glass of wine and why it paired perfectly with different
types of chocolate.
About an hour into the tasting, Macarena realized that
Zulema hadn’t stopped touching her for twenty minutes.
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There was the light, discreet caress of her exposed lower

back followed by Zulema’s hand trailing lower to rest on
Maca’s ass where she squeezed just enough that Maca knew
her intentions but not enough to draw attention from their
tour group. Somewhere between the red and blush wines
and just after their third piece of dark chocolate, Zulema
pushed blonde romance curls behind Maca’s shoulder and
her thumb drew a soft circle against the soft wisps of hair at
the nape of her neck. Goosebumps raised on her skin and
her nipples hardened, but no sooner had she leaned into the
touch, Zulema removed her hand.
She was teasing her.
Two could play that game.
Maca had accidentally dropped her wine scorecard that
she’d been giving at the beginning of the tour. In her tiny
little dress, she bent over in front of Zulema to retrieve it
and when she rose to her full height, Zulema was chewing
the inside of her right cheek, suppressing a grin. Then, there
was the melted chocolate that she sucked off her finger
while gazing into Zulema’s eyes. Her jaw clenched and her
eyelids fluttered, but that was all Zulema gave.
Surprisingly enough, the thing that set Zulema off was
when Maca reapplied her vibrant red lipstick in her
compact mirror. She applied it smoothly, rolled her lips
together for maximum application, and when she closed her
compact, she threw Zulema a wink.
Minutes after, Zule grabbed Maca’s hand, tugging gently as
she discreetly held the blonde back from following the tour
group. Once the group had rounded the corner, Zulema
pulled Macarena to her, kissing her soundly. She deepened
220

the kiss when Maca’s lips parted to moan into Zulema’s

mouth.
“Zulema,” Maca breathed when they separated for air. She
let the older woman pull her deeper into the rows of stacked
wine barrels. Maca found herself pressed against the oak
and iron with Zulema’s hands trailing up the soft skin of her
thigh.
“This dress is—,” Zulema trailed off as she looked down.
Clingy in the right places with exaggerated puffed sleeves,
the backless red satin dress matched Maca’s lipstick
perfectly. Zulema wanted nothing more than to see what it
looked like in a puddle on her bedroom floor. For now, she
settled for hiking it up just enough so that Zulema could lift
Maca’s leg, pressing their groins together.
And then Maca felt it.
“Oh.”
Zule gave Macarena a cocky, questioning look. Instead of a
verbal answer, Maca slammed her mouth back against
Zulema’s and her hands worked quickly to unbuckle
Zulema’s belt and unzip her pants. Hand inside Zulema’s
pants, Maca tongue tapped the roof of her mouth and she
smiled devilishly at Zulema. It was the last straw for
Zulema; the brunette reached between them and roughly
pulled Macarena’s panties to the side. Awed, Zulema
watched as Maca pulled the phallus out of her tailored suit
pants and teased herself with it. Already wet and so fucking
ready for Zulema’s strap, she lined the head of it up with
her entrance and Maca sank onto it. Zulema’s eyes shot to
Macarena’s face to create the memory of Macarena’s eyes
closing, brows furrowing, and head lolling backward in
relief. Zulema’s mouth magnetized to Maca’s neck. Maca’s
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hands pushed open the tailored suit jacket to get to

Zulema’s bare breasts and Zulema thanked god she hadn’t
worn a shirt. Her body was alight with desire and Maca’s
touch only seemed to fan the flames.
With one hand hooked under Maca’s knee to support the
blonde, Zulema began with a few tentative strokes, enjoying
the escalation of Macarena’s breathing before she started a
punishing rhythm. They had to be quick and they had to be
quiet, and that seemed to turn the blonde on even more.
Especially after she moaned and Zulema muttered, “If you
can’t play quietly, I’ll take your toy away.” Maca’s head had
fallen into Zulema’s neck then, and her pussy fluttered
around the shaft as she briefly wondered if she could die
from a pleasure overload.
Maca whispered a series of chants in her ear as Zulema
fucked her within an inch of her life. The base ring of the
strap-on slammed against Zulema’s clit and her hips moved
on autopilot, chasing the feeling. It didn’t take long before
she felt it happening. She was going to topple over the edge.
“Call me cari like you do,” Zulema panted into Maca’s hair.
The request surprised Macarena; Zulema had never
admitted aloud that she liked the pet name.
With one hand squeezing Zulema’s bare breasts, Maca
twisted her hand around Zulema’s ponytail and tugged her
head backward. She licked a trail up Zulema’s neck,
nibbling once at her jugular before leaning closer and
murmuring into Zulema’s ear, “Come for me, carí.”
Maca sensed the moan before it came and she slid her
hand from Zulema’s tit to her mouth, effectively muffling it.
With the release of oxytocin urging her on, Zulema
doubled her efforts into fucking Maca into the barrels of
222

aging wine, fingers slipping between them and giving her

clit the attention it needed. She murmured ‘mine’ into the
final three thrusts before Maca’s mouth opened in a silent
scream that never came even as she did.
They took a few moments to catch their breath. Maca
shivered as Zulema pulled out. Fixing their clothing, each
preened the other until they looked presentable enough to
approach the tour group from behind. The guide was going
over the rich history of the next wines on their list to try
when Rizos turned around and smirked at the pair.
“Nice of you to join us,” she whispered.
Maca stuck her tongue out childishly and Zulema
chuckled.
A while later, the six of them sat at a table that overlooked
the sprawling vineyard below. They had just finished a light
lunch of oysters and a Niçoise salad and sat at their table
talking before they were to head back to the city.
“Okay, guys, I have something that I’d like to say.”
Zulema watched as Maca's spine straightened and an
excited grin appeared on her face. She squinted suspiciously
at the blonde until Nerea stood from the table, the
movement capturing Zulema’s attention.
“Estefanía, I love you and I love spending time with you.
You fill my life with the type of excitement and laughter that
I never thought was possible. We’ve been through a lot, but
we always come out of any situation stronger than we went
into it. I can’t see myself spending my life with anyone else,
so—.” Nerea reached into the pocket of her pants and
dropped down onto one knee.
Rizos’ hands flew to her mouth as she gasped in surprise.
Saray leaned forward, forearms on the table.
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Maca’s smile widened.

Nuria let out a soft ‘aww’.
And Zulema was torn between watching for Rizos’ answer
and the expression on her best friend’s face.
“I was wondering,” Nerea continued, “if you would do me
the honor of filling my life with excitement and love and
happiness forever. Will you marry me?”
Through tear-blurred, Rizos nodded. “Of course. Yes, yes
I’ll marry you.” She launched into Nerea’s arms, kissing her
and then hugging her tightly.
The pair were congratulated by their friends, even Saray,
although she finished the last of the wine by herself after
Rizos said yes. Suddenly, Nerea and Maca’s hushed
conversation and subsequent hug to made sense to Zulema.
“You knew?” Zulema asked Maca.
“Of course. I helped her pick out the ring.” Maca smiled.
“Of course you did.” Zulema looked both impressed and
enthralled by Macarena’s big heart. She pressed a kiss just
under Maca’s ear and rubbed soft circles against her back as
Maca reached over the table to see Rizos’ ring again.
“Maca,” Rizos gushed as she held her hand over empty
wine glasses and into Maca’s waiting hand, “obviously
you’re going to be my maid of honor.”
“It’d be my honor. We have so much to do. Engagement
party, bridal shower,” Maca gasped and then wiggled her
eyebrows, “bachelorette party.”
“Oh, first you have to come up with themes for each one,”
Nuria interjected.
“That’s true,” agreed Rizos.
“We have plenty of time. I want you to focus on your
studies for now and then we’ll set a date after graduation.”
224

“Vale.”
Eventually, it was time to go. They headed to the gravel
parking lot and said their goodbyes before parting ways. As
Zulema sped through the open road, passing lush green
pastures, Macarena couldn’t help but wonder something.
They were fifteen minutes into their hour drive when
Zulema reached over and tugged at the ends of Maca’s hair.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Would you ever get married again?” Maca asked.
The brunette wasn’t opposed to the idea of being married
again. Internally, she acknowledged that she had trauma
that she would eventually have to deal with before she even
considered the possibility of betrothal. Saray tried more
often than not to work her through it, but she hadn’t been
ready. A lot of her resistance stemmed from her lack of
progress in Hanbal’s case. If she couldn’t keep him safe,
what use was it to bring someone else into her world?
It was also why she resisted the idea of love. Still, matter
how hard she tried to keep her feelings for Macarena at bay,
Zulema knew, deep down, that it was time to work through
those issues because whether she liked it or not, she was
falling in love with Macarena Ferreiro.
Zulema didn’t need to tell Macarena how she felt; it was
crystal clear in her actions. The feeling was reciprocated,
but it would be nice to hear. Macarena had her reservations.
She could feel Zulema’s hesitation, so before they even
considered marriage, there were some open and honest
conversations that they would need to have. Besides the
obvious, Maca was working towards her personal goals.
Finals, graduation, and starting her career, to name a few.
Plus, they had yet to argue. Maca’s mother always told her:
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‘you never truly know a person until you’ve seen the way
they react when they’re angry’.
Zulema shrugged. “I never say never.”
That was good enough for Macarena. Not that she was
thinking about marriage or children. She still had so much
to do, including becoming established in her career.
But… It was nice to know that they were on the same page.
The music that was playing quietly in the background
suddenly cut off and Zulema looked up at her phone and
frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I keep getting calls from unknown numbers.”
“Who is it?”
Zulema shrugged. “I don’t know. Whenever I answer, it’s
just dead air and then the call ends.”
“Spam call?” I’ve been getting them a lot recently too.”
“Maybe.” Zulema tapped ‘decline’ and the car was once
more filled with tunes. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you want to get married someday?”
“Someday.”
Zulema didn’t say anything else on the topic for the rest of
the trip, and neither did Maca.
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Chapter 22:
Fixtures
Monday
“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched?”
The confused faces in the room made the corners of
Zulema’s lips twitch upward.
“Okay, I’m crazy and a bit of a bitch, but I’m not paranoid,”
Zulema joked, and her students visibly relaxed via a round
of laughter as she walked up the stairs of the lecture hall.
“And it’s not a trick question. Have you ever felt like you
were being watched? Maybe while you were sitting in the
campus library?” She chose a row of seats and plopped
down in the aisle seat, placing her right ankle across her left
knee. Her students turned to look at her curiously as she
continued. “Wait, let me ask in a way that you guys would
understand. You’re at a bar—,” the room laughed again,
“and you’re waiting to get a drink. Suddenly, you’re
overwhelmed with the idea that someone is watching you.
Your skin tingles. The little hairs on the back of your neck
stand up. We’ve all been there, right?”
The majority of them nodded in the affirmative and
Zulema smiled. “Usually, we dismiss it as a gut instinct or
paranoia, but it’s much more than that. Research shows
that the eyes take in information beyond what is processed
by the part of our brain that’s responsible for the conscious
vision and mapping out our view of the world.”
“The visual cortex,” someone behind Zulema interjected.
Zulema pointed over her shoulder. “Exactly. That
combined with the part of the brain that prompts our sense
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of fear and also handles facial recognition can aid in not

only the safety of law enforcement but also in the
apprehension of your unsub. Can anyone tell me why?”
A few hands went up.
“Rizos.”
“It’s like you said: every detail matters. Every law
enforcement officer, profilers included, should take in as
much detail from a crime scene and case notes as possible.
That includes any potential dangers at a crime scene.”
“That’s half of the answer. Who has the other half?”
Hands went up again. Zulema pivoted in her chair to see if
anyone behind her was prepared to answer.
“Amaia.”
“A vast majority of unsubs return to the scene of the
crime.”
“It’s not a truly reliable adage to live but, but still accurate.
Why?”
More hands.
“Macarena.”
“It’s a compulsion. A desire to see the aftermath of their
work. The chaos and investigation”
“What about those unsubs that can resist the compulsion?”
Before hands went up, Macarena said, “More often than
not, they’ve taken trophies from their victims.”
“Excellent. And it will become your job to find out what
was taken and why.”
“How will that help our profile?”
“That,” Zulema said, leaned forward, resting her forearms
on the empty chair in front of her, “is next week’s lesson.
Read chapters thirty through thirty-three and we’ll discuss
them. Also, those of you who signed up to participate in the
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prison experiment, look out for emails this week about the
status of your application. Class dismissed.”
***
Thursday
Macarena slammed her shot glass down a one-third of a
second after Zulema, and the brunette grinned as she
chased the tequila with beer.
“My turn,” Zulema announced. “Truth or shot?”
Maca looked at the bottle of tequila. There was less than a
fourth of the amber liquid left and she wasn’t sure she could
take anymore. Zulema, however, was handling her liquor
very well.
Game night had ended an hour ago and their friends had
left, leaving Maca and Zulema to clean up. Except they’d
gotten as far as cleaning up the board games before Maca
challenged Zulema to a game of truth or dare. Not to be
outdone, Zulema upped the ante by replacing dares with a
shot of tequila.
“Truth,” Maca answered.
“Best sex of your life, and the worst sex of your life. Go.”
“Best sex is you. Worst sex,” Maca thought hard about it.
“Oh god, probably my first time.”
“I need details.”
Maca scrunched her nose in disgust. “Carlos Morales. We
were seventeen and I just remember he breathed loudly and
it was over in five minutes.”
“I bet Carlos now has two annoying little brats and a wife
that makes him schedule sex so she can mentally prepare
herself,” Zulema joked.
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Maca leaned over the coffee table like she had a good
secret to tell. “He sent me a friend request on Facebook.
Should we find out?”
Zulema leaned forward too. “The question is why haven’t
we already, rubía.”
Macarena pulled up the app on her phone and it took a few
moments of scrolling through the political posts and the
annoying game invites, but eventually, there it was. The
family photo. Carlos, his wife, and their two brats.
“Double or nothing that he’s posted at least one
“Loser takes a shot?”
“Yeah and has to sleep in the wet spot tonight.”
Macarena’s head shot up and her jaw dropped. Zulema
and that fucking smirk. “You won’t be getting laid until I
hear who your best sex and worst sex was.”
“Can there be a tie for best sex?”
Maca’s shocked expression became more exaggerated. “Yo
y quien mas?”
“Hanbal.”
Maca looked up at the ceiling, tossing her hands up in
disbelief. “Damn you, Hanbal!”
Zulema laughed. “Apples and oranges though.”
“Por supuesto,” Maca agreed.
“So, best lesbian sex goes to you.”
“Vale,” Maca chuckled. “I’ll take it. Worst sex?”
Zulema grinned and looked down at the coffee table,
rubbing her fingertip against a non-existent smudge.
“I know them, don’t I?”
Zulema nodded. “Helena.”
Macarena burst out into laughter and couldn’t stop herself
no matter how hard she tried.
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“Why is that so funny?” Zulema asked, suppressing her

laughter.
Maca eventually settled enough to say, “I don’t know. I was
so annoyed by her existence, but now I don’t care at all.”
Zulema shrugged. “You shouldn’t.”
“Well,” Macarena said with finality, “you are definitely
getting laid tonight.”
“Maravilla.” Zulema used the couch behind her for
leverage and pushed herself off of the floor. She rounded
the table and held out her hand to help Maca up. “You
should know something though.”
“What’s that?”
“I spit half of those tequila shots into that beer bottle.”
Maca gave her girlfriend an incredulous look, gasping
dramatically. “Cheater.”
“You’re just mad that you didn’t think of it first.” She
stopped in front of Maca and bent at the knees. Maca took
the hint and hopped onto Zulema’s back. Zulema hooked
her hands under Maca’s knees and carried her into the
bedroom.
***
Friday
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important,” Maca
heard Zulema say as the front door to her apartment
opened and closed. Zulema appeared, holding a brown
paper grocery bag in one hand and her laptop in the other
while balancing the phone between her right shoulder and
ear. Maca stood from the couch and took the groceries from
her, heading to the kitchen.
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“I don’t want to be that guy but I seem to recall me saving

your life once. So, technically you owe me.” There was a
pause and Zulema full-on laughed, sparking Macarena’s
interest. There were only a few people that could make
Zulema laugh, her and Saray being two of them. Zulema
followed Macarena into the kitchen, setting her laptop on a
counter. “I appreciate you, Alta. Call me with whatever you
find.”
Without even saying goodbye, Zulema ended the call and
dropped her phone on top of the laptop. She trapped Maca
against the counter, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Hola.”
Macarena pressed her lips against Zulema’s. “I’m starving,
carí. I thought you were gonna be here an hour ago.”
Zulema inhaled deeply and let Macarena go. She busied
herself with removing the ingredients for dinner from the
grocery bag. “Yeah, something came up.”
Macarena watched as Zulema tried her hardest to avoid
making eye contact. “What came up?”
“Nothing serious.” The ‘I hope’ was left unsaid. “Do you
want asparagus or carrots, conejita?”
Zulema had taken to calling Macarena her ‘little bunny’
because of Macarena’s willingness to have sex any time and
any place, and while it was amusing most days, it wasn’t in
that moment. Mainly because Macarena knew that Zulema
was using it to distract her from the subject at hand.
Arms crossed and brows knitted together, Macarena
waited. When no explanation came, she tried again.
“Zulema.”
“Que?”
“What came up?”
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Zulema stopped unwrapping the veggies and looked at

Macarena. “It’s going to sound insane.”
Maca raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
“I think I was being followed.”
“Why?”
“There was this black SUV that seemed to go everywhere I
went.”
Maca pulled a few spices from their rack and set them
down. “Maybe they were just headed in the same direction
as you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Until I made three
consecutive rights and then a left and they did the same.”
“Okay, that’s creepy.”
“Exactly and I didn’t want to lead them here, so I took a
detour.”
Maca nodded. “Well, what was the outcome?”
“I drove to the police station. No sooner had I parked, the
SUV sped past.”
“Did you get a license plate?”
“Partial. An old colleague is going to run it for me.”
“Alta,” Macarena said. It wasn’t a question. She turned to
her left, reaching into the cupboard above her to find a
mixing bowl.
Zulema squinted, head lifting like it did when she was
analyzing something. “Si.”
“Mhm,” the blonde responded.
Zulema turned on the stove and sighed. “You’ve very
jealous.”
“Can you blame me?”
Zulema was beautiful. Established. Brilliant.
Older.
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She told Zule as much.

As the shrimp stir-fry began to take form, Zulema kept her
back turned to her girlfriend. Sometimes it was easier to ask
a hard question or receive an uncomfortable answer when
one didn’t have to be seen.
“Have I given you a reason to believe that your age matters
to me?”
“No,” Maca replied. She watched as Zulema nodded in
acknowledgment and continued to cook.
“Does it matter to you?”
“Of course not,” Macarena told her. “But I can’t help but
think that we’re so different. I sit in your class and I feel…
like I know nothing. And you know so much.”
Zulema chuckled. “It’s my job to know things. It’ll be your
job too, but wisdom doesn’t come with age. It comes with
experience. Experience that you’ll get soon enough.”
Maca didn’t say anything else as she opened the tops of the
spices and poured generous amounts into the bowl. She
suddenly felt Zulema’s front press against her back. The
brunette gently pulled her hair back, giving Zulema access
to her neck. The older woman pressed a kiss to Maca’s neck
and shoulder.
Physical touch, and words of affirmation, as Zulema had
learned, were Macarena’s love languages. And even if she
didn’t admit it, so we’re Zulema’s.
“I only want you.”
Maca turned in Zulema’s arms, resting her own on
Zulema’s shoulders. She pouted theatrically and Zulema
shook her head, smiling at the blonde. Maca’s smile quickly
followed.
“I only want you too.”
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Playfully, Zulema planted a rough kiss on Maca’s cheek

and tapped the side of her ass before turning back to the
stove to finish their dinner.
Maca stared at Zulema as she moved around Maca’s
kitchen. She looked like she belonged there, as much of a
fixture as the lights or the fridge. And when Zulema reached
out for the mixing bowl of seasonings, she winked as the
blonde handed it over and Maca hoped she would stay.
Forever.
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Chapter 23:
When A Stranger Calls
Saturday
“Hand here. Bueno. Support under here with the other
one. Muy bien. Now push and pull with the same force.”
Zulema instructed as she adjusted Maca’s hands. “Perfect.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind the
left. Beautiful.” She placed Maca’s noise-canceling
headphones over her ears and then took a few steps back.
“Don’t tuck your chin. This gun is different from the earlier
two. It’s semi-automatic so the shell casings will
automatically eject from the chamber and you don’t want
one popping you in the eye.”
Maca lifted her head.
“Good girl.”
Oh.
“On your ready,” Zulema told her.
Maca inhaled, closing her eyes briefly and opened them as
she exhaled. She held her stance, lined the barrel up with
her target, and nodded her head. A buzzer sounded and the
red light above her head turned green.
Her pointer finger gently squeezed the trigger. The muffled
gunshot sounded through Maca’s headphones and she felt
the vibrations from the recoil radiate along the course of her
arms. Twice more she fired, each time going for the head
and the heart of the outlined figure printed on stock paper.
She placed the gun down on the waist-high counter and
pulled her headphones down to rest around her neck and
pressed the button to bring her target sheet closer.
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She plucked it from its clips and turned to show Zulema,

smiling proudly. “Mira, carí.”
Zulema pulled off her own headphones and took the paper
from Maca, examining it. “You did very well.”
“‘Very well’? I kicked ass.” Maca said, pointing to the chest
shot.
Zulema grinned.
“You think you can do better?”
“I’m not one to brag.”
“Since when?”
Zulema’s smirk widened and she put her headphones back
on. She stepped up to her stall, three different handguns of
varying calibers set before her. Maca put on her headphones
as well and waited. Zulema nodded once and the light
turned green. She picked up the first gun, single-handedly,
and fired two quick shots, one to the heart, one to the head.
It was sexy seeing Zulema handle guns with such expertise
and finesse. She was clearly in her element.
Zule repeated the shots in quick succession with the
remaining two pistols and then she pressed the same button
Maca had to bring her target closer. Yanking it down,
Zulema turned and held up her stock paper. Three clustered
bullet holes were arranged perfectly directly between the
eyes and three more exactly where the heart would be.
“I can do it with my left hand too. Wanna see?”
Maca crossed her arms. “Show off.”
Zulema chuckled and threw an arm over Maca’s shoulder.
“A couple more practices with me and you’ll be just as
good.”
“I’d better be. Otherwise, I want a new teacher.”
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Zulema kissed Maca’s cheek and murmured. “No one can

teach you as well as I can.”
Maca turned her head to look at Zulema, dimples
appearing. “Tell me again how you don’t like to brag.”
***
March, Sunday, 13:13, Zulema’s house

Midterms week, as always, was a stressful time for the
blonde. They’d had a study party at Rizos’ on Friday night,
but for some reason, Maca still felt unprepared. So, with
Zulema out at the supermarket, Maca had plenty of peace to
study. She was halfway through highlighting an important
paragraph when Zulema’s house phone rang. Book in hand,
Maca picked up the phone, balancing it against her shoulder
as she finished highlighting her passage. “Zahir residence.”
No response.
“Hello?”
Nothing. The line clicked and the dial tone sounded in her
ear. Maca hung up the phone but before she could turn to
make her way back to the sanctuary of the TV room, the
phone rang again. She picked it up once more, setting her
book down on the bar top in the kitchen.
“Zahir residence.”
Still nothing.
“Stop calling here!”
She slammed the cordless phone down on its receiver and
huffed.
“Whoa. Who was that?” Zulema asked, startling Maca.
Hand over her heart, the younger woman gasped, “Joder,
Zulema. I’m going to put a bell around your neck.”
238
The brunette put down two bags of groceries. “What

happened?”
Maca shook her head, gathering herself. “I don’t know.
Some idiot keeps calling, not saying anything, then hanging
up.”
“It’s been happening all week. I have Alta tracing all of my
calls. Next time, try to keep them on the phone for at least
fifteen seconds.”
Maca nodded and sighed. “I feel like I’m living in a horror
movie.”
Zulema laughed. “Just wait until you’re a profiler. The
paranoia is unreal. Everyone will become an unsub.”
Maca groaned dramatically and pulled a face as she
wrapped her arms around Zulema’s waist. Zulema wrapped
an arm around Maca’s neck.
“What class are you studying for?”
“Crim Psych and Profiling with Dr. Zahir.”
Zulema let out a low whistle. “Damn, tough class.”
“Tell me about it. I wonder if she would just give me an ‘A’
me if I seduced her.”
Zulema really laughed then. “You never know until you
try.”
She picked Maca up and sat her on the kitchen island, bags
of groceries be damned.
***
Monday
“Does. Profiling. Actually. Work?” That was how Zulema
started class. She paced in front of her desk before rounding
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it. Tapping the spacebar on her laptop, the smart board lit
up, revealing a graph.
Zulema’s arm raised to point at the starting point in the
graph. “In 2011, CNI’s closure rate began to steadily rise.
This was the year that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was
established here in Spain. By 2015, their closing rate went
from fifty-eight percent to ninety-two percent. There were
only ten of us in the unit then.”
“Espera, profesora.” A hand went up in the back. “These
are your stats?”
Zulema shrugged. “It was a team effort, but yes. Now,
there are—.”
“Disculpe, but why did it drop to seventy-six percent
between 2015 and 2017?”
She left, Maca thought.
“Our unit lost a member and then I took a teaching job
here at MU.” Zulema smiled softly and pointed to the board
again. “The point is, you will get push back from people,
even fellow law enforcement agents, that believe profiling is
nothing but guesswork. It’s your job to believe in what you
do, and the numbers will speak for themselves.” She shut
her laptop and the screen went blank. “Vale, clear your
desks and separate yourselves by at least two seats. Your
midterm starts when everyone has an exam in their hands.”
She handed a stack of exams to the person at the front of
each row and they distributed them until everyone had a
copy.
“You have two hours. Make me proud.”
***
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Two weeks later…
“Dear Ms. Ferreiro,

You have been chosen as a participant in Madrid
University’s 2021 prison experiment. Your chosen role will
be as follows:
Prisoner #02.643
On Friday, 9 April 2021, please report to the quadrangle in

front of the Amin Building (Criminal Justice building) at
09:00. Please be on time. The experiment will last the
duration of the weekend and will end at 09:00 on Sunday,
11 April 2021.
You will be assigned your prisoner uniform upon arrival.

Please wear comfortable shoes and bring any personal
necessities. If you have any allergies, please note them on
the form attached to this email.
If you have any questions or concerns, please email Dr.

Zulema Zahir at z.zahir@mu.edu or call her office at
+34-755-5110.
“Rizos, check your uni email! I just got my letter.”

“What letter?”
“To Hogwarts,” Maca replied sarcastically with a roll of her
eyes. “For the prison experiment.”
She and Rizos were sitting atop a fleece throw blanket in
the grass outside of the university’s law library. They’d
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decided to enjoy lunch outdoors in the warm spring weather

while they worked on their respective assignments.
Rizos let out an excited squeal and clapped her hands. “I’m
a prisoner!”
“I’m not surprised at all.”
“My mom would be so proud. What’s your role?”
“Prisoner.”
“Maybe we’ll be cellmates.”
They chatted excitedly about what they thought the
experiment would be about. Maca told Rizos what Román
had told her about what happened during the experiment
when he participated. And it was when Rizos took a call,
that Maca leaned back, hands flat on the blanket behind
her, and closed her eyes. She let the sun beam down on her
face and the warm breeze blow through her beach waves.
When she lowered her head, she was brought face to face
with a black SUV across the street. The windows were tinted
darker than they should be, and despite the warm weather
outside, all three windows except for the driver’s side were
rolled up. Smoke from a cigarette, Maca assumed, swirled
from the cracked driver’s side window. Maca’s brows
knitted together.
Maybe Zulema wasn’t crazy.
“I’ll be right back,” Maca murmured to Rizos who was still
on the phone. She stood from the blanket, bare feet hitting
the cool grass as she marched towards the dark SUV,
frustrated. Before she could reach the pavement, a cigarette
was hurriedly tossed out of the window and the SUV pulled
off in a screech of burned rubber.
Maca froze on the spot.
Okay, Zulema was not crazy.
242
She hurried back to their lunch spot and opened her

sandwich baggie of raw baby carrots, dumping the
unceremoniously onto the ground. Jogging back to the
street, she crossed it, barely remembering to look both ways
and she reached the spot where the SUV had been idling.
Three cigarette butts, identical to one another, were on the
ground, one with the embers still burning. Macarena used
the baggie to pick it up, extinguish it and then grab the
other three before flipping the baggie inside out.
By the time she was finished, Rizos was off of the phone
and standing on the curb opposite Maca, looking confused.
“What was that about?” Rizos asked when she crossed the
street again.
Maca sighed as they walked back to their blanket. She
started from the beginning, telling Rizos about the hang-up
calls, and the SUV.
“So, maybe she or one of her contacts at the CNI can get
some DNA off of these cigarette butts. I know it sounds
crazy, but—.”
“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. Especially not with what
Zulema used to do for a living.”
“She still does sometimes. She helps with some cases
whenever her old colleagues call.”
“Not to mention after seeing her stats in class, I wouldn’t
be surprised if someone that she put away is out for
revenge.”
“That’s helpful, thanks.” Maca chuckled, despite herself.
“It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.”
It was a nice thought, but Maca couldn’t help but feel like
Rizos was so wrong.
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Chapter 24:
Prison Wives, Pt. 1
Friday
Experiment Day One
It was just barely after nine a.m., Maca hadn’t even
finished her coffee when it was seized from her hands by a
uniformed officer the moment they arrived in front of the
criminal justice building. A row of police cars lined the
parking lot, two stoic officers per car, awaiting their turn to
arrest their perpetrators.
“Macarena Ferreiro, you are under arrest for crimes
against the Crown…”
“Estefanía Kabila, you are under arrest for crimes against
the Crown…”
“Yolanda Montero, you are under arrest for crimes against
the Crown...”
Maca’s eyes met Rizos’ and they gave one another a look as
their hands were pulled behind their backs and their wrists
were bound together with handcuffs.
“Kinky,” Rizos commented cheekily, and Maca stifled a
snort of laughter.
As she was read her rights and placed in the rear of a
squad car along with her weekender bag, Macarena watched
as more future prisoners were arrested. Not long after the
final person was read their rights, Zulema, Saray, and Maria
appeared through the door of the criminal justice building
and stood on the steps speaking amongst themselves. A few
moments later, they were joined by Helena and two other
professors that were familiar to Maca. They were in good
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spirits, laughing as they chatted, and it became clear to

Maca that they were just as excited for the experiment as
Maca and her friends were.
One of the uniformed officers jogged up the steps and said
something to Zulema, who nodded her head. He put two
fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly before using the
pointer finger on the same hand to signal for the cars to
head out. Almost in unison, the officers got into their cars
and, one by one pulled off. Maca sat uncomfortably in the
back of the police car and when hers pulled off, she let out
an exhale.
“Here we go,” she murmured to herself.
Less than ten minutes later, they arrived in front of a tall
building, dark academia radiating from its architecture.
Maca could tell they were still on campus because of the
sun-bleached University of Madrid flag tucked onto the
parapet of the third story.
Her car door was opened and she was marched to the front
of the building, two officers holding either of her biceps.
Once inside, the first thing Macarena saw were staff from
Madrid University dressed in guards’ uniforms with the
school’s coat of armor on the left arm. There was a frenzy of
commotion and Maca’s eyes shot from corner to corner
taking it all in. Behind an intake glass, a “guard” stood and
summoned forth handcuffed prisoners to be fingerprinted
and processed. Maca noted that at the window, they were
uncuffed and handed their overnight bag and two clear
cellophane packages containing the most hideous yellow
prison uniforms she had ever seen. Maca was sure it would
wash her out, but she wasn’t there for the fashion. She was
there for the challenge of testing her profiling abilities.
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Once she had been processed and given her uniforms and
a moist towelette to wipe the ink from her fingertips, Maca
heard the sexiest voice raise to command the entire room.
“Alright, inmates to the right and guards to the left!”
Zulema called out.
“Zule,” Saray said. Clipboard in hand, she waved the
brunette over and pointed to the paperwork on it. Zulema
looked up, brows furrowed. She scanned the line of
prisoners and guards before glancing at the list once more.
“Vale, we’re two prisoners short so I’ll play one.” Zulema
looked at Saray, expectantly.
“Joder, Zulema,” Saray groaned, eyes reaching the
heavens. “Fine. I’ll be a prisoner.”
“Antonio?”
Professor Palacios made his way over to Zulema and the
three of them whispered amongst themselves for a moment.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, once everyone has their
uniforms, you’ll be taken to the bathrooms to change. There
are six toilet stalls in each bathroom and eight shower stalls.
You will be able to use the showers and toilets at any time of
the day. For now, you’ll use them to change into your
uniforms and then meet in the main hallway where you’ll be
shown to your cells by the guards. Once in your cells, you
will see a folder on your assigned bunks. Do not let anyone
else see the contents of your folder. It not only contains
your itinerary for the weekend, but it also includes the
characteristics you will portray. Any questions so far?”
A couple of hands went up. Palacios pointed to one
student.
“Do we get our one phone call?”
246
“You wanna call your mommy and tell her you’re about to
be my bitch?” Rizos teased.
The entire room broke out into laughter, including the
student who asked the question.
“We aren’t taking your cell phones, but we are asking that
you do not post anything about the experiment. Selfies are
okay,” Palacios answered. “Any other questions?”
Rizos’ hand went up.
“I’m terrified to know, but yes Estefanía?”
“Do we get conjugal visits?”
“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll think about it,” Saray replied.
A round of “ooo”s made a wave around the room and Rizos
rolled her eyes.
“Any other serious questions?”
“Are the cells coed?”
“Girls dorms will be to the left and guys dorms will be on
the right. You’ll be able to do as you please once everything
on your daily itinerary is checked off.”
Zulema spoke up next. “If that’s all, I’d like you all to give
the Madrid Police Academy’s recruits a round of applause
for their incredible service today. Not only did some of you
get to see what it felt like to be brought into booking, but
they have also received practice as well.”
The room clapped and those closest to the doors shook
hands with the officers as they were dismissed.
Zulema and Saray were issued inmate uniforms and then
they were off.
The bathrooms weren’t half as bad as Macarena thought
they’d be. They looked as if they belonged in the Bank of
Spain or the royal palace instead of a makeshift prison
setting. This, Macarena realized, must have been a
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dormitory once upon a time. She changed quickly, went to

the bathroom, and washed her hands. Then she was told to
line up and wait with everyone else that was finished.
Eventually, everyone was led to the main corridor, and
Maca was astonished.
The school had somehow created an entirely life-like
prison set, complete with numbered cells on two levels that
were connected by a winding staircase. They were brought
to the center of the vast common room where a transparent,
portable dry-erase board had been wheeled in. There was
writing in different colored markers along with staged crime
scene photos and case notes. Maca’s eyes scanned it as
Zulema, Palacios and Saray gathered in front of it.
“Prisoner X has just been arrested and brought here to
await trial for the murder of a family.” Zulema tapped at
three different pictures as she stated, “The bodies of mom,
dad, and son were all found in the house. Mom was shot in
the head, with no evidence of sexual assault. Dad was shot
in the heart, with no evidence of sexual assault. Son was
smothered with a pillow, again, with no evidence of sexual
assault.”
Palacios stepped forward and tapped the final colored
picture on the board. It was the high school graduation
picture of Zulema’s assistant, Maria. “The body of the
daughter, eighteen, has not been recovered. Prisoner X told
the arresting officer that she’s not dead and she has enough
food and water to last her forty-eight hours.”
“It’s your job to find who Prisoner X is and where they are
keeping the daughter before time runs out for her,” added
Saray. “Now, prisoners have an advantage, they’ll be living
with Prisoner X, albeit unknowingly. Guards will be using
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case notes, group “therapy” sessions, and evidence obtained

from the interrogations of all prisoners that will take place
throughout today and tomorrow.”
“If you think you’ve figured out who Prisoner X is, you’ll
have an opportunity to say so during any mealtime in the
chow hall,” Palacios explained. “If you’re correct, you must
explain what profiling and psychology techniques you used
to figure it out. Once Prisoner X is exposed, the experiment
will end.”
Zulema took over again to say, “You’ll all be playing the
roles written down in your detailed welcome packets, stick
to the role since none of you are actual psychopaths. Keep
detailed notes of the characteristics of people around you.”
“Last thing to know,” Saray finished, “ is that we are here
to observe and take notes on the experiment itself, but if
you have questions feel free to ask. Until then, we’ll turn it
over to the guards.”
Palacios, who Maca assumed would be overseeing the
guards. “When I call your name and your room number,
please head to that cell and get settled.”
Palacios started calling out names and numbers, two
people to a cell. Naturally, Rizos and Macarena were
roommates —thank you, Zulema!— and Rizos let out a
squeak of excitement before grabbing Maca’s hand and
pulling her to their cell. A bunk bed took up either side of
the room, all four beds tucked military-style.
They dropped their bags on the floor by the cell door and
immediately went for the packets on the top bunks. They
read the names on the front, looking at each other
simultaneously and laughing as each realized they’d picked
up the other’s file. They traded and Rizos pulled herself up
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onto the small metal desk that separated the bunks and
opened her file folder. Maca climbed onto the top bunk and
opened her own. A few minutes of silence went by as they
took in the information that they would need.
“So, basically I’m a whore, Maca muttered to herself.
“Sounds about right,” quipped Rizos without looking up
from her file.
“Hey!” Maca laughed.
Rizos held her file to her chest and looked up at Maca. “I
just realized that we’ve never had a slumber party. This is
gonna be fun.”
Maca chuckled. “Only you would think prison could be the
perfect setting for a slumber party.”
“I wish Luna was here. She’d party with me.”
“Yeah, why isn’t she here? I thought she was so excited
about this.”
Rizos shrugged. “I don’t know. She probably didn’t meet
the academic requirements to participate.”
“She does like to party.”
“Speaking of partying,” Rizos said hopping off of the desk
and crossing the room to open her bag, “what would a
prison slumber party be without some hooch?” She pulled
out an unopened bottle of tequila and grinned wickedly.
“Rizos!” Maca gasped, eyes wide. “You can’t have alcohol
here!”
“Says who? Prisoners get alcohol into prison all the time.”
“I’m going to pretend I don’t see that bottle,” Zulema’s
voice came from the entrance to their cell. She stood before
them, hands in the pockets of her uniform pants, one brow
cocked. Rizos tucked the bottle back into her bag and
zipped it closed. “You’ll be meeting in the rec hall for the
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group therapy session in an hour. Have your characters

prepared and ready.”
“Yes, professor,” Maca answered. Zulema’s eyes flashed
and Maca smiled innocently.
She didn’t respond, but before she walked out, she told
Rizos “Save me a shot”, shot her a wink, and left the room.
***
Prison seemed to be a lot of waiting around for something

—anything— to happen.
Maca was bored.
She laid on her bunk, arm behind her head and ankles
crossed as she watched prisoners and guards walk back and
forth in front of her “cell”. Rizos had her headphones in and
her head buried in her case file as they waited to be called
into the rec hall for a group session. By the time she heard
Palacios’ voice in the common room calling for them to
assemble, Maca practically leaped out of bed, waving her
hand in Rizos’ face to get her attention.
The rec hall seemed to be one of the only rooms that
hadn’t been completely converted to complement the prison
environment. It was cozy and inviting. The chairs and
couches in the abandoned lounge were arranged in a circle
and the prisoners were encouraged to take a seat wherever
they felt comfortable.
For an hour, they ran through a simulated version of what
could only be described as an anger management therapy
session. It was entertaining, to say the least, to watch how
everyone embodied their characters. As interesting and
funny as it was, Maca made sure to take notes, and the
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entire time, she used her greatest skill: observation. She

read body language, facial expressions, and even tried to
memorize certain things that people said while answering
questions. An hour passed in the blink of an eye, therapy
was over and Maca wished it would have been longer.
Next up, was lunch.
According to Maca’s itinerary, she was to report to the
chow hall after group therapy. There, she and a few other
inmates stood behind the food guard, given hairnets, and
told that they would be serving lunch. It was her “work
assignment” for day one. Half of the guards were served
first and then they were to oversee the prisoners’ lunch.
Half an hour later, a sea of yellow uniforms formed a
single line to receive their food. At the end of the line were
Rizos, Saray, and Zulema. Rizos and Saray had nothing but
jokes about Maca’s apron and new hair accessory.
“Forget them. The hairnet does it for me, rubía,” Zulema
teased.
Maca smirked. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll just take an apple and a yogurt, thanks.”
Maca sat both of her requested items on her lunch tray and
then dumped a spoonful of creamed spinach on it as well.
“That’s disgusting.”
Maca’s grin only widened. “It’s good for you. Enjoy.”
***
The rest of the day was spent doing mundane things. Now
and again, a guard would come and take an inmate to be
interrogated. Maca read and finished some homework
assignments that were due the following week. She left her
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cell to study the dry-erase board that was left in the center
of the common room and then she was called to go and
serve dinner.
After dinner, their unit was called for the showers and by
eight p.m., it was lights out.
Some time in the middle of the night, Maca jolted awake
from a horrible nightmare filled with black SUVs and slit
throats and prison gates slamming loudly only to find a
shadowed figure slipping into the door of her cell. She
craned her neck and strained her eyesight to see in the dark.
It was Zulema.
She walked closer to her bunk, finger pressed to her lips,
signaling for Maca to keep quiet, climbed up the ladder to
Maca’s bed, and slipped under the covers that the blonde
held up for her.
“I’m pretty sure this is against the rules,” whispered Maca.
“It’s a good thing I make the rules then, no?” Zulema
responded.
Maca made a tching noise.
“If you don’t want me here, I can—.” Zulema sat up,
pretending to leave.
Maca sat up quickly and tugged at her arm, whining, “No!”
She looked over at Rizos to make sure she hadn’t woken her
up.
Zulema grinned and laid back down beside her girlfriend,
pulling her close.
“I had a bad dream.”
Zulema pulled Maca closer to her and nuzzled her neck.
Maca turned around in Zulema’s arms until they were face
to face and brought her hand up to trail down Zulema’s
nose. The brunette chuckled.
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“What is your obsession with my face?”

Mama shrugged. “It’s beautiful. And soft, but expressive.
Plus, you get these cute little puppy dog eyes whenever I do
this.” Maca leaned forward and pressed her lips against
Zulema’s.
“I do not,” pouted Zulema. Maca giggled.
“I’m glad two people didn’t come so that I can have you
here. I sleep better when you’re around.”
“Me too.”
***
Saturday
Experiment Day Two
“I heard your girlfriend sneak in last night,” Rizos said,
waggling her brows at Macarena. She sat on the bottom
bunk, massage hand cream around her palms after having
just come back from being “interrogated”.
Maca sighed. “I’m glad she did, I had the worst dream last
night.”
“What about?”
Maca told Rizos about her dream. “You ever have that
feeling of dread that gets stuck right in the middle of your
chest. Like the dream is telling you that something bad is
about to happen?”
“Sometimes,” Rizos admitted. “It’s just a dream, Maca.
Nothing bad is going to happen.”
Maca shrugged and Rizos scoffed.
“What could happen when you have el elfo del puto
infierno as a girlfriend?”
That made Maca laugh. “That’s true.”
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“Plus,” Rizos shrugged, sighing deeply, “it’s kind of hot

having a secret romance sometimes, no?”
Maca flashed back to the line for the shower last night and
the way Zulema brushed against her ass. And the way she
slipped into Maca’s private shower stall, took the blonde’s
hand and slid it down her own wet skin. And how Maca
tasted Zulema on her fingers while Zulema dropped to her
knees to drink Maca’s nectar straight from the source.
Macarena didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Rizos
grinned, knowingly.
“Oye!” Saray appeared at their door, flopping down onto
Rizos’ bunk, and tore open a pack of sunflower seeds. “What
are we talking about?”
“Maca is beginning to resent her secret relationship.”
“Juicy,” Saray commented, cheek full of sunflower seeds.
“I am not!” Maca protested. “I just can’t wait for
graduation. I want to be able to tell people I’m in a
relationship.”
“You told the right people and that’s all that matters for
now. Besides, the best part about a relationship is when you
have that person all to yourself. Once everyone else knows,
it’s just a recipe for destruction. Misery loves company.
Some people will try to steal your happiness,” Saray told
her.
“That’s true,” agreed Rizos.
“That’s what happened with us, yeah?” Saray asked Rizos.
Rizos leaned over and tapped Saray’s nose with her
fingertip. “Gitana, we ended because you were crazy.”
“We never ended, Estefanía, we just stopped.”
Rizos and Saray had a silent conversation with their eyes
and Maca cleared her throat.
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“Back to my existential crisis here.”

“You’re not in a crisis, rubía, Zulema loves you and you
love her, so shut up and enjoy the ride.”
Maca’s eyes bulged.
“What?”
Rizos stage-whispered to Saray, “They haven’t said the ‘L’
word yet.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need a drink.”
“I’m in,” Rizos sat up in the bunk and pulled her bag from
under the bunk, and unzipped it.
“I’m out,” Maca told them as she started towards the door.
“Aw, come on, Maca.”
“Yeah, come on, Maca.”
Maca left the room for a moment before poking her head
back in, cheesing broadly. “Shots after dinner, though.”
“Ay,” Saray pointed to Maca, “that’s more like it!”
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Chapter 25:
Te Veo Pronto
“Have you seen Zulema?” Maca asked Rizos.

The brunette looked up from the bunk where she and
Saray were playing a game of Speed with the deck of cards
she’d brought. “Not since lunch.”
Maca had been interrogated just after lunch and it was
surprisingly fun playing a criminal. She wasn’t in prison for
anything too terrible. Her only crime was embezzlement.
Still, it was entertaining to watch the guards and pretend
profilers squirm a little as they tried to deduce whether or
not she was Prisoner X.
“I’m bored.”
“Hoping to get in a quickie before dinner?” Saray asked,
wiggling her eyebrows at Maca.
“Shut up.”
“I still can’t believe you two are a thing,” admitted Saray.
“Why’s that?”
Before she could respond, Saray’s phone rang, and her
brows furrowed. “Zule, que paso?” There were a few brief
moments of silence before she shot up in bed. “What the
fuck?” Saray exclaimed.
She scrambled out of the bed, the phone still pressed to
her ear, and hightailed it out of the room. Macarena and
Rizos looked at one another, confused. In unison, they
climbed out of their beds and headed towards their cell
door. As they entered the rec corridor, Maca saw Yolanda
running towards them.
“Did you guys get the alert?”
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Maca shook her head, asking, “What alert?”

“Campus-wide lockdown.”
“Lockdown?” Rizos asked. “For what? Someone with a
gun?”
Yolanda shook her head. “There was a murder in one of
the campus apartments.”
Maca’s eyes widened. “What? Who was killed?”
Yolanda shrugged. “We have no idea yet.”
Macarena saw Zulema and Saray a short distance away,
heads together, talking quietly. Palacios joined them
eventually and Macarena was surprised to see Zulema reach
over and hug him briefly. Saray did the same while
Zulema’s attention turned to her phone. She alternated
between texting and glancing up at the conversation
between Saray and Palacios. Macarena couldn’t help the
dread that was building in her chest. She needed to turn the
negative energy into a positive.
“We need to get these kids out of here,” Palacios suggested.
Zulema gave a negating shake of her head. “They’re safer
here. If this guy’s still on campus, this is where they should
be.”
“Exactly. In the meantime, it’s safe to say the experiment is
over.” Saray commented.
Zulema’s phone chimed in her hand and she pressed it
against her ear, immediately. “Alta, dime.” She listened for
a few moments, nodding now and again. “Y estás seguro?”
“Yeah,” Alta said on the other end. “Same M.O. Throat slit
ear to ear with a thin blade. Blunt force trauma to the head.
Panties ripped off, but no sign of sexual assault.”
She looked around at the faces of the students. Some
looked terrified. Others looked hurt. But Maca looked...
258
determined. The blonde floated from person to person,

asking them if they needed anything and if they were okay.
She hugged a few and sat with others just talking and trying
to keep up morale.
The news hadn’t given much information about the
murder itself, which was good a thing. For now, it kept the
group from the inevitable grief that would overwhelm them
once they realized that one of their peers was gone forever.
As Alta prattled off pieces of information, Zulema listened
as she thought of a plan to tell the students and faculty.
“Zule, there’s two more things,” Alta said.
“Qué es?”
“He left a note for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah, I reactivated your CNI email and sent an encrypted
copy to you.”
Zulema made her way to the cell she and Saray had been
sharing. She pulled her MacBook from her overnight bag
and powered it up.
“Same handwriting?” Zulema asked as she signed into her
CNI email. It’d been a long time, but her password was still
the same.
“Yep.”
One new email: Altagracia Guerrero.
Zulema clicked on the unread message, and a pop-up
image appeared on her screen. She slapped a hand across
her mouth to muffle her gasp.
Zulema,
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Have you missed me? It doesn’t feel like it. You’ve

forgotten about me, but I have a prescription for that
ailment.
I’ll just have to take away the thing that’s distracting you
from finding me. How is sweet Macarena, by the way?
You know, I closed my eyes after my latest victim and
pretended that it was Macarena’s blood dripping through
my fingers.
Te veo pronto
Zulema’s blood ran cold.

“Zule are you okay?”
“You said there were two things.”
“There were no signs of sexual assault because he was
interrupted.”
“By who?”
“A cop. Well, a cadet. She was friends with the victim.
Took a series of blows to the head. Looks like he slammed
her head into the wall repeatedly. She managed to call
emergency services before passing out. She’s at Santa
Cristina hospital.”
“Do we have a name?”
“Uh,” Zulema heard paper rustling in the background,
“Cadet Nerea Rojas.”
“Joder,” Zulema exhaled.
“You know her?”
“Yeah. She’s the fiancée of my girlfriend’s best friend.”
“Jesus, Zule. I’m sorry.”
“Why wasn’t she informed yet?”
“Mm, as far as I can tell, Cadet Rojas’ emergency contact
information hasn’t been updated since 2018,” replied Alta.
260
“Her parents are the only two on the form to be called

during an emergency.”
“Have they? Been informed, I mean.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Find out and call me back.”
“Vale.”
They hung up and Zulema sighed loudly. She rubbed at the
tense muscles forming in her neck. Her eyes landed on the
computer once again and a haunting shiver ran through her
entire body.
***
Within half an hour, the speculation of who had been

murdered circulated rather quickly. The TV in the rec room
had been on full blast, a constant rotation of local news
channels as background noise. Zulema, Palacios, Saray, and
the other staff members gathered the entire building inside
of the room.
Zulema stood in the middle of the circle, hands in the
pockets of her pants.
“Okay, guys, it’s safe to say that the experiment has ended
early due to today’s events. I’ve been informed of the
victim’s name but we had to wait to release it until her
family was informed.” Zulema pivoted her body, turning to
catch everyone’s eyes as she spoke. “The victim was Teresa
González. Some of you know her as Tere.”
A collective gasp went around the room and the hushed
conversations began.
Rizos sat in shock. Macarena was stunned. She
remembered Tere from her first night at Cruz when Rizos
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had invited her out to see Saray DJ. She wrapped her arms
around Rizos who started to sob uncontrollably. Standing to
her feet, Maca pulled Rizos up and out of the room for
maximum privacy. Saray made eye contact with Zulema,
who nodded. They’d decided that Saray should be the one to
tell Rizos about Nerea being in the hospital. She could
comfort Rizos better than anyone else. Not to mention,
Rizos would surely want to leave to go to the hospital and
Saray would take her.
“For those of you who didn’t know her, Tere is,” Zulema
paused, “was a graduate student in her final year of her
master’s program. She has a husband and two kids, a boy
and a girl and there will be a donation collection circulating
in the Law Library.”
Zulema gave them an empowered speech about sticking
together in a time like this. She reminded them that there
were grief counselors available to them via phone as well as
the school’s online portal.
“Once we have word that the campus has been cleared, you
will all be allowed to leave here. We’ll have campus shuttles
to take you guys back to the Criminal Justice building
parking lot where your cars are. If you guys need anything,
do not be afraid to reach out. This is a tough time for all of
us. We must hold one another up in this difficult time.”
A loud sobbing wail echoed through the faux prison and
Zulema’s eyes closed briefly.
Rizos.
She was going through something that would take a piece
of her heart forever. Her good friend had been murdered
and her fiancée was in the hospital. Zulema didn’t have to
imagine how she felt.
262
She knew.
And she felt for Rizos. Deeply. It was no secret that Rizos
was a party animal, but she was still a good person when it
came down to it. And Zulema wished she could turn back
time so that she never had to deal with this.
It’s my fault, Zulema thought, if I never met Maca… never
fell in love with her, I would have never taken my eye off of
the goal. And Tere would still be alive.
And now he, whoever the fuck he was, wanted to go after
Macarena. Zulema couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t. If
anything happened to Macarena, Zulema would die.
So, she resolved right then and there that she would do
whatever she had to to keep Macarena safe.
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Chapter 26:
Sparring Partners
Friday, 13:00
Tere’s funeral was heartbreaking. Macarena held Rizos
closely as Rizos shed silent tears behind dark sunglasses.
Zulema sat in the row behind Maca and Rizos with Saray by
her side. She never did well in churches, always felt like God
was judging her. The day of Tere’s funeral was no different.
Zulema thought that maybe God was judging her today.
Condemning her to watch as Tere’s family and friends
sobbed uncontrollably at the open casket. Telling her that
the little voice in the back of her head that said Tere’s blood
was on her hands might be true. They lined up to say their
final goodbyes to Tere and when it had been Zulema’s turn,
she steeled her features, touched Tere’s white casket gently,
and silently promised her that she wouldn’t stop until she
found the man that took Tere away from her beautiful
family.
As per Tere’s final wishes, there was a celebration of life at
the park where she would take her children every weekend.
There was a lake where her husband’s family had set up
food and drinks. It wasn’t long before Saray turned the
somber affair into a true celebration with a song. She
started acapella and as her voice grew in strength, other
people joined in. Eventually, guitars were brought out and
Zulema watched as Tere’s friends and family became
stronger and closer as they shared funny anecdotes and
incredible stories about the woman who had made such an
impact on their lives.
264
Zulema wondered if she would have this when she died.

She wasn’t close to her family. She and her mother never
saw eye-to-eye. She had Saray, sure, and Macarena.
Macarena.
Zulema turned from her spot on a blanket in front of the
gleaming lake. She found Macarena immediately. The
blonde’s head swiveled as if Zulema’s gaze called to her and
she looked curiously at the older woman. Her head tilted,
brows knitted together.
Are you okay?
Zulema gave her a small smile and hoped it came across as
reassuring. In case it didn’t, she added a slight nod and then
glanced to Maca’s right, nodded her head at Rizos.
Is she okay?
Maca made a face that said ‘not really’, and gave a hopeful
shrug of her shoulder as if to say ‘but she will be’.
Macarena had been with Rizos for the last week. She
shuffled back and forth between the hospital and Rizos’
apartment, bringing the brunette clothes and food.
Macarena had barely seen Zulema; she’d updated Zulema
on Nerea’s condition via texts. There was a significant
amount of swelling in Nerea’s brain due to the number of
times her head had been slammed into the wall. On day two
of her hospital stay, she had seized violently and they
decided it was best to put her into a medically induced coma
until the swelling went down. Rizos was beside herself. She
refused to leave Nerea’s side, so Macarena did what she
could to bring a little comfort to her best friend.
Zulema understood, of course. Truth be told, it was
probably for the best. The more time that Macarena spent
away meant that Zulema had more time to dive back into
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the case that had become the very bane of her existence.
The time apart was equal parts welcomed and filled with
anxiety. When Macarena was at the hospital with Rizos, she
felt safer knowing that she was at least protected by the
guards planted outside of Nerea’s room. But when
Macarena was elsewhere: running errands, going home, or
to Rizos’ to shower and sleep, Zulema was filled with a
sense of dread that something would happen to her.
She needed to finish this, once and for all before anyone
else she loved got hurt.
***
Centro Nacional de Inteligencia Headquarters, Saturday,

8:30
Zulema was stopped at the guard gate by the same security
guard that had always worked the morning shift at the
intelligence agency.
“Inspectora Zahir! Zule, is that you? Are you back?”
“Special reinstatement for a little while,” Zulema handed
over her license to be scanned. The guard, Goya as she was
called, swiped the ID and then held out an iPad for Zulema.
“We heard about what happened on campus. We’re all
really sorry, Zule.”
“Thanks, Goya.” She pressed her thumb onto the scanner
and the iPad beeped. To the right of her thumbprint, the
screen produced her old agency photograph and badge
number, but there was an update to her profile. Where
‘Inspectora’ was once listed, there was a new title: First-
Year Agent’. Zulema smirked.
Fucking Altagracia.
266
“Take this to Agent Ros in receiving and she’ll print out

your new credentials.” Goya handed Zulema her license and
temporary visitor’s pass. “Glad to have you back,
Inspectora.”
Zulema nodded. “Glad to be back.”
I just wish it were under different circumstances. Zulema
slipped her sunglasses back over her face and drove through
the opened gates and towards the main compound of the
CNI campus.
Once inside, she headed to receiving and was greeted by a
warm face. Agent Laura Ros, whom Zulema nicknamed
Flaca in her head, printed out Zulema’s newest credentials.
She was handed her ID badge and her shield after re-
registering the handguns that were strapped on either side
of her in a vest holster.
There she was instructed to meet Agent Guerrero in the
bullpen of Wing A. Nothing in the building had changed
and it was like walking through a time capsule. The last
time she’d walked through the lobby of the CNI was the day
she told her boss that she was resigning. Not even a week
after Hanbal’s death. Back then, she’d been alternating her
time between guest lecturing at Madrid University and
working on active cases.
As she pushed open the glass doors to the bullpen of Wing
A, Zulema walked past a few desks that reminded her of a
police precinct, and towards a set of stairs that led to the
private offices. She stopped out front of the one marked
Supervisory Agent Guerrero. Knocking, she was permitted
entrance and when she opened the door, Altagracia was
sitting at her desk scribbling her signature on something.
She looked up and grinned.
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“Zulema Zahir, in the flesh.” Altagracia sat back, grinning

cheekily.
“First-Year Agent? Really?”
“I thought you might like that.” She leaned forward at her
computer and typed a few things into the system. “There.
You are officially a Supervisory Agent Zahir once again.”
“Thank you ever so much.”
Altagracia stood from her desk and rounded it, pulling
Zulema into a tight embrace. They were always great friends
when Zulema had worked for the intelligence unit despite
Zulema technically being Alta’s boss. She had been more
like Zulema’s second in command. Alta was incredibly
brilliant and it was one thing that Zulema loved, it was a
mind that was just as amazing as her own.
“Catch me up. Where are we with this case?”
“I have four of my best agents going over the case files and
evidence that you had sent over. So far, I have them
memorizing your notes backward and forward. Every small
detail counts.”
“Vale.”
“Let me introduce you to my team and then I’ll have you
jump right in.”
Altagracia led Zulema out of the office and back down the
stairs to the hive of desks. She stood in the middle of the
room and called for everyone’s attention. “Everyone, I’d like
you to welcome back Agent—.”
“Zulema Zahir. Holy shit!” A young woman interrupted.
She stood from her desk and held her hand out for Zulema,
shaking it frantically. “I’m Vivi Quintanilla. It’s an honor to
meet you.”
Zulema gave her a once-over. “You’re twelve.”
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Alta stifled a smirk. “Vivi is twenty-one. She has an IQ of

138 and an eidetic memory.”
Zulema looked impressed. “Mucho gusto.”
“This is Agent Cepo Castro.” Alta watched as Cepo and
Zulema shook hands. “Agent Castro is a geography and
weapons tactics expert. Give him any city and any year and
he can tell you exactly how many people were living there.”
Zulema crossed her arms. “Egypt, 2017.”
“Ninety-four million, seven-hundred-and-ninety-eight
thousand, eight-hundred-and-twenty seven. But the census
was taken on April 18th, so that didn’t include the estimated
two point five million babies born after that date.”
Zulema was beyond impressed. Cepo was clearly on the
autism spectrum. She could tell by the way his eyes never
really met hers and his fixation on numbers and geography.
And she decided that she already liked him.
Next was Agent Mónica Ramala. She was more poised
than the rest of the team. She seemed to size Zulema up,
which made the brunette smirk. Mónica specialized in
everything and had come from a background in a special
weapons and tactics team.
“You said four members,” Zulema said to Altagracia.
“Venga,” Alta commanded and Zulema followed her out of
the bullpen and down a long corridor, conference rooms
gracing each side. They stopped in front of a door that was
secured with a keycode that Alta punched into the pin pad
on the door. A clicking sound alerted them that the door
was unlocked and Altagracia pushed it open, holding it for
Zulema.
The room was dark besides the blue lights from the spider
web of large computer screens. The U-shaped desk held two
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phones, a series of keyboards that were designed for

different purposes, and a few fun-looking plushies scattered
about. Sitting at a bright pink gaming chair was—.
“Agent Triana Azcoitia, our resident techie,” announced
Altagracia.
The chair spun around and another young woman, dressed
in a hot pink top and tight purple miniskirt smiled around
the lollipop in her mouth at the intruders.
“Joder, Zulema Zahir!” She hopped up and crossed the
space between them and instead of shaking Zulema’s hand,
she threw her arms around Zulema’s neck and squeezed her
tightly. Zulema was taken aback, but before she could
respond, Triana was prancing back to the chair and tapping
furiously at the keyboard in front of her.
“Is she good?”
Alta nodded at the screens. “You tell me.”
“Zulema Zahir, born 1973, married once, widowed once.
Owns a black Audi Q7 and a home in Madrid.”
“That’s public information. What else do you have?”
Alta grinned. “Careful what you ask for.”
“Currently dating Macarena Ferreiro, a student at Madrid
University.”
What the fuck?
Zulema’s eyes widened. She walked towards the desk and
leaned over Triana’s shoulder, one hand resting on her desk
and the other on the back of her chair. “How the hell did
you—?”
“Your phone’s GPS. Not to mention your phone and
computer’s IP addresses have connected to the WiFi at her
address regularly for the past few months. Do you want to
see the texts I’ve been able to retrieve?”
270
“Triana, down girl.” Alta joked. “She’s like an addict. Once

you let her hack something tiny like a cell-phone it
snowballs into hacking the bank accounts of famous men.”
“That was one time! I just wanted to see what Jeff Bezos
was left with after his divorce.”
Zulema chuckled at that. She reached into the candy jar on
Tirana’s desk and snagged the last lollipop inside.
“Hey!”
“They’re bad for your teeth. I’m doing you a favor.” She
threw Triana a wink and then headed back to the exit where
Altagracia was waiting for her.
Once they left and the door shut soundly behind them,
Altagracia looked at Zulema seriously and asked, “So? What
do you think?”
Zulema smiled. “I think I can do something with them.”
She nudged her shoulder with Altagracia’s. “You put
together a good team. I’m proud of you.”
***
Sunday, 15:11
Maca was sparring in the ring when Zulema arrived at the
boxing gym. She looked determined. Focused. Zulema
watched for a few moments as Macarena ducked her
opponent’s attack and pivoted to the right while attacking
with a left jab to their ribs. They seemed to be having a good
time, Maca’s opponent laughed at something Maca said and
they danced apart before coming back together in a series of
impressive combinations. A recorded bell sounded
somewhere and Zulema watched as they tapped gloves and
both turned to exit the ring. Maca spotted Zulema and her
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surprise was evident. She pulled off her gloves, spit out her
mouthguard.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
And it can’t wait? Maca wanted to ask. But she realized
that if Zulema had come all of this way to the gym, then
whatever she had to say must be important. So she climbed
out of the ring and started towards the only quiet corner in
the gym just beside the punching bag.
“So, what’s up?” Maca asked.
“I’ve been reinstated at the CNI.”
Macarena looked confused. “Okay, what does that mean
exactly?”
“I’ll still be teaching at MU but I’ll be splitting my time
between there and the intelligence bureau. I’m gonna be
busy these next few months and I just wanted you to know.”
“Will you have to travel?”
“Maybe, but not often,” Zulema admitted. Macarena
nodded and poked a finger against the punching bag.
“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of annoyed that you didn’t talk
to me about it first.”
“It’s something I have to do. Tere died. Nerea is in a
coma.”
“Exactly!” Macarena said. “Tere is dead. Nerea is lying in a
hospital bed and the doctors are telling Rizos that they don’t
know what kind of quality of life she’ll have if she does wake
up! Zulema, you’re throwing yourself into the lion’s den by
becoming an agent again. You don’t have to be everyone’s
savior.”
Zulema sighed. “You’re picking a fight.”
272
“No, I’m reacting to the bullshit that’s coming out of your

mouth right now.” Macarena was exhausted. She hadn’t
slept properly in a week. Someone she’d known died. She
missed Zulema like crazy. Not to mention, Maca had come
to the gym to channel the negative emotions bubbling
inside of her into something positive, but there Zulema was
telling her that they would be seeing even less of one
another for the next few months. It was just too much.
Zulema blinked. “I didn’t come here to ask your
permission. I just wanted you to know what was going on.”
“Vale. Now I know.” Macarena shook her head, clearly
frustrated. “Are we done with this conversation? I still have
more training to do.”
Zulema paused. Her mouth opened and closed. Nothing
came out. So, she just nodded. Maca muttered a sarcastic,
“Excellent,” and turned to storm off.
Zulema sighed again and left the gym more frustrated than
she entered.
Hopefully, one day soon, Macarena would see that she was
doing this for her. To protect her.
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Chapter 27:
I Love You
Sunday, Maca’s apartment, 17:05

It had taken three hours for them to make up. Macarena
finished her training workout and headed home to shower.
Zulema was sitting on her couch when she arrived. Maca
didn’t speak. She dropped her gym back by the door and
tossed her keys on the coffee table. The blonde took longer
in the shower than necessary and when she finished, she
kept the bathroom closed as she detangled her hair. She
went through her skin routine and finally finished by
brushing her teeth. When she exited the bathroom, Zulema
was sitting on the bed, legs crossed Native-style while Maca
moved around the room, silently dressing into comfortable
clothes to cook dinner.
Once she was in a pair of gray shorts and an oversized
flannel, Maca started towards the bedroom door. Zulema
climbed off of the bed and grabbed the blonde before she
could leave, hand encircling her wrist and pulling her back
into the room.
“Stop ignoring me,” Zulema murmured. She pulled Maca’s
body flush against her own, holding her tightly around the
waist. Maca still refused to meet Zulema’s eyes, her
traitorous body responding to Zulema’s touch. “I’m trying
to apologize, and I don't do that often.”
Maca finally looked at Zulema.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you before I made my
decision, but I need you to understand that it’s something
that I have to do.”
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Fucking Zulema. How could she be the badass take-no-

shit elfo del puto infierno, but also possess the ability to
make Macarena’s anger melt away in a matter of seconds?
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I understand that but it’s
frustrating that everything just seems to be changing so
quickly. I don’t do well with change.”
“I know. You have to know that I’m going to make time for
you. For now, I just need to make sure no one else gets hurt.
Especially you.”
Maca nodded. She readjusted the chain around Zulema’s
neck so that the small circle was centered. Zulema’s hands
slipped under the half-buttoned shirt, fingertips meeting
the warm skin of her back. Maca pressed herself further
against Zulema, her right hand shifting upward against the
brunette’s neck.
“Squeeze,” commanded Zulema.
Oh.
Maca thumb and pointer finger pressed firmly on the sides
of Zulema’s neck. Zulema exhaled audibly.
“Show me how frustrated you are and I’ll show you sorry I
am.”
Oh god.
In the blink of an eye, Zulema was on the bed and Maca
was on top of her, kissing Zulema fervently. And moments
after that, their clothes lay discarded in a pile on the floor.
Right hand remained around Zulema’s neck and Maca used
her left to fingerfuck Zulema within an inch of her life. And
when she felt like the older woman had learned her lesson,
she kissed Zulema softly before she was promptly flipped
onto her back. Zulema worshipped her body from head to
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toe and when Maca came, the only thing she could think
was--.
Fuck, I love you.
***
Monday, Centro Nacional de Inteligencia Headquarters,

11:00
Classes still hadn’t resumed out of respect for Tere’s death.
They wouldn’t resume until the following week. But Zulema
found that she didn’t mind as much as she thought she
would. Working with the CNI again felt oddly like coming
home for Zulema. The rag-tag team of agents that she’d
come to know, and begrudgingly adore, were fucking
brilliant in their fields. Plus, Zulema found that she’d
missed the ins and outs of being an agent despite the reason
that she’d been forced to return. She loved being a
professor, but when she could use what she was teaching
her students in her real life, she felt useful… almost
powerful.
Until Monday when her world came crashing down once
more.
She was sitting on the lip of Altagracia’s desk talking when
Cepo ran into Altagracia’s office, breathless. The two
brunettes turned to the door and Alta looked at him
questioningly. By the look on his face, his eyes darting to
her, Zulema knew it was about their case.
She stood to her full height, suddenly no-nonsense, and
inquired, “What do you have?”
“Receiving department were just handed an envelope from
a bike courier addressed to you, inspectora. We think he’s
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made contact.” He disappeared from the door, Zulema and

Altagracia hot on his trail.
The agent who’d created her new credentials, Flaca, was
standing at Cepo’s desk, gloved hands holding the envelope.
“I want that bike courier stopped at the front gate before
he gets any further!” Altagracia shouted to the quiet
bullpen. Suddenly, agents were picking up their phones,
attempting to call the guard gate. Two more jumped up
from their desks and hurried through the glass doors trying
to catch the courier on foot.
As everyone moved about her in quick motions, Zulema’s
eyes zeroed in on the envelope. She nodded at Flaca. “Open
it.”
Flaca did as she was told, carefully pulling at the
perforated opening. Another agent appeared at Flaca’s side
with a large evidence bag where she dropped the envelope
after pulling out its contents. There was a stack of glossy
photographs and a note on top.
Zulema,
Rejoining your team to hunt me down again excites me in

ways you wouldn’t believe. Perhaps you haven’t forgotten
about me. Still, I’ll keep my sights set on your beloved
blonde for now. Staying away from her might just prevent
her spontaneous euthanization.
Te veo pronto
Most of the surveillance photos were of Macarena doing

everyday things. There was one of her leaving the boxing
gym. Another of her at their favorite takeout place. A couple
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of her on campus with Rizos. In all of them, her face was X-

ed out in a red marker. The final picture was a shot made
through the open window of Maca’s apartment. Her head
was thrown back, eyes closed, hand covering her breast.
Zulema could be seen just in shot, the billowing curtains
shielding her own naked body. She was looking up at
Maca’s face, and no doubt, fingerfucking Macarena into
oblivion.
Altagracia, who had been looking over Zulema’s shoulder,
cursed under her breath. She turned back to the bullpen
and shouted, “Where the fuck is that courier?”
Zulema shook her head, still staring at the photos splayed
before them, her private life on full display. “It’s no use. The
courier won’t be any help. This guy is too smart for that.”
Altagracia placed a reassuring hand on Zulema’s arm.
“We’re gonna get this motherfucker, Zule.”
For the first time in her entire career as a criminal
psychologist, Zulema felt helpless. She heard stories about
inspectors who had “the one that got away”. She never
thought it’d happen to her, and she never imagined it would
come at such a high cost: her happiness.
***
Maca’s apartment, 18:10

Macarena was curled up on the couch, studying for finals
when she heard her apartment door open and close. Zulema
appeared and Maca’s face lit up, dimples exposed.
“Hi, cari.”
Zulema paused in her step, coming to stand awkwardly
between the couch and the coffee table. “Hey.”
278
Maca’s eyes squinted and her head tilted and Zulema

realized that was what she, herself, did when she was trying
to read a situation. The only difference between them was
that Maca could read micro-expressions better than any
professional she knew.
“Why do you look like someone killed Maisa?”
Because that’s what it feels like, Zulema thought.
“Because we have to talk and I don’t know how to start.”
Maca closed her book and sat up on the couch, patting the
cushion beside her. “The beginning.”
Zulema sat down, leaving ample room between them, and
Macarena instantly noticed. She glanced down and back up
to Zulema’s face, scanning it for any clue of what was to
come.
“Maca, you know how much I care about you,” Zulema
began.
A look crossed Macarena’s face. It was as if she understood
what Zulema would say before she said it. As if she
recognized the phrase and where it would go.
“No,” she said. She shook her head and stood from the
couch.
“Maca,” Zulema tried again.
No.
There was nowhere for the blonde to go. This was her
apartment. So, Maca made her way to the kitchen and
pulled a bottle of wine from its rack, yanking the cork out.
Zulema followed behind her.
“Maca, I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I saw Hanbal’s
lifeless body, bloodied and bruised with his throat slit. I
can’t see the same thing happen to you. I won’t put you in
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any danger. If anything happened to you, I would never be

able to forgive myself.”
“You’re not putting me in any danger! This has nothing to
do with me!” Maca’s face was flushed and she could feel her
ears burning.
But it does, conejita. It does. He wants to hurt you,
Zulema thought.
“But it has everything to do with me! I don’t know how and
I don’t know why! What I do know is that you are an
enormous part of my life! Just like Hanbal was and this
asshole, whoever he is, will use you to get to me and I
cannot have that on my conscience.”
“So… what?” Maca gestured wildly with her hands. “What?
You think breaking up with me is going to stop a
psychopath?”
“Of course not. That’s why there will be two agents
stationed outside your apartment.”
“I don’t want bodyguards, Zulema! I want you!” Macarena
was yelling now.
Zulema felt the sharp pain of her heart as it broke inside of
her chest.
“I can’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just—,” Zulema took a brief moment to
compose herself, eyes shutting as she exhaled deeply, “I
can’t, but I still need to know you’re protected.”
“Zulema, why are you doing this?!” Maca shouted, tears
falling freely.
“Because I love you!” Zulema yelled back. “I love you,
Maca, and I need you to be safe! I need you to be here.
Alive!”
280
A tear slipped down her left cheek, trailing down the

perfectly tattooed line on her face before Zulema quickly
wiped it away. Maca remembered Zulema’s confession all
those months ago:
“I don’t cry,” Zulema explained. “Well, not anymore.”
“Ever?”
Maca reached out for Zulema, but the older woman took a
step back, hands raised in surrender. “What happens to you,
happens to me. I need to protect you.” Zule told her.
If you die, I die.
“Zulema, don’t do this.”
Zulema took a hesitant step forward as if deciding if she
should touch Maca. Then, she paused, as if she knew that
pulling Maca into her arms would reverse her decision and
her resolve would weaken. So, she slipped her hands into
her pockets and took another step, closing the distance
between them until their bodies were mere centimeters
apart. She rested her forehead against Macarena’s and
closed her eyes. Maca couldn’t stop the gasping sob that she
let out, her body shuddering with the effects of it.
“Maca,” Zulema whispered. She kissed Maca’s cheek. Then
the other. Either of her eyelids. Her nose.
And finally, her forehead.
Then she turned and left the kitchen. Down the hall, her
footsteps echoed loud in Maca’s ears.
And when she heard the front door closed, Maca picked up
the wine bottle and threw it across the room, watching as it
shattered against the refrigerator, red wine dripping down
the appliance. Maca slid down the kitchen counter until she
was sitting on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and
rested her cheek against her knees.
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Then she realized…

She didn’t get a chance to say—.
“I love you too,” Maca murmured to her empty apartment.
***
She didn’t see Maca at the coffee shop the following

Monday.
Nor was Macarena in class.
Zulema must have checked her watch nearly six times
during her lecture. It was her first class after Tere’s death
and the first time she’d been in her element while her mind
and heart were somewhere else entirely. She understood,
but just because Macarena wanted to avoid Zulema, didn’t
mean she could skip class. Her education was important
and finals were less than a week away. They’d already lost
so much time with the passing of Tere and everything that
came with that. Zulema truly believed Macarena had a
promising future and she didn’t want her to squander it
because they weren’t together. Even though, in Zulema’s
heart, they would always be together. She didn’t want to let
Macarena go. But she’d rather Macarena hate her and be
alive than love her and die at the hands of a heartless
monster.
After class, she sat in her office before her next lecture,
typing up an email to Maca because she was almost certain
that the blonde would not answer her phone call or text
message. Not that she’d tried. Zulema knew that Macarena
needed time. And she wouldn’t be selfish enough to expect
Macarena to be ready and willing to at least have a
professional relationship with Zulema, no matter how badly
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the brunette wanted to see her. It took her much longer

than expected to write the email. She’d typed and deleted so
many messages, even contemplating telling Maca why she’d
broken things off, but she just couldn’t. She didn’t want
Macarena to live in fear. So, for now, she’d keep receiving
hourly updates from the two agents that were parked across
the street from Macarena’s apartment.
Not far away, Maca was in bed and had finished typing up
her final paper for one of her classes when her computer
chimed. The notification at the top of the screen told her
that she’d just received a new email from Dr. Zulema Zahir.
Her heart started to race and she had to wipe the sweat
from her hands onto the sweatpants that she was wearing.
She scrolled up and clicked on it, and her screen was
suddenly illuminated with a concise message from her
girlfriend.
Ex-girlfriend.
Maca read through Zulema’s email.
Once.
Twice.
Macarena,
I understand your resistance to attending my course, but
the final exam is quickly approaching and I would prefer it
if you were here to be fully prepared for it. Please note in
your syllabus that your attendance in my class is required,
not optional, Zulema had written.
Maca slammed her computer shut, pushed it to the edge of

her bed, and pulled the duvet over her head.
She hated this.
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An involuntary tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t

cried all week. Not since her breakdown in the kitchen just
after Zulema broke up with her. She’d done so well.
One stupid email from Zulema and she was a wreck again.
Maca felt so alone.
284

Chapter 28:
I’m In
Maca was late to class the following Monday. She ambled

into the room using the back door, letting it slam behind
her, much like it did on her first day of Zulema’s lecture. A
few heads turned to see who interrupted while the others
kept their faces focused on the paperwork before them.
Final exam.
Hoodie pulled onto her head, Macarena slipped into a
chair in the back row. Zulema handed an exam booklet to
the person in the front row and jutted her chin towards the
back. It was passed back to Maca who took out her writing
utensils and immediately got to work. She knew the
material, but she was distracted by the fact that she could
feel Zulema’s eyes burning holes into the top of her head. At
one point, she looked up to check the time, only for her eyes
to briefly connect with Zulema’s.
It broke them both.
Zulema immediately felt the urge to walk up the lecture
hall stairs and crouch down beside Maca’s chair and
whisper that she wanted her back. Maca felt too many
things at once. She wanted to scream and cry and throw
things because the entire situation just wasn’t fucking fair!
Instead, she pulled her hoodie further up on her head,
hunched further towards the desk, and silently willed away
tears that dropped onto her exam anyway.
Macarena was able to finish her exam on time. Zulema
walked around and collected everyone’s papers one by one,
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dismissing them as she did so. She purposely left Macarena

for last.
“You were late,” observed Zulema.
“Last class of the year so it won’t happen again.”
“That’s not wh—.” Zulema sighed. “Will you need extra
time to finish your ex—.”
“That would mean you’d be giving me special treatment,”
Maca interrupted, “and that’s against the rules.”
“Fuck,” Zulema looked around to be sure her class was
empty before continuing, ”the rules. We’re way past that
now.”
Maca stared straight forward.
“No, Dr. Zahir. I’ll accept whatever grade I deserve.” Maca
was confident that she would pass, but Zulema didn’t need
to know that.
“Vale,” Zulema said, sliding the exam off of the desk,
Zulema placed it on top of the others in her arm, but
remained where she was. She didn’t say anything and
neither did Macarena. It was a power move, really, but
Maca didn’t realize it until it was too late. She finally tore
her eyes away from the smartboard and looked up at
Zulema questioningly.
I love you, Zulema’s eyes said.
Then don’t do this, Maca’s replied, brows knitting
pleadingly.
Zulema reached out and ran a reassuring finger down
Macarena’s cheek. The blonde did her best not to lean into
the touch. She exhaled Zulema’s name, and then someone
cleared their throat. Zulema snatched her hand away from
Macarena’s face. They both looked to the door only to find
Rizos standing there, laptop in hand.
286
“Maca? You coming to the hospital with me?”

Maca gathered her backpack. “I have to go. They’re pulling
Nerea out of her coma today. I have to be there for Rizos.”
Zulema finally stepped aside, no longer blocking Macarena
from leaving. She watched as Maca walked down the stairs
and met Rizos at the door. Zulema wanted to go after her.
To tell her about the idea that she’d had earlier this
morning.
To tell Maca not to give up on her just yet.
But Maca wasn’t in the right mind space to hear her out
just yet. It felt like all Maca knew at that moment was that
Zulema was the bad guy.
***
Finals flew by, and before Macarena knew it, it was Friday
when she realized that things seemed to be getting back to
normal.
She and Rizos had just finished dress shopping for the
commencement dinner and graduation day and were sitting
down for a quick coffee, and a light lunch for Rizos, before
their hair appointments when Rizos sighed heavily.
“You’ve been having an excellent week, and I don’t want to
bring your mood down, but I have something for you. It’s
from Zulema.”
Maca took a sip of her water and nodded slowly. “Okay.
What is it?”
Rizos reached into her bag and pulled out two envelopes,
one sealed and one unsealed. One had her name on it and
its flap was tucked inside. The other was stamped with a
black ‘Z’ wax seal and addressed to the Centro Nacional de
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Inteligencia. Zulema had written her a letter of

recommendation; surely, one that glowed as bright as
Maca’s future.
“I didn’t read the other one,” Rizos assured her, “but if it’s
what I think it is, maybe you should hear her out.”
Maca looked up at her friend who sat across from her with
a sincere look on her face.
“She has a different way of showing her love. Remember
what I told you about Zulema.”
“Maca,” Rizos said sincerely as she reached over and
squeezed her friend’s hand, “she likes you too. Zulema is
just--.”
“Enigmatic?”
“Broken.”
Maca nodded again. “I remember, but what am I supposed
to do if she’s not willing to listen to me?”
“Make her.”
“I don’t know, Rizos. It just shouldn’t be this hard. She’s so
convinced that she’s protecting me, but she’s just pushing
me away.”
“I don’t know. It didn’t look like she was pushing you away
on Monday.” Rizos said.
Maca heard her but didn’t respond. Rizos was right but
Macarena had to figure out what she wanted now. Besides
Zulema. It was like the brunette said, she had a bright
future and would have her pick of career choices after
graduation.
As their coffees were placed on the table for them, Maca
opened the letter for her and inhaled its contents.
Maca,
288
Part of me feels like I should apologize, but the other half

of me is saying I should never be sorry for doing what I
have to to keep you alive. You can act like you hate me or
be completely indifferent towards me, but I know what you
feel because I feel the same. Your life has become just as
important as my own and I’ll protect them at any cost.
You’ve made my house feel like a home again, and that’s
something I haven’t had in so long. For that, I thank you.
Saray and I have come up with a plan to catch this

monster once and for all. It’ll be risky, and we’ll need the
help of brilliant profilers, psychologists, and agents. I hope
you’ll be one of them. If you’re in, let me know at the
commencement dinner by shaking my hand.
I love you,
Zulema
Maca pressed her thumb into the innermost corner of her

eyes to wipe away the tears before they started to fall. Rizos
didn’t pry.
“You really love her, no?” Rizos asked.
“Of course, I do.”
“Well, then use that fucking boxing training and keep
fighting.”
For the first time in a week, Maca smiled a genuine smile.
And hope blossomed in her chest.
***
Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid, Friday, 19:30
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Hours of stuffing and fluffing later, Macarena and Rizos

were on their way to the dinner held in the students’ honor
to celebrate the end of their schooling. Maca couldn’t
believe it. She had butterflies in her stomach but she felt
stunning in the black and white, floor-length Karigam dress
with its high split. Rizos had offset Maca’s dress by wearing
an all-white goddess dress with a plunging neckline and
matching high split. While Maca had her hair down, swept
to the side, Rizos’ hair had been straightened and slicked
back into an elegant chignon to give the dress (and her
statuesque neck) the attention it deserved.
Neither could believe how far they’d come in the past few
months, but they were happy that they would be ending
their journey the same way they started: together.
Upon arrival at the venue, a lush botanical garden, the
girls and a few other guests were ushered over a small,
lover’s bridge towards a massive clearing. There was a set-
up of circular tables, enough to seat the entire graduating
class as well as the lecturers and administration staff and a
small bar off to their right. The tablecloths and subsequent
decorations were Madrid University colors and there was
even a temporary stage set up with a podium and
microphone that held the MU crest on the front. A live
quartet played soft music under the twinkling fairy lights.
Maca took in the sights, admiring the beauty of the
atmosphere. The irony that she was celebrating her future
working on grim assignments in such a stunning place was
not lost upon her.
“Find our tables, I’ll be right back,” Rizos said. Maca
nodded and Rizos was off.
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Somehow, Rizos had zeroed in on the bar where Zulema

stood, waiting for her whiskey neat.
“So, I’ll finally be out of your hair,” Rizos greeted her.
Zulema looked up to find a smirking Rizos. She chuckled
and accepted her drink from the bartender. Reaching into
the breast pocket of her tailored suit, Zule pulled out a few
bills and slipped them into the tip jar.
“Thank god, I go through a box of hair dye every week
because of you.”
“You don’t have to admit that you’re going to miss me,
Zulema. I already know it.”
“Oh so much. I don’t know how I’ll go on without you,
Kabila,” Zulema joked.
Rizos ordered two glasses of Riesling and as she opened
her clutch purse to fish out a few bills for the bartender’s
tip, Zulema stopped her. She put a couple more in the jar
for Rizos and then turned to survey the scene. Just as she
always did, Zulema saw Macarena floated in and out of the
crowd, hugging her friends and saying hi to others. She’d
become a real social butterfly under Rizos’ watch and
Zulema liked seeing her so happy.
“She’s not sleeping or eating, Zulema,” Rizos said when
she saw who Zulema was gazing at.
Zulema shook her head. She was heartbroken to hear this.
She gathered her phone and drink and as she walked past
Rizos, she squeezed the younger woman’s shoulder.
“Neither am I, Rizos.”
***
“Hi.”
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The voice coming from behind her made Maca’s lashes

flutter and she physically had to stop herself from tearing
up. She excused herself from the conversation with
Professor Palacios and turned to face the familiar brunette.
“Hi, Dr. Zahir.”
“Maca,” Zulema sighed, exasperated by Maca’s
professional tone.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you,” the blonde
huffed, looking around to make sure she hadn’t brought
attention to their conversation.
Zulema took a step forward and stopped herself from
reaching out to touch Macarena by shoving her hand into
the pocket of her pants. “Zulema. You can call me Zulema.
Or Zule. Or—.”
Cari.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Please understand I’m trying to protect you.”
“I understand.” She meant it, but it still hurt that she had
to let go of something that had made her so happy for the
last few months. They had both been looking forward to
being able to bring their relationship to light once Macarena
graduated and now all of that was just… ruined. Maca
turned to look for Rizos in the crowd before stopping in her
tracks. She turned back to Zulema. “Thank you for your
letter of recommendation.”
“Of course.”
“It was a pleasure learning from you, profesora.” Maca
had to get away from Zulema. She held her hand out to
Zulema. Zulema looked surprised for a moment, but she
quickly gathered herself to take Maca’s hand in her own.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
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Macarena found herself at the table of those graduating

with honors in her field. And it was just her luck that she
found herself at the same table with the professors in the
same field. Just across from her was Zulema Zahir.
Macarena could just hear the universe laughing at her.
Luckily she was distracted from thinking too much about
how edible Zulema looked in her black suit, hair slicked
back into a simple ponytail at the crown of her head when
Headmistress Miranda Aguirre arrived at her assigned seat
at Maca’s table with her date in tow. He was a tall bald man,
with a deep, gravelly voice and a charming personality and
Miranda made it a point to introduce him with his title of
doctor.
Maca could tell by the way he kept his hands in his pockets
while Miranda draped herself against his arm that she was
more into the relationship than he was. It wouldn’t last
long, Maca deduced, but that was none of her business. She
realized that she was doing what Zulema used to do before
they got to know one another: she was profiling people.
Shooting a glance around the table, Macarena saw Zulema
do the squinting thing that she did when she was trying to
figure someone out. When she returned her gaze to the
gentleman, he was looking directly at her. He gave her a
smile that was meant to be warm and inviting, but it made
Maca feel uneasy.
Dinner was served. While it looked incredible, Maca just
couldn’t bring herself to try it. She pushed the grilled
asparagus around her plate before setting her fork down
and picking up her water goblet. Even amidst the loud
conversations and lively music, Zulema cleared her throat
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and Maca still heard it. Her eyes flickered up to look at the
brunette.
Eat, she mouthed at Macarena. Zulema cut into her
asparagus and placed it into her mouth and Maca rolled her
eyes but followed suit.
Maca told herself that she was only doing it because she
was hungry, not to appease Zulema. Her brows rose as if to
ask “Satisfied?”
And there it was.
That fucking smirk that always made Macarena weak in
the knees.
Just as she was about to roll her eyes again, Professor
Palacios tapped Miranda on the shoulder and nodded
towards the stage. She excused herself from the table and
the men stood at the same time she did, ever the gentlemen.
Her date, Maca can’t remember his name now, pulled his
phone out of his suit jacket, and as Miranda got onto the
stage and addressed the crowd, he typed away. It wasn’t
until she finished her speech, wishing the graduate students
luck on their future endeavors and the crowd stood to their
feet, that he even bothered to show interest. He stood as
well, clapping as if he’d listened to anything she said. Maca
didn’t know why but she was annoyed with him. It didn’t
help that even when Miranda returned to the table, he
continued to chat with everyone else, paying particular
attention to Zulema when she spoke up.
Not that Maca could blame him. Zulema was beautiful and
ridiculously learned; everything she said enchanted the
table as she gracefully toed the line between charismatic
professional and provocative humor. Carlos, as Miranda
called him, challenged some of Zulema’s insights but she
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was always well-prepared with a witty retort and a lesson.

He seemed impressed with her, while only Macarena could
tell that Zulema was irritated. It was the way her cheek
twitched whenever Carlos questioned her and the tapping of
her fingertip against the body of her whiskey tumbler. He
seemed to know his limits with her, though, and if
Macarena didn’t know any better, she’d think they’d met
before.
By the time dinner and drinks had turned into dancing,
Macarena had met back up with Rizos and forgot all about
him as her best friend pulled her onto the parquet floor and
they danced the night away.
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Chapter 29
Celebrations and Revelations
Graduation Day
Fucking graduation day. Ever since she was a little girl, she
knew she would be successful. Her family always was. They
supported one another and they worked hard. At the end of
the day, however, they loved each other for who they were,
and that was the most important thing.
Love.
Pfft, Macarena scoffed internally, what a fucking scam.
She stretched her body, her muscles relieved of the tension
that only came with being curled up in the fetal position all
night, squeezing a pillow for dear life. Macarena sat up and
tapped a finger against her phone screen to see the clock.
06:48, it read.
Sighing, she decided she was better off getting up and
starting her morning routine rather than staying in bed in a
futile attempt to rest. She unplugged her phone from its
charger and brought it to the bathroom with her to listen to
music.
Maca rested her hip against the counter and scrolled
through her playlist, every song felt too slow or too sad. She
needed something to distract her from the fact that even
though it was her day to celebrate her accomplishments, all
Macarena could think about was a certain brunette.
She wasted a little time, scrolling through her social media
accounts, pausing when she saw that Zulema was online.
Tapping on her account, Maca scrolled through the
brunette’s pictures. When that wasn’t enough, she sat on
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the floor of her bathroom, shower running and steam filling

the room, as she scrolled through the pictures they’d taken
together.
She stopped at a series of photos she’d taken of Zulema
just before the brunette had awakened one morning and a
couple just after her eyes opened. Maca remembered how
she felt when Zulema rubbed the sleep from her eyes and
then immediately focused on her. Her eyes had danced with
mirth.
“You’re being creepy,” were the first words out of
Zulema’s mouth.
“Am I? Or do I just know art when I see it?” Maca quipped
back.
Zulema had scoffed and took Maca’s phone from her
hands, tossing it towards the end of the bed, and then
wrapped her around Maca’s waist, nuzzling her neck.
“Let me go back to sleep, Annie Leibovitz.”
Maca chuckled at the memory, and as she hopped into the
shower, she was determined to help Zulema end this so that
they could have those moments again.
***
07:33
Not far away, Zulema had yet to sleep. She, Alta, and the
team had spent the night at their headquarters planning an
elaborate, ingenious way to draw out their unsub from
wherever he was. Zule hadn’t gotten home until nearly three
in the morning, and even then, she knew she wouldn’t sleep.
Her thoughts were too loud; they shouted Macarena’s name
and screamed that Zulema was an idiot for letting her go
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even if it was for the blonde’s protection. Zulema sat out on

her back patio, chainsmoking a pack of cigarettes and
scrolling through Macarena’s Instagram. Eventually, the
sun rose and she watched it for a while until she decided
that it was time to shower and get ready for the long day.
She would rest on Sunday, she’d decided.
It was commencement day. It was meant to be a
celebration of not only her students’ achievements but of
her own. She had been tasked with ushering in a new
generation of undeniably talented psychologists with the
hopes of making the world a safer place for everyone. It was
why both students and faculty donned caps and gowns to
the commencement. They had all learned from one another
and graduation day was the moment where those lessons
were solidified.
After graduation, there would probably be lunch at The
Academy as was the tradition. After that, Zulema would
head to Cruz to help Saray set up and do a soundcheck for
the graduation party. It was going to be a long day, but
there was one thing that Zulema looked forward to seeing:
Macarena Ferreiro.
They were a part of one another now, weaved so intricately
into the core of each other that it has become impossible to
see where Macarena ended and where Zulema began.
Struck with a sudden thought that she had to write down,
Zulema found a small notepad and started writing.
By the time she finished, it was longer than she thought it
would be when she started, but hopefully, it would prove to
Maca that she would do whatever it takes for them to be
together safely.
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***
Madrid University South Lawn Football Stadium, 11:55

AM
The ceremony was long; each field of study was called
beginning with Agricultural Sciences and working its way
down alphabetically. The graduate students were called row
by row. Headmistress Aguirre waited for applause between
each name as she handed every individual their degree,
shook their hand, and took a picture with them onstage.
They would then shake the hand of or hug the professor
who was the head of their department, which meant the
criminal psychology graduates would shake hands with Dr.
Zulema Zahir.
By the time criminal psychology was called, Macarena had
nearly chewed her thumbnail completely off. Macarena’s
row was finally called and she stood on shaking knees in
unison with her fellow graduates and made their way down
the aisle and towards the stage.
The closer that Macarena got to the stage, the faster her
heart began to beat.
She neared the stairs, pausing as the student before she
stepped up and took their degree. Her eyes landed on
Zulema who stood in the middle of the stage in her red cap
and gown. She was beautiful and what Macarena wouldn’t
give to be able to share this day with her. Truly share it with
her. They’d spent the better part of eight months sharing
everything and now, Maca didn’t even know what if it was
okay to shake Zulema’s hand because anyone could be
watching.
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What was Macarena supposed to do? Shake her hand?

Hug her? Kiss her senseless in front of thousands of people,
serial killers be damned?
“Macarena Ferreiro, Master of forensic psychology, magna
cum laude.”
She heard her name and it was followed by thunderous
applause from not only her family but her friends who had
been there every step of the way. A beaming smile on her
face, despite the heartache she felt inside, Macarena crossed
the stage. She accepted her degree with her left hand while
taking Miranda’s hand in her left and shaking it. They
turned to the photographer, and he snapped a photograph.
Maca’s legs carried her on autopilot towards Zulema who
took Maca’s empty hand in her own as if to shake it, but
Macarena could feel the brunette slip something inside of
her hand. She then pulled Macarena into a brief hug,
murmuring, “I’m proud of you, rubía.”
Macarena squeezed the slip of paper in her hand and
nodded once as she crossed the stage to the sound of more
applause. She followed the aisle back to her assigned seat in
the row of students. Once there, Maca unzipped her robe
slightly and slipped the note under the strap of the dress
that she wore underneath, for safekeeping.
The anxiety of seeing Zulema onstage had melted away
and was now replaced by impatience for the ceremony to
end so she could find a quiet place where she could read
Zulema’s note. They inched through the remainder of the
degrees and speeches and finally, Headmistress Aguirre
took the podium once more.
“Someone very wise once said ‘I’ve seen a generation
eager, impatient even, to step into the rushing waters of
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history and change its course’. You are that generation for
me. I’m not worried about you. I am worried about the
people that try to stand between you and your destiny.
Congratulations, Madrid University class of 2021! You did
it!”
The family and friends in the audience stood to their feet
in applause and the graduates jumped up and tossed their
caps in the air in celebration of their accomplishments.
Maca turned around and spotted Rizos who was moving the
folding chairs in an attempt to get to her. They met in the
middle and gathered one another into a tight embrace with
smiles that hurt their cheeks.
“We did, rubía. I had doubts that you would make it,”
joked Rizos.
Maca snorted. “Yeah because I’m the one you should’ve
been worried about.”
“Hey, where are your parents? I want to say hi.”
“That’s a good question.”
They both turned and started to look for their families in
the sea of bodies. Maca’s mom was waving at her in the
stands and Maca smiled, waving back. She pulled on Rizos’s
arm, grabbing her attention. “There’s my mom.”
Pushing their way through the graduates, faculty, and
families, the pair finally made it to Maca’s mom in the
stands.
“Congratulations, girls!” Encarna pulled Maca into a tight
embrace first and then Rizos. Rizos had been around Maca
during plenty of FaceTime calls, and the brunette’s outgoing
personality charmed Encarna. She was happy that Maca
had found a great friend and somehow, Encarna knew that
Rizos would become more like family.
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“Where’s dad and Román?”

“They’re in the refreshments tent.”
Maca rolled her eyes. “I should have known.”
“Oh! You guys should come to The Academy!” Rizos
exclaimed. “We’ve got a table reserved for lunch.”
“I’m in.” Maca turned to her mom. “Mom, The Academy is
our local watering hole. Good food, good drinks. What do
you think?”
“I think anything sounds good right now. I’m starving.”
“Awesome, I’ll go track down my parents and sister and
then we’ll you guys there.”
“Okay.”
And Rizos was off before Maca could even blink.
***
The Academy, 13:13

Packed was an understatement. Their favorite bar had
been overrun by nearly every graduate in town, some from a
different university. It was a jubilant atmosphere and the
music had been turned up for the occasion. Those who
hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat at the bar or reserve
a table ahead of time were left to stand with drinks in their
hand.
Maca, Rizos, and their families had fit perfectly around
one of the only booths in the place and had a delicious
spread of everything on the menu in front of them. Their
parents seemed to hit it off, their moms talking about their
shared interest in cooking. Their dads talked about some
sport or other and found that they had a common interest:
fishing. Maca was still trying to wrap her head around the
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fact that Rizos had a twin who was her complete opposite
when she felt Román nudge her shoulder. She looked at him
and then in the direction that he jutted his chin.
“Dr. Zahir, it’s so good to see you!” Román called to the
woman passing by their table. She stopped abruptly and
turned, eyes immediately landing on the one member of the
Ferreiro-Kabila clan, and it certainly was not Román.
“Mr. Ferreiro, always a pleasure. How are things at the
CNI?”
“Amazing. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for you, so
thank you. I heard you returned as a supervisory special
agent?”
Maca squirmed in her seat and Zulema’s eyes flickered to
her and back to Román as she answered, “Just for a case.
My ‘one that got away’, so to speak.”
“You’ll get ‘em,” he replied.
“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Zulema admitted
conversationally, “these cases take so much time and I’m
ready to get back to the things I care about.” Her gaze
shifted back to Macarena.
Fuck, Maca thought, she looks so good. Macarena could
feel her body reacting to Zulema’s presence. It brought her
back to a time where she and Zulema were a secret from
even their friends. The thrill she used to get from being
around the brunette knowing that in a few hours, she would
be getting destroyed by Zulema Zahir. The nostalgia pulled
at her nipples until they were hardened points, noticeable in
her white dress. She crossed her legs in an attempt to ease
the ache in the part of her body that missed Zulema just as
much as Maca’s heart did. She pressed a hand to her chest,
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trying to massage away the flush that was surely going to

appear if Zulema stayed any longer.
Almost as if she could read Macarena’s thoughts, Zulema
reiterated her pleasure of meeting Leopoldo and Encarna as
well as Rizos’ family, leaving them with a pleasant, “Enjoy
your lunch. Congratulations, girls.”
And with that, she was off.
As their parents got back to their conversations, Rizos
nudged Maca’s arm with her elbow and leaned in,
whispering, “I can’t believe she just shook your parents’
hands with the same hand that she fucked you—.”
Maca’s eyes widened, and she nudged Maca back,
whispering, “Calla!” That sent Rizos into a fit of laughter.
“What are you two giggling about?” Rizos’ mother asked.
Always quick on her feet, Rizos lied, “The graduation party
at Cruz tonight.”
“You girls be careful. Don’t get too drunk,” Encarna
warned.
“Yeah, and stick together. Don’t drive drunk,” Rizos’ dad
added.
They were somewhere between after-lunch drinks and the
check coming when Macarena remembered Zulema’s note.
She’d been distracted by the events of the day that it had
taken a backseat. She excused herself from the table to the
bathroom and once she was inside of a stall, she leaned
against the wall and pulled the note from the strap of her
dress, opening it.
Maca scanned its contents, a smile slowly stretching across
her face.
Zulema fucking Zahir.
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The woman was a force to be reckoned with. Before her,

was a secret plan and a brief love letter rolled into one.
The blonde read through the last line of the note over and
over again:
My only crime is loving you and for that, I’ll spend an
eternity trying to escape the prison of this situation. I hope
you’ll still be there to meet me when we’re both free.
It was all so confusing, for both parties.
“Maca?” Rizos called. Maca unlocked the stall door and
pushed it open.
“You okay?”
Maca nodded.
“What’s that?” Rizos asked.
“A letter.” She pulled Rizos into the stall with her and let
her read it.
“I just don’t get why she’s doing this. If she wants to be
with me so badly then why continue to make both of us
suffer?” Maca whispered.
Rizos looked at her like she was crazy. “Wait, you don’t
know why she broke up with you?”
Maca shook her head. “You do?”
“Well, yeah. Saray told me.”
“Tell me!”
“Maca,” Rizos told her seriously, “this serial killer sent
Zulema creepy, stalker pictures of you with your face
crossed out.”
Maca’s heart dropped. “What?”
“Yeah, and he sent Zulema two notes where he threatened
to kill you if she didn’t stop seeing you.”
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“What?” Maca repeated, louder this time. Rizos put a

finger to her mouth. “I’ll come over tonight to get ready for
Cruz at your apartment and we’ll talk more.”
Maca nodded. They exited the bathroom stall, the letter
was hidden once more, and returned to their booth, where
Macarena sat stunned at the information she’d just
received.
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Chapter 30:
And So It Begins…
As promised, Rizos met Maca at her home where they had a

long conversation about what Saray had told her. Luna and
Yoli met them at them there, already dressed and halfway to
tipsy. They commandeered Maca’s bed while helping
Macarena decide what to wear.
Something to drive Zulema crazy. You need to show her
what she’s missing out on, Rizos had said.
Six wardrobe changes and a few shots of tequila later and
the girls were on their way to Cruz.
Maca was weirdly nervous to see Zulema.
“Stop fidgeting. Nothing is different.” Rizos told her.
Except everything was. She knew much more than she had
and now that she has all of the information, she had the
clarity to make the best decision regarding her future with
or without Zulema.
With or without Zulema?
She weighed the pros and cons as they moved up in line for
the club. And every step closer to the entrance was a step
closer to Zulema.
With or without Zulema?
Was there even a decision to be made? How did free will
exist when Maca knew her heart had already made it for
her?
With Zulema.
She could only see her future with the older woman and no
matter what Zulema said, or how far she tried to push
Macarena away tonight, Maca would show her that whether
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she liked it or not, Zulema was stuck with her. And with that
thought, she entered the club with her tribe.
They hit the bar first and then Rizos led the girls to the
dance floor to celebrate. But also to celebrate their friend,
Tere, who, although she didn’t make it to the end, was
always in their hearts.
Up in the DJ booth, Zulema stood with Saray, who was
showing her a new mix on the MacBook screen. Zulema
liked DJing but she still had a lot to learn from her best
friend.
“Oye, the girls are out there!” Saray pointed out. Zulema
followed her finger to where Maca, Rizos, Luna, and
Yolanda were grooving to the music.
“I love her,” Zulema told Saray. She watched Macarena
jumping up and down in the crowd, hands in the air, and a
carefree smile on her face. It was the first time in a long
while that Zulema had seen that look on her face.
“Que?” Saray replied, cupping her hand around her ear.
Zulema smirked. She knew that Saray had heard her
perfectly well. Still, the older brunette turned to Saray and
shouted, “I love her!”
Saray wrapped an arm around Zule’s neck, pulling her
close. “So fucking tell her. You’re not just breaking your
own heart being away from her, you’re breaking your own.”
Zulema made a move to hop off the stage, but she was held
back but Saray’s hand on her shoulder. “Not so fast,
morocha,” she called over the music, “I believe there’s a bet
that we need to settle.”
Saray turned a few knobs on the mixing board and then
scratched at the vinyl and in moments, one song melded
gracefully into another and the crowd went nuts. She
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pointed to the catwalk that led from the DJ booth to one of

the custom-built go-go cages meant for the dancers that
Cruz hosted occasionally. The stage led took a sharp left to
the bar and it only took a moment for Zulema to realize
what she was talking about.
Saray simply shook her head. “I can’t wait for the day
when someone changes your mind.”
“When that day comes, I will dance on the bar during one
of your sets at Cruz.”
“No,” Zulema told her.
“Una promesa es una promesa.”
Zulema opened her mouth to protest but Saray put her
headphones back over her ears. She put her hands on
Zulema’s shoulders and turned the brunette towards the
catwalk, slapping her on her ass in encouragement. Zulema
shot daggers at the taller woman she started across the
platform and walked across until she reached the crowded
bar.
Zulema thanked the universe that she’d chosen to wear
spandex shorts underneath the XXL men’s button-up shirt
that her small stature allowed to become a dress. Sleeves
rolled up to her elbows and heeled boots that came to rest
just above her knees, Zulema stepped onto the bar. With
Saray shouting into the mic, and the reaction from the
people at the bar, it didn’t take long for Zulema to capture
everyone’s attention.
And they went wild.
Zulema moved her body to the thumping bass of ‘Madrid
Vacío’. Moments later, the two female bartenders hopped
up onto the bar, giving Zulema some background support
while also making more tips. As Saray mixed in another
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song, Zulema felt a tap on her ankle. She looked down to see
Macarena Ferreiro looking up at her in awe. Zulema
crouched down, then let her legs drop over the side of the
bar as she hopped down.
“You’re crazy!” Maca told her.
Zulema smiled. “The things we do for love, no?”
“That was amazing,” the male bartender that Maca
remembered as Valbuena interrupted. “Name your poison!
It’s on the house!”
“Whiskey double, neat,” Zulema replied, and then nodded
at Macarena, “and a patrón piedra for the blonde.”
“You got it.” He tapped the bar and set to work making
their drinks.
“I thought I told you that you don’t have to get me drunk.
I’m a sure thing.”
Zulema chuckled at that and their drinks were set before
them. She picked it up, toasted the bartender in thanks, and
then took a deep pull from it. The brunette prayed she
would find the strength to keep her hands from pulling at
the hem of Macarena’s slinky little gold, halter dress at the
bottom of her drink.
It didn’t help that Maca’s front was practically pressed
against Zulema’s side.
Maca leaned over, mouth near Zulema’s ear, she shouted
over the music, “I know about the threats!”
Zulema pulled back in surprise, and her eyes searched
Macarena’s face.
“How?” Zulema shouted back.
“I can’t reveal my criminal informant.”
Zulema exhaled a chuckle and shook her head.
Fucking Rizos.
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Zulema knocked back the remnants of her drink. “So?

What now?”
“Now we get this hijo de puta!” Maca paused for a moment
before adding, “Juntas!”
Zulema was hesitant. Maca could tell by the way her
fingers tapped against her empty glass. Zulema looked at
Maca’s unwavering expression of determination.
Dark green eyes traveled down Macarena’s body and back
up.
Still, her expression didn’t change. Macarena tilted her
head and cocked an eyebrow.
A challenge.
And they both knew what challenges did to Zulema. The
ball was in the brunette’s court.
Zulema leaned in, lips against Maca’s ear, hand on the
small of her back. “Let’s get out of here.”
Goosebumps prickled Maca’s skin and praised herself for
successfully holding back a shiver. She took the hand of a
cocky Zulema and pulled her through the packed club
towards the exit. Zulema caught Saray’s eye and the
brunette pointed to her, a huge grin on her face.
Túuu.
Zulema pointed back.
Tú.
Past security and through a dark corridor to the entrance,
Maca led Zulema outside. The moment they passed the line
of club-goers still waiting to get inside, Zulema stopped
Macarena in her tracks and pulled the blonde against her.
One hand slipped down the small of her back and over the
curve of her ass, gripping it tightly while the other came up
to grip Maca’s chin.
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And then Zulema kissed her.

In front of god and drunken sorority girls, alike. There
were a few catcalls from the line but it didn’t phase the pair.
“Te necesito, cari,” Maca murmured and she flexed her
fingers to stop them from unbuttoning Zulema’s shirt-dress
right there on the sidewalk.
Zulema nodded across the street.
“My car is right there.” She reached down and pulled her
key fob out of her thigh-high boot and tapped the unlock
button. They started across the four-way street, with no cars
to their left and two to their right.
The first car stopped and the driver waved them across
and just as they reached the fourth lane, time seemed to
slow down for Zulema. The sound of an engine — an SUV?
— sped up instead of slowing down. She turned in time to
see the black truck that’d been following both her and
Macarena speeding towards them.
“Maca!”
In the blink of an eye, Zulema wrapped an arm around the
blonde’s waist and used every ounce of her strength to push
Macarena onto the small space between her car and
another. Her body followed but not before her right
shoulder was clipped by the front of the SUV. She cried out
in pain as her body crumpled to the ground against Maca.
Her shoulder had been forced out of its socket.
Pushing through the pain, Zulema scrambled to hover over
Macarena who was slowly coming to. Her head had hit the
curb.
“Maca? Maca, are you okay?” The blonde heard Zulema’s
voice. Her head was pounding and her ears were ringing.
She tried to sit up despite Zulema’s protests for her to stay
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where she was. Maca rubbed the back of her head as she sat
up and she felt something wet. Pulling her hand away, she
saw her fingers were covered in blood.
“Shit. You’re bleeding.” She pushed the front tail of her
shirt to the side and pulled her phone from the tiny shorts
underneath and dialed a number.
“Who are you calling?” Maca asked.
“Foxtrot, Charlie, Oscar, Lima,” Zulema said into the
phone, “zero-seven-three-one.”
“That sounds like a license plate,” Alta said.
“It is. Find the owner.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because they tried to kill me and my goddamned
girlfriend! Just do it, and call me back!” Zulema hung up
and pulled Maca towards her. “We have to get you to a
hospital.”
“What? No, I’m fine,” Maca negated.
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding. You may need stitches
and you could have a possible concussion.” Zulema told her.
“And I need you to pop my arm back into its socket.”
“What?!”
Zulema mustered up just enough energy to roll her eyes.
“Come here. Put your hand here.” She pointed to her
shoulder and Maca did as she was told. “I know you can grip
tighter than that, conejIta, come on,” she joked, her head
lolling back against the bumper on the car behind her.
“Zulema, this isn’t funny.”
“Come on,” urged Zulema. “Tighter.”
Maca tightened her grip on Zulema’s shoulder and she
watched in horror as Zulema twisted her body on an angle
using her body weight and Maca’s resistance to shove her
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shoulder back into place. The brunette cursed the night sky
and then took a few deep breaths.
“Venga,” Zulema said and pushed off of the car. She
struggled to her feet and then helped Macarena up and into
the car.
Zulema started the engine, whipping the car out of the
parking spot with ease, and as she sped down the street
towards the hospital, she reached over and pulled Maca’s
hand into her own.
“We’re gonna end this, Zulema,” Maca said. There was a
promise in her voice that Zulema didn’t know she needed to
hear. But somehow Maca knew.
Y una promesa es una promesa.
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Special Thanks:
Mitch (@raliciaschild): Without you, I would have never --

and I mean NEVER-- released this as a physical copy.
You’re a creative genius and an incredible artist in your own
right. I hope you know just how phenomenal you are.
Kev (@evssword): The artwork for this book cover is

beyond my wildest imagination. You created something that
is so simply elegant (and so me!) even in the midst of an art
drought. I appreciate you so freaking much!
And to you, dear reader: for the love, support, and

constant reminder of why words are so important. Please
remember that your only crime should be loving yourself
and loving someone so much that everyone else is envious.
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For The Crime of Love: by Killingsaray

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For The Crime Of Love