The Actress Who Came Back into My Life for One Night

I had been browsing the listings for Cartagena’s Teatro Circo for a month when I saw the name of the company announced in large letters. A play from a well-known regional production, and among the cast, an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. I didn’t think about it for long. I went onto the theater’s website and bought a ticket before closing the page, as if I were afraid I might change my mind.

A few days before the performance, I called her cell phone. My heart was beating a little faster than I wanted to admit as I listened to it ring.

—Hi, Marina. It’s Andrés. How are you?

—Andrés! —Her voice sounded genuinely happy—. I’m fine, very busy with the play, but fine. Where have you been hiding?

—It turns out you’re performing here in Cartagena in a few days. I already have my ticket. Will you have some time to see me?

—Of course. Better after the performance, don’t you think? Then we can sit down calmly and remember old times. I’m really looking forward to it.

—Then I’ll book us a table somewhere near the theater and we can have dinner, unless you have some commitment with the company.

—It’s a date. I’ll call you when we get to the city. Kisses.

I hung up and kept staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary.

***

On the day of the performance I was restless, and I admit the theater wasn’t the reason. It had been more than four years since I’d seen Marina. I remembered her as she had been then: a young, lively woman with dark hair and brown eyes, with a body that drew attention without trying. She was a little shorter than me, with a determined walk—the kind of person who enters a room and rearranges it around herself without asking permission.

My cell phone rang in the middle of the morning.

—We’ve just arrived at the theater —she told me—. We have the whole morning of setup, scenery, lights, and rehearsal. I’ll confirm tonight’s plans. Are we still on?

—We’re on. If I can, I’ll stop by before the performance to say hello.

—Perfect. If you come, enter through the loading area; it leads straight to the dressing rooms. Mine is number eight. I’m dying to see you.

I went. I entered through the side door, walked down a bare-walled corridor with cables taped to the floor, and knocked on the door marked with a peeling eight.

—Come in! —a voice shouted from inside.

Marina had her back to me, facing the mirror surrounded by light bulbs, and turned when she recognized me. For a second we stood still, measuring the passage of time in each other’s faces. Then she came closer and we melted into a long embrace, the kind that says more than any conversation.

When I pulled back to look at her, I found a more mature woman than the one I remembered, but just as radiant. Perhaps more so. The years had given her a new serenity, a way of holding my gaze that she hadn’t had before. And tits that her costume bra squeezed so tightly it was hard not to look down every couple of sentences.

—You look gorgeous —I told her, still holding her hands in mine.

—You’re not looking bad yourself. Time has been kind to you. —She gave me a playful smack on the hip, laughing, her hand lingering there a second too long, brushing against my fly as if by accident.

—I’ll let you get back to it. I’m going to find my seat. Enjoy the show.

—Wait for me afterward in the lobby, by the main door. Don’t disappear.

I kissed her cheek and left, my cock already beginning to stir inside my trousers. Throughout the entire play I could barely concentrate on the plot. I looked for her in every scene, and every time she appeared, something in my chest—and lower down—tightened a little.

***

When the performance ended, I waited in the lobby just as she had asked. About ten minutes passed before I saw her coming up the stairs from the pit. She had changed: jeans, a shirt, and a denim jacket. Without stage makeup she looked even more real, more approachable. Her jeans outlined her ass in a way that forced me to look away.

—How does it feel after that success? —I asked.

—Tired and starving —she laughed—. Wait, I’ll leave my suitcase with the porter and ask how late the doormen are staying.

She came back a few minutes later, and we left the theater arm in arm, as we used to years ago. We walked to a nearby restaurant, El Faro, a place I frequented where I had reserved a table for two.

—Good evening, Don Andrés —the waiter greeted me—. Your table is at the back, beside the window, the quietest in the dining room, as you requested.

We sat down. We ordered wine, ate without hurrying, and talked for hours about everything we had been and had ceased to be. Old anecdotes, names we hadn’t spoken in years, laughter passing from one to the other. Every so often she bit her lower lip when she was thinking, an old gesture of hers that suddenly returned me to the person I had been with her. At some point during the second glass of wine, beneath the table, I felt the tip of her bare foot traveling up my calf and staying there, motionless, while she continued talking as if nothing were happening.

I paid the bill despite her protests, and we went back out into the street, returning to the theater to collect her suitcase.

—Do you have a hotel booked? —I asked on the way, trying to sound casual.

—No. Since I was meeting you, I told my colleagues not to reserve a room for me. —She gave me a sidelong glance—. Maybe that was reckless of me.

—Not at all. You’re staying at my place. What else would you do?

Something inside me lit up at that simple answer. We collected her suitcase and walked to my apartment, a fifth-floor flat behind the old square, overlooking the rooftops of the old city.

***

I showed her the guest room, next to mine.

—Hey, can I take a shower? I didn’t have time after the performance. That way I won’t keep you waiting later.

—Of course. Make yourself at home. The towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and you’ll find everything you need in there.

—What a nuisance I’m being.

—You’re no nuisance at all. I’m incredibly happy we’ve found each other again.

Marina went into the bathroom, and after a while I heard the water running. I collapsed onto the living-room sofa, turned on the television, and, without realizing it, with the fatigue and the wine, fell asleep.

I don’t know how much time passed. I woke to the brush of lips against my forehead, and then my mouth. I opened my eyes and found her in front of me, freshly showered, her still-damp hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes shining in the living room’s dim light. She was wearing a delicate set of lingerie, pale blue and barely concealing anything: a lace bra that lifted her tits so high that the dark edges of her nipples showed above it, and a tiny matching panty, so thin that the slit of her pussy showed through underneath.

—Quite a welcome —I murmured, still half asleep and already hard against my zipper—. You look incredible.

—Thanks for the compliment. —She smiled with disarming calm—. Does it bother you that I’m dressed like this?

—Quite the opposite. That’s exactly the problem.

She chuckled softly and settled onto the sofa beside me, lifting one leg over mine so I could feel the warmth of her inner thigh. She took my glass, sipped from it, and handed it back.

—Do you want one of your own? —I offered.

—No need. We can both drink from yours.

She took another sip and stared into my eyes, fixedly, as if trying to read exactly what was going through my head at that moment. And I suppose it wasn’t difficult for her to guess, because the bulge in my trousers explained itself. The hour, the half-light, the silence of the apartment, her so close. We exchanged a smile that was no longer innocent in the slightest.

—I can tell —she whispered, lowering her hand and squeezing my cock through the fabric—. And it’s very hard, too.

—I’ve been like this since the dressing room —I admitted.

—I know. I saw it. That’s why I touched myself in the shower thinking about you, to arrive here a little more worked up. It didn’t help at all.

***

She slid off the sofa and knelt in front of me, never breaking eye contact for even a second. She placed her hands on my waist with calculated slowness, savoring the moment, deliberately drawing it out. I could feel my pulse in my temples and my breathing becoming ragged.

She lowered my zipper slowly, so slowly that it seemed endless. Every tooth that gave way tugged at my lower belly. Then she slipped her fingers beneath my underwear with a gentleness that sent a shiver through me, tracing my skin as if recognizing territory she had wanted to visit for a long time. Every caress seemed designed to make me wait a little longer. She pulled my cock out with one clean tug and looked at it for a moment, her mouth slightly open, before wrapping her fist around it and masturbating me very slowly, squeezing at the base, moving up to the tip and back down again.

—What a cock you have —she murmured, more to herself than to me—. How I’ve missed it without ever having tasted it.

She bent down and licked me from my balls to my glans in one long, slow stroke, flattening her tongue against the vein underneath. Then she did it again, twice, three times, coating my cock in saliva until it shone. When she opened her mouth and took me all the way in, I felt her descend to the back of her throat and stay there for several seconds, her eyes watering, before she pulled away for air with a strand of drool hanging from her lip.

—Fuck, Marina —I gasped, gripping her damp hair with both hands.

—Shut up and let me —she said, smiling with her mouth smeared—. I’ve been imagining this for four years.

And she went back to eating my cock. She began sucking me in earnest, moving her head up and down at a steady rhythm, creating a vacuum with her cheeks that tugged at the tip each time she reached the top. Her tongue worked underneath, wrapping around me, pressing me against her palate. With her free hand she caressed my balls, rolling them across her palm and squeezing them gently. Every so often she pulled my cock from her mouth and used it to smack her cheeks and lips, giggling softly, before swallowing it again all the way to the back.

She kept at it for quite a while, setting a rhythm that drove me crazy, alternating pauses with intensity until I stopped thinking altogether. Whenever she felt me getting close, she slowed down, licked my balls, sucked the tip as if it were a piece of candy, and waited for the wave to subside before bringing me back up from the beginning. The tension built like a wave growing larger and larger, and when I could no longer hold back, I warned her by tightening my grip on her hair. She answered by taking me all the way in and holding me there.

—I’m going to come, Marina —I moaned.

—Mmm —was all she said, without pulling off.

I let go with a long groan, emptying myself into her mouth in several spasms. She didn’t move away a millimeter. She swallowed every jet, squeezing her lips around the base so that nothing spilled. When she finally pulled my cock out, she opened her mouth to show me it was clean, smiling with the kind of satisfaction that stays with you, and then ran her tongue over the glans, collecting the last drop.

—Tasty —she said, licking her lips—. Now it’s my turn.

I pulled her up onto the sofa and laid her on her back, her legs spread over my thighs. I ripped her blue panties off to the side and stared at her shaved pussy, glistening with wetness, its lips swollen and parted. I lowered my head and buried my tongue between her folds without ceremony, moving from bottom to top, savoring how wet I had made her by sucking my cock.

—Fuck —she moaned, arching her back—. Yes, there, just like that.

I worked her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, circling it and sucking it with my lips, alternating with long, flat licks that traveled across her pussy from one end to the other. I slid two fingers inside her and curled them, searching for her G-spot, pressing against that spongy area while I kept eating her. She began moving against my face, gripping my hair and setting the pace with her hips.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop —she repeated, her voice growing higher—. I’m coming, Andrés, I’m coming.

I sucked her clitoris harder without letting go, while the fingers inside her kept pounding her spot, and she came with a muffled scream, squeezing her legs around my head and squirting hotly against my chin. I kept licking her slowly until the trembling died down and she pushed me away, laughing and panting at once.

—Get over here, you bastard —she said, pulling me toward her—. Fuck me already, you’re driving me crazy.

I climbed on top of her. My cock had gotten hard again just from eating her out. I placed the tip at her entrance and pushed once, all the way in. We both moaned at the same time. She was so wet that I entered without resistance, and so tight that I felt every inch squeezing me.

—You fill me so well —she gasped, grabbing my ass with both hands and digging in her nails—. Give it all to me.

I began fucking her slowly, pulling almost all the way out and driving deep with every thrust, watching her tits bounce against the bra she was still wearing. I pulled down the straps, freed her breasts, and bent down to suck them, biting her hard nipples as the rhythm accelerated on its own.

—Harder —she demanded—. As if you wanted to break me.

I grabbed her by the hips and started pounding her in earnest, slamming her ass against my thighs and hearing the wet slapping of her soaked pussy with every thrust. She dug her heels into my back, throwing her head against the arm of the sofa, her mouth open.

—On all fours —I told her, pulling out abruptly.

She turned without protesting, bracing herself on her knees and elbows, her ass raised toward me. I spread her cheeks with my thumbs, saw her red, pulsing pussy and the small asshole above it, and drove back inside her in one thrust until my belly struck her buttocks. From there I fucked her mercilessly, gripping her waist, her hair, wherever I could hold her, watching the arch of her back and the way she let me use her with her face pressed into the cushion.

—Oh God, oh God —she panted—. I’m going to come again, don’t stop.

I reached one hand underneath her and found her clitoris, rubbing it with two fingers in time with my thrusts. Marina began trembling all over, clenched her pussy around my cock like a fist, and came a second time, with a hoarse moan from deep in her stomach, soaking my thighs.

I held out a little longer while she was still trembling, and when I felt myself coming again, I warned her.

—Inside —she said, looking at me over her shoulder with half-closed eyes—. Come inside me. I’m on the pill. I want to feel it.

That was all it took. A couple more thrusts, all the way in, and I emptied myself inside her with my jaw clenched, feeling my cum mix with hers and seep out around the edges of her pussy while I kept fucking her through the last spasm. I stayed still for a moment, buried inside her, feeling her pussy pulse around my cock, before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside her on the sofa, drenched in sweat.

Afterward she climbed on top of me to kiss me, slowly, with her warm mouth and gentle tongue, and hugged me as if she wanted to stay in that moment forever. We remained like that for a long while in silence, listening to our breathing fall into rhythm, her hand idly playing with my now-soft cock, wet with both of us.

—I didn’t remember this —I confessed into her ear.

—Neither did I —she said—. And that’s despite thinking about it so many times.

***

We fell asleep in my bed, tangled together, with no need to talk. The next morning I woke to the sound of running water. Marina had gotten up before me and was washing her face in front of the bathroom mirror, naked, with the marks of my fingers still visible on her hips.

I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her neck. She tilted her head back against me and immediately felt that my cock was already hard again, pressed against the curve of her ass.

—Again —she murmured with a smile, slowly rubbing herself against me.

—I couldn’t help it. Waking up with you like this...

She leaned forward, placing both hands on the sink, and spread her legs while looking at me in the mirror. No more words were necessary. I gripped my cock, placed it at her entrance—still slippery from the night before—and shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the back, watching her face in the reflection, her mouth open and her eyes closed.

I fucked her like that against the sink, both of us watching ourselves in the mirror, her tits swinging in time with my thrusts and her moans bouncing off the tiles. I didn’t last long. Within minutes I was coming inside her again, gripping her hips and biting her shoulder to keep from shouting. She came right afterward, rubbing her clitoris with two fingers while my cock was buried deep inside her, squeezing her ass against me with every spasm.

—Good morning —she murmured with a smile at the mirror before stepping into the shower, a white thread sliding down the inside of her thigh.

I returned to the bedroom with my legs still trembling. When she came back, wrapped in a towel with her hair tied up, I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her move around the room with the natural ease that only years of trust can bring.

—When am I going to get a chance to return what you did last night? —I asked—. Though I think we broke even in the bathroom.

—I’ll be back around here in a month —she replied, amused, letting the towel fall so she could get dressed without the slightest embarrassment—. The company is repeating the tour. So you’ll have your chance. And I intend to collect with interest. I’m bringing toys.

—Fuck, Marina.

—Don’t worry. You’ll see.

We had breakfast together without hurrying, morning light coming through the window. We talked about future encounters as if it were the most normal thing in the world, as if those four years of silence had never existed.

Afterward I walked her to the door. We said goodbye with a long kiss, her hand sliding one last time over my fly.

—I’ll call you every day —I promised her.

—You’d better. And I want pictures.

I watched her walk away down the hallway, dragging her suitcase, until she turned the corner and disappeared. I closed the door slowly, leaned against it for a moment, and said aloud, to no one:

—I wish it were next month already.