Truth or Dare: The Night I Crossed the Line

I woke up with a heavy body and a knot in my stomach. It wasn’t physical exhaustion: it was guilt. The nightmares had chased me all night like shadows that knew my name and my secrets.

It had all started the night before, once the lights were already out. My head was resting on Andrés’s chest, breathing in time with him, pretending to be at peace. Then I heard him swallow.

—We need to talk —he said in that deep voice he only used when something was gnawing at him.

My breath caught. I thought of a thousand things at once: a message I’d deleted badly, a glance caught on a video, a stray comment in some group chat. I propped myself up on one elbow, my heart pounding in my throat.

—Rumors reached me about your boss —he said, without looking at me.

Which one?

Damián, my recurring mistake. Octavio, with whom I’d also crossed lines that were already hard for me to name. Or Leo, the artist, the central figure of the show, the only one with whom nothing had ever happened.

—Who? —I asked, choosing the most neutral tone I could.

—Leo. They say he sometimes oversteps with his dancers. I heard it from people who worked with him in other countries. He wants to partner with our firm and that put me on alert. I don’t want anything to touch you.

I took a deep breath. If it was about Leo, I was still safe. Of the three, he was the only one who had always behaved.

—I never saw anything weird with him —I said, and my voice came out steady—. With anyone in the cast —I added, lowering my gaze so I wouldn’t give myself away.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. It was an omission. One more.

—Promise me that if anything happens, anything at all, you’ll tell me.

He took my hand. I felt his warmth, his trust, and that hurt me more than any direct question.

—I promise —I lied, for the first time so openly that my throat burned.

That night I dreamed of scenes that mixed pleasure and punishment, of looks that singled me out, of orgasms turning into screams. I tossed and turned between the sheets as if they were burning me. I dreamed of an anonymous cock sliding in and out of my soaked pussy, of hands opening my ass cheeks, of loads splashing my face while a voice—sometimes Damián’s, sometimes Leo’s—called me a “whore” in my ear. I woke up with wet panties and part of me was still hungry.

***

The flight was at noon. I got to the airport early and, to my surprise, the first person I saw was Leo, accompanied by his personal bodyguard, a guy nearly two meters tall who looked carved from stone. Leo was never punctual.

—What a miracle —I said, raising an eyebrow—. Punctuality isn’t your thing.

—By accident, I swear. The flight was delayed and they didn’t tell me. They didn’t tell you either, right?

I went to the counter to confirm. An hour and a half delay. Great.

—Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee —he said, nodding toward the nearest place.

I ordered chocolate cake with ice cream; he ordered an Irish coffee. During that hour and a half, I discovered another Leo. He talked without the music-video pose, without the chains or the cameras. He told me about his childhood with so many shortages, about the mother who pushed him tooth and nail, about his almost childish obsession with film.

Every so often someone came up to ask for a photo. He agreed patiently, smiling for real.

—Doesn’t it wear you out? —I asked.

—It does. But it takes me five seconds and it makes their day. I’d be a shitty person if I refused them a picture.

That answer disarmed me. I’d heard him say much cruder things onstage. And yet there, with a coffee between his fingers, he seemed like a simple guy, lucid, almost shy. The contradiction attracted me. It unsettled me. And at the same time, it set off an alarm I chose to ignore.

When the others from the cast showed up, I said goodbye with a gesture that was a little warmer than usual. I got on the plane next to Bárbara, closed my eyes, and fell asleep dead tired.

We landed without me even noticing. As I came down the stairs, a phrase hit my memory: “Leo is dangerous.” Andrés had said it. Maybe he was right. Maybe what he’d shown me that morning was precisely what made him dangerous.

***

In the hotel lobby, Octavio was waiting for us, along with a woman none of us knew.

—Girls, let me introduce Renata —he said—. She’s going to cover for Sofía for these two concerts. She’s a veteran, knows all the choreographies, solo and partner numbers.

Renata smiled with the confidence of someone who already knows the rules of the game. She looked about five years older than us, brown skin, coffee-colored curls with lighter highlights, strong legs, a tiny waist. A dancer’s body made onstage, not in the gym.

—Good afternoon. I’m Renata, from Bogotá. I hope we get along —she said, looking at each of us in turn.

The guys hugged her with the ease of old acquaintances. We, the newcomers, were more distant. Not out of distrust, but out of habit.

The break in the room lasted half an hour. Soon we were on the bus heading to the coliseum: a small one, for at most three thousand people, with that intimate acoustics that turns a show into something closer to a confession than a concert.

Rehearsal was flawless. Renata surprised us. She wasn’t the cleanest technician, but she had a charisma that was infectious.

—Damn, I’m such an idiot! Or as you’d say, such a dumbass! —she shouted every time she missed a step, and she had us all laughing.

She corrected us without arrogance. With affection, like an older sister who’s already been through everything we’re going through.

—Look —she said to me after one section—, in this song don’t let the music lead you. Let Damián set the rhythm. When he breaks the distance and touches you, you respond, you press in, you sway. Let the energy flow between the two of you.

For the rest of rehearsal, I felt my synchronization with Damián was almost perfect. Though with him, the professional and the physical always lived on the same line, and that line was getting blurrier by the minute.

We went down to the dressing rooms. The men in the back, us closer to the stage. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, a part of me—the rebellious, disloyal part—was still hoping Damián would appear through the half-open door and slam me against the bathroom wall, hike up my costume skirt, yank off my thong, and shove his cock all the way in while covering my mouth so nobody would hear.

***

The show was magic. The crowd’s energy hung off our feet. The steps came out sharp, sweat in all the right places.

Or almost all the right places. Because Damián, where the choreography called for a brush, put in his whole hand. Where there was supposed to be a simulated touch, he made it real. His fingers gripped my hips without asking permission, slipped under the waistband of my shorts, pinched the flesh of my ass at the exact second the spotlight went dark. His hips crashed against my butt with a firmness that was no accident: I could feel the hard bulge of his cock flattening against my slit, rubbing along to the beat of the song, marking me. It wasn’t the first time. It didn’t bother me anymore. Maybe because I had resigned myself. Or because, deep down, that dark part of me was thanking him and I was finishing the show with my pussy wet, throbbing inside the mesh.

We came offstage floating. We climbed onto the bus in an improvised party: toasts with bottles of water, steps between the seats, laughter. Renata, of course, was the center.

And I kept thinking about Damián.

Not about what had happened onstage. About what still hadn’t happened.

***

—Nobody’s going to their room. Everyone to mine to celebrate —Leo said in the lobby, pointing toward the elevator.

—Woooo! —we shouted in chorus.

We moved the suite’s armchairs to make a circle. Bárbara sat on the two-seater sofa; I wanted to join her, but Iván got there first. I ended up on the long couch, in the middle, with Damián on one side and Renata on the other.

—Three bottles of rum, one of vodka, and a tequila —Leo ordered by phone.

—Isn’t that too much? —Octavio asked.

—Too much is the talent in this room —Leo replied.

When the bottles arrived, he put them in the center.

—Truth or dare —he announced.

The rules were simple. Whoever didn’t answer or didn’t do it had to take a shot. The first rounds were light. But twenty minutes in, we’d each had two or three shots and the air in the suite had turned heavy.

—Which of the girls do you find hottest? —Damián asked Iván.

—Bárbara. Look at her —he said, winking at her.

She drank from her glass to hide the blush. I wondered if Sofía’s absence wasn’t for something more serious than a polite excuse.

—Lucía —Iván said, looking at me—. Truth or dare?

—Truth.

—Would you cheat on your boyfriend?

The “right” answer was no. But I felt Damián’s gaze fixed on the side of my face. He knew. I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Without saying a word, I took the tequila shot and knocked it back in one go. Bárbara stared at me wide-eyed. The others’ laughter was inevitable.

—Renata, truth or dare? —I asked, to break the moment.

—Truth.

—Have you ever kissed anyone in the cast?

—Obviously. I’ve even had sex with some of them —she replied, shooting Damián a knowing look—. And let me tell you, honey, that guy fucks like a god. That cock is blessed.

My stomach tightened. Jealousy. Unexpected, absurd, but there it was.

The game went on. Damián took his shirt off at the first dare and that sculpted abdomen I knew by heart was on full display, and the bulge in his jeans was visible from meters away. Leo ended up in nothing but his underwear, and the thick bulge, the clear shape of his sleeping cock pressing against the fabric, was impossible to miss. Octavio refused to take off his jacket. Camila started loosening up with him. Bárbara with Iván.

—Dare —Leo answered when it was his turn.

—Dance sexy for one of the girls —Octavio said.

Leo stood in front of me and started moving his hips slowly, shamelessly. The group encouraged him with claps. His package, at the height of my face, moved with a looseness that made me want to reach out, grab it over the underwear, pull it out right there in front of everyone, and shove it into my mouth. When the song changed, he sat back down, without touching me. I was still dry-mouthed and dripping inside my pants.

—Damián —Leo said—. Truth or dare?

—Truth.

—If you had to kiss someone here, who would it be?

—A reprise wouldn’t be bad, right, Renatita?

Something broke inside me. Silently, inwardly. Why didn’t he choose me? Worst of all was realizing, in that same split second, that I had completely forgotten Andrés’s name.

The game went on. Until my turn came again.

—Lucía, truth or dare? —Camila said.

—Dare —I answered, already thick-tongued.

—Kiss whoever you want.

My first impulse was to take the glass, but one more shot and I’d be vomiting right there. I thought about kissing Damián. I remembered he hadn’t chosen me. I got to my feet, walked over to Leo, and kissed him. At first it was just to comply. As soon as our lips parted, the kiss lengthened. Tongues recognizing each other, deep, hungry. Ten, twelve seconds. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, slip under the hem of my dress, brush the edge of my thong. When I pulled away, the others burst out laughing. Damián’s jaw was clenched and he had a look I’d never seen before.

—Well, I’m staying here —I said, collapsing onto Leo’s lap, letting the words drag a little.

—That suits me fine, baby —he replied, holding me by the waist, pressing my ass against his cock, which had already started to swell beneath the thin underwear fabric.

***

A few rounds later, Octavio went to his room. Then Camila. Then Bárbara. That left Leo, Damián, Iván, Renata, and me.

—Leo, truth or dare? —Renata said.

—Dare.

—Ten minutes alone in the room, you two —she said, pointing at us.

Leo didn’t answer. He took my hand and led me to his bedroom. Before closing the door, I looked over my shoulder. Renata gave a thumbs-up. Iván was about to fall asleep. Damián had his eyes locked on me. The same hard expression, as if he still couldn’t believe I was going with him.

As soon as he closed the door, we started kissing. The kisses were almost obscene, where what mattered wasn’t the contact of the lips, but the tongues crossing, searching, tangling as if they wanted to eat each other’s mouths. He took my hand and brought it straight to his package, under his underwear. My palm filled with hot flesh: the semi-erect cock, thick, substantial, throbbing against my fingers. I clenched my fist and started stroking it slowly, feeling it grow in my hand, feeling the skin tighten, feeling the tip already release a thick drop that smeared my thumb. His hands squeezed my ass over my pants, yanked them open in one pull, shoved his whole hand inside my thong, and drove two fingers into my soaked pussy. A rough moan slipped out against his mouth.

—You’re already all wet, little slut —he murmured against my lips, pulling his shiny fingers out and taking them to his mouth to suck them—. You’re a filthy bitch.

He pushed me until I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He stripped me in layers: the pants first, then the shirt, and finally the thong, which he pulled down my thighs with his teeth, biting my skin along the way. When he yanked his underwear down, I saw his cock freed. It wasn’t as long as Damián’s, but it was thick, dense, with a brutal girth, veins standing out and throbbing along the shaft and the glans swollen, purplish, shining with pre-cum. I knew it was going to hurt, and that certainty made me squeeze my thighs together.

—Suck it —he ordered.

I knelt without thinking and took it into my mouth. It didn’t fit all the way. Barely halfway down the shaft and I already felt my throat starting to close, my jaw stretched to the limit by the thickness. I started sucking like a desperate woman: sliding my tongue along the frenulum, hollowing my cheeks to create suction, letting a thread of saliva fall over the glans to wet it completely and then pumping with both hands what wouldn’t fit in my mouth. He grabbed me by the nape and started setting the pace, thrusting his hips into my face, forcing me another centimeter each time.

—That’s it, that’s it, take it all —he growled—. Open that mouth wider, whore.

My eyes filled with tears, my mascara ran down my cheeks, and he looked down at me with a cheeky smile, holding me by the hair. Each gag from me pulled a groan out of him. I felt the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and saliva dripped from my chin onto my tits, hanging from my already hard nipples. Five minutes, maybe more, with my mouth turned into a sewer, sucking, spitting, swallowing the salty pre-cum that wouldn’t stop leaking from the little hole.

When I pulled away to breathe, a strand of saliva still connected my lips to the glans. He pushed me gently onto the bed, face down, and started kissing my ass cheeks before prying them open with both hands. He slipped his tongue between them, long and greedy. Every so often he’d go down, lick my pussy from top to bottom, suck my clit until my legs shook, but his attention kept returning, over and over, to the same spot: the hole. He moistened it with saliva, opened it with the tip of his tongue, penetrated it little by little, went in and out, traced circles around the tight opening. I buried my face in the mattress and moaned like a bitch in heat, pushing my ass back in search of more tongue.

—What a sweet little ass you have, baby —he murmured—. Tight, snug, virgin, just how I like it.

He stood up. He rested his cock on my ass cheeks, letting it drop between my buttocks like a warm, heavy threat. He started rubbing it along the groove, up and down, wetting me with his saliva and with the fluid that kept oozing out of him. And he asked me the question I wasn’t expecting.

—What if you give me your ass? Can I put it in there?

I went blank for a few seconds. I’d never done it that way. The few attempts had ended in failure, with the cock bouncing against the closed sphincter and me biting the pillow from pain.

—No, I’ve never done it that way —I answered, turning my head.

And then I saw his face. Leo, the arrogant artist, the one from the music videos with jewelry and women, was pouting at me. He looked like a scolded puppy. Asking my permission, cock in hand.

—Please —he said, masturbating slowly in front of me—. If you let me, I promise you’ll be my lead dancer. Not just on this tour. On every one that comes after.

He had to be pretending. Or maybe he was saying it because of the alcohol. But I was drunk too, and if he’d offered me the Palace of Versailles at that moment, I would have believed him.

—If you’ve got lubricant… —I began.

In one leap he went to the bedside table and came back with a bottle. He slathered his whole cock, worked it over thoroughly until it shone from top to bottom, and then opened my ass with one hand and emptied half the bottle between my cheeks. I felt the cold stream fall onto my hole and run down my perineum to my pussy. With two fingers he worked the opening, one first, then two, going in and out patiently, twisting them inside, forcing me to open. I gripped the sheet with my fists, moaning with my face against the mattress, feeling the sphincter give way millimeter by millimeter.

—Relax, baby, breathe —he whispered—. You’ll see how much you’re going to like it.

He pulled his fingers out and pressed the tip of his cock against my asshole. It felt huge, much wider than two fingers, pushing firmly against the entrance. I started breathing deeply, almost shaking. I was scared. I had completely forgotten about Andrés. I was only thinking about myself, about what was about to happen, about the promise I had just accepted, about that thick cock that was about to split me in two.

And then the door rang out.

—Knock, knock! —it was Renata’s voice—. Time. Your ten minutes are up.

I was going to turn to tell her we were coming out. I didn’t make it. Leo held me by the hips, yanked me against him, and in one single thrust he went in.

—AUUUUUUGGGH!

The scream came out of a place I didn’t know. Loud enough, I was sure, to reach the hallway, all the way to Damián’s ears, to Iván’s, to Renata’s. Enough for the whole hotel to know that the promise I’d made to Andrés had just been broken, too, on that side as well.