The Wedding Nymph Left Me Her Number on My Skin

“If you do what I tell you, you’ll go far, boy. I started out like you, and look at me now, I’ve made it in life.” Mateo kept repeating his boss’s mantra to himself while wrestling with the cases of the insanely expensive equipment. Bullshit. A slave to the most despicable kind of man in the universe — that was what he had become.

It was past midnight, and exhaustion, apathy, and rage were mixing into a bitter cocktail. While that old lech flitted around like a vulture trying to chat up drunk spinsters, he kept gathering, sorting, and loading every last piece of gear for the wedding shoot into the van.

—Get in already, for fuck’s sake! —he protested, struggling with a stubborn spotlight that wouldn’t fit into its case.

He shoved so hard the glass cracked. The crunch warned him that everything he’d earned that day had just vanished: he’d have to replace it out of his own pocket.

After a year dragging loads around and putting up with his idiot boss, he was the embodiment of demotivation. At twenty-three, nothing was left of the enthusiastic kid who had walked into the city’s most prestigious studio. The pay was shit, but they had promised he’d learn the trade from one of the best photographers in the country. Instead, he had become the pack mule for a photographer of expensive weddings: upper-class guests, lots of luxury, and in the end, weddings and nothing more.

—Let’s hope we get lucky and can get the hell out of this place soon —he muttered.

He knew that was asking too much. His boss used his good looks and the drunkenness of the female guests to take one of them to bed, or to any half-hidden corner where he could mount his fling for the night.

After several back-and-forths, Mateo sat down in a secluded corner of the garden, next to a fountain. He reached into the pocket of his cheap suit for a small plastic bag and, with his headphones on and his favorite music playing, rolled himself a marijuana cigarette. The first hit calmed him right away. He took off his shoes, sank his feet into the damp grass, and the sea breeze did the rest. Through the smoke, he started checking his personal camera, the one he used however he pleased.

He was so absorbed in his own world that he only noticed her when she sat down beside him, slipped off her heels, and massaged her feet with a sigh of relief.

—Ugh, what torture. They’re gorgeous, but so uncomfortable —she said in a sweet voice.

Mateo startled. If the boss caught him smoking that, he wouldn’t just pay for the broken spotlight: he’d be fired on the spot. He pretended to stand up and throw the joint away, but she put a hand on his thigh and stopped him.

—Don’t throw it away. I don’t mind, really. Smoke it спокойно.

The dim light of the lanterns didn’t let her beauty show through, but he didn’t need light. He had spent the whole afternoon secretly photographing her and knew every inch of her body: dark hair, clear eyes, a little turned-up nose, long legs. A young, devastating woman.

—Want some? —he offered, holding out the joint, seeking complicity.

—No, I don’t smoke, but thanks. My name’s Nadia. You’re Mateo, right? We met the day I came to the studio with my cousin and the organizer.

—You remember my name? —he said, surprised—. Wow, what a memory. Your cousin has spent the whole day calling me by a hundred different names. “David, take a photo of me with Aunt Mercedes. Diego, now with my friends.”

—She’s an idiot —Nadia said, rubbing her foot—. And a slut. I saw her back there fooling around with your boss.

—Yeah —Mateo replied, unsurprised. Brides were that maniac’s favorite prey. The newlywed had come by the studio a dozen times, and the moans coming out of the office were definitely not from a work meeting.

—It’s normal for her to cheat on that fool, but… on the very day of the wedding! That’s over the top, even for her.

—Yeah.

—You don’t talk much, do you? —Nadia laughed.

He shrugged. He had never been good with words, and less so with women that beautiful. He preferred to listen to them and, like a good photographer, read the nuances in their gestures.

—What are you listening to? —she put one of the headphones on and her face lit up—. I love this band! They’re my favorite.

—Really? —he said, brightening.

To prove it, she started humming the chorus under her breath. And Mateo, whether because of the joint, her voice, or the hand that kept stroking his thigh, got hotter by the minute. He tried to pull away from the touch, but she persisted, intensifying that seemingly innocent caress.

—I wish the fountain weren’t so small —Nadia murmured—. If it were bigger, I’d get in with my dress on and all. I’m burning up… from the heat, I mean.

—Fuck it! —she exclaimed suddenly, tossing her heels into the water—. I’m sick of suffering for nothing. This wedding is a drag full of old men. And I don’t mean you —she hurried to clarify—, I mean those slimeballs in there.

—Yeah.

—One of them put his hands on me —she said angrily—. The groom’s father. In front of everyone. He sat me on his lap like I was a kid, touched me, and my fucking father, instead of saying something, was laughing. He still sees me as a little girl.

—What bastards.

***

They talked a while longer. She told him that her best friend, Bruno, was “a charming pervert” who, back at university, was always chasing girls with his camera, but who treated her like a queen without ever touching her. Mateo didn’t know whether that sounded sweet or sad.

—Sometimes I wish he’d do those things to me —Nadia confessed, honestly—. But I’d rather not risk our friendship. —She looked at him sidelong—. You could do them to me, though. The photos, I mean. You’re a great photographer.

The problem was that she already had them. She took the camera from his hands before he could stop her and started scrolling through the images. There were dozens of photos of her: the fitted white dress, the melancholy gaze, cut off from the rest’s joy. And then the others appeared. The ones that showed, from an impossible angle and with the sharpness of a good lens, that she wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt that night.

Mateo froze, wishing the earth would swallow him whole.

—This morning, in front of the hotel mirror, I saw my underwear showing through the dress —she said without anger—, so I took it off. I thought nobody would notice.

—I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll delete them right now.

—Delete them? Why? Do I look ugly to you?

—Ugly? You’re a goddess —he blurted, and instantly flushed, unable to believe those words had come out of his mouth.

Nadia smiled, delighted.

—Keep them. Seriously. But promise me they’ll be only for you.

—O-of course. No question.

—You know what? —she said, teasingly, standing up—. There’s a grotto at the end of that path. An old Roman bath with a waterfall. You have the key, right? Take me. I want you to take real photos of me.

***

She dragged him by the hand along the barely marked path. The moon, a good voyeur, lent them its light. A few minutes later, what looked like the mouth of a cave turned out to be a glass door set into the rock. Mateo flipped the switches and several spotlights tore the darkness apart. Nadia gasped: a large, warm, humid cavern, with a waterfall falling into a small lake crossed by a wooden walkway.

—This is incredible —she whispered—. And my cousin didn’t want to take photos here. Besides being a slut, she’s stupid.

She imagined herself crossing that walkway barefoot, the wild water behind her. She was so mesmerized she didn’t notice that she was already being photographed.

—I couldn’t help myself. You’re gorgeous —Mateo said between shots—. You look like an angel in that dress. All you’re missing are wings.

She felt important to that attractive boy, and that turned her on. She posed, flirted, moved with a fresh, uninhibited sensuality. At one point, one of the straps slid down her shoulder and revealed the beginning of a breast. She made no move to cover up.

—Is this okay? —she asked, sweetly.

—Yes —he swallowed.

Shot by shot, the dress gave way. Soon she was standing in front of the camera with her torso bare, her small breasts topped by two hard little nipples, the fabric balancing on her hips.

—Do you like them? They’re a bit small, aren’t they?

—They’re incredible.

Nadia could hardly contain herself. The dress fell to her ankles and, with her modesty finally defeated, Mateo went to town: up close, from far away, with the waterfall in the background. She received each shot with a smile that never faded, happy to be the object of that boy’s devotion. When she noticed the hard bulge under his pants, color rushed to her cheeks. She was turned on, but didn’t know how to take the next step: in her previous relationships it had always been the guy who set the pace, and this one was too shy. So she decided to push things.

—I like playing kitty —she said, kneeling and arching her back like a feline—. With a friend, we play that game. I’m his obedient kitty and he’s my master. He gives the orders, I obey. —She rubbed her cheek against his leg—. Want to be my master tonight? If you are… you can do whatever you want to me.

She curved her hips until her sex was visible to the lens. The flash lit up the grotto in intermittent bursts.

—Will you be my master, please? —she begged, sliding two fingers inside herself to part open.

—Yes, Nadia.

—Yes, kitty —she corrected him.

—Yes, kitty —he repeated, dutifully—. Touch yourself. Masturbate.

—Meow! —she meowed, and obeyed.

She pressed her face to the ground so her master wouldn’t miss a detail. She sank her fingers all the way in, spread them when he ordered, let a transparent thread fall that joined the water on the floor. Hoarse sounds came from her throat, a purr more animal than human. So enraptured was she that it took her a while to notice that a third finger, not her own, was exploring her inside clumsily but much more deeply.

—Do you want to do it, my master?

—Yes.

—Meow! —she gave him free rein.

Mateo’s fingers went in and out while she writhed with pleasure. Keeping hold of the camera, he shot with his free hand. When he tried to slip in a third finger, Nadia jumped, and he yanked them out at once as if electrocuted.

—Sorry! Did I hurt you?

—No, no. Keep going, master. Do whatever you want with me.

She grabbed his hand and guided it back. She herself fucked his fingers with thrusts of her hips until they were buried all the way in. She didn’t stop until the contractions of a brutal orgasm left her trembling, lying on her back, shamelessly showing him the result so he could immortalize it. Mateo did, with a burst of photos, although the hardness under his pants made every movement difficult.

—And my reward, master? —she purred, returning to her feline pose—. Good kitties, their masters give them their milk.

She crawled closer and rubbed her face against the bulge in his pants.

—Can I have your milk, my master?

He could only nod, throat tight. That was enough for Nadia. It took both her hands and his help to free that cock, and when she had it in front of her she made no effort to hide her admiration.

—Jesus. I’d never seen one like this.

She started with the testicles, giving them quick little kitty licks before taking the tip into her lush lips. Mateo was in heaven: it was almost the first time anyone had ever done anything like that to him. He had to grit his teeth not to come right away.

—Look at the camera and smile, kitty.

—Meow! —she obeyed, without stopping sucking.

Desperate to hold out, he asked her to use her breasts too. She trapped the cock between her tits while the tip of her tongue played with the head. Mateo’s hand was trembling, but he kept shooting until he couldn’t take it anymore. At the last second he pulled away and came on her face. The amount was such that it closed one eye and painted her cheek, though most of it landed in her open mouth.

—Wait, don’t swallow it yet.

Nadia obeyed, opened her throat toward the camera that kept working, and only when he allowed her to did she swallow.

—Meow! —she meowed, pleased with her feat.

By then, Mateo realized he hadn’t lost his hard-on.

—On all fours, kitty.

She took the position without stopping her purr, arching her back. He moved behind her and entered her in one thrust, gripping her hips. Then he stayed still, his whole cock inside. Only when Nadia received a loud slap on the ass did she understand what was expected of her.

—Move, kitty.

—Meow! —she lifted herself just enough to start the back-and-forth that took her to heaven.

When she turned her head, she understood why he wasn’t helping her: he had the camera in his hands again, focusing on the most intimate part of all this. That turned her on even more. She drove her body to the limit, taking him in and out a thousand times, until she felt the hot spurts bursting against her walls and multiplying her own contractions by a thousand.

Exhausted, they lay on their backs over the rock.

—Wow —he exclaimed, spent.

—Better “meow” —she laughed.

—Yeah. Right. Meow.

They slipped under the warm waterfall and ate each other’s mouths for a good while. Afterwards, out of the water, they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, defeated by exhaustion.

***

—Hey, you, asshole! —a rough voice woke him.

Mateo took a while to orient himself. The person beside him was no longer Nadia, but a gruff, big-shouldered man with a huge mustache.

—Get dressed and get the fuck out, Romeo! If the supervisor catches you, she’ll rip your balls off. How the hell did you get in here?

—I… had the key. I’m the photographer’s assistant.

—Bring it here! I knew I hadn’t lost it. Damn boss. —The man softened his tone—. Don’t go looking for her, kid. Your Juliet left a while ago. I saw her leave, that’s how I knew someone had sneaked in. She looked satisfied, heh heh. And very pretty, the little bitch. Too much for you. Take my advice, forget her. She left in a ridiculously expensive car. Oh, and by the way… she was carrying a huge camera in her hand.

Mateo searched through his clothes, disbelieving. She had taken the camera, all the photos, everything. Good thing that guard let him go without calling his boss. He left at dawn with empty hands and a heart halfway between rage and a smile.

It was when he took out his phone that he found the only thing she had wanted to leave him: one last photo he didn’t remember taking. It was a phone number, written in red lipstick across two small, perfect breasts. A number he knew, in that instant, he would be calling very soon.