Sine Equals Cosine



Como siempre, para mi mama. (Like always, for my mother.)


I did not want to be there, especially with the guitar weighing me down. The crowd made me uncomfortable as soon as I opened the door. I had made a decision though; my discomfort meant nothing. I looked around the off-campus hangout; it was surprisingly large for a non-franchise coffeehouse. Every seat was full, so people lined the walls or sat on the floor between tables. The faces were mostly Latin because the Images House sponsored the monthly get-together. They called it a talent show for young Latin artists that attended the university. There were stands with paintings and sculptures on them to the left of the front door. On stage, a particularly bad political poet was lost in the general apathy of college socializing.

I spotted Dacia in the front row. The table was reserved for her, or at least no one dared sit there. Dacia could be vocal in her displeasure, almost as loud as with her pleasure. A couple of guys sat at the table trying to grasp and keep her fleeting attention. I sighed; even if Dacia made me feel, I had to wonder if this was worth it.

I walked to the stage making sure not to bump the guitar case against anything. The case cradled my father’s guitar, the last thing he gave me. I climbed the steps onto the stage slowly. A girl was speaking into the microphone announcing dates for other Latin events in the area. She grew quiet when she felt my approach. Her head turned so she could stare at me. It had to have been in my eyes because she backed away slowly. I grabbed the stool the poet had pushed aside and placed it in front of the mike. I drew my father’s guitar and sat down. The microphone was too high; I looked around the room as I adjusted it. The conversations stopped as people turned to watch. They could sense the approach of ghosts three years dead, and it chilled them.

I touched the guitar strings looking at Dacia.

“Only this one time,” I said into the microphone. “For you, Dacia.”

It did not take a long search to find the songs that said what I wanted to. She would never know the real reasons for my selections; those were for my heart, soul, and voice.

“Dejaria Todo (I’d leave everything),” I whispered.

I don’t know how other singers do it: there are songs that I sing and songs that I live.


‘Lo dejaria todo porque te quedaras’ (I’d leave everything for you to stay.)

I met Dacia at my job in the computer labs during the summer after my freshman year. I was an emergency hire when they could not fill shifts during the spring semester. One of the female supervisors adopted me as her little brother, so I got hours during the summer session. Dacia was a junior that I noticed around the lab but never worked with. She got summer hours too; because the lab was only open a few hours a day, we worked together a lot.

Dacia had dark-honey hair and mischievous brown eyes. Her curves were a danger to moving traffic. She always wore dresses and confessed they made her feel sexier. I think she teased me as a way to relieve the boredom of our shifts. With my inexperience, I made a good target.

To be honest, she seduced herself.

Dacia enjoyed her provocateur games and flirtations with me. I took her up on an invitation to meet for lunch before our shift one day, which became having lunch together every day. After a while, we ate dinner together after our shifts too. I was still surprised when she invited me to her house. The girls she shared it with made eyes at Dacia when they caught sight of me.

“Robbing the cradle, dear,” the boldest teased.

They laughed when I blushed. Dacia took my hand and guided me to her room.

“Don’t mind them,” she told me closing the door loudly. “They’re jealous. None of them have ever seen a cuter boy.”

Cute was not what I was hoping for, but wisely kept my mouth shut. I did that a lot around Dacia.

‘Mi credo, mi pasado, mi religion’ (My creed, my past, my religion).

She was wearing a light summer dress that drifted freely around her legs when she moved. It clung to the curve of her bosom and hips almost as tightly as I wanted to. Dacia walked to the radio and popped in a CD while giving me a wicked smile. I knew the worst of teasing tortures was coming, but Dacia was an anathema to male resistance.

Music was a part of Dacia’s soul. She played it constantly in the lab and walked around with an iPod permanently attached to her ears. Sadly, she had neither the voice nor the instrumental talent to be a musician. Dacia could dance though! She danced for me, and I felt no pain. Her hips swayed gently with the first notes of the guitar. She forgot my presence as the music lifted her body from the ground.

Dacia danced herself into my arms.

She toppled on top of me after the third song. Her breathing was deep, and a light layer of sweat covered her skin. I wanted to know if she tasted salty or sweet. Our faces were inches apart. I watched a bead of sweat crawl onto her upper lip. She moved her hips Yalova Escort on me tracing the outline of a painfully hard dick.

I licked the drop of salt from her lip.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me hard. My lungs burned with the desire to forget about breathing while we kissed. Dacia moved on top of me as the kiss deepened. I pushed my groin against her stomach; she danced on it as if I was already inside her.

I put my hands on her ass. The desperation to have her grew too fast for me to control. I grabbed fistfuls of the dress and pulled it up. I almost came feeling nothing between her skin and my hands. I moved my hand between her ass cheeks to check for a thong but only a gasp of pleasure met my touch.

She grabbed the dress and ripped it over her head. My heart hurt as it drummed an impossibly fast beat. Dacia was naked underneath the dress. I had worked an entire shift with a thin layer of cotton between her skin and my fingers!

I wanted days to worship Dacia’s body, but my dick was on the brink of a massive explosion. Dacia smiled as she undid my jeans; she knew that she was the focus of my existence. She got off the bed to pull my pants and underwear off. My dick strained to touch her, to drown in her waters. She took my dick in her hand and spread the pre-cum on the head with her thumb. Trying to hold on, I closed my eyes. I wanted to cum, but it had to be inside her. I opened my eyes when her grip shifted.

Dacia was on top of me. I felt the touch of her pussy. I gritted my teeth fighting away the pleasure as she impaled her body on mine. She settled me inside her with a sigh. Her hips rotated to find the perfect fit between us. Her body moved up my dick and slammed down. I groaned pushing away the desire for release.

“It’s okay, baby,” Dacia whispered leaning down so her lips almost touched my ear. “Let it go inside me.”

‘Mi nombre, mi fuerza, hasta mi propia vida’ (My name, my strength, even my very life.)

I grabbed her ass and guided her almost off my dick. I let her go, and she dropped suddenly. I wanted to last long enough for her to peak with me but could not hold on to forever. My fingers dug into her ass cheeks, and I lifted her up again. She gasped as I retook her body with a thickened dick. Both of us were amazed that the feel of my cum jetting into her set Dacia off.

She collapsed with her forehead on top of mine. I flipped us over, pulled my hips back, and thrust into her. Dacia grabbed my sides in surprise. My dick had not softened; it felt like it never would as I thrust into her again.

‘Y que mas da perder, si te llevas del todo mi fe’ (What else is there to lose, if you took my faith in everything.)


I stared at Dacia as I sang. I let her see in my eyes, what I should have said every night we were together. I sang about everything I was giving up to sing for her. Her face was stunned when the last notes of the guitar faded. Everyone’s eyes were on me; inside me, what stirred grew in a crescendo.

My father called me Stringbreaker the first time I clipped the strings on his guitar. I couldn’t make it sing the way he did when I emulated his motions on the strings, but they made almost as good a tone when I snipped them. I always wondered if he knew the fate he sealed me into with that name.

Everyone clapped as soon as they recovered; people do not come to college talent shows expecting to find talent. A few people moved closer to the stage. Eyes moved between Dacia and me. The boys at Dacia’s table got up and walked away. They must have known her well enough to accept there was no competing against someone whose life had been built on music since the day he was born. There were also the five years I hated, during which I played and sang for hours every day. I had hoped I would never sing again, but I could not let Dacia go. No one knew about those five years, and I did not feel like talking about what I learned during that time.

I pulled a small bottle of water out of my pocket. I took a sip looking around the room until my eyes settled on Dacia again.

“Next from Alejandro,” I said to her. “Aprendiz(Apprentice/Pupil).”


‘Tus besos saben tan amargos’ (Your kisses taste so bitter)

Six unspeakably glorious months followed. I was happy for the first time since I turned eleven. Initially, I did not believe we were going to be more than a night I cherished. I woke up to find Dacia studying me the next morning.

“Why am I here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “But I hope you never leave.”

The guys at the lab could not believe she and I were together. I tried not to do the things teenage males are known for, when they have gone far above themselves. I did not talk about Dacia, but she got plenty of possessive hugs and kisses when anyone was around.

The nights were indescribable. I felt like my body and soul fused whenever I touched her. She had a book under her bed on sexual positions. It would have been enough Yalova Escort Bayan for me to work with the standards, but Dacia’s smile when she found one she wanted to try was impossible to deny. I did not care about the position. The look in her eyes when I entered her was enough: desire, need, and pleasure.

She said the words first. It was probably an accident but she did not take them back. She was visiting her parents for the weekend. We talked on the phone for hours during the nights.

“I love you,” she said Saturday night before hanging up.

It should have been goodbye.

I stared at the phone for half an hour hoping she meant it. She said it again the next night. I could not deny she meant each word when she kissed me around them on her return. Dacia said them into my ear as she circled her hips with my dick buried inside of her. She settled on top of me and whispered the words again before falling asleep.

I did not want to say them to her. Not because I did not feel them, but I thought the dream would be over with the summer. She did not hold the silence against me. I almost said them several times after she did, but she put her hand on my mouth and told me to wait until they were bursting to get out.

‘De ti aprendio mi Corazon’ (From you, my heart learned.)

I loved Dacia.

I loved everything about her: the way she smelled after a bath or during a bath, the weird laugh she tried to smother when I tickled her, the feel of her hair in my hands when I kissed her, the little snore she did not know about, the way I felt with my dick stroking in and out of her from behind.

“I love you,” I told her the night before classes started.

“I know, baby,” she said patting my chest. “I know.”

I slept peacefully that night.

I can say I do not know why we broke up, but it would be a lie. Dacia heard it inside me. She knew in her soul what I refused to be again. I never played the guitar or sang for her. I never even told her I could. She danced for me every night though. Her body called, begging me to make her happy.

It started slow, first the flirting with other guys. Seeing it burned like acid. I always expected her to leave but not to have watch her do it in inches day after day. The next step was the nights we did not spend together. I stayed awake the first one thinking about her, and the second, and the third. After that, I spent them with my guitar. I did not ask her what she did, where she was, or with whom. I knew when she crossed the line; she did not say ‘I love you’ anymore.

‘Maldita la maestra y maldito el aprendiz, maldigo lo que amo,’ (Curse the teacher, and curse the pupil, I curse what I love.)

She said the breakup words on a Friday night. I did not doubt she was giving me the weekend to put myself back together. I did not hear the words she used to say goodbye. They did not matter; it was not what I wanted to hear from her. I heard the last thing she said though. It haunted me for a month.

“I don’t know, Michael,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. “I feel like you’re not who I thought you were.”

I knew it then.

It was not me she loved; but who I was with a guitar in my hands. The music inside me sang to her. It wanted out, and Dacia was the way.

You never forget your first love. It felt like I thought about Dacia every second of every day for a month. My father’s guitar whispered to me as I practiced. I did not even realize where I was going until I stood in front of the coffeehouse. I knew she was inside so I made my decision by touching the door.

‘Te lo debo, te lo debo, te lo debo a ti’ (I owe it to you, I owe it to you, I owe it to YOU.)


‘Aprendiz’ is not a song for when you want her back. It is for when she has come back, and you hurt her. Pain is what she taught you, how to cause it. I wanted Dacia but she loved the music, a piece of me that would never love her or anyone else again.

They were quiet as I put the guitar away. Eyes watched me as I made my way to the door. I hesitated before opening it to look back. Dacia was staring at me with tears in her eyes. Those were not the first tears a woman cried when I sang. I was sure they would not be last that Dacia cried.

I nodded accepting my mistake. I should have been the music she danced to from the beginning. I did not know until she left that I was no longer living in the five years that destroyed most of me. She crossed and unforgivable line though; she had taken me back to the past for the months it took her to walk away.

I sat having lunch outside the student center on Monday thinking about nothing.

“Hello,” Dacia said sitting down.

She looked angry. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“You never asked,” I replied sadly.

“I never fucking asked?!?”

“A single question… about me,” I finished looking towards the street.

It was unfair but not untrue. Dacia was a little selfish about attention; she wanted it on her. I was Escort Yalova perfect for her in so many little ways.

“That’s who I thought you were, isn’t it?” she asked suddenly.

I turned to look at her.

“You’re not my type, Michael,” she pointed out. “But there was something pulling me to you.”

I shrugged.

“How long have you been playing?”

“All my life,” I said.

“Are you going to do it professionally?” she asked.

Her voice was too eager with that last question.

“That’s a good question,” a blonde woman said sitting down.

Her blue eyes hungered at me.

“And who are you?” Dacia asked bristling at the intrusion.

The blonde put business cards on the table and passed one to each of us. I continued studying her as Dacia picked one up.

“DMC Entertainment,” Dacia exclaimed looking at me excitedly. “A recording company, Michael.”

I nodded waiting for the blonde to say something else.

“I was at the show Saturday night,” she explained. “I heard you sing.”

“Wasn’t he awesome?” Dacia asked slipping into ‘you’re my new best friend’ mode.

The blonde smiled at Dacia and shrugged.

“Michael has a lot of potential,” she replied turning back to me.

We stared at each other for a minute before she looked away.

“You’re young to be so capable of holding a crowd in your hand,” she said making eye contact again.

“I’ve had a lot of experience,” I told her.


“Yes,” I replied.

“I doubt that,” she pushed at me with. “Someone would have signed you already, but I checked. You’re on nobody’s radar.”

“I haven’t done anything in three years,” I informed her.

“You’re nineteen, Michael,” she said. “That would make you a baby when you got all that experience. No dice, little boy! I watched your fingers on the guitar; you’re too good for anyone in the business not to put you under lock and key as soon as they heard you.”

I tilted my head. She seemed to know a lot of about me having only a Sunday to dig. She would be dangerous with time on her hands.

“They were private shows,” I said with finality.

Both women sat back at tone of my voice. Dacia might have gotten the truth while we were together, but those doors were sealed shut now.

“My name’s Elizabeth,” the blonde said a minute later. “I work with the Latin arm of DMC.”

I watched Dacia’s nipples harden; there was no cold breeze. I sighed to myself.

“I’d like to put something together with you for my co-workers.”

Dacia almost sprang out of her chair to hug Elizabeth. Dacia looked at me enthusiastically. She reminded me of how my mother looked when she encouraged my singing. I pushed the business card in front of me back towards Elizabeth.

“Write down the address and time,” I told her.

“It’s not that easy, Michael,” she said with some hesitation.

“You found me, Elizabeth,” I said. “I doubt you came unprepared.”

She studied me for a few seconds. I wondered if it would help women if I wore a sign, ‘I’ve seen the soul of your kind, don’t bother trying to hide’.

“The address and time are written on the back of the card,” she said pushing it back to me.

I picked it up and put in my pocket.

“I’ll be there,” I said getting up.

For the first time, Dacia followed me.


I thought about Dacia on the train ride to my meeting with Elizabeth’s company. Dacia intimidated other women and knew when one was sniffing around me. One kiss in front of the other lab workers was all it took to get her message across that I was off-limits again. The girls who saw me perform were a little more difficult to shake. I smiled out the window wishing I had been there for Dacia’s conversation with the most aggressive of them. Someone told me you could hear Dacia on the first floor of the dorm; she and the girl lived on the sixth.

The receptionist did not need to ask my name. I passed her the card and got a blinding smile.

“Right this way, Michael,” she said with a happiness that sounded sincere.

They had setup a small audition area in a conference room. I sat on the stool in the middle of the room and took out my father’s guitar. It was ten minutes before Elizabeth walked in with seven other people. I thought that was a bit much. Only two of them were male: an older gentleman and younger one that that projected a certain air of disdain.

“Hello, Michael,” Elizabeth said brightly.

She went around the room introducing me to everyone. The younger male waved dismissively.

“I’ve told them about you, so all we really need is to hear you perform a couple of songs,” she said sitting down.

The young man snorted rudely. I turned to face, and he challenged me with his eyes.

“Well?” he asked contemptuously.

“You seem to be working under a misconception,” I told him. “I don’t really give a shit whether I sell a hundred million albums or never make one. I do know if I record my music it will sell, so you’re on the edge of losing your company a lot of money.”

“Joseph!” the older man said before the younger could retort. “Let’s see if Elizabeth’s ear for talent is still true. She has brought in more successful artists than anyone here except myself. I’ve never seen her so enthusiastic so I imagine this will be interesting.”

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