What Happened After Dancing at Carnival

Carolina got down off the makeshift stage in the middle of the street with her body still throbbing to the beat of the drums. Carnival in Pompeya was at its peak that February night, the air thick with the smell of choripán, spilled beer, and other people’s sweat. She had danced for hours, moving her hips to the rhythm, her costume stuck to her skin from the heat and the effort.

The short top left her navel bare, and the pleated skirt, red and black like the colors of the comparsa, had ridden up with every jump. She had strong legs, worked out at the gym, and her dark hair, long and tousled, clung to her damp neck. She had just turned twenty-two not long ago and was one of the dancers in the group who drew the most attention.

The performance had gone perfectly. People were clapping, shouting, squeezing in to dance between the ropes. But now that the music was fading, the murga was beginning to scatter: some were carrying the party on at a nearby bar, others were heading home. Carolina, meanwhile, felt a fire that wasn’t going out with the end of the show.

The friction of bodies during the dance, the audience’s heated looks, her heart racing a mile a minute... all of it had left her with a tension pounding between her legs. She said goodbye to her fellow performers with quick kisses.

—See you tomorrow —she told Rubén, the percussionist, a big guy who always looked at her a little too much.

That night she didn’t want the usual. She wanted something new, something equal to the carnival’s lack of restraint. She walked down the avenue with the echo of the party still in her ears and her heart still not fully coming down from overdrive.

***

She arrived at a bar set up on a corner, with plastic tables and beer barrels. She ordered one ice-cold beer and leaned against the counter, feeling the frozen liquid go down her throat. It cooled the heat on the outside, but not the other heat, the one that had her pressing her thighs together without realizing it.

She looked around. Couples laughing, mouths finding each other in the shadows, hands disappearing under clothes. Carnival was exactly that: permission to let go and stop thinking. And she was ready.

Then she saw him. A tall guy, with brown skin and a fitted T-shirt that outlined every muscle in his chest. Stubble on his jaw and a smile that lit up when their eyes met. His name was Diego, she found out later, but at that moment the name mattered least of all. He came over with two beers in his hand.

—You danced amazingly up there —he told her, his voice rough from the night’s shouting—. You left me speechless.

Carolina laughed, a shiver climbing up her stomach.

—Thanks. It was crazy.

They talked for a while about stupid things: the music, the heat, the crowd. But underneath the words there was something else. His eyes kept dropping to her cleavage, rising and falling with her quickened breathing. She noticed the bulge in his pants, discreet but impossible to ignore.

—Want to go somewhere quieter? —he suggested, direct.

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

***

They left and walked a few blocks to a cheap hotel, the kind that rents rooms by the hour during carnival. The man at the front desk didn’t even look at them; he was used to it. They climbed the stairs and, still in the hallway, Diego shoved her against the wall and kissed her urgently, his tongue searching for hers as if he wanted to devour her. She answered with the same hunger, digging her nails into his back.

The room was a small box, with an unmade bed and a fan rattling against the wall. None of that mattered. He kicked the door shut and lifted her in his arms to throw her onto the mattress. Carolina bounced, laughing, but he wasn’t wasting time. He yanked off her top and bared her firm breasts, her nipples already hard.

—Look at what you’ve got —he murmured, lowering his mouth to suck one until she moaned.

She arched her back and felt the pleasure go straight down to her sex.

—Harder —she begged, her voice breaking.

He obeyed, alternating tongue and teeth, while his hands went down to unbutton her skirt. He slid it down along with her lace underwear and left her completely exposed. She was soaked. Diego ran a finger between her folds and felt the heat.

—You’re dying for it —he said with a smile.

—Then don’t make me wait —she shot back, spreading her legs shamelessly.

But he wanted to play. He knelt between her thighs, spread them a little wider, and lowered his head. His tongue brushed her clit and made her jolt. He licked slowly at first, then faster, while he sank two fingers in and curled them to hit that spot that drove her wild.

—Like that, deeper —she gasped, gripping the sheets.

He sped up, mouth and fingers working together, until Carolina’s body started trembling. The orgasm hit her like a wave, her hips moving on their own, until she had to push him away, too sensitive to keep going.

She sat up and went for him. She pulled down his pants and took him in her hand, feeling him throb against her palm. She took him into her mouth without waiting, sucking, licking, while he growled and held her hair with one hand.

—Stop, or this’ll be over before it starts —he said, pulling her away.

He laid her down again and positioned himself between her legs. He rubbed the tip against her wet sex and entered in one go. She cried out, feeling him fill her completely.

—You’re so tight —he murmured, starting to move hard.

Carolina wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels in so he could go deeper. They moved like that for a good while, the bed creaking beneath them. Then he turned her over and put her on all fours. He gave her a slap that left a pink mark on her skin.

—Move —he ordered.

She pushed back while he held her by the hips, mesmerized by the sight. When he was on the edge, he couldn’t hold out any longer: he pulled out and came across her back, spilling himself with a rough groan.

They collapsed onto the mattress, panting. But the night was far from over. After a while, Carolina turned toward him and kissed him again.

—Want more? —she asked with a sly smile.

He nodded, already recovering. She climbed on top, guiding him back into her, riding him slowly, her hips drawing circles. Her breasts swayed and he took them in his hands, teasing her nipples. They changed positions several times, each time with less and less shame: on their sides, with one of her legs over his shoulder; then against the cold wall of the room, while he held her up in the air; finally back on the mattress. When he came again, they stayed tangled together, exhausted, listening to the fan and the distant shouts of the party that refused to stop.

At dawn they said goodbye with a kiss. Carolina went out into the street with aching but satisfied body, her costume crumpled inside a bag. Carnival was still going on, but for her that night had been the real climax.

***

She walked to her apartment with trembling legs. The sun was beginning to rise, staining the sky over the avenue pink. The neighborhood was waking slowly, with scraps of confetti on the sidewalks and bottles rolling along the curb. But in her head the images repeated over and over.

She went up to her floor and looked at herself in the mirror. She had red marks on her neck and breasts where he had bitten her. She smiled, touching her sensitive skin. The heat hadn’t gone away completely; carnival had awakened something deep inside her, something that had been asleep for far too long. She took a shower, but the lukewarm water on her skin only turned her on again.

***

That afternoon, after sleeping a few hours, she met up with the comparsa to rehearse for the next parade. Rubén, the percussionist, gave her a crooked smile.

—You look like you didn’t sleep at all.

She laughed.

—Carnival things.

During rehearsal she noticed how he kept following her with his eyes, watching her hips every time she danced. There had always been tension between them, but they had never crossed the line. Later, the group stayed to eat at someone’s house. Meat on the grill, red wine, laughter. Carolina drank a little too much, and the alcohol fanned the fire she’d brought back from the night before.

Rubén sat down beside her, his thigh brushing hers.

—Last night you danced like never before —he told her, resting his hand “by accident” on her knee.

She didn’t move it away. On the contrary, she spread her legs a little under the table. When almost everyone left, the two of them stayed behind “helping clean up.” In the kitchen, alone, he cornered her against the counter.

—I’ve wanted you for months —he confessed before kissing her.

His kisses were different from Diego’s: more possessive, his big hands gripping her hard. Carolina responded, taking off his T-shirt to drag her tongue across his chest. They moved to the living room couch. Rubén was rougher, less playful.

—You’re so beautiful —he said, burying his face between her legs without preamble.

He licked hungrily, ravenous, until he made her moan and arch against his mouth. Then it was her turn. She knelt, pulled down his pants, and took him in her mouth, swallowing him to the hilt, drawing out a long groan.

He took her on the couch, first face-to-face, with powerful thrusts that made her scream. Then he set her on top of him and let her set the pace, rubbing himself against her body until he came shaking. But he didn’t stop. He put her on all fours and held her by the hair like it was reins, driving into her until he was out of breath.

—You’re insatiable —he murmured, his voice muffled.

He finished with one last push and collapsed on top of her. They lay there on the couch, sweaty, laughing softly at what had just happened.

***

The days that followed were a spiral. Carnival had set her loose and there was no going back. One night, after another parade, she ended up at an impromptu party at the house of a friend from the comparsa. There were several people there; among them were Rubén and Diego, who showed up by chance, and two girls, Vale and Noe.

It started with kisses and caresses, beer and music in the background. Carolina kissed Vale, feeling her soft breasts against her own, while the others watched in silence. The shyness didn’t last long. Mouths and hands began to search one another without order, bodies changing partners, laughter mixing with gasps.

It was a tangle of skin and desire: one mouth on her breast, a hand between her legs, another tongue seeking Vale’s. They gave themselves over in turns, sharing one another among them all, until fatigue won out over desire. Carolina ended up in the center of it all, exhausted and, for the first time in a very long time, completely sated.

Carnival ended a few days later. But for her, that week that had started with dancing in the murga was a revelation. Her body, her desire, everything had changed. She went back to her routine, though never quite the same again, with memories that lit her up on lonely nights and the silent promise that next February would find her even freer.