I arrived to the college’s dining room where was happening the mid-term party. It was pretty early and I was just to have lunch. In an square table, sat on the head there was one of the beautiful daughter of Xolotl. I didn’t knew who was Xolotl, it was only the was those three beautiful women that always walked together were called. There were so many stories around those three muses, like the one that say that they were lesbians, that her father, Xolotl, abused them and that’s why they never talk.
I didn’t loose the chance and I sat in front of her. She didn’t notice. On the table were three bottles of a liquor that looked like whisky, but had no label to make a difference.
I started eating slowly waiting for the other two sisters to come. The one that was in front of me seemed to be the big one, she had black hair that reached her breasts. Her eyes were brown and she was the most voluptuous of the three sisters. I was mentally reviewing the way to talk to these women, when the other two sisters arrived and in the minute I forgot what I was thinking. The middle aged one also has brown eyes, the hair was tied with a black lace, and pretty and fine pale face. She was dressed with a tight blues and a gray low neck blouse. The smaller one has lighter hair, gray eyes and she was wearing a slate blue tiny shirt that allowed to see the ring of her navel. She was the most mysterious because her hair always covered the left half of her beautiful face. Both sisters brought two shot glasses and poured from the bottles and shyly sipped the liquid. I was watching with an eye and then the middle aged one filled her glass again and offered to me.
—Would you like some? It's good.
I took it and after smelling it I decided to push it trough my throat. To the taste it didn’t seem to be whisky, maybe gold tequila. Fact I found out a second later when my body was shaken by the electric spasm characteristic of tequila.
—This ain’t whisky, sure. — telling the middle aged.
—Is not in any way. — and she sipped her finger.
In that very moment I felt how the quivering from the tequila passed from her finger to my body without explanation. Then she sat next to me and took my hand.
—You have a very soft hand. — and I smiled to the compliment even while I was nervous for her tender smile and because she was the one I liked the most.
—Hi, what’s your name? — mediate the bigger one.
I answered and the I asked “You are Xolotl daughters , aren’t you?” They looked each other and I felt I said something wrong.
—Yes— answered the smaller one — Xolotl is our father, do you know him?
—No, is just that you are so popular— I said trying to fix the conversation.
—Our father is a mean man — the middle one said.
—Yes—agreed the bigger one now that she was standing next to her sister and I—do you want to see what he done to her.
And without waiting an answer she began to pull down her sisters, the middle aged one, low neck blouse and she took my hand taking it to her sisters breast. Then I startled and moved my hand and the middle aged told me “Come on, don’t worry , it’s ok.” While she smiled and took my hand.
Before I realized what was happening, the bigger one has exposed both breasts of her sister and my hand was caressing intensively one of them when the bigger one interrupted.
—Look below her breasts, in the middle. The one from the right is a birth mole and the one from the left was done by my father.
On the left breast was a flirting mole in an ‘X’ shape and in the left one a horrible black scar in imitation to the mole. I slowly brought back my hand and I looked with fear the scar, suddenly the mid one picked up her low neck, and I realized two things, first that she stilled smiling and second, that her right breast had no nipple, just the areola and inside, nothing!, plain as a balloon.
—But, how…?— I said before the bigger one interrupted me by moving in front of me and picking up her blouse to her neck showing me her huge and beautiful breasts. These were perfect and both had the ‘X’, but those were birth moles, without scar.
—My father wanted us three to be the alike and that’s why he tried to make a mole on my left side, just like my sister.
I felt scared for a moment, thinking how the can keep living with a monster like that. I got full of anger and astonishment, then the smaller one got closer on my left, once the mid one has moved.
—Do you have any scar? — she asked.
—No. Well, just this one on my forehead, it’s a scam from measles, I answered taking her little hand to my head.
—In his insanity, look what our father done with my face to make us alike for being the most pretty.
Her face had a severe look, and indeed she was very pretty. But without understanding what she said, I brought my hand to the right side of her beauty. She touched my hand and said me “You have a very soft hand.” And rudely she took my hand to the other side of her face discovering that way the horrid scars that looked like mountains, valleys and rivers. In that very second a withdraw my hand she broke in tears, brought her hands to her face and between sobs she told me “It was with boiling oil. But I took care and washed myself daily so I doesn’t become black.” She looked at me with her wet eyes and asked me “¿I doesn’t looks bad, really? With a crying smile.
—But, how can you stand such mistreat? You do nothing for yourselves.
—We are triplets —said the smaller one.
—And we must be alike— said the mid one though now there was no sense in distinguish of their age.
—That doesn’t justify such tortures.
—Our father threaten us with tearing us apart and we can stand that— said the bigger one.
—If you don’t have scars, how can you allow your father to do that to your sisters? It’s a price to high to pay.
—I also have scars, but I can’t show them here.
—I don’t want to look at them, I want to …— and they picked me up, the mid one shut my mouth with a juicy kiss; now forceless they drove me trough the college to their dormitory.
—Here we sleep, the three of us— said the bigger one.
It was a wide bedroom with two separate single beds apart by a bureau. The room was dark, the only window has thick curtains, there was no desk, only an ancient boudoir next to the heavy wooden door, at the front of the room an old wood closet with a large mirror on its doors. Wall were made of plaster , and near the floor it was tearing the rose paint because of humidity.
—Come with me— told me the mid one while she took me to the bed to left next the window.
—You all sleep here? — I asked in an innocent way.
—I turn in the bed with my sisters— said the smaller one — but sometimes none is on the mood — making a sad face —but there’s always one that takes compassion of me — smiling this time.
I was sitting on the bed resting my back on the headboard, the middle one lodged next to me an surrounded my wait with her arm.
The bigger one in front of me began to unbutton her jeans while the middle one was giving me massage in the groin. That made me nervous and I asked the big one “What are you doing?”
—I’m going to show you my scar.
—Where do you have it, what happened to you?
—I have it in my sec, it happened when one afternoon my father discovered a friend and I having sex, and he decided to sew me the genitals, according to him to make me intact, just like my sisters— and he broke in tears when she was just in panties .
—That’s not true, my father rapped her and the he wanted to repair the damage — the smaller one assured.
I was watching speechless and unbeliever to the bigger one that was about slipping her panties making some pubic hair visible.
—You don’t have to do it, seriously— I said scared.
—It’s ok. — and the bigger one sobbing already was picking up her jeans while the mid one was caressing me from every side.
I was a moment in silence, in one hand enjoying the caresses and in the other shocked by the spectacle that didn’t accomplished. In that moment the smaller one picked up her hair with a lace, I turned around in a morbid instant and when I returned my head y noticed that she no longer had scars on the left side of the face.
—Hey! — I screamed looking to the smaller one— Didn’t you had scars on your face just a few seconds ago?
—Scars? Me? — amazed she said — Just this small measles scab in my forehead— pointing with the middle finger up, in her forehead just between the eyes.
For a second I astonished and tried to conceive an explanation but my meditation was broken by the middle one that with her caresses she decided to unbutton my shirt.
—I want to see again the scar in your chest— and opened my shirt to my navel.
I saw with horror a black scar in an ‘X’ shape at the fourth o fifth rib, next the sternum, by the left side, and that I no longer had my nipple on the left. Was so big my horror that I sobbed and took my hands to my face.
—Does your face scars doesn’t hurts? —disgustingly said to me the bigger one. I realized that the left side of my face was half marred, I didn’t wanted to look at the closet in front of me, but I stood up immediately.
—But but — I stuttered — you were the ones that had scar, you — pointing to the smaller — had your face mutilated.
—Me, no for God mercy, what’s wrong with you? — answered offended.
—Chill, take it easy— said the mid one as soon as she began caressing my groin furiously— you’d better show us the scar you have down here.
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