Three Women Dominated Him in the Alley That Night

Walter was sixty-three years old and had a body that no longer entirely belonged to him. His belly hung over his belt, his arms trembled with every movement, and his shirt clung to his back in the sticky heat of the port. He had crossed half a continent with the little savings he had left after retiring, after decades sailing as a merchant marine. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for in that foreign city. Maybe just one last decent encounter before his heart sent him the final bill.

The bar smelled of spilled beer and cheap disinfectant. Walter sat on a stool at the back, ordered a whiskey, and let the burn travel down his throat. He had barely finished half the glass when he saw her come in.

She was a brunette of about twenty-four, with her hair pulled back and a dark blouse that clung to her body like a second skin. She walked without hurry, aware of every gaze she drew behind her. Her eyes swept the place until they stopped on him, and instead of looking away in disgust, as Walter expected, a slow smile curved her lips.

He raised his glass awkwardly, feeling ridiculous and brave at once.

—Can I buy you a drink? —he asked, his voice rough from years of tobacco and the sea.

She came over with a sway of her hips and settled onto the adjacent stool.

—Sure, old man —she replied—. But don’t get your hopes up beyond what you can pay for.

She said her name was Renata. Walter suspected she was lying, and he didn’t care. He told her exaggerated stories about storms and distant ports while she listened with feigned attention that still made him feel more alive than he had in months. Renata’s fingers played with the rim of her glass, brushing his hand now and then. Each touch sent an absurd jolt up his arm.

—Come on —she said suddenly, leaning in until her breath warmed his ear—. Let’s go to the back. I want to see what you’re hiding under all those clothes.

Walter felt his body respond before his mind did. He didn’t think about it. He followed her down a narrow corridor of broken tiles, his pulse pounding at his temples, grateful for a fate that for once seemed to be smiling on him.

***

They had barely crossed the back door when Renata shoved him against the wall and kissed him. It was a rough kiss, with no tenderness, all teeth and urgency. Walter found her waist with trembling hands, lost in the heat of a mouth that cut its age in half.

—Fuck —he muttered against her lips—. It’s been years since…

—Don’t talk —she cut him off.

The door flew open. Two more women came in, laughing under their breath. One was blonde, with wide hips stuffed into faded jeans; the other was small and brunette, with the firm legs of someone who trained at the gym and a look that promised nothing good. Walter froze, the euphoria evaporating all at once.

—What…? —he stammered.

—Relax —Renata said, pressing a finger to his lips—. This is just getting started. And you’re going to behave.

The other two took one of his arms each. Not with blind violence, but with practiced firmness, like people handling something they already knew. They led him through a second door into a back alley that smelled of damp and garbage, lit only by a yellow bulb buzzing overhead.

—Wait —Walter said, hating the tremble in his own voice—. I don’t…

—Don’t what? —The blonde stopped in front of him and lowered her gaze to the bulge that, to his shame, was stretching the fabric of his pants—. Your body says otherwise, grandpa.

Walter wanted to deny it. He couldn’t. Fear ran cold down the back of his neck, but beneath it, traitorous and hot, something he hadn’t felt in decades was pounding: desire, raw and unapologetic.

This is madness. I should leave.

He didn’t leave.

***

The small brunette placed a hand on his chest and shoved. Walter fell to his knees on the cold concrete, gravel digging into his skin. Renata crouched in front of him and took his face in one hand, forcing him to look at her.

—From now on, you do what we say —she said, slowly, savoring every word—. If you behave, you go home with a story. If not, you go home anyway, but without your dignity. Your choice.

Walter swallowed. Humiliation burned his face, and yet he nodded. He nodded because part of him, a part he didn’t recognize, wanted to see how far all this would go.

—Good boy —Renata purred.

They tore open his shirt without ceremony; a button popped off and vanished into the dark. His chest covered in gray hair and his sweaty belly were left exposed under the yellow light. The blonde clicked her tongue in theatrical disgust that, far from killing him, only turned him on more.

—Look at him —she said—. So old and so obedient.

The small brunette yanked his pants down. Walter’s cock was exposed, half-erect despite himself, throbbing between panic and a pleasure he didn’t know where to hide. The three of them laughed at once, and that laughter ran through him like a shock.

Renata knelt, took him in her hand, and without warning put him in her mouth. She sucked him with an almost cruel intensity, setting the pace, stopping just when he began to lose himself. Walter let out a choked grunt, his hands flat against the ground, not knowing whether he wanted to beg her to stop or never stop at all.

—Look at the old man getting worked up —the small brunette said, watching with a crooked smile.

The blonde positioned herself behind him and yanked his hair, throwing his head back.

—Don’t come —she ordered in his ear—. You don’t have permission. If you come too soon, this is over and you’ll be left wanting for the rest of your life.

Walter clenched his teeth. The effort of holding back was a sweet torture, a rope tightening in his gut. Renata let him go abruptly and stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

—On the floor —she said—. On your back.

He obeyed, his back against the dirty pavement, the black sky above him with not a single star. The blonde took off her jeans, straddled him, and lowered herself slowly, looking him in the eyes the whole time.

—Stay still —she warned him—. You don’t do anything. I take what I want.

And she did. She rode him with selfish rhythm, chasing her own pleasure without giving Walter control of a single muscle. Every time he tried to thrust, she dug her nails into his chest until he went still. Walter panted, trapped between the humiliation of being nothing but an object and a pleasure so intense it clouded his mind.

—Please —he blurted out.

—Please what? —the blonde mocked, never stopping.

—Please… let me…

—No.

***

Renata crouched beside his head and grabbed his chin.

—Stick out your tongue —she ordered.

Walter obeyed. She settled over his mouth and set the pace with firm hips, marking exactly what he was supposed to do. The taste flooded his tongue, salty and hot, and although fear was still there, lurking, his body responded to every command with a submission that scared him more than the women themselves. Renata yanked his hair when he did well and squeezed his cheeks when he drifted off, until a shudder went through her and she let herself go with a long moan, grinding against his mouth without asking permission.

The small brunette, meanwhile, had sat down on an overturned crate, one hand between her legs, watching everything with half-lidded eyes. She enjoyed the spectacle more than she enjoyed him, and in some way that humiliated Walter even more: being an object even to the one who only watched.

When the blonde was done with him, she got up and gave her place to the small brunette, who climbed on top of him with a hunter’s smile.

—Let’s see how much the grandpa can take —she said.

She rode him without mercy, squeezing him, releasing him, playing with his endurance like a toy she knew she would eventually break. Walter could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, sweat running down his temples, his muscles stiff with the effort of holding back exactly as they had ordered.

—Please —he repeated, almost voiceless—. I can’t take any more.

The small brunette leaned over him, her lips against his ear.

—Now —she finally granted—. Come now, old man. You earned it.

The permission destroyed him. Walter came with a violence that shook his whole body, an orgasm ripped from him by force and given up with absurd gratitude, moaning as he didn’t remember ever moaning in all his sixty-three years. The small brunette laughed, satisfied, and sprang up.

***

They left him sprawled on the ground, panting, his body covered in sweat, dust, and scratches. Renata crouched beside him one last time and tucked a strand of gray hair back with unexpected tenderness, more unsettling than any blow.

—Thanks for the fun, grandpa —she said—. You didn’t see that coming, did you?

Walter didn’t answer. He had no words. The three of them gathered their things amid low laughter and comments he no longer heard, and disappeared through the mouth of the alley, leaving him alone under the yellow bulb.

He stayed there a long while, staring up at the black sky, his body battered and his breathing ragged. He would have to get up, get dressed, go back to the cheap hotel where no one was waiting for him. But for the first time in a long while he didn’t feel the weight of age, or the emptiness that had dragged him to that city.

He felt something else. Something dirty, humiliating, and deeply alive. And as he struggled to sit up on the cold pavement, Walter knew that, no matter what his heart said, he would be back at that bar the next night, looking for exactly the same thing.