Party, Jealousy, and Submission Between Friends

I had to insist quite a lot to get Mara out of the house that night. She didn’t want a party, she didn’t want noise, and above all, she didn’t want to talk about him. I did. For two days I’d had a rage lodged in my chest that wouldn’t go away, not even with drinking, and I knew that if we stayed shut in, I’d end up turning the same matter over and over until I drove myself crazy.

“If you don’t come out with me, I’ll have to go alone,” I told her, raising my glass. “And then I don’t want to hear any complaints if that asshole shows up and decides to pick me up again.”

She let out a tired laugh and looked at me as if she already knew I was deliberately exaggerating to drag her along.

“You’re manipulative,” she muttered.

“And you’re a coward tonight.”

That got under her skin. At first she showed up in whatever clothes, as if she were going out to buy bread. Then, when I reminded her that we were going to a nightclub and the whole point was to show ourselves off, she went back to the bedroom and came out looking like a spectacle: a tight black skirt, a light-colored blouse, heels, and that offended-woman expression that suited her better than any makeup.

As we walked with our first drink in hand, I let out half-truths. I told her about my bad mood, how ridiculous I thought it was that he’d gone to work precisely that night, and how much it bothered me to feel pushed aside. What I didn’t tell her right away was the important part: that it was eating me alive not being the only woman orbiting his desire.

“You’re thinking too much,” Mara said, taking a sip from my glass.

“I’m thinking just enough. That man knows how to get inside anyone’s head.”

“But he also knows how to take care of you.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Enough for what?”

I glanced at her. The street was packed with people, and even so, I felt the question pushing me against a wall.

“To make me feel special all the time,” I finally admitted. “Happy now?”

Mara didn’t laugh. She only nodded slowly, as if that confession made more sense than I wanted to acknowledge.

We reached the first bar, ordered another round, and devoted ourselves to talking about anything but men. It worked for a while. We laughed, caught up, complained about work, routine, and bad luck. Until some asshole from the past decided to show up with two friends, smiling as if the world owed him something.

“Mara, what a surprise,” he said. “I didn’t know you came around here.”

She tensed beside me. I noticed it in the arm she had hooked through mine.

“Not tonight,” she replied curtly. “I’m with my girlfriend.”

The guy looked me up and down and burst out laughing.

“Your girlfriend? Wow, how modern.”

“Bisexual,” she corrected him. “And less willing to put up with you than ever.”

One of his friends whistled. The other stared at us with that slobbering expression of someone who thinks two women exist for his entertainment.

“Don’t be like that,” the first one insisted. “I’m sure the three of us could work something out.”

“No,” I said sharply. “And not the four of us either, in case your imagination was already going there.”

The man took another step, far too confident.

“And who are you to decide?”

I held his gaze and brushed his hand away before he could touch Mara.

“The person telling you to get lost.”

I don’t know whether it was my tone or the way I moved closer. Maybe it was the tattoo showing at my side when I shifted. Whatever the reason, his courage shrank a little. Even so, he had to play the funny man for a couple more seconds before leaving with his friends.

When they disappeared, Mara sank onto the barstool and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I slept with him a few days ago.”

The confession drew an incredulous laugh from me.

“With that complete idiot?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Mara.”

“I know.”

I looked at her more closely. She didn’t look smug. She looked as if she were carrying an ugly, silent guilt. Then my anger passed.

“Did you protect yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’re already enough of a disaster as it is.”

She barely smiled.

“I wanted to clear my head.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. I want to stay with him.”

“Then there you go.”

“No, there we don’t. We have to tell him.”

We ordered another round. Then another. And when we realized the alcohol was already warming our tongues and legs, we decided to move on to the nightclub. We walked with our arms around each other’s waists, more for balance than show at first, although the show appeared on its own as soon as we saw the line and the looks.

“If any creep asks, we’re a couple,” Mara said.

“There’s no need to announce it,” I replied.

We shared a short kiss before reaching the door. Just a peck. But it wasn’t so simple. Her lips were warm, a little sticky from the drink, and the way she stayed close for one second longer sent a current through my belly.

The bouncer looked at us with a knowing half-smile.

“Five each.”

“Love is expensive,” Mara said.

“Any way to convince you?” I asked, playing along.

The guy rested an arm on the barrier and smiled even more sleazily.

“If you’re really a couple, prove it.”

I should have told him to fuck off. Instead, I looked at Mara. She was already smiling with that dangerous expression she got when alcohol and curiosity collided.

“Come here,” I told her.

I grabbed her by the nape and kissed her for real. Not some silly brush of the lips. We opened our mouths, swallowed each other’s breath, and the moment our tongues touched, I felt a hard jolt between my legs. Mara moaned softly against my mouth and squeezed my waist. The people behind us began making noise, laughing and cheering, but in that instant what mattered most to me was her hand traveling up my side until she grabbed one of my tits over my blouse.

I returned the gesture. I squeezed her too, firmly, feeling her hardened nipple beneath the fabric of her bra. Mara breathed out through her nose, aroused, and bit my lip in a way that was anything but a joke.

“All right, all right, go in,” the bouncer said, uncomfortable and turned on at the same time.

We went in laughing, but the laughter didn’t last long. Inside, with the lights pulsing and the bass pounding against my chest, the kiss kept burning on my lips. We ordered one more drink and stayed very close, too close for it to remain an innocent game.

“We shouldn’t have done that so well,” Mara murmured.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I’m speaking for both of us.”

We went to the dance floor, and that was where the last restraint broke. At first we danced pressed together like two drunk friends. Then my hand dropped to her hip. Hers slipped between my back and my ass. When the music changed to something slower and dirtier, Mara turned me around and pressed herself against me from behind, rubbing her thigh between my legs. I felt such a clear spark that a moan escaped me.

I turned to look at her. Her mouth was slightly open, her pupils huge, and she wore an expression I knew all too well: the same one she had when she surrendered to someone giving her an order she wanted to obey.

“Don’t give me that look,” I told her in her ear.

“What look?”

“That slutty one.”

She smiled.

“Then stop touching me like that.”

I didn’t obey. I pushed my thigh between her legs and pressed her against me. Mara let her head fall back for a moment, letting me see the way she swallowed. My hand traveled up her stomach, brushed the edge of her tits, and slowly came back down, marking my territory. She grabbed my wrist, not to pull it away, but to guide it lower.

We kept dancing like that, rubbing against each other without pretending otherwise. My pussy was already wet, so wet that the friction of our clothes was beginning to hurt from sheer contained pleasure. Mara wasn’t doing any better. Every time my thigh pressed against her center, she trembled and let out a muffled sound against my neck. The dance floor had become a display window, and we knew it. The men around us watched like hungry dogs, but for the first time that attention didn’t disgust me. It gave me power.

I kissed her again. Dirtier this time. Pushing my tongue into her until I heard her moan. My hand squeezed her ass eagerly, and hers traveled down the inside of my thigh, barely caressing me over my skirt. If she went another centimeter, she’d put her fingers inside me in front of everyone.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Or I won’t be responsible.”

“I don’t want you to be responsible,” she said, and sucked on my earlobe. “I want you to command me.”

The phrase went through me. There it was again, that game he had installed between us without even being present. Dominance, submission, desire mixed with jealousy and hunger. I grabbed her chin and forced her to hold my gaze.

“Then behave and hold it.”

She obeyed immediately. She bit her lip and nodded. That gesture turned me on more than any touch.

We returned to the bar sweaty, trembling, and thirsty. The bartender comped our next round without asking. We thanked him and moved away to a darker corner. No one left us completely alone there either, but at least we could breathe.

“We’re leaving after this one,” Mara said.

“If you make it out alive, yes.”

“Don’t play tough. You’re just as bad as I am.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I ran my thumb over her lower lip, wiping away the smeared gloss from our kiss, and then put that finger in my mouth. Mara watched me swallow and her knees almost buckled.

A stranger tried to put his hands around our waists, and the two of us told him to fuck off. We weren’t in the mood for idiots anymore. We finished our drinks in one go and left the nightclub with our bodies burning and our heads thick with alcohol.

***

The street air didn’t cool us down at all. We walked with our hands on each other’s asses, laughing at everything, still carrying that filthy electricity against our skin.

“Do you think he’d suspect this?” Mara asked.

“He suspects everything.”

“I don’t mean suspect it. I mean... would it turn him on?”

I looked at her sideways.

“It would turn him on like crazy. And you too, so stop pretending to be innocent.”

“I never pretended to be innocent with you.”

We kept walking until a guy who seemed to come out of nowhere blocked our path. He didn’t smell like elegant danger. He smelled like an aggressive drunk. He said something stupid, tried to grab us, and I pulled the spray I’d been carrying in my purse for months. A second later he was screaming, blinded, and we were running down the street without looking back.

We got home with our hearts racing. We closed the windows, locked the door, and when we finally breathed again, we collapsed all at once. The fear left a strange silence in the living room.

Mara sat on the sofa and looked at my purse on the table.

“Do you always carry that?”

“Since I learned that I like to play hard, but not to be defenseless.”

“You saved us.”

“We saved each other.”

We poured ourselves some water. Then a little more whisky to bring us down from the shock. We sat very close, almost shoulder to shoulder. We talked about him again. About how he had entered our lives. About how he had taught me to desire a firm hand, a curt order, the pleasure of surrendering, and also the pleasure of holding on to someone else when they asked me to.

“You almost sound in love,” Mara said.

“Maybe I am, a little.”

“Poor me, getting in the middle.”

“You’re not in the middle,” I replied, staring straight at her. “You’re inside the problem.”

We fell silent. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Mine to hers. The whisky finished stripping away whatever prudence we had left.

“Kiss me again,” Mara said very slowly.

“Don’t give me orders if you won’t be able to handle what comes next.”

“It’s not an order. It’s a plea.”

I grabbed her hair and kissed her so hard our teeth knocked together. Mara opened her legs on the sofa and welcomed me between them. Our tongues sought each other hungrily again, without the nightclub’s noise around us, without witnesses, without excuses. Just the two of us and that heat that no longer had a disguise.

I pushed her onto her back and climbed on top. I lifted her blouse, moved aside her bra, and pulled out one of her tits. Her nipple was hard, dark, beautiful. I took it into my mouth and began sucking while I held her other breast, squeezing it hard enough to make her moan.

“Fuck...,” she gasped. “Not like that.”

I released her nipple with a string of saliva between us.

“Like this. And shut up.”

Obedience lit up her face again. She bit her lip and nodded. I pulled down her skirt and then her panties. She was indecently wet. Not merely damp. Truly wet, her pussy glistening beneath the living room’s dim light.

“Look at you,” I told her, running two fingers over her lips. “And you still wanted to pretend this was a joke.”

Mara squirmed, embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

“I’m not pretending anything anymore.”

I spread her legs wide and put my face between them. I gave her a long first lick, from the bottom all the way up to her clit. Her whole body jerked, and she dug her fingers into my shoulder. I kept licking her slowly at first, tasting her, opening her lips with my thumbs, sucking her clit until she began moaning my name.

“Don’t close your legs,” I scolded her.

“I can’t...”

I gave her thigh a sharp slap.

“Yes, you can.”

She opened them again immediately. I pushed in one finger. Then two. They slid in easily, she was so wet. I began fucking her with my hand while sucking her clit in short, hard circles. Mara was no longer trying to hold herself back. She moaned, writhed, grabbed my hair, and then forced herself to let go whenever I raised my head to look at her.

“Do you like being used like this?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

I pushed my fingers deeper and made her arch. I felt the way she squeezed me inside, the way her pussy began to pulse for real. She was close. I knew it from her broken breathing, the sweat on her neck, and the way she begged without words.

“Don’t come yet,” I told her.

She moaned in frustration. I pulled out my fingers and put them in my mouth. Then I sat up and stripped off my panties in one motion. Mara sat up to watch me and gasped when she saw the wet stain between my thighs.

“Now it’s my turn,” she said.

“It will be if you behave.”

I made her kneel on the rug. I grabbed her chin and brought her face to my pussy. Mara understood on her own. She stuck out her tongue and licked me slowly, tasting me first as if she wanted to make sure I was as hot as I looked. When she realized how wet I was, she let out a little laugh against my skin.

“Shut up and keep going.”

Then she did. She began eating my pussy eagerly, without shyness now. Her tongue was clumsy at first, less practiced than mine, but much hungrier. She clung to my thighs and sucked my clit while I held her hair in an improvised ponytail. The sensation made me spread my legs wider. I guided her rhythm, moving her head the way I wanted.

“Like that. Harder. Don’t slow down.”

She obeyed, panting, as if being directed turned her on too. I lowered one hand and began playing with her tits while she licked me. I pinched her nipples. I squeezed one until she let out a moan that vibrated directly against my pussy and almost made me come right then.

“Fuck, Mara...”

She redoubled her efforts. She pushed two fingers into me, clumsy but determined, and moved them inside me while continuing to suck. The combination made my legs give out. I braced myself against the back of the sofa and let her work, giving her instructions between gasps. When she found the right rhythm and pressed her fingers exactly where she needed to, a hoarse moan escaped me.

“There. Don’t stop. Right there.”

I came with her head held between my thighs, trembling. It wasn’t delicate. It was a harsh, wet orgasm, the kind that leaves your breathing wrecked. Mara kept licking until I pushed her away with my knee, too sensitive to take any more.

I pulled her up and kissed her, making her taste me on her own mouth. Then I pushed her back onto the sofa, settled between her legs, and pushed my fingers into her again, this time without patience. She had already been on the edge. She only needed the final push.

“Ask me to make you come,” I told her.

“Make me come, please.”

“Ask properly.”

“Make me come, please... I need to come, I need you to make me finish.”

I sucked her clit firmly while my fingers moved quickly in and out. Mara screamed, really screamed, and came trembling all over, squeezing my face between her thighs. Her orgasm shook her belly and left tiny tears at the corners of her eyes. I kept licking her until she began begging me to stop.

Then I did. We both collapsed, exhausted, sweaty, our clothes half removed, the living room smelling of shameless sex.

For a few minutes we didn’t speak. We only breathed.

Then Mara turned her face toward me and smiled with a mixture of guilt and satisfaction.

“Now we really have a problem.”

“No. Now we have the truth.”

“And tomorrow?”

I stroked her thigh, still wet inside.

“Tomorrow we’ll see what we do about him, you, and me. Tonight, though, you’re sleeping pressed against my body, and you’re going to be quiet.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

She let out an exhausted laugh and kissed me softly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

We settled on the sofa, naked from the waist down, wrapped around each other and still trembling now and then. Outside, the night remained just as filthy and dangerous. Inside, though, we had crossed a door I had no intention of closing.