The Young Man Who Decided When She’d Come

It was after three in the morning and Carmen still couldn’t believe it. Was Sonia really expecting her to hook up with one of those kids?

From the bar she watched them coming closer: her friend was heading toward her with three boys who could easily have been the same age as her daughter Lucía. Carmen finished off the rest of her whisky and ordered another drink just to have something to do with her hands.

—Young ones, Carmen, young ones —Sonia had whispered to her a while earlier, laughing as she nodded at them—. They’ve got everything in the right place and can stay awake till dawn. And if things go well, you’ll have them at your front door whenever you feel like it, hot as fresh-baked bread.

Only one of them had caught her eye. He was the tallest, the one who looked the oldest without being, surely, anywhere near twenty-five. Dark hair combed back, a neatly trimmed goatee, a light shirt with the collar open, and jeans that fit him as if they’d been sewn onto him. While his friends carried empty glasses, he held an untouched soft drink.

—Carmen —Sonia said when she arrived, touching her shoulder—. Let me introduce Bruno, Hugo, and Iván. Guys, this is Carmen.

She greeted them with the requisite two kisses, new drink in hand. Sonia asked the ones with empty hands what they wanted to drink, dragged them toward the bar, and the third one —Iván— stayed.

—Your friend told us you’re celebrating something —he said.

Bless Sonia’s indiscretion, Carmen thought. At least she hadn’t thrown out the usual “Are you studying or working?”

—More or less —she replied.

He knocked back his drink in one long swallow and set the glass down on the nearby counter.

—And what might that be, if I may ask? —he said.

Carmen clicked her tongue, amused.

—My divorce.

Iván raised his eyebrows with a crooked smile, halfway between surprise and congratulations.

—In that case, if you’ll allow me, I’m joining the party.

Carmen nodded. He was handsome, devilishly handsome. He looked about twenty-five, but she would have bet he wasn’t even twenty-two, and at that moment she didn’t care in the least.

—Are you buying me one, Carmen? —he said, looking her over from head to toe with a brazenness that, instead of offending her, turned her on.

—Of course. Obviously. What’ll you have?

—Coke, plain —he answered with a smile—. I drove here, and I’m one of those who don’t mix the wheel with alcohol.

Carmen was surprised. She ordered him the soft drink and, when she handed it over, he recited from memory the slogan of an old road safety campaign from the eighties, one she barely remembered from childhood. She did the math without meaning to: when that was being aired, she would have been twelve; Iván’s parents probably didn’t even know each other yet. She’d married young, pregnant with Lucía at twenty, and suddenly the distance between that boy and herself seemed like a chasm and a magnet all at once.

Beside them, Sonia was laughing with the other two. Carmen noticed they were younger than Iván: they still had some acne, not the slightest trace of beard, and maybe neither of them was even old enough to legally drink what they had in their hands, though that didn’t seem to matter to anyone anymore.

—Do you mind if I ask you something a bit nosy? —she said, taking another sip of her drink.

He nodded, smiling.

—How old are you?

—My friends just turned eighteen. Me, twenty-one.

Twenty-one. Two years older than Lucía. Carmen smiled without really knowing why. Maybe the alcohol was starting to hit her, or maybe there was something in him beyond the pretty face. He wasn’t the usual gym-built teen a woman turned to look at in the street; he was something else, a confidence unfit for his age.

—Well, you look older —she said, touching his arm with fifteen-year-old flirtation—. And don’t take that as an insult, take it as a compliment.

—Not at all. —He paused, leaning a little closer—. Would it be rude to ask how old you are…?

—Forty —she cut in—. Though I turn forty-one in September. Does that bother you?

She was drunk, of that there was no doubt, and at the same time completely in control of every one of her actions. Hadn’t she come out precisely for that, to kill one nail with another?

Iván took her by the waist and pulled her against him without asking permission. Carmen was an attractive woman: dark-haired, short hair, brown eyes, a body that had held up well and that did not betray her forty years.

—No —he said, brushing her chin with the cold rim of his cola glass—. And does mine bother you?

Carmen felt the cold of the glass against her skin and those dark eyes boring into her. Is he going to kiss me right here, just like that? She drew back for a second, amused, and looked him straight in the eye. Holy hell, she thought, surprised and grateful at once. She liked this boy.

—Let me think about it with another drink —she said—. And then I’ll answer you.

She finished off what was left in her glass in one gulp and headed for the bar under Iván’s attentive, amused gaze.

***

She went out into the street and almost toppled down the club steps. If Iván hadn’t caught her by the arm, she would have ended up with her bones on the pavement. She laughed, grateful.

—Wow… I think I’ve had a bit too much.

She leaned on him, kicked off her heels, and held them in her hand, her feet flat on the still-warm concrete of the night. She wiggled her toes, as if checking that they were all still there after hours trapped inside. Iván swallowed and kept staring at those bare feet on the pavement for a good while, until she spoke.

—I can’t do any more —she said, laughing—. I think I’m going home.

—I’ll drive you —he said, tearing his eyes away from her feet with some effort—. It’s the least I can do after that drink.

Carmen realized where he was looking. He noticed too, jerked his gaze away, almost embarrassed, and smiled. She bit her lip and moved closer. Barefoot, Iván was more than a head taller than her. She was drunk, yes, but determined to find out how far this boy wanted to go… or rather how far she wanted to go. She rose onto her tiptoes on his shoes and kissed him on the lips, barely a brush.

—And while we’re at it —she said—, if you’re not in a hurry, I’ll buy you a drink at my place.

Iván grabbed her by the waist, pulled her against his body, and kissed her for real. Their mouths opened and their tongues sought each other without shame. The boy’s hands went down to her ass, squeezed over the fabric of her dress, and pressed her against him. Carmen wrapped her arms around his neck, let her heels fall to the ground, and they kissed as if there were no tomorrow, oblivious to the club’s doorman watching them with a smile.

—Where’s your car? —she asked when they pulled apart, picking her heels up off the ground.

The boy handed the valet ticket to the parking attendant. Five minutes later, a dark gray, gleaming Mazda was waiting by the curb.

***

He drove calmly, respecting the speed limits, stopping at every traffic light with almost comic neatness. Every time the car stopped, he turned to look at her and admired her legs, stretched up, feet resting on the dashboard, ankles crossed, the upper foot swaying lazily to the music.

The heels had been left on the car floor, where she dropped them when she got in. Their eyes met each time he pulled his gaze away from her feet, caught red-handed.

—Don’t be such an adolescent —Carmen said thickly, smiling, when she caught him again with his eyes glued to her feet—. It doesn’t bother me that you look. —She lowered her gaze to them and rubbed them slowly, one against the other. Iván licked his lips. That boy liked her feet; she’d already sensed it in the street—. I’m here with you for exactly that. And for more, if you want it.

Iván swallowed and moved his right hand from the gearshift to her thigh. He stroked the soft surface of her stockings and kept moving up slowly, slipping beneath the dress. Carmen closed her eyes and smiled.

—You can’t imagine how long it’s been since anyone touched me.

—I’m not interested —he whispered, stopping his hand right where the traffic light forced him to brake, barely brushing her hip—. I’m only interested in resetting the counter tonight.

Carmen burst out laughing.

—Sorry, darling, but you already reset it the moment you grabbed me by the waist.

She scratched one foot with the toe of the other. The friction of the stockings —frissss, frissss— filled the cabin just as one song gave way to the next. Iván licked his lips again, entranced, and for some reason that hungry look turned her on even more.

—Can I be nosy? —he said.

Carmen nodded. She had leaned back a little more in the seat, legs up, feet rubbing sinuously —frissss, frissss—, the dress riding up her thighs. She had gone too far to feel regret, and she only hoped that boy wanted to go even farther.

It occurred to her that she didn’t have condoms at home. She hadn’t bought any in years, since she took the pill; but she’d stopped when Andrés left and had none left. She wondered whether the boy had anything on him and what the hell they’d do if he didn’t. What held her back wasn’t fear of pregnancy, but the risk of something worse.

—How long since you last…? —he began.

—Fucked? —she finished, smiling at him.

The car had stopped at an empty intersection. Iván’s hand crawled up her thigh again, fast, until it reached her crotch. Carmen parted her thighs just enough to let it in, and he caressed her pubis and the small opening of her sex over the stockings and thong. She moaned as she felt the fabric sink between her lips, pushed by the boy’s fingers. She stopped rubbing her feet and spread her legs a little wider.

—Nine months —she said at last, eyes closed, head thrown back.

She was starting to get aroused, to feel the wetness building. She wondered if she was soaking his hand despite the layers of fabric, and she knew she was: she was drenched, and he was smiling when he felt it.

—Well… I’ve got a couple on me —Iván said with a lewd smile, pulling his hand away abruptly—. So we can call it a tie.

He started the car, accelerated, and a few seconds later braked beside a park lit by a lone streetlamp.

***

As soon as he stopped, Carmen sat up in the seat and looked at the boy. Not a soul was outside. The dashboard clock read 4:15.

—What are you waiting for? —she whispered, turned on, staring at him—. Don’t even think I’m going to hold out until we get home to come.

Smiling, Iván brought his hand back to her leg. She helped him by hiking her dress up to her waist, revealing the stockings and thong covering her wet, hot pussy. Carmen moaned while he stroked the fabric, which grew wetter and wetter.

—Oh, fuck… —she panted—. Move for a second.

Iván obeyed, somewhat surprised. She stretched her legs into the footwell, brought her hands to her waist, and stripped off the stockings, leaving them beside the shoes; then she took off the blue thong and dropped it onto the same pile.

—Keep going… keep going, please —she said, leaning back and sinking into pleasure with her eyes closed.

The boy began stroking her sex, toying with the hair before sliding one finger inside her, already completely slick. He slipped it in and out slowly, at a steady rhythm, while she spread her legs further and moaned. Soon there were two fingers going in and out effortlessly.

The index and middle fingers entered almost on their own into her hot sex, and with his thumb he sought out the clitoris, which swelled with every moan. Three already, my God, Carmen thought, almost crying with pleasure, I’ve got three of his fingers inside me. The rhythm turned frantic, without his letting the fingers come all the way out, without his thumb abandoning its work. Carmen stretched herself to the limit inside the car, squeezed her thighs to trap that skillful hand between her legs, and with a long moan came on his hand, soaking it.

She felt the seat wet beneath her. When she spread her legs, trembling, she saw the stain and blushed. She was even ashamed of it. She had never felt such pleasure. How was it possible that a twenty-one-year-old kid…?

—Fuck me… —she whispered, his hand still between her legs, now out of her sex—. I beg you, I implore you, for the love of God… fuck me.

—No. Not yet. At your place —Iván said.

And, looking at her, he took her pleasure-soaked fingers into his mouth and sucked them slowly. For some reason that turned her on even more, and she bit her lip.

—For God’s sake… —she moaned—. I need you now.

Iván started the car and got them out of there.

—And I need to be inside —he said, feeling his cock so swollen and hard it was starting to hurt—. Do you have…?

—A condom? —he asked, looking at her—. I always carry two.

Carmen smiled, relieved.

***

He parked in the building’s garage, next to her Mini. Not for nothing did he have two spaces, and one had been free since Andrés took off with the SUV.

They looked at each other for a few seconds and lunged into another kiss. As they did, his hand climbed to her breasts and squeezed them over the dress and bra. Carmen moaned as she felt her nipples harden.

—Stop… stop, for God’s sake, or I’ll have to fuck you right here —she said, pulling away. She exhaled, opened the door, and got out. Standing beside the car, she looked at her underwear lying on the cabin floor. She smiled, took only her shoes, and shut the door, leaving the stockings and thong inside.

With the heels in her hand, she went with Iván to the elevator. Once inside, she pressed the button for the eighth floor, dropped the shoes, and threw herself at him while sliding her hand to his crotch. Iván moaned as he felt that hand squeeze his swollen balls, and he answered by digging his nails into her ass beneath the dress until it made her moan in pain into his mouth.

—That… that hurt —she said, smiling, pulling back—. But don’t stop.

And she pressed herself against him again until the elevator stopped.

When the doors opened, Carmen picked up her shoes from the floor. The boy was looking at her with brazen desire. They were both already disheveled, and their bodies smelled only of sex; their mouths had forgotten the taste of their drinks and kept only the taste of each other. They sought each other out with their eyes in the middle of the landing, on the cold marble that raised goosebumps on Carmen’s skin, though she suspected it was more from excitement than from going barefoot.

—God… I must be crazy —she said.

—Well, I like that —he replied, running his eyes over her again.

Carmen smiled when she saw Iván lower his gaze again to her feet, lick his lips slowly, and then return to her face. He desired her: her body, her feet. She desired him. And she loved being, all of herself and each one of her bare toes, the object of that desire.

—Let’s get inside as soon as possible —she whispered, burning—. I want to feel you inside me already.