My Girlfriend Always Knows When I’m Lying to Her

It was the end of August, that part of summer when the days cling to your skin and everything moves lazily. I was twenty-three, in my sixth semester of Communications, and had been dating Camila for eleven months. What we had was serious, intense, the kind of relationship that makes you feel grown-up before your time. The only hard part was her temper. Camila had an internal thermometer for jealousy, and when it went off there was no way to bring it back down.

—That’s it for today, guys. Enjoy the weekend —the professor said, closing the folder.

I gathered my things while Camila waited for me at the door with that half smile of hers that mixed tenderness with a warning.

—My parents went on a trip and they won’t be back for two weeks —she told me, winding her arms around my waist—. Want to come stay with me?

—Of course. I’ve got clothes at your apartment; we can go straight after class.

Camila was three years older than me. Slender, five foot five, with cinnamon skin and a mouth that seemed made to laugh at you. She had long dark-blond hair, hazel eyes, and an innocent look that was only innocent the first time you saw it. I was crazy about her. The kind of crazy that makes you accept anything just so you don’t lose her.

We walked out into the hallway holding hands. We’d gone only a few meters when someone called my name behind us. I turned around.

—Andrés, it’s you! I swear I couldn’t believe it when I saw you from behind.

I let go of Camila’s hand slower than I should have. It was Renata. Renata, whom I hadn’t seen since the high school farewell party.

—Of course it’s you, Renata —I said, hating how tense I sounded—. It’s been a long time.

—An eternity. I study here now; I changed majors recently.

There was an awkward silence. Then she stepped forward and hugged me. I went stiff, my head tilted so I wouldn’t brush her cheek. Renata and I had been classmates since the first year of high school. Good friends, nothing more, though I had never looked at anyone else the way I looked at her. White skin, almost translucent, five foot eight, wide black eyes, and generous breasts that pressed against my body every time we greeted each other. She wore bright red lipstick, just like back then, and a cropped blouse that showed her belly. I had wanted her in silence through all of secondary school. I had never said a word.

—And you’re not going to introduce me? —she asked, looking at Camila with a careful smile—. You were holding her hand, so I assume she’s important.

—Sorry. Camila, this is Renata, a friend from high school. Renata, my girlfriend.

—Nice to meet you —Renata said—. You’re beautiful. Andrés always had very good taste.

Camila smiled with her lips pressed together. A polite smile, not a welcoming one.

—I have to get to class —Renata went on—. I won’t take up any more of your time. But promise me we’ll grab coffee one day and catch up.

—I’ll message you and we’ll sort it out —I said.

—See you soon, Andrés.

She blew me a kiss with her right hand and went into a classroom. I stood frozen in the hallway, replaying the scene as if I had botched an improvised performance. I had done nothing, and yet I felt guilty for having been so pleased.

Camila didn’t say a word until we reached the parking lot. Not in the car either. Not in the building elevator. When we got into the apartment, she left the keys on the table and said, without looking at me:

—I’m going to shower. I’m melting from the heat.

I nodded. I walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed looking for the charger. I sent Renata a message on chat: “Hi, long time no see.” Then I stayed on her profile, scrolling through photos without really paying attention. In one picture she was alone on a bar terrace; in another, with a guy who no longer tagged her in posts. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerted me. I closed the chat, locked the phone, and set it face down on the nightstand. I looked up just as Camila appeared in the bathroom doorway, naked, drying her hair with the towel. She walked to the dresser mirror without looking at me.

—Your friend is nice —she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

—Who? —I asked, trying not to fix my eyes on her back.

—Renata. You can tell you’ve known each other a long time.

—Yeah, from school. Nothing important.

Fifteen seconds of silence. I counted them.

—Did you ever sleep with her? —she asked, without raising her voice.

—No. Never.

—Did you like her?

—Camila, enough. She was a friend.

She looked at me through the mirror. Her eyes didn’t seem like the same eyes from that morning. She draped the towel over the back of the chair, turned on her heels, and walked toward me. Very slowly. I couldn’t stop looking at her, and that was exactly what she wanted. Round breasts, a narrow waist, pubic hair trimmed the same color as wheat. A familiar sensation began climbing through my chest: part fear, part desire.

—You know you can’t lie to me —she said, resting her right hand on my crotch—. I know you too well.

—I’m not lying to you, Camila.

She smiled as if I had said exactly what she expected. She shoved my chest with the flat of her palm and I fell back onto the mattress. She yanked my pants down in two pulls, grabbed my underwear, and dragged it to my ankles. I was already hard and that, apparently, was proof enough. Her hand closed around my cock, squeezing and stroking it with a confidence that left my skin burning. She ran her thumb over the head, slowly, tangling both our breathing.

—I want you to keep talking —she said, kneeling between my legs—. Tell me how you became friends.

It wasn’t anything new. Every time Camila got jealous, she ended up kneeling between my legs. She had turned it into a ritual. This time, though, there was something different in her voice, something sharper. She leaned down and took me all the way into her mouth, hot and wet, with a deliberate calm that made my back arch. Her tongue circled the head and then slid down, sucking insistently, swallowing me in short gulps of her throat. I tried to piece together the blandest version possible of my history with Renata.

—We met in freshman year —I murmured—. We sat near each other in biology.

—Mmm. Go on.

—We studied sometimes at her house. Her mother made us tea. That was it.

She sucked harder, taking one of my balls in her hand and squeezing with the same precision with which she was wrenching the truth out of me piece by piece. The wetness of her saliva ran down my shaft and mixed with the sweat already forming on my back. When she pulled her mouth away, it was only to lick the base and work back up with her tongue, slowly, as if she wanted to torture me with every inch.

—That was it? —she asked, brushing me with her nose—. You must have looked at her with that stupid face you make when you want to fuck her.

—No.

—You’re bad at lying.

She pulled her mouth away for a second. Then she climbed up and straddled me. Before I could react, she wet herself with her own saliva and impaled herself in one motion. I felt her take me in all at once, hot, tight, swallowing my cock with a jolt that tore a groan out of me. She stayed still for just an instant, settling herself, and then started moving slowly, squeezing every pulse with her pussy, milking me until I was shaking.

—Wait, the condom —I managed to say.

—Today you don’t get to decide.

—Camila, seriously…

—Your cock gets harder when you lie. Did you know that? A lot harder. I don’t need you to tell me the truth, I just need to have you inside me to know it.

She rose and fell harder. Her hands climbed from my chest to my throat and closed. Not all the way, but enough to make me gasp. Her hips slammed against mine in a wet, rhythmic blow, and each thrust made my whole body tense. Her breasts bounced against my chest, her nipples hard, her hair stuck to the back of her neck with sweat. The room smelled of skin, saliva, and trapped heat.

—You want to sleep with Renata, don’t deny it —she panted.

—It’s not true —I said, my voice scraped raw by the pressure.

—You want to fuck her, you want to finish inside her. Say it.

—I swear to you, Camila…

—There it is —she murmured, and her hips slowed for an instant to feel it better—. There, just like that. Every time you lie it gets like a rock.

I wanted to argue, but it was no longer possible to argue. It was a mix of pleasure and shame tangled together inside me, and Camila knew it, and she used it. She started moving again. Faster, deeper. The bed hit the wall in a jumbled rhythm. I could feel her muscles clamping around my cock on every rise, milking me with a hunger that had me on the verge of losing my mind. Her breathing broke into short moans, and her hand came back to my neck, this time squeezing just enough to make me see stars.

—You’re a degenerate, Andrés —she said, lowering her face until her nose brushed mine—. I’m going to have to teach you not to lie to me.

Her free hand lifted and slapped my cheek. It was not gentle. She dug her nails into my chest until I felt the skin split. I moaned. And I hated that I moaned, because it confirmed everything she already knew: that that piece of violence lit me up in places I didn’t even fully understand myself. She leaned in a little more and began bouncing on me with fury, driving her whole body into mine, sliding until she crashed against my hips with a force that left me breathless.

—I’m going to come —I said hurriedly.

—Inside. I want to feel it inside.

—I can’t, Camila…

—Now.

I tried to lift my arms to push her away. They wouldn’t respond. I was dizzy, not getting enough air, and I exploded inside her with a hard spasm. My cum filled her at once, and she shuddered on top of me, sinking even deeper to milk the last jolts out of me. Camila came too; I knew because she went rigid over my cock, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, swallowing the orgasm with a tremor that ran through her legs. When she finally eased up, she kept riding me slowly, squeezing out the last pulses, breathing against my neck.

—I told you you couldn’t lie to me —she whispered before getting off.

She kissed my mouth with disconcerting tenderness, as if the woman who had just suffocated me were someone else entirely. She walked to the bathroom. I heard her turn on the tap, heard her humming softly. I stayed sprawled on the bed, breathing in little by little. It took me a long time to move.

***

I woke up early the next day. Camila wasn’t in bed. I stretched out my arm and grabbed the phone. Renata had replied during the night.

“Hi, Andrés. It was really nice seeing you. Are you free next Saturday? I’m in the mood for coffee like we used to. You can even bring your girlfriend, if you want. Let me know.”

I sat up in bed and read the message twice. The part about “bring your girlfriend” felt like a bridge I’d have to cross. I answered that it sounded perfect and that I’d ask Camila. Renata wrote right away: “See you soon.”

I got up, put on a T-shirt, and left the room. Camila was on the living room sofa, tousled, with a cup of coffee in one hand and the remote in the other. When she saw me, she held out her arms.

—Come here.

I sat with her and let myself be wrapped up. I would have liked to stay silent all day, but I forced myself to speak.

—The girl from yesterday, Renata —I began.

—What about her? —she said, eyes still on the screen.

—She asked if we could have coffee on Saturday. And she said you could come too.

It took her two seconds to turn around. She set the cup on the table and looked at me with a new smile, one I had never seen before.

—Do you want me to go?

—I do, yeah. I’d like you to get to know her a little. She’s a good girl.

—I thought you might prefer some time alone with her. There are conversations people don’t dare have in front of their partner.

—I have nothing to hide.

—Then let’s go —she said, and her smile widened—. It’s going to be fun.

She laid her head back on my shoulder. We spent the rest of the morning like that, with the TV on and Camila’s hand drawing circles on my thigh. Anyone looking at us from the outside would have said we were the most affectionate couple in the world.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the feeling. It was as if the girl now stroking my thigh and the one who had clawed my chest yesterday were two different people in the same body. And the second one, the one that showed up when her jealousy got triggered, was already thinking something over. I knew it in that instant, and I would confirm it later. The only thing I couldn’t imagine was how far she was willing to go.