I.

Lucy sat at the vanity, smoothing the red color over her lips. She and Ricky had been married for almost a year, and when he told her he'd have a Saturday night off because of some repairs at the club, she immediately asked him to take her to the new night spot in the city, The Cocktail.

He had agreed to go only after she had practically begged. He hated going to night clubs when he wasn't working in one. Ricky did sympathize that his work schedule meant they didn't get out much, especially on the weekend, so he eventually relented. He walked out of the bathroom in his tuxedo and looked over at his wife. He smiled at how happy she looked, and how beautiful she was in a champagne colored gown which hugged her gentle curves before flaring out gracefully from her waist.

"Lucy, are you ready?" Ricky tugged at his cuffs and straightened his tie.

Lucy stood up and twirled around happily. "How do I look?"

Ricky smiled broadly and pulled her slowly into his embrace. "You look beautiful, honey." He kissed her softly and looked at her again, her excitement and beauty making him feel that his spending the evening at a night club would be worth it.

II.

When the couple left the taxi about a block away from The Cocktail, Lucy marveled at the crowd and the spotlights that shot straight up through the black New York sky. Even Ricky seemed mildly impressed at the sight of the bright bulbs that wrapped around the front of the building, glowing down over black tie-clad doormen and a rose red velvet rope.

A third man, dressed in a smart pinstriped suit, stood near the doormen, looking at the couples and parties entering the club. He smiled and greeted some, and looked at others indifferently. The man saw Lucy and smiled, admiring her porcelain skin and bright blue eyes. "How many are in your party, miss…?"

Lucy smiled and reached out for Ricky's arm, trying to pull him away from where he had stopped to look at a poster, on which the evening's performers had been billed. "It's Mrs…just my husband and I."

Ricky went to Lucy's side and the man's pleasant smile faded. He raised an eyebrow at Ricky's darker complexion and jet black hair. He very clearly had a different appearance than the rest of the well-to-do American patrons of this club. "This is your husband?" The man's voice fell flat after his earlier, charismatic greeting to Lucy.

"I am her husband, yes." Ricky answered the man, thinking that perhaps the man was disappointed that she wasn't a single woman entering his personal trap.

The man stiffened his face at the sound of Ricky's accent, and he stood straight up, his arms folded in front of him. "Sir, Madam, this club is restricted. You understand, I'm sure."

Lucy eyes widened at the nerve, but Ricky looked at the man in puzzlement. She spoke slowly to the man, not wanting to trigger Ricky's temper. "Restricted? This is New York City, what do you mean it's restricted?"

Ricky looked at Lucy. "What does that mean?"

The man smirked at Ricky's ignorance of the term. Lucy didn't answer Ricky, continuing to speak to the man. "Do you know that this is Ricky Ricardo? He's the headliner at The Tropicana."

The man was unimpressed. "Well, might I suggest that he return there?" This snapped Ricky into an understanding of the term the man had used. "Que quiere decir 'restricted'? Diciendo que no soy lo suficientemente bueno para este lugar?"

Lucy put a hand on Ricky's chest, attempting to calm him. She looked back at the man angrily. "He will return there and everywhere else he wants to go. He's too good for this crummy joint, anyway."

The man looked down at her and waved her away dismissively before turning to other people entering the club.

Lucy turned back to Ricky, who looked infuriated, and yet vulnerable. "Come on, Ricky, come on." She linked her arm in his and led him away in silence.

III.

Ricky and Lucy ended up at a small pizzeria several blocks away, hungry and very noticeably overdressed. Now past anger, Ricky sat quietly in the dimly lit dining room, looking out the window at the passing street traffic. He turned when Lucy walked to the table with two plates, each containing a slice of pizza. He forced a smile. "Thanks, honey. You should've let me get it."

Lucy shook her head. "It's alright, darling, I don't mind."

Ricky ate the slice in silence and Lucy felt very bad for having dragged him to such an awful place to deal with such an awful man. "Ricky, honey, I'm sorry about what happened. I never would've asked you to go there if-"

His eyes snapped up at her apology and he didn't allow her to finish the sentence. "You dun't have to be sorry!"

Lucy breathed softly. She never liked it when he spoke to her in that tone, but she knew he wasn't angry with her. They ate the rest of their pizza in silence before Ricky threw the money for the bill on the table and walked out of the restaurant absently, with Lucy following behind him.

IV.

Back at the apartment, Ricky headed straight to the bathroom and Lucy knew he could barely wait to get out of the tuxedo. She dropped her purse on the vanity, annoyed that what had started out as such a lovely evening was now a complete disaster. She took off her dress, hanging it gently in the closet, unsure of when she would ever be able to wear it again without evoking an unpleasant memory.

Lucy slipped into an ivory lace nightgown and sat at the vanity, brushing her hair, tugging a bit roughly out of frustration. She watched in the mirror as Ricky came out of the bathroom and sat at the edge of the bed, his back to her.

She set the brush down on the vanity quietly and crawled onto the bed, coming up behind him and putting an arm around his chest. "Ricky…are you angry with me?"

Ricky turned around slowly to look at her, his eyes full of hurt. "No, honey, I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry." He had never felt out of place in America; most people were welcoming and warm to him, especially the people who loved seeing him perform at the club and, of course, the Mertzes. And then there was Lucy, who never showed that she cared about his background or their differences. She playfully poked fun at his English and the way he never correctly repeated American figures of speech; but she did so in the spirit of love and he recognized that.

Tonight, though, he felt like an outsider, unwelcome in this country that he tried so hard to become a part of. "Lucy...I'm sorry you couldn't see that club, I know you wanted to."

Lucy sat back, eyes wide. "I don't care anything about seeing that old club if I can't walk in there on your arm."

Ricky smiled and immediately began to feel better. "Really?"

"Of course!" She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as he slowly snaked his arms around her waist. "Honey, one of the things I love about you is that you're so different from anybody here." She smiled as he lowered her onto her back, gazing into her eyes. "Who else could be my Latin loverboy?" Lucy whispered just before his lips landed softly onto hers, his tongue colliding with hers hungrily.

Lucy's fingers danced along Ricky's tan skin, enjoying every inch of his broad shoulders, strong arms and defined chest and stomach. She delighted in his Cuban passion as his lips sucked gently at her soft white neck and he pulled the lace away from her skin with escalating desire coursing through his veins.

She felt his hard Latin manhood pressed against her thigh as she allowed him between her knees, remembering how she had watched him dance before they were married. She had a deep yearning in the deepest part of herself that she hadn't felt with any of the other boys she had dated. She remembered how, on their wedding night, he did not disappoint her, his hips moving with her in a way that brought her to the edge of the universe and back again. And for innumerable nights since then, he repeated his amorous dance for her, always leaving her hungry for more of the delicious flavor of his love.

Now, as Ricky's tongue swirled teasingly around the rising mounds of her breasts, she breathed his name, itself a plea for him to do the things that only he could do. A soft cry escaped her lips as he left a gentle kiss on her sensitive navel, sending shivers down her spine. His tongue traced a path down to the throbbing space between her thighs, moving in slow circles inside her as his hands slid back up her stomach and around her breasts.

Ricky kicked off his boxer shorts as his body glided against hers until he faced her again, the brush of his bare skin on hers tingling every nerve ending that each of them had. Lucy's hand slipped quietly downward and wrapped around his erection, eliciting a deep groan from his throat as she enjoyed the feel of the satin skin that covered it. His voice was deep and needy as he growled into her ear. "No se preocupan por las personas, siempre y cuando a mi a quien quiere in tu cama."

Lucy sighed happily as she raised her knees around his waist and pleaded with him. "More, Ricky, more…"

Ricky smiled and bit her ear gently. "Te voy a dar lo que necesita, mi mujer hermosa…"

With that, he entered her deeply, a moan escaping from the depths of her stomach and escaping her lips. He penetrated her slowly at first, ensuring that she accepted every inch of his shaft. Lucy arched her back, his mouth lowering to take a nipple between his teeth. Her thighs tightened around him, his cue to quicken his rhythm and bring her what she wanted.

The moved together in perfect synchronization, their bodies bucking and crashing against each other, his thrusts bringing her over the edge of ecstasy. Lucy cried out her release as Ricky's body tensed against her and he released the fruit of his intense passions into her forcefully.

They collapsed onto the sheets, gasping and laughing in the afterglow of their romance.

Ricky kissed his wife deeply, his tongue again twisting with hers. He rested to her side, their arms winding around each other, enclosing each other in a sweet embrace. As Lucy gradually fell into blissful sleep, Ricky kissed her eyelids and breathed into her ear. "Gracias, mi amor. Yo pertenezco aqui, contigo."