I Came Back from the Party and Stopped Being the Decent Woman

Hello again. Some of you already know me here as Lunallena, but in real life my name is Renata and I’m thirty years old. I’m five foot seven, broad-hipped and curvy, with hips that sway on their own when I walk, even more so in heels. I have long brown hair, light brown skin, and lips I paint red when I want someone to look at me twice. On the outside I’m the proper woman: the one who goes to the office in fitted blouses, but never too fitted, the one who smiles at family dinners and comes home early. Inside there’s another woman who had been silent for years. The night I’m going to tell you about was the first time I let her out.

I met Adrián at a party with mutual friends, a couple of summers ago now. He was tall, dark-haired, with that sweet-boy shyness that disarmed me instantly. We kissed on a terrace, a kiss that started soft and ended deep, his hands on my waist pulling me close. We exchanged numbers that same night and two weeks later we were constantly texting each other.

Two months later we were already living together in a small apartment downtown. It was fast, I know, but the chemistry was undeniable. The first days felt like something out of a movie: we cooked together, watched series with my head in his lap, showered in the mornings soaping each other up without it ever going any further. What was missing was the other part. The sex with Adrián was the most modest and predictable thing you can imagine.

We both came from conservative homes, the kind where desire is whispered and acted out in the dark. Our nights always followed the same script: lights off, careful kisses, him taking my clothes off gently, licking my breasts a couple of times without daring to go further. Always the same position, him on top, thrusting at a steady pace, no variations, nothing that strayed from what was “normal.” I moaned softly, stifling the sounds against his shoulder so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. He would finish with a sigh and a murmured “I love you,” and then we’d sleep.

One night I tried getting on top, moving my hips slowly, and he tensed up.

—I don’t know, Renata… it gives me the creeps, like in those movies —he said, and pulled away.

And I let it go, biting my tongue, because I loved him and thought he’d loosen up with time. But inside I was burning. My fantasies were a whirlpool of everything I didn’t dare ask for, and every quiet night left me hungrier.

***

Until that Friday that changed everything.

My friends talked me into going out to a Latin music club in the old quarter, one of those places where reggaeton thunders against the walls and the air smells of sweat and perfume.

—Renata, you’re married off too early. Go out, let your hair down, and blow off some steam —Marta told me.

I said yes because I needed it. I needed to feel alive beyond the routine. I got ready with enthusiasm: a tight black dress, made of stretchy fabric that clung to every curve like a second skin, a V-neck that showed the lace of my bra. High heels that lengthened my legs and lifted my ass even more. Smoky eyes, red lips, hair loose down my back. I looked in the mirror and for the first time in months I felt dangerous. Faithful, yes, but wanting to play.

I got to the club around eleven and the party was already in full swing. I started with my friends at the bar, a couple of drinks that sent heat to my chest, silly laughter. Then to the dance floor. At first we danced in a circle, twerking softly with each other, laughing. Sweat began to bead on my skin and the dress kept clinging tighter.

Then the strangers arrived. The first one, tall and dark, came up behind me. I didn’t say anything; I let him press against me. I felt his hard body against my ass to the rhythm of the dembow, his hands on my hips pulling me in. I moved with him, turning slowly, rubbing against him with every beat. His fingers climbed up the curve of my waist. I moaned softly, inaudible over the music, feeling desired in a way I had forgotten. But I stayed faithful: I didn’t turn around, didn’t give him any opening for more. When the song changed, I slipped away with a smile and went back to my girls.

The alcohol kept climbing. A shot that burned my throat, another drink. The floor became a sea of bodies. Another man approached me from the front, bolder, smelling of strong cologne. He took my waist with confidence and we danced face to face, his hips against mine. His hands slid to the hem of my dress, squeezing, lifting it an inch. I let him, turned on, feeling everything speeding up inside me. But when he tried to kiss me, I tilted my head and pulled away, laughing. Faithful, but naughty. I left him wanting, and that gave me a power I didn’t know I had.

I kept dancing for almost the whole night. Every brush of a body made me think of Adrián sleeping at home, innocent, and of everything I was going to do to him with this energy building up inside me like a lit fuse. I drank a little more, danced until my legs shook, and by the time I ordered the taxi I was hotter than I could ever remember being.

***

I got home a little after four-thirty, swaying between the alcohol and the excitement, my dress wrinkled, my makeup smudged. Adrián was sleeping soundly, uncovered from the heat, his chest rising and falling slowly. I took off my heels at the door, pulled down the zipper, and let the dress fall to the floor. I stood there in black lingerie, soaked through, and for a moment I just watched him sleep. The alcohol had stripped away every filter. That night I wasn’t going to turn off the light or keep quiet.

I approached the bed with my heart pounding. I lifted the sheet slowly and knelt beside him. I took him in my hand, soft at first, feeling him respond almost instantly, hardening in my palm. I lowered my head and licked him all over, slowly, savoring that warm skin. Then I took him into my mouth with a hunger I’d been holding back for months, my tongue circling, my hand following the rhythm. I made noises that on another night would have embarrassed me, and that morning I didn’t care at all.

He stirred, muttered something. I kept going deeper, faster, without letting up, until he suddenly opened his eyes, disoriented.

—Renata? What…?

—Shh, love —I whispered, pulling back for just a second—. Let me do what I’ve wanted to do for months. Tonight I’m the real me.

I went back to it, wilder, while his hands tangled in my hair. He wasn’t pushing me away, just guiding me, and he started moving against my mouth almost without realizing it.

—Fuck, Renata… you’ve never… —he gasped, and didn’t finish the sentence.

But I wanted more. The dancing at the club had lit me up from the inside and there was no going back. I gently pushed him so he’d roll over, confused but giving himself over to me.

—Trust me —I told him in his ear.

I spread his ass and leaned in. We had never talked about this; it was forbidden territory for both of us. I pressed my tongue against him slowly, and he went rigid all over, gripping the sheets with both hands.

—What are you doing, Renata? That’s…

—You’re going to like it. Relax and let me.

I kept at it calmly, tracing circles, while my hand slipped underneath and stroked him at the same time. Little by little, the tension in his body turned into something else. He started groaning, husky, his hips moving toward me, searching for me. It was the first time for both of us, and I did it as if I knew exactly what he needed, reading every shiver, every broken gasp.

—Fuck, Renata… this is insane… don’t stop —he said, voice breaking.

I couldn’t hold on anymore either. I turned him over again onto his back and tore off the last thing I was wearing. I straddled his face without warning.

—Now you. Eat me like it’s the last thing you’re ever going to do.

Stunned but lost in desire, he stuck out his tongue and obeyed with a hunger I had never seen in him. I moved over his mouth in circles, moaning loudly for the first time in my life without caring about anything, one hand squeezing my breast and the other clinging to the headboard. I told him in his ear what I liked, I asked for more, and at last he was doing exactly what I needed.

I came like that, sitting on his face, with a shudder that ran from my feet to my head, screaming his name without thinking about the neighbors.

But I wasn’t done. I slid down his body and dropped onto him in one hard move, taking him all the way inside. This time there was no script. I rode him with everything I had, hips rolling, the sound of skin filling the room. I scratched his chest, bit his neck, told him things in his ear I had never dared to say out loud.

—Like that, Adrián. Give me everything. Make me scream for real.

And he obeyed, driving up into me with a new force, his hands sunk into my ass, finally loose after so long. I guided him, taught him, showed him the woman who had lived hidden behind the perfect girlfriend. We changed positions more times that morning than we had in all the months before together, and each one was like discovering each other all over again.

When we couldn’t take any more, he finished with a rough groan against my neck, his whole body shaking beneath mine, holding me like he was afraid that this version of me would disappear with daylight.

I collapsed beside him, panting, sweating, my legs still trembling. I looked into his eyes, still hazy, and smiled.

—Love… this is the real me.

He laughed softly, still breathless, and pulled me to his chest.

—Then I never want you to hide her again —he said.

And that, dear readers, was the night I stopped pretending. There was no cheating, I betrayed no one. I simply allowed myself, for the first time, to be whole. Since then the light stays on more often, and neither of us misses the proper woman I thought I had to be.