The Hotel Waiter and a Night I Never Told

This happened a few years ago, on a getaway to the mountains I took with someone, and yet it ended up being much more mine than anyone else’s. We’d chosen a tiny town, with cobblestone streets and the smell of rosemary, where time seemed to move at another pace. The lodging was what had caught my eye most when I booked it: an old inn that had once been a convent. Thick walls, courtyards with stone arcades, a silence that got into your bones. I never thought something like what happened to me would happen to me in a place like that.

The first day was pure postcard perfection. The view from the window, the hills outlined against a sky that was too blue, the staff’s just-right attention. I felt light, far from routine, with that strange feeling of not having to answer to anyone. At lunch we were served by a waiter who stood out right away. His name was Lucas. He was just over thirty, with brown skin, a smile he used as a work tool, and a smooth way of talking that made every table laugh.

That afternoon there was some kind of show in the dining room, live music and an MC, and Lucas moved from table to table encouraging people, cracking jokes, winning over the crowd effortlessly. I liked that about him. His ease, the way he looked you in the eye when he spoke. We traded two or three offhand comments while he served me, nothing special, but enough to break the ice. I went back to the room thinking about his smile more than I was willing to admit. And, to be honest, it wasn’t only the smile I was thinking about: I was also thinking about the bulge that showed under his black work pants every time he bent down to pick up a plate.

The second night I went down to dinner alone. My companion preferred to stay upstairs, tired from the day, and I didn’t insist. Truth be told, I didn’t mind at all. I sat at a table near the window, ordered something light, and let the mountain night drift in slowly through the glass. It was Lucas again who came over to take care of me.

—They left you alone today? —he said as he set the cutlery in place—. Weird. And no beer, either.

—Flying solo today —I answered, playing along—. And without the beer, look at that.

He laughed, jotted something in his pad, and kept on with his work. Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Sofía, I told myself. But my body was already elsewhere. My cunt had been wet since he’d stopped beside my chair, and I squeezed my thighs together under the table like a little girl while I watched him walk between the tables.

A while later he came past my table again, supposedly to take away a plate. In one smooth movement, like a magician, he slid a folded scrap of paper into my palm. He didn’t say anything. He only held my gaze a second too long and walked off. I closed my fist as if someone had handed me a state secret.

I finished dinner with my heart pounding in places where it had no business pounding. I went up to the room, locked myself in the bathroom, and only then opened the paper. It was a phone number, written in quick handwriting, and underneath, a single word: “whenever you want.”

***

I saved it with clumsy fingers. I stared at the screen for a long while, torn between the sensible girl I’m supposed to be and the other one, the one I hadn’t let out in a long time. The other one won. I texted him, “hi, I’m the one from the window table,” and regretted it the second I sent it.

The reply came right away. “Hi, brunette. Want those beers I owe you? I’ll wait for you in the lobby, by the wooden bench.” I read the message three times. Then I looked at the bed, where my companion was already fast asleep, oblivious to everything. And I made the decision that had already been made the moment I closed my fist around that scrap of paper.

I got into the shower without making a sound. I ran my hand between my legs and confirmed what I already knew: I was soaked, my lips swollen just from thinking about it. I dressed comfortably, a dark pair of leggings that hugged me in all the right ways and a loose T-shirt, no bra, my hard nipples pressed against the fabric. I looked in the mirror longer than I needed to. Just a couple of beers, I lied to myself, as I let down my still-damp hair.

I went down the stone stairs trying not to make the steps creak. The lobby was dim, lit only by a floor lamp, and there he was, sitting on the bench with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He saw me coming, smiled, and I smiled back, more from nerves than anything else.

—Ready? —he said, and nodded outside, toward the dark outline of the rocks that enclosed the property.

—Ready —I answered, not really knowing what I was saying yes to.

***

We stepped out into the cool night air. It smelled of earth and dry grass, and the silence was so deep that our footsteps could be heard over the gravel. We walked to a trail that climbed between huge stones. Lucas went first, and whenever the ground got steep he held out his hand to help me up. His hand was firm, warm, and every time he let go I felt like I was missing something.

We reached a natural clearing, a kind of lookout surrounded by rocks, completely away from the hotel and everything else. We leaned against a broad stone, still warm from the day’s sun.

—It’s beautiful tonight —he said, looking out toward the valley.

—Beautiful as hell —I replied, and it was true.

He took two still-cold beer cans out of the backpack and handed one to me. We toasted to my stay, clinking the aluminum with a dry smack that sounded loud in the middle of all that silence. I took a long sip and breathed deeply. Down below, in the darkness, the lights of houses scattered along the hillside could be seen, twinkling like the bulbs on a Christmas tree. The moon was full, enormous, bathing everything in a silvery gray.

—Look at that —I said—. The peace up here.

—That’s why I like coming up —he said—. I come when my shift ends and stay a while. But I’ve never come up with company before.

He looked at me when he said it. And I understood we were no longer talking about the view.

***

We kept drinking between stray comments, low laughter, silences that lasted a little longer than they should have. At some point Lucas put an arm around my waist and drew me against his body. I didn’t resist. I let myself be pulled close, feeling the heat coming through his T-shirt, my heart leaping in my chest like a teenager’s, and something else: the hard bulge against my hip, shameless, letting me know he was just as hot for me as I was for him.

He set his can down on a rock. He slid two fingers under the hair at the nape of my neck, slowly, and kissed me right there, in the exact spot where skin is most sensitive. I shuddered all over. I felt his breath moving up toward my ear, his lips barely brushing me, and a sigh escaped me that gave away everything I’d been holding in since lunch the day before.

—You’re trembling —he whispered.

—You’ve had me like this since yesterday, asshole.

He laughed softly against my neck and bit into my shoulder. I turned my head slowly and found him. We kissed for the first time there, against the rock, with the moon as witness. It was a slow kiss at first, cautious, and then it turned hungry. We thrust our tongues deep, biting each other’s lips, sucking at each other’s mouths as if we were going to devour one another. He took the can from my hand and set it on the ground beside his so he could have me free. I turned my whole body toward him and we kissed until we were out of breath, until the first moan slipped out against his mouth.

His hand went straight for my tits. He grabbed them over my T-shirt, squeezed my nipples between his fingers, and twisted them with exactly the force that drives me crazy. He realized right away I wasn’t wearing a bra because he made a sound in his throat, a low growl, and slid both hands under the fabric. He lifted my T-shirt up to my shoulders and bent down to suck one of my tits right there, in the open air. He bit my nipple, licked it, pinched it with his lips while his other hand kneaded my other breast. I gripped his head and pressed him against me, arching my back against the rock.

—Suck them —I asked softly—. Hard.

And he did. He sucked my tits until they were red, mouth open, slobbering all over them, biting me every so often until I jerked. I was on fire. It had been a long time since I’d felt that vertigo, that urgency to touch and be touched without thinking about the consequences. I slid my hand down his torso, along the waistband of his pants, and undid the button. I lowered the zipper slowly, looking him in the eye, and he was breathing harder and harder. I slipped my hand into his boxer briefs and took his cock in my whole hand. It was hard, thick, warm, throbbing against my palm. I pulled the skin back and felt him gasp when I ran my thumb over the tip, wet with precum.

—Holy shit —he muttered—, what hands you’ve got.

I lowered his pants to his thighs right there against the stone. I left his dick out in the open, hard, pointed at the moon, and knelt on the warm rock without thinking twice. I took him by the base and ran my tongue from the bottom to the top, slowly, following the thick vein running down the middle. I gave the tip a wet kiss and then took him all the way into my mouth, slowly, looking up from below so I wouldn’t miss a single expression on his face.

I started sucking him calmly, taking him in and out, coating him in saliva, making that mouth noise I know drives anyone insane. I sucked him to the throat, pulled back, licked his balls one by one, held them both in my mouth while I jerked him with my hand. Then I went back to the tip and wrapped my lips around it, squeezing hard, moving my head faster. He buried his fingers in my hair, not pushing, just following the rhythm I set.

—That’s it, brunette, that’s it —he panted through clenched teeth—, suck me like that.

I obeyed. I shoved his cock in and out of my mouth hungrily, saliva running down the sides of my mouth, spitting on his dick and sucking him again. I could feel him swelling between my lips, feel my hips starting to move forward, wanting him deeper. Watching him lose control like that, silent so as not to give us away, eyes closed and head thrown back against the stone, made me even hotter. I slipped one hand inside my leggings without stopping sucking him and touched my clit with two fingers, circling fast, moaning around his cock.

When he was on the edge he lifted me by the shoulders. Almost desperately.

—Wait, wait, you’re going to make me come —he said—, and not yet.

He took a condom out of the backpack and put it on with slightly clumsy hands while I laughed softly from nerves and pulled off my leggings along with my panties, leaving them hanging from one ankle. I stood bare from the waist down, with the moon beating down full on my ass and the cold raising gooseflesh over every inch of skin. He turned me carefully, pressed me against the broad rock, and made me spread my legs with his knee.

He touched me first. He slid two fingers inside me, all the way in, and let out an “uff” that made me smile against the stone.

—You’re a lake, babe.

—It’s your fault —I shot back, pushing my ass back so he’d give me more.

He moved them inside me, in and out, making those wet sounds that sounded obscene in the middle of the mountain silence. With his thumb he found my clit and pressed it slowly while he kept fucking me with his fingers. My knees went weak. I had to brace my forearms against the rock so I wouldn’t fall.

—Put it in me —I begged—, don’t make me wait any longer.

He entered me from behind in one thrust. I felt myself open all the way, felt that thick cock fill me up to a place nothing had touched in a long time. He had to cover my mouth with his hand because the moan I let out was too loud for how close the hotel was. He stayed still for a second, buried in me to the balls, breathing against the back of my neck.

—Shut up, crazy girl, they’ll hear us.

I bit his palm in answer. He started fucking me slowly, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the hilt, measuring each thrust, making me feel every inch. One of his hands held my hip and the other circled my chest, grabbing a breast and pinching my nipple every time he drove into me. He found a deep, delicious rhythm that tore moans out of me I tried to swallow and couldn’t always manage.

—Harder —I asked through clenched teeth—, fuck me harder.

He did as I asked. He grabbed both my hips, dug his fingers into my flesh, and started pounding into me in earnest, without care, making his balls slap against my pussy with every thrust. The sound of bodies hitting one another blended with our gasps and the wind rising up from the valley. He pulled out of me completely for a second, made me bend further over the rock, and drove back in from a different angle, lower, hitting that place that makes me see stars.

—There, there, there —I kept repeating—, don’t stop.

I could feel my orgasm coming up from deep in my belly. He let go of my hip with one hand and brought it around front, finding my clit through the wet hair. He started rubbing it while he kept fucking me, and that was it, I couldn’t take any more. I came with my mouth open against the rock, squeezing his cock with the walls of my cunt, trembling all over, trying not to scream and instead letting out muffled moans that came from my chest. I felt myself dripping down the insides of my thighs, felt everything clench around him.

—Holy shit, how tight you are —he panted—, you’re killing me like this.

He didn’t let up. He kept fucking me while I was still coming, taking advantage of my shaking body to drive into me faster. The cold air bristled my skin while he warmed me from the inside. The moon, the lights of the valley below, the scrape of the rock against my hands, the cock driving in and out of me rough and hard: it all mixed into one huge sensation.

—Give me your ass —I asked, biting my lip—. One finger, come on.

He spat into his hand and did it. He slid his thumb into my ass while he kept fucking my pussy, and there I felt another orgasm building on top of the last. I pushed my ass back against his hand and against his cock, fucking him now myself. We stayed like that for a good while, until his body got the better of him. He dug his fingers into my hips, thrust into me three, four times to the hilt, and ended up pressed against my back, stifling his cry against my shoulder, emptying himself inside the condom in spasms I felt all through his belly against my ass.

We stayed there, locked together, breathing hard, until he slowly started to go soft. He pulled out of me slowly and I felt that strange emptiness, that feeling that something is missing that a second ago was too much.

***

We stayed still for a moment, getting our breath back, laughing under our breaths at what we’d just done. He took the condom off carefully, tied it off, and put it in a handkerchief inside the backpack. Then we straightened our clothes amid little touches and brief kisses, like two accomplices coming back from a prank. I pulled my panties and leggings back up, feeling myself drip between my legs, my cunt still throbbing.

—That was so good —I told him, still breathless.

—Very —he answered, with a smile that clearly wasn’t going away anytime soon—. You’re fire, brunette.

—Well —I said, fixing my hair—. I have to get back.

—Come on, I’ll walk you.

He put the empty cans in the backpack, took my hand, and we started carefully down off the rocks, helping each other on the steepest stretches just as we had on the way up. We barely talked on the way down. There was no need. When we reached the lobby he let go of my hand, looked at me one last time, and disappeared toward the staff area.

I went up to the room on tiptoe. My companion was still sleeping just as he had been when I left, unaware of a thing. I got under the sheets with my body still vibrating, my cunt swollen and my panties soaked, and my head full of images I knew I would keep forever.

The next day we left the town. At lunch Lucas served me as if nothing had happened, with his professional waiter’s smile, and only when he took away the last plate did he give me a quick wink that no one else saw. I never went back to that inn and never heard from him again. But every so often, when I see a big moon outlined over some hills, I go back to that night on the rocks, to that cock driving me into the stone, to that improvised, reckless adventure on a getaway that was for two and ended up being, in secret, completely mine.