My Son’s Friend Looked at Me Like I Was Another Woman

Marina looked at herself in the mirror, and what the glass gave back left her calm. At forty-six she was still firm, with no sagging skin or extra fat. She did yoga, walked long distances in the mornings, and watched what she ate. Years earlier, a scare in her chest had sent her into the operating room, and between reconstructive surgery and implants, she’d been left with breasts any twenty-year-old would have envied. The bad part was that Andrés had barely gotten to enjoy them for a few months before that highway accident took him away forever.

It had already been a year and a half since then. Marina missed many things about her husband, but above all she missed touch: a hand at her waist, a warm body beside her in bed. She still felt young, still knew she was desirable, but she had not once considered rebuilding her life. She devoted herself to Diego, her son, who was studying the same thing his father had. Andrés’s compensation and investments had left them in a comfortable position, so Marina kept only a couple of clients in her law office, more to avoid rusting than out of necessity.

She wrapped herself in her robe and sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair, a slow, almost sensual ritual. She had always worn it long, a dark, straight mane that fell below her waist. That afternoon called for a celebration: the faculty grades were out, and Diego had swept the board. Her son had convinced her to invite his friends over for lunch.

When she opened the underwear drawer, her ring snagged on a pair of black lace panties. She unfolded them slowly. They were part of a set Andrés had given her, one she hadn’t worn since before the operation. Why not?, she thought. Things are bought to be used, he always said. She slipped into the stockings, and the silk against her skin raised goosebumps, almost like the touch of a hand. The bra, on the other hand, fit tighter than she remembered; with the change in size, the cleavage was scandalously revealing.

She was about to change when a message came in from Diego: “Mom, pick us up in half an hour, final grade, eight point four. Passed the third year.” There was no time left. She put on a knee-length skirt, a white blouse with a modest neckline, and medium-height heels. Ready.

***

Traffic delayed her a little. The kids were waiting at the door: Diego, his girlfriend Sara—a funny redhead—Nadia, Sara’s twin sister, and Hugo, Diego’s friend since forever. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, not since Andrés’s funeral, and the change left her speechless. She remembered a skinny, jokey kid; now in front of her was a young man with a very broad back and a serious gaze.

Diego and the girls settled in the back, tangled up in their class jokes, so Hugo sat in the front passenger seat. Marina soon noticed that he took advantage of every turn of her head to look at her. When she pressed the pedals, her skirt rode up and showed the lace of the garter; when she turned the wheel, her neckline opened a little. She felt some embarrassment, but also a stab between her thighs she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

—You’ve changed, Hugo —she said—. You’re taller. And stronger.

—I started swimming a couple of years ago, for my back —he replied—. Two hours a day, never miss one.

—Well, it shows —Marina murmured, biting her lip without realizing it.

—He’s built like a wardrobe —came Diego’s voice from the back—. Now we call him Hugo Double.

Everyone laughed. Marina couldn’t stop looking at the arms and chest outlined beneath the polo. What she hadn’t expected was for him to look at her too, and for something in his eyes to tell her he’d noticed the inspection.

***

The lunch went wonderfully. Hugo studied law and immediately got caught up with Marina in conversations about the degree. He had instinct; it showed in every comment. He would make a good lawyer.

—And what specialty are you going to choose? —she asked, before taking a sip of coffee.

—Half the world talks about criminal law; they’ve watched too many movies. I prefer something with prospects. I think I’ll do commercial law.

—That’s my mother’s field —Diego cut in—. She could help you with internships, you know?

—That wouldn’t be bad at all —Hugo replied, staring at her fixedly. Something in that tone carried a double meaning. Marina felt her nipples harden under her blouse, and by his smile she knew he had noticed that too.

Afterward they wandered through the shopping center. While the younger ones hopped from store to store, Hugo stayed behind talking with her. At one point he asked for her number.

—So I can ask you any questions —he said.

—Of course —she replied, and dictated it to him. He typed with the agility of people his age—. I’ll save you as Hugo Double, the joke made me laugh.

—And I’ll save you as Karina.

—Karina? Why?

—I like the name. And it reminds me of someone. You look like that someone.

—I’d never imagined myself with a name like that —she laughed—. But I don’t mind it.

***

That weekend the kids went to the beach, to Peñíscola. Marina stayed in the city, stuck with a case involving Finnish clients. On Saturday afternoon she got a message from Hugo: a group photo on the sand, all of them shirtless, their torsos lit by the sun. She felt that twinge again.

—Have fun —she wrote—. And send photos.

—A kiss, Karina. Or two.

That night, alone at home, Marina couldn’t get the boy out of her head. He was her son’s best friend, someone who should have been outside her thoughts, and yet she found herself tracing his features over and over. She opened the photo again and zoomed in until Hugo’s face filled the whole screen. Fuck, I’m getting turned on by my son’s friend, she thought. He could be my son.

She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. It was nothing more than a horniness, she told herself, lack of contact. She masturbated sometimes, she wasn’t made of stone, but a vibrator in the bath was nothing like real hands. And without meaning to, the image of herself resting against Hugo’s broad chest slipped into her mind. “Stop,” she ordered herself out loud.

That same night, out of curiosity, she typed “Karina” into the search engine. Among dozens of results, one image froze her. Karina X, brunette, straight hair, features unsettlingly similar to her own. She was a porn actress, a spectacular mature woman admired by thousands of men. Hugo had compared her to that woman.

She should have felt offended. Instead, what she felt was a heat she did not remember. She was the object of desire of a young, handsome, desirable guy. She closed her robe in front of the mirror, and the reflection gave her the image of a woman on fire, with a suggestive neckline and nipples marked under the silk.

She found one of the videos. On the screen, Karina was enjoying herself beneath a much younger man beside a pool. Marina put herself in Karina’s place, and Hugo in the boy’s. Without realizing it, her robe had opened; one hand was moving over her breasts, the other sliding between her wet legs. She matched her rhythm to the one on screen. She came once, twice, three times, until a long moan escaped her lips. She ended up lying on the sofa, exhausted, unable to remember the last time she had touched herself like that.

The phone vibrated. “Hugo Double.”

—Awake, Karina?

—I am. And now I know who Karina is. Hot, right?

—Hot, just the way I like it. And you?

—Let’s say… interesting.

—What level of interesting?

—Let’s say… wet.

After a long silence, a photo came through that could be opened only once. Marina felt her hands tremble before she touched it. It was Hugo’s body from the waist down, his abs tense and, lower still, his hand holding an erection of more than generous proportions. Before closing it, on impulse, she took a screenshot.

—How’s the level? —he asked.

—Nothing more than the cunt of a woman who could be your mother —she replied, trying to rein in what she felt—. You must be sick of seeing better and younger ones.

—If you were my mother, I guarantee you’d have the lustiest son on the planet. And old clothes, too.

—Oh, give over. Go to sleep.

—Won’t you send me a photo first?

—If you behave… maybe some day. Good night.

That night, already in the bedroom, Marina saw herself naked in the mirror and, following an impulse, picked up her phone and posed: hip cocked to one side, torso turned three-quarters, her hair falling like a curtain. She framed the photo so her face couldn’t be seen and sent it: “I’m indulging you so you sleep well. Dream of Karina.” She turned off the phone and, for once, slept deeply.

***

The week passed between meetings and video calls. Diego came back from the beach tanned and rested, and even took care of washing and putting away his clothes, which softened Marina: her son was growing up. On Saturday night the boy said goodbye to go out partying and warned he would probably sleep over at Sara’s house.

Marina decided to take a bath in the whirlpool tub. She undressed, turned on the tap, and adjusted the temperature. She was at it when the doorbell rang.

—He must have forgotten his keys… that Diego —she smiled, and went down to open the door wearing a robe over her body.

—Did you forget…? —the question died on her lips. It was not Diego looking at her with half a smile, but Hugo. He stepped inside.

—May I come in?

—I think you’re already inside —she replied.

They held each other’s gaze. He admired her face framed by the black mane; she, the contrast of his light eyes with skin browned by the sun. The tension was obvious.

—I… was going to take a bath and have a drink.

—I’ll pour it for you. Go upstairs.

Marina obeyed. As she went up, she heard the clink of ice in the glasses. Hugo entered the bathroom a moment later and handed her a whisky. They drank in silence, both knowing they were only delaying the inevitable. She left the glass by the faucet and turned her back to him. She loosened the belt and let the robe fall. The only thing covering her nakedness was her hair.

She felt him come closer. One arm circled her waist, his open hand on her belly, near and yet far from where she was burning. The other hand pushed her hair aside and revealed her neck.

—I love your hair. The smell of your skin. Everything about you —he whispered, and pressed a kiss just below her ear.

Marina’s breathing grew deep. She turned around, their eyes met, and she stopped lying to herself. He kissed her, gently at first, then with hunger when he felt her surrender.

Marina’s hands tore at his clothes with urgency. Hugo’s erection was freed, proud and hard. She knelt and took him in her mouth, slowly, deeper and deeper, while his growls confirmed that she was feeling powerful again, capable of giving pleasure at will.

Hugo pulled her upright, kissed her tasting his own flavor, and sat her on the edge of the tub. He spread her thighs and went down with his mouth, mixing slow kisses and licks from her knee to the center of her desire. The scent drove him wild, and he buried his face between her legs. Marina’s moans filled the bathroom along with the steam. She was close, almost there.

Then he took her hand and they both got into the water. He sat down and she knelt over him. They stared at each other as she lowered herself centimeter by centimeter, feeling him fill her completely. They stayed still for a moment, locked together, and then she began to rock, picking up speed without taking her eyes off his. Hugo’s hands went to her ass; a finger brushed a forbidden spot and the shock made her gasp and throw her head back. He devoured her breasts, adding the swing of his hips to hers. The thrusts grew until Marina felt there was no turning back: her muscles tightened in spasms and the orgasm left her breathless.

When she caught her breath, she looked at him. He was still hard, holding back his pleasure.

—I want to finish inside you —he said.

—And I want you to. But we’re not using anything.

Marina thought about it for a second. She straightened, took a bottle of oil from the shelf, and placed it in his hand.

—Do it slowly. It’s been a long time —she murmured, turning around.

He understood. He warmed the oil between his fingers and began to prepare her patiently, first on the outside, then working his way in, while kissing the curve of her ass. Marina took one hand to her clit, still swollen, while he opened her little by little. Time seemed to stop.

—I’m ready —she whispered—. Do it, or I’ll come again, and I want us to do it together.

It was she who pushed back decisively until their bodies collided. A stab of pain went through her, but she forced herself to hold it, digging her fingers between her legs. Hugo held her by the hips, waiting, giving her time. Slowly the pain faded, replaced by a double pleasure, the pleasure of being filled from the front and from behind. When she started moving, he followed.

—More… harder… I want you to fill me… to make me completely yours —she panted.

Those words undid him. Hugo drove into her hard, pulsing with every spasm, and Marina felt him flood her as her own orgasm exploded. Exhausted, they collapsed in the water, wrapped around each other, not caring whether minutes or hours passed. He covered her shoulders and neck with kisses until both their breathing returned to calm.

At last Marina stood up and handed him a towel.

—Come on, we’ll have to eat dinner. Especially if you want the night to not end here —she smiled—. And I just remembered Diego has a box forgotten in his closet. It would be a shame to waste it, wouldn’t it?

Hugo followed her with a grin from ear to ear. That was only the first of many nights. Over time Marina insisted he rebuild his life with someone his own age, and he did, without ever quite ending what existed between them. What began as a hot spell in front of a mirror became the confession Marina never thought she would ever tell: that she felt like a woman again thanks to the last man the world would have allowed her to desire.