The Night I Took My Roommate to the Rave

It was late October 2018, and the air in Porto already carried that damp chill that gets into your bones after midnight. It had been a month since that first night with Tiago in a basement club in Ribeira, and although I tried to keep my head in my notes and the routine of the shared flat, my thoughts kept returning without permission to that mouth, those hands, the way he had left me wrecked and whole. I was no longer the girl who had arrived from Madrid with a suitcase full of good intentions. Now I wanted more. I wanted to feel overwhelmed again.

My roommate was called Carla. Galician, from a village near Pontevedra. Twenty-two years old, light brown skin, straight black hair down to the middle of her back, huge dark eyes that always seemed on the verge of asking a question. She was slim, almost fragile: narrow waist, long but thin legs, small firm breasts. She always wore loose, dark clothes, as if she wanted the world not to notice her too much. She spoke little. She watched everything. When she laughed, it was softly, almost asking permission, but when she let go—and sometimes she did—something lit up in her gaze that I had never seen in other people. She had just broken up with a high school boyfriend and since then had been in a kind of holding pattern: scrolling Tinder, eyeing guys on the metro, but never making the first move. Until I told her about Tiago.

That night, sitting on the balcony with two bottles of Super Bock between our legs, I spilled the whole confession. How he had fucked me against the sink in the club bathroom, how he had made me tremble against the mirror, how I had felt every hot spurt inside me. Carla listened without blinking, biting her lower lip, cheeks flushed. When I finished, she said very quietly:

—Fuck… I’ve never felt anything like that. I’m jealous.

I looked at her hard.

—Then come with me tonight. There’s a rave in a warehouse in Foz. Dark techno, weird people, until dawn. If Tiago shows up, I’ll introduce you. And if not, we’ll figure it out ourselves.

It took her a while to answer. She was looking at the Douro in the distance, the orange light of the streetlamps reflecting on the water.

—Okay —she said at last—. But don’t leave me alone for too long, yeah?

We got ready in the flat at midnight. I didn’t beat around the bush: black transparent lace bodysuit that left my nipples and belly-ring visible, shredded denim miniskirt that barely covered me, knee-high boots, and eyes lined with purposefully smudged eyeliner. Carla hesitated in front of the wardrobe for a good while. In the end she chose a fitted but discreet black dress, long sleeves and a high neck, falling to mid-thigh. The best part was the back: almost completely bare, showing that perfect brown skin. Low heels, hair loose, gloss on her lips. She looked like the silent version of a girl ready to devour the night without warning anyone.

***

We arrived at the warehouse a little before three. The queue was short but intense: masks, vinyl, piercings, the smell of rolling tobacco and sweat. We crossed the door and the bass hit us in the chest. Industrial techno, kicks massaging your stomach. We moved onto the dance floor. I danced without restraint, arms raised and hips marking every beat. At first Carla stayed a step behind, moving little, taking everything in with wide eyes. But music has its way of loosening you. Little by little she came closer, let herself go, until we ended up dancing pressed together, her thin body against mine, laughing softly.

It wasn’t long before Rafael appeared. Portuguese, long hair tied in a bun, tattoos climbing up his neck, no more than twenty-six. He danced beside me without crowding me, letting me be the one to close the distance. I closed it. Carla stepped away a couple of paces, not leaving entirely, biting her lip.

Rafael took my waist with a warm hand.

—Olá, morena. Danças muito bem.

—You’re not bad yourself —I answered, pressing closer—. Want to dance something else?

He smiled, looking at my mouth.

—Quero tudo.

I whispered in Carla’s ear:

—I’m going off with him for a while. Stay close, okay? If you need me, whistle.

She nodded, nervous, with that mix of fear and wanting to watch. Rafael dragged me behind some plastic curtains toward an area of old sofas. He sat me on one, lifted my skirt, and pulled my panties down slowly, as if opening a gift he’d been waiting for a long time.

—You’re wet… —he murmured, slipping in a finger—. Fuck, wet.

He ate me with hunger. Flat tongue on the clit, two fingers curved and moving inside. I came quickly, clutching his head, moaning into my own arm so I wouldn’t scream. Then he stood and unbuttoned his pants. Thick cock, dark, gleaming. I took it in my mouth and let him fuck my throat slowly at first, then with less patience.

—Swallow, girl. Good girl.

He put me on all fours on the sofa. He went in with one hard thrust. It hurt beautifully. He fucked me hard, holding my hips, marking them with his fingers.

—Do you like it? Tell me.

—Yes… fuck me harder —I panted.

He came inside with a dry grunt. I came out from behind the curtains with weak legs and semen running down the inside of my thigh. Carla was waiting near the bar, a beer in her hand and a look that said she didn’t know what to do with her body.

—Good? —she asked softly.

—Quick and complete —I answered, laughing—. And you?

—I kept staring at that curtain —she admitted, red to the ears—. It made me feel sick to see you come out like that.

***

Around five-thirty, when the party already smelled like dawn but was still pulsing, I saw him. Tiago. In the middle of the dance floor, moving with that animal ease of someone used to never asking permission. Black sleeveless shirt, tattooed arms shining with sweat, dark skin catching the white flashes of the lights. Our eyes met. He smiled sideways, that smile that had already cost me three sleepless weeks.

He came over without rushing.

—Olá, miúda. You came back —he said, voice low and rough from the smoke.

—I couldn’t forget you —I replied, moving toward him—. And I brought company.

He turned to Carla. He looked her over from head to toe, slowly, without hiding it.

—And you are…?

—Carla —she said very softly, not looking away—. The friend.

Tiago’s smile widened.

—Pleasure, Carla. Do you like to dance?

She swallowed.

—A little… yes.

He took her hand with a softness that didn’t fit the rest of him, and mine with the other.

—Come with me. Both of you.

He led us to a dark corner beside some columns. The wall was cold. The smoke was thick. The bass kept pounding in our sternums.

He kissed me first, deep, his tongue running through my mouth as if claiming me. Then he turned to Carla, lifted her chin with two fingers.

—May I? —he asked very quietly.

She nodded, trembling a little. He kissed her slowly, exploratory, giving her time. Carla moaned against his mouth, a tiny sound she hadn’t expected from herself.

Tiago looked at me.

—Take off her dress. I want to see.

Carla let me pull down the zipper. She was left in black thong and matching bra, brown skin trembling beneath the light of a distant red spotlight, her chest rising and falling. Tiago pulled down his zipper and took out that cock I remembered in dreams: long, thick, slightly curved, veined, dark swollen head.

Carla’s eyes went wide.

—Jesus… —she whispered—. That fits in?

—It’ll fit —Tiago said with a soft laugh—. Come here.

I knelt first. I licked him slowly, tasting the salt of the precum. Carla knelt beside me, hesitating for the first few seconds. Then we licked together: tongues brushing around the cock, kissing over the glans, looking each other in the eyes. Tiago growled.

—Fuck… both of you… like that…

Then he pushed me against the wall, lifted one of my legs, and entered me slowly. I moaned louder than I meant to.

—Fuck… again… you split me…

—Easy… you can take everything —he whispered, starting to thrust deep.

Carla came up behind me, kissed my neck, pinched my nipples over the lace. Then she knelt and licked where our bodies joined: my clit, his balls.

—It tastes like both of you —she murmured hoarsely.

Tiago fucked me harder. I came trembling, feeling the orgasm run down my legs all the way to my feet.

***

Then it was her turn. Tiago put her on all fours against a column. He rubbed himself first, coating himself with my juices. He pushed in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, giving her time to breathe.

Carla gasped.

—It’s… too… slow…

—Breathe, girl. You’ll like it —he answered, still not speeding up.

When he was all the way in, she let out a long moan, the kind you don’t rehearse.

—Fuck… it fills me… it fills me completely…

Tiago started moving with a slow rhythm that kept building. I positioned myself in front of him and put my tongue in his mouth while he fucked her. Then I sat on the floor with my back to the column, legs open. Carla ate my pussy while Tiago fucked her from behind. I had never seen my roommate so loose.

—Say you’re mine. Both of you —Tiago growled.

—I’m yours… —Carla panted—. Fuck me… more…

She came squeezing him, trembling, her moans muffled against my sex. Tiago sped up the last thrusts and spilled inside her with a muted roar.

We finished with me. He lifted me, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he fucked me against the wall while Carla, still kneeling, licked from below what was left on his thighs and mine. I came screaming one last time. He came again inside, hot spurts overflowing.

We came out at dawn, the three of us very close together, smelling of sex and dry sweat. We walked along the Douro quay until the sky turned an impossible orange. Carla took my hand. Her voice came out very low.

—Thanks for bringing me.

Tiago looked at both of us.

—Next time at my place. Big bed. No rush.

I smiled, my body sore and full.

—Done.