My Best Friend’s Costume Changed Everything

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday night while Lucía and I were eating reheated pasta on the sofa. We had shared a flat since our second year at university, and by then I knew every one of her gestures: the way she bit her lip when she was unsure, the short sigh she let out before a mean joke, the way her brown hair clung to her neck when she stepped out of the shower. I knew her the way you know someone you’ve slept two walls away from for three years, without daring to think about anything more.

—Marina, look at this —she said, turning her phone toward me.

The digital poster glowed against a purple background. “Costume party. Saturday 10 p.m. Myths and Legends. Come ready to lose your shame.” A Venetian mask dissolved into glitter on the GIF.

—Who’s organizing it? —I asked, setting my plate aside.

—Diego, the one from Fine Arts. Green hair. They say it’s the party of the year.

I smiled. We’d stopped going out the way we used to, trapped between exams and freelance jobs. The mere idea of stepping into a costume and not being myself for one night made my pulse quicken.

—We have to go —I said.

—That’s what I wanted to hear. But let’s make it interesting —Lucía put down her phone and leaned toward me with that smile that always spelled trouble—. Bet. Whoever wears the boldest costume wins.

—And what does the winner get?

—The honor. The right to brag for a whole month. And the right to mock the other one until the end of the semester.

I took her hand without thinking. I knew her bets. And yet, that night, looking into her eyes under the yellow light of the living room, I couldn’t guess what was about to happen.

***

The next few days were a parade of secrets. Boxes appeared in the living room that neither of us opened in front of the other. Lucía talked on the phone out on the balcony in a low voice and came back with packages she hid under her bed. I locked myself in my room with the secondhand sewing machine I’d bought at a flea market, turning a gray school skirt into something no teacher would ever tolerate.

I’d spent weeks thinking about the costume. I wanted something that played with innocence and corruption at the same time. I wanted to be the girl who shouldn’t be there.

On Saturday afternoon, the sun came in at an angle through the blinds. I shut myself in to get dressed, my heart pounding in my throat.

First, a white silk blouse, nearly transparent, with lace collar and cuffs. Then the pleated gray miniskirt I’d shortened to the point of scandal, with a side slit that climbed almost to the hip. White thigh-high stockings held up by a black lace garter belt that barely showed. Black patent stiletto heels with a bow-shaped buckle. Two high pigtails, one on each side of my head. Thick eyeliner, strawberry gloss, round glasses without lenses. Underneath, no panties or bra: I wanted to feel the air against my wet pussy and my nipples outlining through the silk. When I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, I shivered. I was a schoolgirl expelled from every convent in the world. I was sure I had won.

I opened the door with a theatrical flourish.

—Lucía, surrender before you even leave! The queen of shamelessness has arrived and...

The sentence unraveled on my tongue.

Lucía was in the doorway of her room. And she was naked. Completely naked. She wasn’t wearing a shred of fabric, not a single strategic ornament. Only her skin, golden from the last summer sun, her brown hair spilling in wild waves over her shoulders, one strand over a nipple and the other one peeking out with a boldness that stole my breath.

On her back, a dark leather quiver engraved with Celtic designs, held by a strap that crossed her chest, passed between her breasts and wrapped around her torso. In her right hand she held a long yew bow, resting on the floor like a scepter. The rough leather against the softness of her skin was an image that branded itself into me before I could even process it. The groove running down from her navel to her shaved pubis left nothing to the imagination. Everything was visible: the lips of her pussy slightly parted, the clitoris peeking out between them like a tiny pink pearl, the perfect, clean line between her thighs.

No. No, no, no. This was not part of the plan.

—What do you think? —she said, tilting her head with that slow smile I knew far too well—. I figured that if we’re doing myths, I’m going with the best. Diana, the huntress. Goddess of the moon and nature.

I swallowed. I felt the blush rise up my neck, my throat, my cheeks. It wasn’t just losing the bet that set me on fire. It was her. It was the way the living room light fell over her flat stomach. It was having slept three years fifteen feet from that body without ever having seen it like this. It was realizing, right then, that I’d been pretending not to care for far too long. I felt a sharp throb between my legs, a dampness running down the insides of my thighs.

—Lucía... —I managed—. You’re...

—Did I win? —she asked, taking a step closer.

—You won. By a landslide. You won everything.

She let out a low laugh and came closer. She looked me over with that calm appraisal that made me press my legs together beneath the tiny skirt.

—Well, you’re deadly yourself, don’t kid yourself —her finger traced the side slit of my skirt without quite touching skin—. That slit is a crime.

The brush of what never quite touched left my skin burning beneath the fabric. I had to look away to breathe.

—The goddess will have to let me drive —I said, pulling out my car keys with fingers that weren’t fully obeying me—. Because I doubt a quiver counts as a pocket.

—Deal.

***

The drive was a new kind of torture. Lucía sat beside me, completely naked on the leather seat, with the bow resting between her legs. Every time I shifted gears she was inches from me, her thigh lit by orange streetlamps, her hair sliding back over her shoulders. I focused on the road with a discipline I hadn’t known I possessed.

—What if the police stop us? —I said, trying to joke.

—I’ll tell them I’m a manifestation of nature —she replied without looking at me—. And you, with that skirt, can distract them while I escape through the field.

I laughed with a dry mouth.

The abandoned factory was pulsing before we even reached the door. Deep electronic music spilling through broken windows, neon lights scraping the sky, a line snaking through the inner courtyard.

I got out of the car and walked around to open Lucía’s door. It was not something I had ever done in three years. I did it that night.

The silence that fell over the line when she appeared was almost audible. A girl dressed as a vampire dropped her drink. A guy in a superhero cape elbowed his friend in the chest. Lucía did not lower her gaze. She walked beside me with her head high, the quiver bouncing against her back, the bow swaying in her hand. The outside lights swept over her as if following her trail.

I felt like a footnote beside her in a much larger book. But I also felt proud. Brutally proud.

***

Inside, the chaos doubled. Strobe lights, thick smoke, fox masks and laurel crowns and painted wings. People parted as we passed. The music hit the bones. Diego, a makeshift pharaoh with green hair, saw us from the raised stage and stood with the microphone in his hand without saying a word for several seconds.

We got two gin and tonics and took shelter beside a bare brick pillar. Lucía leaned against the wall, sipping slowly, looking as if she had done nothing extraordinary.

—Are you okay? —I asked in her ear, to make myself heard over the bass.

She nodded, and when I looked at her again I caught her watching me. I didn’t catch her once, or twice. She’d been looking for a while.

—What? —I said.

—Nothing. I like how that skirt looks on you. And I like imagining what’s underneath even more.

I felt the sentence at the nape of my neck, in my thighs, in the very center of my body. My pussy clenched with a wet spasm.

—Lucía...

—Drink —she cut in, smiling—. The night is long.

We danced. We danced until I forgot I was wearing heels, until Lucía left the bow leaning against a column because it got in the way of her moving. A crowd gathered around us without crowding us, a circle of respectful admiration. I moved with my skirt fluttering around my thighs, my pigtails bouncing, my arms raised. Lucía danced slowly, with animal grace, her naked body washed in fuchsia and acid-green light.

At one point, someone accidentally shoved me and I fell against her. Her hands caught my waist, firm, hot. She didn’t let go right away. She held me against her a second too long, her breasts against my silk blouse, her breath close to my ear. I felt her hard nipples pressing through the fabric, and one of her hands sliding to the lower curve of my back, very close to my ass.

—Careful, schoolgirl —she murmured—. Keep moving that little ass like that and I’m going to eat it right here.

I nodded because my voice wouldn’t come out. A hot shiver ran through me from my stomach to the tips of my heels.

When Diego announced the prize for best costume, it was her, obviously. The crowd roared, “Diana! Diana!” and Lucía went up onto the stage with a serenity I couldn’t understand how she managed. I applauded until my palms burned. When she lifted her glass toward me from above, toasting only me, I knew the room was spinning and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

***

We got back to the flat at four. The city slept under a lonely orange light. In the car we barely spoke. I drove gripping the wheel with both hands, staring ahead, feeling her breathe beside me. Every red light was a small torture. Every burst of speed, an excuse not to think. At one red light, her hand settled slowly on my bare thigh, slid up to the edge of the skirt, slipped underneath, and brushed my pussy with two fingers. She found out I wasn’t wearing anything. That I was soaked.

—Slut —she whispered, delighted—. You came like that all night.

—Make the light turn green —I managed, my voice broken.

She withdrew her hand and brought her fingers to her mouth. She sucked them slowly, watching me sidelong. I nearly ran the next stop sign.

We climbed the stairs in silence. When I closed the flat door, the click of the lock sounded like a full stop.

Lucía leaned the bow and quiver against the wall, like a warrior after battle. She slowly unfastened the leather straps, and for the first time all night her nakedness stopped being a costume and became something else, something more intimate, something more dangerous.

I undid my pigtails in front of the hallway mirror. When I turned around, she was watching me from the middle of the living room.

—Marina —she said softly.

—Yeah?

—I’ve been thinking about something all night.

I took one step closer. Just one. My heel hit the wood with a loud click.

—What thing?

She took my hips in both hands and pulled me toward her without effort. My tiny skirt brushed the bare skin of her thighs. My silk blouse flattened against her breasts. I could feel both our hardened nipples pressing against each other through the sheer fabric.

—That you stopped being just my roommate a long time ago —she whispered—. And that I’ve been jerking off for months thinking about you.

I kissed her. I don’t know who decided, but I know who leaned in first. Her mouth tasted like gin and strawberry gloss, like three years put off. I grabbed her shoulders, felt the contrast between the warm skin of her shoulder blades and the cold air of the living room, and let her fingers hike my skirt up to my hips. Her tongue entered my mouth without asking, searching for mine, sucking on it with delayed hunger. I bit her lower lip and she groaned against my face.

—You lost the bet —she murmured against my neck, while she shoved me backward toward the sofa and tore my blouse off without unbuttoning it. The buttons flew off and disappeared across the floor.

—No —I answered, letting myself fall—. I won what I actually wanted to win.

Her hands attacked my breasts, kneading them eagerly, pinching my nipples between index finger and thumb until my back arched. She lowered her mouth and sucked one nipple whole, using her tongue on it while her hand crushed the other. I tangled my fingers in her brown hair and pressed her head against me, asking for more without words. She bit my nipple, careful and careless at the same time, and I felt the jolt run straight down to my pussy.

—Fuck, Lucía —I panted—. Fuck.

—Shut up, schoolgirl. I’m really going to punish you now.

She bent my legs over the sofa, hiked my skirt up to my navel, and sank to the floor between my open thighs. The garter belt was still on, the white stockings halfway up my thighs, the heels dangling from my feet. She stared at my naked pussy, glossy, lips swollen and parted. She ran one finger slowly from bottom to top, gathering the wetness, and licked it off without taking her eyes from mine.

—You’re dripping —she said—. All fucking night waiting for me, right?

—Yes —I admitted—. All night. All year. I don’t know since when.

She lowered her head and licked me in one long, slow sweep, her tongue wide and flat. I screamed. I covered my mouth with both hands because the neighbors, because the hour, because the world, but I kept screaming into my palms when her tongue found my clit and started circling it, first softly, then faster, then sucking it whole like a ripe piece of fruit. She slid two fingers inside me, curling them upward, searching for that spot I’d barely found myself a handful of times, and hit it dead on. An animal moan tore out of me.

—There —I gasped—. There, there, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.

She didn’t stop. She worked her fingers in and out with a slow, deep rhythm while her tongue kept working my clit without mercy. I felt the orgasm gathering at the base of my belly, rising inside me like a thick wave. I grabbed the back of the sofa with one hand and with the other shoved her face harder against my pussy. I pushed her head without shame, riding her mouth.

—I’m coming —I managed—. I’m coming, Lucía, I’m...

The orgasm tore through me all at once, a long spasm that left my legs trembling around her head. She kept sucking, slower now, stretching the orgasm until I could barely stand it. When she lifted her face, her chin was shining and she had the smile of a predator half-satiated.

—I’m not done with you yet —she said.

She climbed onto the sofa and straddled my face, bracing herself on the backrest with both hands. Her shaved pussy hovered an inch from my mouth, already open, already soaked. She smelled sweet and like a hot woman. I grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her down to my lips. I ate her out the way I’d spent three years not knowing I wanted to eat her out: I ran my whole tongue over her outer lips, parted them with my thumbs, and licked her clit with the tip, slow circles first and then faster ones. She started moving on top of me, fucking my mouth slowly, moaning under her breath.

—Yes, like that, fuck, don’t stop... —she murmured—. You do that so well, schoolgirl, who taught you to do it like that...

I pushed my tongue inside as far as I could, sucking up the juice running down, and went back up to her clit. I slipped a finger into her pussy while I sucked her, and she pressed harder against my face, riding me. Her breasts moved above me, her nipples hard and pointing at the ceiling, her head thrown back.

—I’m going to come in your mouth —she announced, and her voice was a rough scrape—. Swallow it all.

Her pussy tightened against my tongue with a long shudder and she groaned loudly, not caring about anything. I filled my mouth with her climax and swallowed it, sucking her until she pulled away laughing, oversensitive.

She collapsed beside me on the sofa, breathing hard. We stayed there for a moment, soaked, half dressed and half naked, the gray skirt wrinkled around my waist, her thighs open, my white stockings stained.

—Don’t go to sleep yet —she said, turning toward me—. Come here.

She laid me on my back and positioned herself over me on her side, one leg over mine. She fitted her pussy against mine, thigh to thigh, and started moving. Our cunts slid against each other, wet, hot, her lips against mine, our clits rubbing together. She grabbed one breast with a hand and squeezed it while she ground against me with an increasingly urgent rhythm.

—Look at me —she ordered—. Look at me while we come together.

I looked at her. I looked at her face while she fucked me with her pussy, while our fluids mixed between our thighs, while the sofa started to creak beneath us. I grabbed her ass with both hands and pushed her harder against me. We moved like one thing, panting in each other’s faces, kissing open-mouthed, swallowing each other’s moans.

—Again —I gasped—. I’m going again.

—Me too —she said—. Together, Marina, together.

We came almost at the same time, her hips tightening against mine, my back arching into the sofa. She let out a long moan against my neck, I answered against her shoulder, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream.

Above me, her naked skin caught the faint light of the lamp we’d forgotten to turn off when we left. Diana had left the bow in the entryway, but she was still the huntress.

And I, that dawn, underneath her, stopped running.