That Night I Stopped Being the Shy Girl in the Group

The music pounds inside my chest like a second heart. Boom, boom, boom. I feel it in my throat, in my temples, in the tips of my fingers. Beside me, Bianca and Sofía hum along to the song spilling out of the doors of the Lux, moving with a looseness I envy. I’m wearing a short white dress, with a neckline that turns my chest into a declaration of intent. Tonight I don’t want to be me. I don’t want to be Noelia, the responsible one, the one who organizes the bills and goes home early.

The line inches forward and my eyes move from face to face. They laugh, smoke, drink straight from the bottle. Men. I’m looking for one. Just one. Someone handsome, someone nice, someone who will look at me and not see the cautious girl I always am, but the woman I’m hiding under this body I’ve decided to let loose tonight.

This morning, in front of the mirror, I promised myself one thing: today I’m not backing out. I’ve spent too many months being the one who picks up the glasses, the one who orders the taxi at two, the one who goes home alone while the others stay out. I’ve rehearsed this version of myself in my head so many times that I almost believe it. Almost. My stomach clenches every time a group of guys looks at me as they pass, but this time I grit my teeth and hold their gaze instead of looking away.

At last we get in. The heat is like a wet slap. My friends make their way toward the dance floor like fish in water. I hang back and head for the bar. I need a weapon, a liquid ally to give me that final push.

The place smells of sweat, expensive perfume, and melted ice. Lights sweep across the dance floor in bands of color and, for an instant, everyone seems unknown and possible all at once. I adjust my neckline, take a deep breath, and move through the bodies. No one here knows who I am. That’s exactly the point.

The bar is packed and it’s hard to get through. I wait until they serve a couple in front of me and, as soon as they move aside, I slip in. I press myself against the curved wood and my chest rides high, almost exposed. The bartender notices me quickly. Well, my neckline. He comes over as if hypnotized and, for an instant, I wonder what it would be like to take him home. No, too easy. He raises his eyebrows at me, asking without words.

—Rum and Coke. Lots of ice —I ask, and my own voice sounds different to me, firmer.

My friends have already vanished into the sweaty crowd. I turn with the glass in my hand and the collision is inevitable. Cold liquid splashes my arm.

—I’m so sorry! —The voice is deep, close.

I turn around. He’s tall. Brown-haired. Light eyes shining under the neon. Several days’ worth of beard that sketches a very masculine smile on his face. He’s wearing a dark shirt with the top button undone.

—I can’t hear you —I lie, moving a little closer. I heard him perfectly.

He leans in and his breath brushes my earlobe. A shiver runs the length of my spine.

—I said I’m sorry. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you —he says. His eyes drop to my half-empty glass, but they linger longer than necessary on my cleavage.

—Don’t worry, we’ve got all night ahead of us —I answer, defiant, holding his gaze—. But I’ll take the next one.

His name is Adrián. He’s thirty and has a smile that knocks you flat. We settle into a gap at the bar and talk. About where we’re from, who we came with —him with some friends he’s lost track of—, about the music. His hand brushes my arm now and then, and each touch ignites something that rises from my legs to my belly.

I’m surprised by how easy it is. I don’t have to fake wit or laugh at jokes that aren’t funny to me. He listens, leans in so he doesn’t miss a word over the din, and when I speak he keeps looking at my mouth in a way that makes my pulse race. Every time he pulls away to grab his drink, he leaves a pocket of cold air between us that makes me want to fill it again. I discover that I like feeling desired like this, without apologies, without measuring everything.

I see Bianca watching me from the dance floor, eyes wide. I smile and give her a nearly imperceptible gesture: we’re doing well. She winks and turns away, leaving me with my prey.

I finish my mixed drink.

He finishes his.

—A shot? —he suggests, and it’s not a question, it’s an invitation to the abyss.

—Why not? —I nod.

The little glasses arrive with amber liquid. The tequila burns going down, but Adrián’s gaze burns more.

—Do you have a boyfriend, Noelia? —he asks, coming so close that his beard scrapes my cheek.

I shake my head, speechless. His hand settles on my bare back. An electric, possessive touch that slowly runs through me.

He keeps talking, but I’m incapable of listening. I can only watch his lips moving, so full. Without thinking, I take him gently by the neck and pull him toward me without looking away from his mouth. I kiss him. He kisses me back, and then I throw myself at him as if I’ve been holding back for weeks. He doesn’t stop seeking me out.

The music, the alcohol, his closeness… it all transforms me.

—Let’s go somewhere we can be alone —I murmur against his lips.

—My car’s right outside.

—Okay. But let me do one thing first —I say, and my voice is barely a rough thread—. It’s going to be a surprise.

***

His breathing quickens. Without another word, he takes my hand. We step out of the suffocating heat into the cold street breeze. For some reason I’m carrying the empty shot glass in my other hand. Adrián looks at me, puzzled, but says nothing.

The street air clears my head for just a second, just enough to hear the cautious voice inside me asking what the hell I think I’m doing. I shut her up. Tonight she doesn’t get to decide. I squeeze the empty little glass between my fingers as if it were a charm, as if carrying it with me were proof that I really am daring to do this.

We turn the corner. No one’s there. We walk a few meters while he keeps stroking my ass over the dress. We stop in front of a dark Volkswagen Golf. He kisses me again against the hood, and I feel a hard bulge pressing between his legs. He opens the back door. The windows are tinted; nothing can be seen from outside. We slip inside. The space is intimate, enclosed, ours. No one can see us.

I climb astride him, over his firm thighs. The white dress rides up even more and my legs are left bare. Our mouths meet with an almost animal urgency. His tongue seeks mine, his hands grab my hips, slide up my thighs and stop at my ass, pressing me against him. I feel his erection through his pants. I gasp into his mouth.

With clumsy but determined fingers, I pull one strap of my dress down. The neckline gives way and my breast is exposed, the skin prickling from the cold air and from anticipation. He lowers his head and his hot mouth envelops my nipple. He licks it slowly, sucks it. Pleasure shoots through me from top to bottom. I moan without being able to help it.

—I want to suck your cock —I tell him, and the rawness of my own words lights me up even more.

He unbuttons his pants. His cock is already hard, thick, ready. I climb down from him and settle beside him on the seat. I lean over him, brushing him only with my lips.

I start by licking the tip, softly, exploring its texture. He lets out a rough groan and throws his head back against the headrest. Seeing him like that, surrendered to what I’m doing to him, gives me a power I didn’t know I had. Me, who barely an hour ago didn’t even dare look a stranger in the eye.

—Like that… —he breathes, and his hand finds my nape, not to push, just to feel the movement.

Little by little I take him into my mouth. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, more intensity. I move up and down faster and faster. His taste grows stronger, as if he’s close.

—It turns me on feeling how you fill my mouth, tasting you —I murmur, and the vibration of my voice makes him shudder all over.

—I’m about to come, Noelia —he warns me, his voice tight with pleasure.

It’s the moment.

—I want you to come in the glass —I tell him, breaking away for a second and showing him the little shot glass—. I want to drink it.

He opens his eyes wide, a mix of surprise and absolute arousal.

—Fuck… —he pants—. You never stop surprising me. Keep going. More.

I go back to work, licking and sucking with an intensity that drags us both to the brink. Just as I feel he’s about to, he pulls away from my mouth. He jerks himself off with his hand, fast, and the first thick white spurt shoots out. At once I place the glass under the tip.

He groans, shaken by spasms, watching as the small transparent container fills. I watch him, hypnotized, admiring his total surrender.

When he’s done, in the panting silence of the car, I bring the glass to my lips. Without looking away from him, I drink. A salty mouthful, intense, victorious.

Adrián looks at me, fascinated, with an admiration worth more than any compliment. He’s still breathing unevenly and doesn’t seem capable of forming anything coherent.

—You’re incredible —he whispers at last.

I pull the strap of my dress back over my shoulder, fix my neckline and meet his gaze with a new calm, as if what happened tonight were something I did every weekend. I leave the empty little glass in the door pocket, my small trophy, and for a second I can hardly recognize the woman looking back at me in the reflection of the tinted glass.

And I, Noelia, the shy one, the responsible one, the one who always goes home early, finally feel like a lioness.