Two Friends, a Poker Game, and a Night Without Rules

It had been more than a year since we’d gone out with Bruno like in the old days. We both worked impossible shifts and, when our days off happened to line up, one of us would end up sleeping like a log and the other making family plans. That September night, though, he’d insisted for three days straight. Two friends of his, both separated, looking to have a good time. A club downtown. A no-complications plan, according to him.

I adjusted my white shirt in the mirror and ran my fingers through my freshly cut hair. I was thirty-one, with a touch of weariness in my eyes and built-up hunger for something to break the routine. I’m not the kind of guy who goes out to pick up women. I’m bad at the script, bad at the banter. But Bruno had the gift, and I let myself get carried along.

—Come down, Mateo, I’m on the corner —he said over the phone.

—I’m coming out now.

When I got to the building gate, I was in for a surprise. It wasn’t the usual Corsa. Parked against the curb was a freshly washed burgundy pickup, its black rims polished to a shine.

—And this? —I asked as I got in, incredulous.

—Three-year payments, brother —he laughed, putting it into first—. A man deserves nice things after working so much.

—You’re insane. You’ll finish paying it off when you retire.

—That’s Future Bruno’s problem. Right now Bruno is focused on something else: sticking his dick in one of those two friends before sunrise.

—You’re an animal.

—I’m honest. You should be too, let’s see if tonight you finally get laid.

***

We spotted them half a block from the club, standing under a streetlamp as if someone had placed them there on purpose. Daniela wore black leather pants and a burgundy crop top; her hair, straight and very dark, fell over one shoulder. Camila was different: natural blonde, shorter, in a short wine-colored dress and high heels that forced her to walk slowly. Bruno rolled down the window, and the perfume came in before they did.

—All that mystery for nothing, Brunito —Daniela said, leaning against the frame with a sideways smile—. But hey, the truck isn’t bad.

—Get in, girls, this is just beginning.

They settled into the back. In the rearview mirror I looked for Camila’s eyes and found them waiting. It wasn’t exactly a flirty look; more like an appraisal, as if she were weighing whether I was worth it. I dropped my gaze to the dashboard and focused on the traffic light.

***

The club was one of those places where you feel the music before you even get inside. The bass thudded out onto the sidewalk and the line wrapped around the corner. Bruno walked straight in with the kind of ease I never learned, and a bouncer in a suit nodded at him like an old acquaintance.

Inside, the dance floor was a sea of raised arms and blue lights. Bruno planted himself at the bar with Daniela and I stayed with Camila, closer to the DJ. We ordered something with gin and a little lemon, and toasted without saying anything.

—Bruno says you don’t dance —she shouted in my ear.

—Lies. I dance when I feel like it.

—And now?

I took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor. They switched to a Latin beat and I took the opportunity to pull her against me, laying my open palm across her back. Camila let herself be guided. Her hair was short, just above her shoulders, and when she turned she gave off a vanilla scent that threw me off balance. On one turn I felt her ass firm against my groin and I didn’t bother hiding the erection that was starting to grow in my pants. She didn’t pull away either: she pushed her hips back a little more, looking for me.

—I didn’t have that much faith in you —she admitted, laughing against my neck.

—There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.

I spun her, stopped her dead, and held her against me for a second longer than necessary. She didn’t move away. She slid her hand down to brush my bulge with the back of her fingers, as if by accident, and looked me in the eyes.

—I do know one thing —she said softly, and licked my earlobe before turning away again.

***

The problem appeared when we got back to the bar. Bruno had Daniela practically on top of him, talking into her ear, when a man in his forties planted himself in front of them. His shirt was untucked, and his eyes were glazed. It was Fernando, Daniela’s ex-husband. She’d told me about him on the ride over: recent separation, ugly as hell, with a complaint filed and everything.

—So this is where you are? —Fernando said, dragging out the words—. And where’d you leave the kid?

Daniela went pale, but her eyes filled with something that wasn’t fear.

—Fernando, go home. You’re wasted and making a fool of yourself.

—Don’t talk to me like that in front of this clown.

Bruno stood up with the calm I know well. His voice dropped two tones.

—Buddy, you’re either leaving on your own or leaving badly. Choose.

Fernando swung a hand, clumsier than dangerous. I was coming back from the dance floor with Camila and hooked his arm before he could reach Bruno. I twisted it just enough to make him bend. I didn’t want to hurt him; I wanted him to understand.

—Easy there, champ. Breathe and walk outside.

Two bouncers were already beside us. They took him away without drama, dragging him by the elbow. Daniela stood staring at the floor, one hand clutching the edge of the bar.

—Well, well —Bruno said, slipping an arm around her waist—. That’s enough. Show’s over.

She took a few seconds. Then she raised her glass, downed what was left in one gulp, and looked at Bruno as if the whole scene had been the missing ingredient the night needed.

—Thanks —was all she said.

***

By three in the morning the four of us were a wreck on the dance floor, laughing for no reason, stepping on each other’s feet. It was Bruno who suggested it, his mouth against my ear and that boyish grin he gets when he’s just pulled some stunt.

—Let’s ditch the club, go to your apartment.

—Mine? Why mine?

—Because it’s closest. And because the girls already said yes. They’re both hot, man, take advantage of it.

I looked at them. Daniela was hanging off Bruno’s neck; Camila looked back at me with her eyebrows raised, as if asking. I nodded slowly.

My apartment wasn’t a mess, as I told Camila in the elevator. Quite the opposite. I live alone, I’m obsessive about order, and every thing has its exact place. Shirts by color, books lined up, the kitchen without a single stain. As we went up, that started worrying me more than anything else: the mess we were going to leave behind.

—Are you nervous? —she asked, leaning against the elevator mirror.

—Nervous, no. Particular.

She laughed and kissed me without warning. It was a short kiss, lips just barely parted, just enough for me to taste the gin and for her to taste mine. Then she took my hand and brought it down between her legs, over her dress, pressing it there.

—Particular on Tuesday —she murmured—. Tonight I’m interested in something else.

I felt the heat through the fabric, the wetness already obvious, and pressed her with two fingers until she let out a short gasp that echoed in the elevator mirror.

***

I poured four glasses in the kitchen while Bruno turned on the low light in the living room. Daniela had taken off her shoes and was barefoot on the rug, walking with that tired posture that makes everyone look prettier at that hour. Camila, sitting on the arm of the couch, played with the ice in her glass.

That was when Bruno saw the deck of cards on the coffee table. He held it up like he’d found gold.

—Ladies —he said, wearing that smile he gets when he’s about to ruin a quiet night—, I propose a game. Strip poker. Whoever loses takes off one item.

The girls looked at each other. Daniela gave him a light shove on the shoulder.

—You’re shameless, Brunito.

—I’m a romantic —he answered—. But if you don’t want to, we can play rummy.

Camila came up behind me and spoke into my ear.

—Do you cheat?

—I play badly, but fair.

—Then let’s make it poker.

***

We were supposed to be the ones losing. Supposed to, because Bruno had a reputation for being slick with cards and I wasn’t bad either. We lost anyway. Badly. On the first hand Daniela drew a spade flush and I handed over my white shirt with a bitter smile. On the second, Camila showed a full house and Bruno took off his without complaint. By the fourth hand, the two of us were down to our underwear and they still had everything on, laughing as if the game were some religious ceremony they’d been invited to by mistake.

—You guys are cheating —I said, tossing the cards into the air.

—You guys are terrible —Daniela shot back—. But out of respect, we’ll even things up a little.

She stood and pulled down her leather pants with both thumbs, slowly, looking us in the eyes. Camila copied her, stripping her dress over her head and letting it fall over the back of the couch with a delicacy that contrasted with everything that came before. The two of them were left in underwear: Daniela in a black lace set that barely contained her big tits, her nipples showing through the fabric; Camila in white panties and a matching bra that lifted a smaller pair of breasts, perfectly round. The air in the apartment changed in a way you can’t describe without lying. We were not playing anymore.

Daniela sat astride Bruno without further ceremony, grabbed the back of his neck, and shoved her tongue into his mouth. He slid both hands over her ass and ripped her panties off in one pull, literally: I heard the elastic snap. She laughed against his lips without stopping the kiss.

—You brute.

—And you’re a filthy girl —Bruno answered, burying his face between her tits.

***

Camila sat on top of me before I could say anything. She took my face in both hands and kissed me like she’d wanted to do it for months. I felt the thin fabric of her bra against my chest and the warmth of her thighs squeezing my hips. Meanwhile, on the couch beside us, Daniela had already pulled Bruno’s boxers down and had his dick in her hand, stroking it slowly while biting his neck.

Camila looked at me for a second, followed my gaze, and smiled.

—The bedroom —she said into my ear—. I’m not into live shows.

—At the end of the hall.

She led me by the hand, both of us barefoot, leaving our clothes scattered across the living room. I caught a glimpse of Daniela kneeling between Bruno’s legs and taking his whole dick into her mouth before Camila shoved the bedroom door closed.

Camila sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me by the waistband of my boxers until I was standing between her legs. She looked up at me with a calm that was anything but shy.

—You’re not used to this, are you?

—Used to what?

—To a girl eating your cock without asking permission.

—Not much.

—Learn.

She yanked my boxers down and took my cock without beating around the bush. Her fingers were firm, warm, and knew exactly what to do. She held me at the base, looked at me for a second with her mouth slightly open, then ran her tongue over the tip, slowly, gathering the drop already formed at the head. She clicked her lips as if she were tasting something sweet.

—Tasty —she said, eyes locked on mine.

She took it into her mouth little by little, first the head, swirling her tongue around it with a technique that forced me to brace a hand on the headboard so I wouldn’t lose my balance. Then she went deeper, deeper, until I felt her throat bump against the tip. She didn’t gag. She stayed there for a few seconds, lips tight around the base, her wet eyes starting to tear up, and when she pulled off she left a string of saliva hanging from her chin, which she wiped away with the back of her hand.

—Like that, Mateo —she murmured, with my cock still resting against her cheek—. Easy, don’t come yet.

She went back to sucking me, this time with both hands, one at the base and the other massaging my balls with a softness that was driving me insane. She worked up and down with her mouth, making wet sounds that echoed in the silent room, and every so often she looked up at me from below with a half-perverse smile, sucking only the tip with tight lips and sticking out her tongue to run it along the frenulum. I felt my legs tense and grabbed her hair.

—Wait, wait. Your turn.

—Don’t you want to finish in my mouth?

—Later. Now I want mine.

I pushed her back onto the bed and she fell laughing. I took my time getting her bra off. First I kissed her neck, then her collarbone, down until my teeth caught the edge of the white lace. She arched her back and laughed softly when the clasp gave way and the bra dropped to the floor. Her tits were small but firm, with pink nipples already hard. I took one in my mouth and sucked it long, biting lightly, and with my free hand I found the other and pinched it. She let out a short moan and dug her nails into the back of my neck.

—You’re more patient than you look —she said.

—I focus.

I took off her thong slowly, kissing the inside of her thigh, sliding up with my tongue until I caught the smell of her hot pussy. She was wet, truly soaked, shining under the low lamp light. I spread her legs with both hands, held them up against the headboard, and went in headfirst. I ran my whole tongue from bottom to top, from the entrance to the clit, and felt her body shudder.

—Oh, fuck —she whispered.

I stayed there, sucking her clit with my lips while I slid two fingers inside her and moved them in a slow rhythm, searching for the spot inside. I looked up for a moment and saw her head thrown back, mouth open, one hand gripping the sheet and the other on her own breast, pinching her nipple. I went back down. I circled her clit with my tongue, then trapped it between my lips and sucked it, and she started pushing my head with both hands, not letting me breathe, until I felt her legs close around my head and a long shiver run through her whole body.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop —she repeated, her voice breaking.

She came like that, with my tongue inside her and my fingers moving, choking back a scream against the back of her hand. When her legs loosened and she let me go, I climbed up slowly, kissing her belly, her tits, until I found her mouth. She kissed me with her own taste on my lips without the slightest shame.

—Now yes. Come here.

I settled between her legs and took my cock in my hand to guide it. I ran the tip over her pussy, up and down, soaking it well, tapping her clit with the head until she started moving her hips to find me.

—Put it in, come on, don’t make me wait.

I entered slowly, looking her in the eyes. Camila let out a muffled gasp and dug her nails into my back. She was tight, hot, and she gripped me with a force that made me clench my teeth so I wouldn’t finish on the first thrust. I came almost all the way out and went back in, this time to the hilt, and she arched her back and yanked my head back by the hair.

—Like that. Hard.

She wasn’t a noisy girl; she was one of those who breathe deeply, clench their jaw, and ride out every movement with a shiver you feel more than you hear. But when I talked to her up close, she changed: she loved being spoken to.

—You like it like that, slut?

—Yes, yes, harder.

—Say it.

—I love your dick. Ruin me.

I grabbed her by the hips and started fucking her for real, with long, deep thrusts, listening to the wet sound of every entry, the slap of my balls against her ass. She hooked her legs over my shoulder and opened herself wider, and I took the chance to go even deeper, feeling the tip hit something inside her that made her moan differently.

—Turn over —I told her.

I pulled out and turned her around. She got on all fours without arguing, arching her back, showing me her pale ass and glistening pussy from behind. I ran my palm over one cheek and squeezed hard, then gave it a sharp smack that left the red print of my fingers. She let out a muffled laugh.

—Oh, I like that.

I drove into her in one thrust and she moaned loudly, no longer caring if they could hear her from the other side of the hall, where you could still hear Bruno fucking Daniela against something, maybe the couch, maybe the wall. I grabbed her hair with one hand, wrapped it around my fist, and pulled back without stopping my thrusts. Camila let herself go, throwing her head back, and reached for my mouth over her shoulder for a crooked, messy kiss.

—I’m going to come again —she gasped—. Don’t stop.

With my other hand I found her clit from underneath and rubbed it in circles, keeping the same rhythm, feeling her pussy tighten around my cock. She came again, this time screaming, her face crushed into the pillow, her whole body trembling. And she squeezed me so hard I couldn’t hold out anymore.

—Not inside.

—Outside —I promised her.

I pulled out at the last second, grabbed myself with my hand, and came over her ass and back, a long, thick stream that splattered her all over. She laughed softly, not moving, letting the last drop fall onto my skin.

—What a mess —she murmured—. You, of all people, the tidy one.

I went to the bathroom and came back with a damp towel. I cleaned her slowly, with a tenderness I don’t know where came from, and she let me, eyes closed, with a smile I hadn’t seen all night.

***

We lay there for a while staring at the ceiling, not talking, listening through the wall to the muffled sounds coming from the living room, where Bruno and Daniela seemed to be breaking everything. You could hear his hips hitting her ass in a steady rhythm and Daniela’s moans growing sharper and sharper until she burst into a long scream that suddenly cut off. Camila laughed under her breath.

—Those two are animals.

—Bruno’s always been like that.

—And you?

—I’m the one who tidies up afterward.

She ran one finger over my chest, slowly, drawing something I never knew what was.

—I like that you’re like this —she said—. Half neat, half shy, half everything. And with a cock I didn’t see coming.

—Are you staying the night?

—If you don’t kick me out.

She curled up against my side, one breast pressed against my ribs and a leg draped over mine, and in two minutes she had the heavy breathing of someone who’s no longer in this world. I took longer. I stayed listening to the apartment’s last sounds until, on the other side too, everything went quiet.

***

At nine in the morning, the smell of coffee woke me up. Camila wasn’t in bed anymore. I found her in the kitchen, wearing my white shirt and nothing else, heating water as if she lived there. Bruno and Daniela were sleeping like two stones on the living room couch, covered by a blanket she’d found God knows where. From where I stood, you could see one of Daniela’s tits slipping out of her bra and Bruno’s hand resting on her bare ass.

—Your coffee maker’s dirty —Camila scolded me, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

—I didn’t have time last night.

—Excuses.

She handed me a mate and sat on the counter, legs crossed, as if we were two people who’d been together for years. The shirt had fallen open and I could see one nipple peeking out. She followed my gaze, smiled, and didn’t cover up.

We didn’t talk about what had happened or what might happen. No promises were needed. When Bruno woke up, complaining about his stiff neck, the girls got dressed, gathered their shoes, and he drove them home in the burgundy pickup.

I stayed alone in the apartment, with two dirty glasses on the coffee table, cards scattered across the floor, a torn pair of panties lying under the couch, and a faint smell of someone else’s perfume and sex that would take days to disappear. I cleaned everything with a calm I had never felt before. When I was done, I reached for my phone. I had a new message.

“Coffee on Tuesday? —Camila.”

I took two minutes to answer yes. It was too soon to know whether the night would be just a story or the beginning of something else. But the mess they’d left in my apartment —the only mess in my life I was grateful for— told me it was worth finding out.