The Night I Introduced My Friend to My Client

My name is Marcos, and I live in Barcelona. I work as a private bodyguard, which sounds more glamorous than it is: long hours of waiting, a lot of silence, and very few true friends. Carla is one of those few friendships. She’s intelligent, funny, with a dark, sarcastic sense of humor that few people know how to understand, and a frankness that can sometimes be uncomfortable. When I met her, her way of being completely disarmed me.

I’m not ashamed to admit that for a long time I was interested in her in a different way. But time passed, that feeling turned into enormous affection, and we learned to love each other without expecting anything more. She lives far away, in another city, tied to a family that needs her, so we would go long stretches without speaking. It didn’t matter: when we resumed the conversation, it was as if we had never stopped.

For years I invited her to come visit me, and for years she told me she couldn’t. That’s why, when she suddenly wrote to tell me she had two days off, my heart gave a leap. At last I was going to be able to hug her. And, of course, that very night I had a business dinner with Viktor, a businessman I had been providing services to for years and whom I couldn’t leave in the lurch.

I didn’t want to give up either plan, so I combined them. I wrote to her.

—I’m so happy you’re coming. But I have a business dinner at a luxury hotel. If you get here in time, pack an evening dress in your suitcase.

—For the one day we’re getting together, are you going to use me to show off? —she replied, and I could almost hear her laughing.

—You’re going to have a great time; the restaurant is incredible. What time do you arrive?

—At Sants around noon. And I’m going back at eight the next day, from the same station.

—Perfect, I’ll pick you up.

Then I called Viktor to let him know there would be three of us, because a good friend was visiting and I wasn’t going to leave her alone in the city. He agreed without raising a single objection.

I prepared the house for her arrival. I’ve never been untidy, but the guest rooms had been somewhat neglected, so I changed the sheets, aired them out, and left clean towels. I wanted her to be comfortable, as if she were in her own home.

The day arrived, and I was more nervous than I wanted to admit. I showed up at the station at eleven thirty, because I always like to arrive early. The train was delayed, of course, but at exactly one I saw her come through the door. She looked wonderful. Her dark-brown hair brushed her shoulders; she was wearing a sweater, jeans, and sneakers, and dragging a small suitcase. I stood up, found myself face-to-face with her, and gave her a long hug and two kisses.

On the way to the car, we ranted about the chaos of the trains and, in passing, the entire country. I kept telling her how happy I was to have her there. I had reserved a table at an eatery famous for its ham-topped broken eggs, and since we had a reservation, we didn’t wait at all. We ate while talking about our favorite subject, politics and society, coldly pointing out every problem surrounding us. Lunch stretched on until we decided to return to the apartment.

I offered her the two guest rooms, and she chose one at random. I left her suitcase on the bed.

—Make yourself at home, do whatever you want —I told her—. Tonight we have the dinner I told you about, but there’s plenty of time. Get comfortable.

I took off my shoes and dropped onto the sofa. After a while, she appeared in gray pajamas and socks, sat beside me, and we put on a movie we never watched because we continued the conversation where we had left it. I enjoyed her company more than almost anything: the biting way she approached every subject, her clear ideas, her well-constructed opinions. Time slipped through our fingers and, suddenly, it was time to get ready.

—You have a bathroom in your room, if you want to shower —I told her—. I’m going to change.

—See you in a bit.

I showered, put on cologne, and wrestled with my long, curly hair for quite a while. I put on a custom-made black suit, a black silk shirt, and a wine-colored tie. Before leaving, I went into the study, opened the safe, and took out my pistol; I placed it in its holster, on the right side of my trousers. Once I was ready, I remained standing in the living room, waiting for her.

When she appeared in the hallway, I was speechless. Her hair was perfectly styled, her natural face free of a speck of makeup, with small, elegant silver earrings. She was wearing a simple black dress that outlined her figure and fell just above her knees, contrasting with her pale skin. A long silver pendant broke up the black, and closed-toe heels completed the outfit. She was as elegant as she was sensual. I stood there, mesmerized by her.

—Your eyes are going to fall out —she said, laughing.

—Come on, let’s go.

We arrived at a hotel overflowing with luxury in every corner. We went straight to the restaurant, where the maître d’ greeted us.

—Good evening, I’m Marcos, and this is my companion. We have a table with Mr. Viktor.

—Of course. Follow me.

He led us to a private dining room with a huge table, pulled out our chairs, and left, saying that Mr. Viktor would be arriving shortly. We ordered drinks and sat there, quietly laughing about the people we had encountered in the lobby. Soon afterward, the waiter also brought two bottles of reserve Cabernet that Viktor had chosen in advance.

—Good evening, sorry I’m late —Viktor said as he entered—. A video conference ran long.

—No problem, we were fine. Let me introduce you to Carla, a good friend who’s visiting.

—It’s a pleasure to meet you.

—The pleasure is mine.

Viktor took her hand and left a delicate kiss on her knuckles. We sat down, and he began talking to me about business: he was planning to expand his company into mining operations in Africa and needed a bodyguard service. We discussed details, difficulties, and figures. He brought Carla into the conversation whenever he could, asking for her opinion, and she answered confidently, always with a slightly biting edge and sometimes a little sharply, as was her way.

When we finished with the professional matters, the conversation loosened up. Carla opened up, speaking freely and answering him boldly. And then I realized that Viktor was looking at her too much. It was normal; she looked gorgeous. What I hadn’t expected was for her to return his gaze with the same intensity. I admit that I loved the situation. Despite his fortune, Viktor was a simple, attractive man, with light-brown hair combed back, deep blue eyes, and an Italian suit that fit him like a glove.

When dinner ended, we moved to the hotel bar for one last drink. Seeing how they sought each other out, I invented an excuse to leave them alone.

—Guys, I’m going to see if I can get a couple of rooms for tonight.

—That would be perfect —Viktor said.

—Whatever you want —she added.

I headed toward reception and kept myself busy chatting with the receptionist. From the corner of my eye, I saw them sitting in two armchairs facing each other, laughing, their legs crossed. At one point his shoe brushed hers; neither of them moved away, and shortly afterward they switched to the double sofa.

***

I know what happened upstairs because Carla told me the next day, with that frankness of hers that knows nothing of embarrassment. And, I confess, she told me in lavish detail.

On the sofa, while they were talking, she rested her hand on his thigh, and he pretended not to react, though he was burning inside. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Viktor said:

—Do you know I’ve been dying to kiss you for a while?

—Then do it —she replied.

He moved closer, placed his hand on her knee, and brushed his lips against hers, barely at first, then in a deep kiss in which their tongues sought each other out. He suggested continuing in his suite, and she simply said yes. Before going upstairs, she wrote to me: “I’m going up to Viktor’s room. If you want, go home.” I didn’t leave.

In the elevator, he slipped an arm around her waist. The suite was enormous. Carla wandered around it inquisitively while Viktor took off his jacket and tie and opened his shirt collar. She eventually let herself fall backward onto the huge bed, her feet and heels dangling over the edge as she stared at the ceiling.

He approached slowly, took off her shoes, and held her feet in his hands. He kissed them with a tenderness she hadn’t expected: her toes, her insteps, moving up her legs until he found her mouth again and kissed her hungrily. He caressed her over the dress while she ran her hands over his shoulders and arms.

Viktor sat up to take off his shirt. His chest was tanned, his muscles defined, his arms strong. He got rid of his trousers too and was left in his underwear, an obvious erection pressing against the fabric. Mischievously, she raised one foot and brushed the bulge with the sole, laughing as she looked him in the eyes. He caught her foot, kissed it, and gently moved it aside, spreading her legs.

He slipped between them and moved upward, kissing her thighs until he reached her underwear, which he kissed through the fabric. He helped her sit up so he could take off her dress, and she lay there wearing only her black lingerie. He fell back onto her mouth. He unfastened her bra and discovered small breasts with rosy nipples, which he caressed with his lips and tongue until he felt them harden. He moved lower, kissing her belly, and slowly slid her panties down her legs. Her pubic mound was shaved, smooth, and hot.

He undressed too and positioned himself between her legs. He ran his tongue between her lips, slowly seeking her clitoris, licking unhurriedly while she moved her hips and caressed his nipples, becoming more and more aroused. Then he rose to his knees, took hold of himself, and rubbed the tip against her clitoris until she, unable to take any more, asked him to penetrate her.

He entered slowly. Carla felt him opening her little by little, each thrust stimulating her inside, her breathing turning into moans. He quickened his pace, lay over her, kissing her mouth and breasts, and she gripped his head tightly to kiss him while he continued moving. Then he stood beside the bed, pulled her toward him by the hips, and thrust into her with greater urgency, her body responding to every stroke. She reached orgasm with a long moan.

But it didn’t end there. He turned her onto her stomach, ran his tongue along her back, following her spine, and penetrated her again from behind. Carla heard his hips striking against her, both of them at the limit, until they came almost at the same time and lay there exhausted, looking at each other.

***

What I did experience was the wait downstairs, in the lobby, pretending it didn’t affect me. When she called me, already in the early hours of the morning, it was to tell me that Viktor had to catch a plane in a couple of hours, that he hadn’t expected any of that to happen, but that he wanted to see her again. Carla got dressed, gave him one last long kiss, and came downstairs with me.

I was waiting for her at the hotel entrance. We got into the car.

—How was your night? —I asked, as if I didn’t know the answer.

—Very good. Very good —she said, with a smile I had never seen on her before.

—I’m glad to see you happy.

And it was true, though not entirely. We returned to the apartment, she went into her room, and I went into mine. After showering, I lay on my bed, thinking about how jealous I was of Viktor and how beautiful Carla had looked that night. The next morning we had breakfast together, laughing about the hotel’s absurd luxury. Then I took her to get something to eat and accompanied her to the train. I gave her a long hug, two kisses, and waited beside her until she boarded. I said goodbye to her with a sadness I still don’t know whether was only a friend’s.