I Left the Afterparty With Two Strangers and I Don’t Regret It

The company I work for is famous for its parties. I’m not exaggerating: every December they rent a huge hall, hire an open bar, and the afterparty doesn’t end until the sun is already coming up. That year’s holiday party was no exception, and I arrived with every intention of making the most of it.

This is one of those stories I tell in a low voice and only to people I actually like. It happened two Decembers ago, in an events hall in Providencia, in Guadalajara. After an entire night watching my fifty-eight-year-old boss try to dance reggaeton like he was twenty, a big group of us escaped to a nightclub on Chapultepec Avenue to keep the party going.

We got there a little after one in the morning, just as the place was starting to get going. The music was perfect, the lights were low, and I felt like I owned the world.

That night I’d chosen the sexiest outfit I had: a skintight little black dress, short, and some very high platform ankle boots that made my legs look endless. Underneath, a black thong so nothing would show through the fabric. I had dressed to turn heads, and I knew it.

The hours flew by. I danced nonstop, drank like any girl going out to let loose on a Friday, and by the time they closed the club I could no longer feel my feet. We spilled out in a crowd, still wanting more, and headed straight to the most famous taquería in the area. If you’re from Guadalajara, you know which one I mean.

I sat at a long table with about ten coworkers. Between laughs and green salsa, I noticed two men at another table staring at us from afar. I didn’t know whether they were looking at me or at one of my friends, but curiosity got the better of me.

So I grabbed my plate of tacos, got up, and with all the confidence alcohol gives you, I dropped into one of the chairs at their table.

“Hi, I’m Renata,” I said, as if I’d known them all my life.

“I’m Tomás, and he’s Adrián,” answered the hotter of the two.

“Come on, tell me: which one of my friends do you like? The blonde, the long-haired one, the one with the bob? Or were you looking at me?” I blurted out, without a hint of shame.

“You, obviously,” Tomás replied without hesitation.

“Oh, no, how could you? I know I’m not the prettiest one at the table, but I am the most interesting,” I said, laughing.

“What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous,” he insisted, looking at me in a way that made me hot all over.

“And where are you from?” Adrián asked, quieter, with genuine curiosity.

“From here, born and raised,” I answered flirtatiously. “And how old are you two?”

“Thirty-one,” Tomás said.

“Mmm, I don’t believe you. Show me an ID,” I challenged him, half joking.

And the obedient man took out his ID and handed it to me. I did a lightning-fast mental scan: full name, address, date of birth. A stupid habit I have when I go out, the kind a woman never loses no matter how many drinks she’s had.

“All right, yes, you’re thirty-one,” I said, handing back his ID with a smile.

And we spent a long while talking about the nonsense three drunk people talk about while eating tacos at five in the morning. Tomás had that easy laugh that disarms you, and Adrián had a calm gaze that every now and then stuck to me a second too long.

***

When six o’clock came, I pulled out my phone to order a ride back to the hotel. Tomás snatched it out of my hand.

“No, what are you doing? You’re coming with me,” he said, very sure of himself.

“What do you mean? I’m not even going home, I’m staying in a hotel because I didn’t want to go home that late,” I explained.

He canceled my ride without asking and entered my hotel address in his own app. Adrián paid for the tacos, got up as if to say goodbye, and I walked out of the taquería holding Tomás’s hand to wait for the car.

Just then, a pickup truck pulled up in front of us. It was Adrián, behind the wheel.

“What ride app? Get in,” he said, rolling down the window.

I tried to resist for a second, more out of reflex than anything else, but Tomás was already walking toward the truck. He opened the door for me and helped me climb in.

And there I was again, caught up in one of those real-life stories that were about to turn into exactly the kind of movie I love so much. The forbidden kind.

Tomás was in the back with me, kissing me as if he’d been holding back for hours. Adrián was driving, trying to figure out where we were headed.

“My hotel, my hotel!” I shouted when I recognized the avenue. “Here, let me out here.”

“Your hotel is my hotel,” Tomás whispered in my ear. “The chain belongs to my family.”

I just laughed, because there was no way that could be true. I’d known him less than two hours and I was already kissing a stranger, about to go to bed with him, and on top of that he was telling me he owned the place. Pure drunk bullshit, I thought.

***

But we got there, and we went in through a side door that Tomás had access to with a special card. The three of us went up in the elevator in silence, with that electric tension you feel when everyone knows what’s about to happen and nobody says it out loud.

I took out my room key, opened the door, and Tomás started kissing me as soon as we crossed the threshold. Adrián stayed behind, leaning against the back wall, watching us without saying a word.

Part of me didn’t understand when I had gotten myself into this. The other part only wanted to let go, to surrender to the feeling of being so desired by two men at once.

The room was spacious, with a huge picture window. We sank down onto a sofa facing the awake city, its tall buildings silhouetted against the sky that was just beginning to lighten.

I started unbuttoning Tomás’s black shirt, button by button. When I looked up toward the window, I saw him in the reflection: Adrián had slipped his hand inside his pants and was stroking himself slowly, never taking his eyes off us. He didn’t look away for a single second.

Tomás pulled my dress off over my head and I was left in my black lingerie set, garter belt and all. Because even though I had only gone out for the party, deep down I already knew how I wanted the night to end: in the arms of some stranger.

He took off my bra and started playing with my nipples, small and hard under his fingers. I yanked down his pants and boxers in one motion and knelt on the carpet to take him in my mouth. He was hard, thick, and I enjoyed it so much I deliberately made myself choke on him.

I heard Adrián’s footsteps coming up behind me. I didn’t see him arrive, but I felt the change in the air, his breathing closer.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pushed Tomás back onto the sofa, straddled him, and lowered myself down slowly. Feeling him enter me was electric. I started moving on him, setting the rhythm myself, while sweat and moans filled the room.

Then I felt Adrián’s hands. He had taken off his shirt and was holding me from behind, his fingers climbing up my waist to my breasts, his lips on my neck. I felt his erection pressed against me while I kept riding his friend.

He pulled a small bottle of lubricant from somewhere and I felt it cold against my skin.

“Easy,” he whispered to me, almost a soft command.

I shuddered all over. He started slowly, with one finger, then two, moving them in circles, preparing me with a patience that drove me crazy. When I finally felt him enter me, both of them at once, I lost all sense of everything. I moaned without control, trapped between the two bodies, feeling like the most desired and the most lost woman on the planet.

***

We changed positions several times. Adrián bent me over the back of the sofa while he kept pounding into me from behind. Then we moved to the bed. I lay on Tomás, who had become my favorite of the two, and he kissed my breasts while I arched my back.

Adrián slapped my ass, making me see stars and leaving his handprint on my skin.

“No, not another one,” I cried, half serious, half begging him to do it again.

He landed another one even harder, and I felt my skin burn hot and red.

Tomás stopped him with a gesture and leaned in to kiss my reddened ass cheeks, as if apologizing for his friend. Then he positioned me on all fours and fucked me while pulling my hair, until he came with a rough growl.

He pulled out and I was left sprawled on the sheets, trying to catch my breath. I looked over at the sofa: Adrián seemed to have fallen asleep, or was pretending to.

Tomás dropped onto the bed beside me, exhausted. But I still had energy, so I got up and walked to the sofa. Adrián opened his eyes, straightened himself up, and sucked on my nipples while I climbed on top of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” he said to me while I rocked myself over him.

When I felt he was about to come, I got off and finished him with my mouth. Then I collapsed beside him for a moment, the three of us in silence, out of breath, staring at the ceiling.

***

I left the two men asleep and got into the bathroom tub, which I filled with hot water and some salts the hotel had on a shelf. I stayed there a good while, soaking my body, my head, and I suppose my sins from the night too.

When the water started to cool, I got out, dried off, and put on clean clothes from my suitcase. I looked at the clock: it was nine in the morning on an ordinary Saturday in December.

I gathered my things, closed the suitcase I had left there since the day before, and left. Yes, I ran before either one of them woke up. Let them know what it feels like to be used and abandoned by a discreet stranger.

We didn’t exchange numbers. I never heard from Tomás or Adrián again. I just closed the door behind me and went on with my day as if nothing had happened.

Every now and then I wonder whether Tomás really was the owner of the hotel, or whether it was just the luckiest lie a lucky drunk ever told. But the truth is I never really cared enough to find out.