The Night I Took a Bar Customer to My Bed

I had just finished my degree. After five years, I had passed my last exam and was finally a graduate in Art History from the University of Valencia. I had an entire summer ahead of me, with no exams and no schedules, and I was desperate to breathe before I started worrying about my future.

The problem was money. There was never any extra in my house, so throughout university I had made ends meet cleaning apartment buildings, babysitting, and, above all, serving drinks. I knew that, no matter how much I wanted to rest, I needed to save something for the first few months after summer. So I decided to look for a job that would at least leave me a few nights free.

My best friend, Bea, had inherited an apartment in Peñíscola, right on the Castellón coast. One weekend in June I went down to visit her, and we went out to dinner and for drinks at a place on the promenade. There I ran into an old university classmate who worked there as a waiter. We chatted for a good while and, since there weren’t many customers yet, he introduced us to his boss.

The man was called Dani, he owned the bar, and he turned out to be charming. He sat us at a quiet table, bought us the first round, and when I told him I was looking for something for the summer, he didn’t hesitate for a second.

—I need people from Thursday to Sunday —he told me—. The busy nights. If you’re interested, the job is yours.

—Let me think about it —I replied.

—You’ve got until closing tonight —he said with a smile, and went back to the bar.

Bea pushed me all night. That I should accept, that I should stay in her apartment, that it was almost always empty in summer, so I’d save on accommodation. She was right about everything. Before we left, I told Dani I’d start that same week.

***

The first Thursday I showed up looking put together but not overdone: jeans, a white shirt, low wedge heels and little makeup. Why more, if the beach sun had already given me a nice color? Dani was happy to see me. He confessed he’d been afraid I’d changed my mind at the last minute.

It was a quiet night, all things considered. Lots of work, but no scares. I got along well with the DJ and one of the girls at the bar. We closed at 4:30 and, although some coworkers kept the party going at a nightclub, I was exhausted and preferred to go home to sleep. From the bar to the apartment it was barely five hundred meters, a short walk.

I was already holding the key in my hand when a calm voice spoke to me from behind.

—Good evening, Nora.

I turned around, startled. I didn’t recognize anyone. In front of me was a dark-haired man with short hair, very tall, one of those men who make you lift your chin to look at them. I had never seen him in my life.

—Hi? —I said, that was all.

—Don’t you remember me?

—Should I?

—It’s normal that you don’t. There were a lot of people in the bar.

—Sorry… and how do you know my name?

—I heard your coworker call you. I remembered the detail, sorry.

—Well, nice to meet you then. And you are…?

—Hugo. And please don’t call me usted.

—It’s a habit. Besides…

—I know, I know, age —he laughed—. You’re very young, aren’t you?

—I’m twenty-three.

—Exactly what I said.

—And you?

—I’ve got too many already.

—Come on, honestly. How many?

—Forty-four.

—That’s not so many —I said, and I don’t know why I said it.

We said goodbye in the entrance. I went upstairs, took my makeup off and collapsed in a matter of minutes. I didn’t even think about him until the following night.

***

Hugo came back to the bar, as he’d promised. This time he didn’t go unnoticed. We said hello, joked about the encounter the night before, and he asked me for a drink. I had to tend to other customers and couldn’t get back to him until a couple of hours later, when he took the opportunity to unload almost in monologue form.

—Look, Nora, I’m from Albacete. I’m only here because I just got divorced and I need not to think, you know? I have two kids and their mother won’t let me see them for another two weeks. At least here I can switch off a bit.

—Wow… I’m sorry.

—I don’t want to ruin your night, I’m just telling you so you don’t think badly of me. I’m a good guy, I swear.

—I haven’t thought badly of you at any point.

—Are you sure?

—Well, last night a little. You gave me a bit of a scare at first —I admitted—. But only that first moment.

—You can trust me. Will you have a drink with me?

—I’m working.

—When you finish, I mean.

—Today I’m meeting up with coworkers. But another day, maybe.

—Tomorrow?

—Let me think about it —I said, giving him back his own line.

—Okay. But don’t think too long.

Friday was packed and I didn’t end up exchanging more than two words with him. When we closed, I went off again with my coworkers to blow off steam. I got home after seven, knowing Saturday would be the hardest night.

***

On Saturday the bar was overflowing from the moment we opened. The bar and terrace were full, with no break in sight. When we finally closed, exhausted and in a bad mood, I realized I hadn’t seen Hugo all night. I said goodbye to my coworkers and headed toward the apartment. It was almost five.

Just before turning onto my street, I saw him come out from among the crowd. He walked toward me and greeted me with a broad smile. I summed up the night for him with a look he understood immediately. We laughed. He asked if I was up for that pending drink. I tried to dodge it with the excuse that I was tired, but he insisted so much that I finally gave in, on the condition that I wouldn’t stay long.

He was genuinely attentive. He paid the nightclub cover, bought me the drink, and talked to me about his divorce in more detail, as if he needed someone to listen to him. His voice broke a couple of times. It moved me. Despite how wrecked I was and how little I’d wanted to agree, the time flew by. When I realized it, it was after six.

—I’ll walk you home —he said.

—It’s really late, go get some sleep.

—I’ll walk you to the entrance and then I’ll be at peace.

I smiled. Hugo was the kind who didn’t give up. We strolled along slowly, laughing at some stupid thing or other. Halfway there he offered me his arm and I took it. Even though it was summer, the early morning was cool and his body gave off warmth.

We got to the entrance. I thanked him for the invitation and the company, and admitted that at first I hadn’t felt like it at all, but that I was glad I’d lost a couple of hours of sleep over a conversation like that. He told me the pleasure had been his.

I turned toward the door. Then he took my arm, firmly but without roughness, and when I turned back I noticed his gaze traveling over me from head to toe, slowly, as if he’d spent the whole night holding himself back.

That night I had gone to work in a short, fitted white dress, a plunging neckline, and thin black heels. No one forced me, but at the bar they valued a good appearance. He looked me in the eyes and said:

—I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you.

I blushed. All I could manage was to say his name.

—Hugo…

—Don’t say anything. It’s what I feel.

—You’re lovely. You’ve really surprised me. In a good way.

I turned back toward the door and he stopped me again, but this time he came closer and kissed me. A soft kiss, almost shy. I can’t say I kissed him back, but I didn’t pull away either. We looked at each other, smiled, and without saying a word, kissed again, this time more slowly. A shiver ran down my back. It felt good. I felt his chest against mine, his breathing, how big he was beside me. Sleep and exhaustion vanished at once.

We parted and, this time, it was me who spoke.

—I know it’s late, but… do you want to come up?

***

He didn’t answer. He wrapped an arm around my waist and we went into the building. I opened the apartment door, switched on the hall light, and we kissed again, this time hungrily. His hands searched for my waist while I rested mine on his shoulders. I led him by the hand to the bedroom.

Hugo was wearing denim shorts, sandals, and a white linen shirt. He had an athletic body, a neatly trimmed beard. Despite the years between us, he seemed like a very attractive man to me.

He kissed me gently while his hands said something else. It didn’t matter where he placed them —my arms, my back, my hips— everything conveyed a contained urgency. I could barely manage to circle his waist; other times I threaded my fingers into the nape of his neck while we kissed.

Little by little, he stopped being gentle. His mouth moved from my lips to my neck, and from my neck to my shoulders. I took a deep breath, letting myself go, feeling every touch raise goosebumps on my skin. His hands moved up to my breasts. I tried to undo the buttons of his shirt, but nerves got the better of me and my fingers wouldn’t obey.

He pulled the bodice of my dress down with a skill that nearly embarrassed me. He took my breasts, kissed them, squeezed them, nibbled them carefully. There was no turning back now, and I didn’t want there to be. I wanted more, and I showed it by kissing his chest and abdomen while I finished taking off his shirt.

He whispered something in my ear. I understood. I knelt down, undid his belt and the button on his shorts, and pulled them down slowly. I took his cock in my hand and started stroking it. I noticed right away how he responded. I ran my tongue over it first and then took it into my mouth, setting an increasingly faster rhythm, until he stopped me with a laugh and a gentle tug on my hair, letting me know that if I kept going like that, he wouldn’t last.

He stripped completely and took off my dress and underwear. When he was about to take my heels off too, he asked me to leave them on. I smiled and fastened them back on. He came close to my neck again, kissed me, bit me, and laid me on the bed, letting his weight fall over me. I felt his hands on my hips and then him entering me: with difficulty at first, and then all the way in. My moans answered every thrust. I dug my nails into his back and begged for more in his ear. I lifted my feet, still in my heels, to rest them on his shoulders so he could get deeper. There was some pain, but above all pleasure, and a first orgasm that left me breathless.

He stopped, lay on his back, and let me get on top. I rode him slowly, my hands on his chest, looking at his half-closed eyes. The more I moved, the more my own arousal rose, and he responded by thrusting from below, with the occasional slap that made me cry out. I slipped off my heels to straddle him and went up and down as fast as I could, until he came so deep that I had to stop suddenly.

I sat up, but he turned me around and put me on all fours. Then he let everything loose: the strongest fucking of the night, thrusts I felt all the way to the core, hair-pulling, slaps that got firmer and firmer. I was so hungry for it that I came two or three more times. I wanted it never to end and, at the same time, for him to finish too. But at one point, sweaty and exhausted, he stopped. He couldn’t finish. He lay on his back, looking at me.

He didn’t need to say anything. I wanted that to end well for both of us. I kissed him and went down over his chest and abdomen. I whispered for him to relax. I stroked him very slowly at first and, little by little, faster. I brought my tongue to him, ran it along him, added my other hand. I offered him my breasts and he took them. Hugo was panting, whispering my name. I didn’t stop. I felt him tense, and finally he came with a rough groan, spilling everything, repeating my name. I didn’t stop until I was sure there was nothing left. I looked up and found him smiling at me. It had been madness, one of those nights you think you’ll remember forever.

***

The first rays of sun were already slipping through the gaps in the blinds. It must have been almost eight. Instead of having been asleep for hours, I was in bed with a man twenty years older than me whom I had met two days earlier. If I thought that summer would bring me some anecdote, this had been the first, and it was going to make things very hard for the rest.

And then, when time seemed frozen and everything was magic and calm, a phone rang. It was Hugo’s mobile, which had been left on in the pocket of his shorts. He moved away from me carefully, looked at the screen, and answered.

—Yes? Tell me.

I didn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but I did make out a woman’s voice. He spoke little. And then Hugo replied:

—Ah, okay, okay… you’re arriving earlier. Don’t worry, darling. I’m coming over and we’ll see each other. See you in a bit. Yes, calm down. I love you.

He tried to come closer to explain something to me. I didn’t let him. There was no need. I understood everything at once: he had lied to me these past few days. The divorce, the loneliness, the children he couldn’t see… or maybe not all of it, but he was certainly not as alone as he had made me believe. I gathered his clothes, put them in his hands, and ordered him to leave and never come near me again. He tried to respond. I didn’t let him. He got dressed in a hurry and left. I locked the door as soon as he closed it behind him.

The first thing I did was cry. I felt deceived, ripped off, made a fool of. Then I got into the shower, trying to wash off that feeling of dirtiness. I lay down on the bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop feeling stupid and, at the same time, as desired as he had made me feel during the night.

I would have to forget him, turn the page, and understand that it wasn’t my fault. I had been kind and trusting, from the heart. It was time to rebuild myself again. But there was still a long summer ahead, and too much life to torment myself over a stranger who didn’t deserve even one more hour of my sleep.