The Night I Ran Off with the Club Bouncer

This story I’m about to tell you happened just a couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday night, at a nightclub in the city where I live. You can call me Sofi. I’m short, I’m about one hundred and fifty-five centimeters tall, and I don’t have that magazine-perfect body some of my friends have. I’m more of a “real” girl, with a bit of a soft roll and a belly that is anything but flat.

Even so, I almost always get noticed. I’d like to say it’s because of my good vibes and my cheerfulness —and I do have those—, but if I’m honest with myself, I know it’s because of my ass, which stands out from far away, and because my best asset is my tits. With even the tiniest neckline, it already looks vulgar. To finish the description: brown hair, slightly wavy.

I’m no saint, I’ve had a pretty wild life, but let me explain. I don’t usually take guys to bed; in fact, until what I’m about to tell you, my history only included two: my first boyfriend, who I lost my virginity to, and my last ex. That said, back in my single days, it was rare for a night out not to end up with me kissing someone.

Some kisses were stupid, the kind that happen because the circle around you is chanting “kiss, kiss!” or because of Truth or Dare. Others were hotter, with hands that dared to wander where they definitely had no business going. But all of that ended when I decided to get into a relationship.

That was actually how I started dating a guy I had kissed on one of those nights. Unlike the rest, he wrote to me the next morning, and unlike how I treated the others who did the same, I gave him a chance. We dated for a while and eventually made the relationship official.

This story isn’t about that ex, but I needed to mention him so it makes sense. Like I said, he’s my ex now. I was never jealous, but when rumors started reaching me that he spent all his time rolling around with his best friend, and he refused to keep his distance because “they were just rumors” and “he’d known her since they were little,” I didn’t put up with it. After several screaming matches, we broke up in the middle of a full-blown scandal.

***

Lucas has been my best friend for years, and he’s the protagonist —and the martyr— of all this. I’m sure he was in love with me even before I got into a relationship, but the truth is I never gave him any encouragement or followed up on any of his attempts. I had him deep in the friend zone: my best friend forever, no chance of anything more. That’s how it was… until that night.

That Saturday, my group of girlfriends and guy friends —Lucas included— decided to go dancing. We’d already had a few drinks and were in our circle when one of the girls shouted in my ear over the music:

—Your unmentionable just walked in.

Goosebumps broke out on my skin and a shiver ran down my spine. The last time we’d spoken, we were screaming at each other, telling each other to go to hell. I couldn’t deny that some part of me still felt something for him, but anger and resentment weighed more. A few minutes passed and I finally spotted him: he stopped near the bar, at the perfect angle to see me.

There was still a little herbal liqueur left in the bottle and, maybe because I was nervous, I finished it in one go straight from the neck. The group started cheering me on, and after making a face at that awful drink, I tried to throw myself back into the party.

I was determined to ignore him, but it was impossible. Every time I looked over, our eyes met, and there was no resentment in his gaze, only a desire to come closer. Proud as I am, I decided to get provocative. I started dancing more freely, more attention-grabbing; when a killer song came on and the girls started shouting, I was the loudest one of all. The perfect stereotype of a club girl.

At one point I looked at my ex again. In the last hour he hadn’t moved a muscle and was still staring straight at me, even smiling. Today, with a clear head, I think his intention was even sweet, but at that moment, with several drinks in me, I took it as a provocation.

I felt heat in my stomach, a nasty, vindictive heat. In my hurt-girl logic, I thought: “he cheated on me with his best friend; I’m going to pay him back with interest.” So, without thinking, I turned around and planted a long, movie-style kiss on Lucas.

The whole group was stunned. Lucas was stunned. And so was my ex, because when I looked back at the bar, he’d already disappeared. The second my lips hit Lucas’s, his reaction was instant: he kissed me back. He grabbed my waist, pressed me to his body, and met my kiss in a way that felt genuinely romantic. I swear I could feel his chest beating harder.

When we pulled apart, I think he understood the kiss had been more about the situation than about genuinely wanting something with him. Even so, although we didn’t kiss again that night, we kept dancing pressed tightly together, and when we left we walked out hand in hand. He walked me home and then left. That was the end of it.

***

During the following week, though, he texted me much more often and even worked up the nerve to toss out the occasional compliment or flirtatious line, I guess testing whether I’d play along. But every attempt ended with me changing the subject or replying with a lazy “lol.”

It was one of my friends’ idea that we go out again that Saturday. The whole group was called together, Lucas included. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but not for the reasons he would’ve liked, but because I didn’t want anything with him and I knew turning him down was going to make me feel bad, even if it was unavoidable. From the pregame on, I couldn’t stop thinking about how to handle him.

From the moment we met up, he started looking for me. At the pregame he sat next to me, on the way to the club he insisted on sharing the same taxi as me, and once inside he wanted to pay my cover charge.

The place was packed. If you took a photo from above, it looked like the game Where’s Waldo? The only good thing was that there were several security guys —bouncers, gorillas, or whatever they’re called where you’re from— spread all over the place, I guess to shut down any mess fast. We ended up right near one of them who, apparently, was friends with one of the girls, because they greeted each other and hugged with a lot of familiarity.

We ordered a bottle, ridiculously expensive by the way, but it was gone in no time. There were enough of us that it didn’t get anyone too drunk, and too few of us to be more than just pleasantly buzzed. I suggested getting another one, but nobody backed me up, so I was left with “thirst,” as the group put it.

Lucas noticed my annoyance right away and, leaning into my ear over the noise, said:

—Let’s go get some drinks, my treat.

Still a little pissed off that I hadn’t had enough, I agreed to go with him to the bar. He bought me a shot of the herbal liqueur and then a signature drink they sold there: a weird mix of chocolate liqueur, rum, something bitter, and who knows what else. Half a liter of dangerous combination.

We went back to the group and started drinking that bomb. By the time we were more than halfway through the glass, both of us were already drunk. And along with my sobriety, Lucas lost his usual nerves and caution.

He came right up to me and started dancing with me. He kept trying to grab my waist or press his body too close to mine, and no matter how many times I moved away, he kept coming back. I expected someone in the group to tell him to stop being so clingy, but everyone looked the other way.

***

What I did next is not something I’m proud of. He wasn’t getting that I wanted nothing from him; I don’t know what went through his head, but he took the chance and tried to steal a kiss from me, a kiss I dodged with the classic cobra move. When I saw nobody reacting, I resorted to extreme measures. I looked around, and the only guy I met eyes with was the security guy my friend had greeted.

In my drunken head it seemed like a good idea to go over and flirt with him a little, just enough for Lucas to stop bothering me. I walked up and, almost without a filter, started talking to him.

—Hi —I said, smiling and looking up, because he towered over me by almost a head.

—Hi —he replied, slightly confused, raising his eyebrows.

—My name’s Sofi, and you? —I asked like a curious little girl.

—Uh… Bruno —he said, scratching the back of his neck—. Everything okay?

—Everything’s fine —I answered quickly—. Well… now that I’m talking to you, even better.

He let out a small laugh, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

—Do you always walk up to strangers like this? —he asked, still smiling.

—Only the ones who seem interesting —I answered, emboldened by the alcohol.

—And that earns points? —he teased.

—Depends on what kind of interesting you are —I told him, looking him up and down without hiding it.

Bruno shook his head, amused.

—I have to admit I didn’t expect this today. Usually people just ask me to let them through, and inside I’m almost always invisible.

—Then consider me an exception —I replied—. Besides, you seem way too serious for this place.

—Me, serious? —he laughed—. Maybe a little. And are you always this direct?

—Only when someone I like gives me a good vibe —I said, moving a little closer.

—So you like me?

There was a brief silence. The music seeped in from inside, and he lowered his head so he’d be closer to my face.

—I think so —I said softly—. Quite a bit.

—Then we’re doing well —he said with a smile.

Bruno held my gaze a second too long. He didn’t look confused anymore, more attentive, like he was trying to figure me out. For a moment I felt everything around us go a little quiet.

I took a small step forward, closing the distance without thinking. He lowered his head to my height.

—You’re taller than I thought —I murmured.

—And you’re closer than I expected —he replied, not pulling away.

I tilted my head toward him slightly, almost without realizing it. It was a tiny gesture, but enough. Bruno leaned in slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to break the moment. We kissed. A brief, intimate touch, loaded with everything we hadn’t said. When we pulled apart, we were still very close, smiling in silence.

For a second I felt like everything else disappeared, but when I came back to reality I turned to see what I’d caused. My friends were looking at me with knowing smiles, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. The only one staring me down was Lucas. He didn’t blink. The corner of his mouth dipped slightly, as if he were trying to smile by reflex and couldn’t. His face mixed surprise, pain, and bitter resignation.

My cheeks burned. I didn’t know what I’d just done. Nervous, almost hurried, I blurted out to Bruno:

—I’m going to the bathroom.

And I practically ran off there.

***

I went in, splashed my face with water, and looked at myself in the mirror. I seemed to have sobered up a little, because I could already make out the guilt over what I had probably just destroyed in my best friend. I splashed my face again before walking out.

The second I stepped out, I saw Bruno had followed me. He was standing right there, directly in front of me.

For some reason, knowing he’d followed me and was paying attention to me felt tender and, at the same time, lit me up from the inside. I looked to the sides, checking that there were no familiar faces or another security guy who might call him out. When I saw the coast was clear, I walked up and, without a word, kissed him.

The kiss was warm and intense. His tongue began exploring my mouth, and his heavy hands grabbed my waist, pressing me against his body. I wanted it to escalate, for him to slide his hands down to my ass and squeeze me the way some guy at some party had once done. But no. Bruno only held me by the waist.

—Let’s go somewhere private —I suggested, almost shouting.

—I can’t —he said, resigned—. If I walk out the door or they see me leave, at best they dock my night’s pay; at worst, I get fired.

I pouted like a little girl being denied something. When I lowered my gaze and saw his pants, I confirmed he’d had a pretty obvious effect, which clearly meant he did want to come with me.

—Are you sure you don’t want to sneak off? —I insisted, brushing that part of his pants with the tips of my fingers.

—Uh… you’re bad —he said with a nervous smile.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if looking for a way out. In the end he gave in.

—Okay, come on —he said, taking my hand and leading me down a corridor behind the bathrooms.

There were some stairs I’d never seen before. We went up and reached a room he opened with a key to let me in. The second we stepped inside, the roar of the music cut off all at once; the walls were thick enough to block the sound.

—What is this place? —I asked.

—This is where the manager comes to do accounts or paperwork. We also use it when someone is too drunk to be thrown outside safely; we leave them here until they sober up or the party ends.

It was a medium-sized room, neither small nor big. It had a desk and, across from it, some black leather sofas facing a TV showing the club’s cameras. I got curious and walked over to look. There was my group: some chatting, others dancing with full glasses. Among them, Lucas. He looked annoyed, standing still and staring at his phone.

Before guilt could catch up with me, I felt Bruno come up behind me and wrap his arms around me, pressing his body to mine.

***

Feeling the heat of that tall, muscular man lit me up all over again. I leaned my body back to feel his chest, his well-built arms, and the bulge in his pants was completely obvious, pressed right against my ass. I turned around and went at that face again, not wasting a second before starting to kiss him in a dirtier way now. Our tongues clashed while I stroked those gym-hardened arms of his. He didn’t fall behind: his hands went straight to kneading my ass, squeezing it without shame.

—Do you like touching my ass? —I asked flirtatiously.

—I love touching you —he said, leaving behind the shyness from a little earlier.

—Want to touch it more?

—I’m going to touch it, eat it, and break you tonight —he let out in the most wicked way.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Every second he kept squeezing me harder, and as if every squeeze were acting like a pump, the bulge in his pants kept growing and growing. I broke the kiss and gave him a knowing smile for what was about to happen. I dropped to my knees in front of him; with the bulge at face level, I confirmed it was a mountain the size I’d imagined for a man that big. With both hands I pulled down his pants, and that piece of flesh that had pressed against my body so many times sprang free in one tug.

I took him into my mouth and pulled off almost immediately, only to take him in again, this time not just the tip but part of the shaft; out, repeat, taking in a few more centimeters each time. I kept going like that until it wasn’t just the head anymore but a good part of him. Every so often I looked up and saw him mesmerized, watching me suck him. My ex used to tell me that looking at him while I did it made me look really sexy, and it became something mechanical, a technique to make him enjoy it more. As a kind of personal challenge, I tried to take him as deep as possible, feeling the brush at the start of my throat.

—Do you like it, Bruno? —I asked with the sweetest voice I could manage.

—I love it, I love it —he answered, almost gone.

I could’ve kept going, but down below I felt desperate heat and needed him to take matters into his own hands. I stood up and pushed him onto the sofa, sitting astride him, facing him, to plant a kiss on him that he immediately returned. Something my ex hated was that after I sucked him, I’d give him a kiss; I always thought that was a dumb thing to get upset about, but to avoid a fight I kept quiet. Bruno, the opposite: the moment I leaned in, he shoved his whole tongue into my mouth. He held my body and, as if I weighed nothing, laid me back on the sofa. With one hard tug he pulled off my tight pants, leaving my legs bare and my parts barely covered by my thong. He smiled and dove toward my stomach.

He started leaving a trail of kisses, licks, and soft bites that went from my navel to the inner thigh, back to my navel, and down the other leg. A rhythmic motion he repeated three or four times. It drove me insane: I wanted to grab his head and shove it between my legs, but something told me to let him keep going at his own pace. The arousal only grew. And so it went: after finishing the circuit, he buried his face right in the center, not caring about the fabric in the way. He alternated between sucking in hard breaths through his nose, as if he wanted to inhale my scent completely, and then licking like a dog drinking water. Even though his tongue wasn’t touching me directly, the trails of saliva he left on the fabric began to seep through, creating those indirect rubs.

—Oh, yes, oh, uff —by then the room was nothing but the lyrics of moans.

But when he pulled back and carefully slid my thong down to my knees to give me a lick from end to end, I let out a sigh that released all the heat I’d been holding in. I felt my legs tremble, my ass clench, my hands grabbing onto whatever they could on the sofa. He spent a few seconds lapping at me, until he lifted my right leg onto his shoulder, making room to bury his face more comfortably —and I’d swear deeper— against me. Sometimes he traced my whole length, sometimes he focused on pushing his tongue inside; a spectacle of sensations. I couldn’t stop moaning.

He pulled back, and the only image in my head was him full of me all over his mouth and cheeks. I raised my head thinking he was going to come up to my level for another kiss. But only part of my idea was true: he did come up, yes, with my leg still hooked over his shoulder, until I felt the tip of his member touch my entrance. The contact made me jerk in surprise, which brought a smile to his face, and to mine too. We looked at each other for a few seconds before he broke the silence.

—Do you want me to…?

—Want you to what? —I asked, pushing him to finish the sentence.

—Do you want me to do it?

His shyness made me melt a little, and it was funny considering we were both half-naked.

—I want you to fuck me —I whispered, looking him in the eyes.

We sank into a kiss, and while I felt his heat and his tongue playing with mine, his member began to push, making its way inside me. I couldn’t tear myself away from the kiss; as he entered me, I stopped thinking about what was happening with our mouths, until I was only squeezing my eyes shut and moaning against him. Finally I felt his pelvis hit my body: he was all the way in. I couldn’t help smiling, his lips still pressed to mine. When the kiss ended, his gaze traveled over my body until it locked on my entrance, invaded by him, and he started moving, sliding in and out, holding my raised leg with his right hand.

—Ah, ahh —I moaned every time that piece entered me.

He stayed quiet, focused on what he was doing, as if making sure he did it right or simply enjoying the sight of himself disappearing inside me. The back-and-forth started making a particular sound, like when you squeeze something viscous. I was wetter than wet, and he slid in with enormous ease.

—Do you like it? —he asked.

—I love it, I love it —was all I could manage to answer.

At one point he let go of my leg and let it fall onto the sofa’s cold leather. I thought it was because he was tired, but I was wrong again: he came closer, wrapped his arms around me, and, as if I were a rag doll, lifted me up to sit me on top of him. I ended up over his lap, facing him.

—I want you to ride me —he said.

I only smiled, planted my feet on the sofa, one on each side of him, and once I balanced myself, I guided him inside me and started lowering down slowly, like a squat, until I was sitting there with all of him speared inside me. I couldn’t make a sound; my mouth was wide open, I don’t know if from the shock or the pleasure of feeling him all the way in. But that expression changed when he grabbed my face with both hands and pulled me toward him to sink into another kiss. I couldn’t keep my posture: my legs were shaking and I let myself sink to my knees, still impaled. I started moving forward and back, rubbing against his body while he brushed my walls inside.

—Ahh, ahh —I couldn’t help moaning.

Meanwhile, he alternated his hands between playing with my ass and moving forward to knead my tits. At one point I stopped the rocking and started taking short thrusts, little hops that made it so each time I let myself drop, he drove a little deeper inside.

—I’m coming, I’m coming —Bruno started moaning.

The logical thing would have been to pull out and let him finish wherever, but I was too hot, I couldn’t stop. I felt an explosion inside me, almost at the same time as I came. My whole body started to vibrate, an electric jolt from head to toe, and I don’t know if that did something to Bruno, because the moment that sensation left my body, a hot liquid started flooding me from inside.

It was the first time I had let someone finish inside me. I was always paranoid about pregnancy, so my partners used condoms or pulled out. But that night, with someone I’d met only a couple of hours earlier, someone who wasn’t my partner, I’d let him come inside me. And to my own surprise, I didn’t regret a single thing.