My Partner’s Friend Watched Us All Night

It was Friday night and I just wanted to collapse on the couch with a glass of wine and not talk to anyone. It had been five long days at the studio, the kind that leave your body exhausted and your head even worse. But Matías had other plans, and he announced them to me with that smile he gets when he’s already decided something and only has to convince me.

—I invited Damián over for dinner —he said, setting his keys on the table—. He split up with his girlfriend not long ago and he’s pretty much a wreck. He needs to get out, talk, have a drink. You know how to listen better than I do.

Playing therapist to a guy who’d just broken up on a Friday night was the last thing I felt like doing. But Matías insisted, kissed the back of my neck, told me a couple of hours would be enough, and I ended up agreeing the way I end up agreeing to almost everything he suggests with that mouth of his.

Damián had been Matías’s best friend since school. They were like brothers: they knew each other’s every gesture, every silence, they were there for each other through good and bad. I didn’t really have much to do with him; in our relationship each of us kept our own space, our own friends, our own worlds. We didn’t mix.

What little I knew was that, since the breakup, he had started training. His friends dragged him to the gym and the result showed: toned arms, a broad back, a physical solidity he hadn’t had before. He wasn’t tall, but he took up space. The kind of guy who walks into a place and, without meaning to, turns a few heads.

Whenever we hosted dinner at home, I took the chance to ditch the jeans and make myself up a little. That night I put on lycra stockings, a low-cut black T-shirt, and a tight skirt that emphasized everything I had to emphasize.

I’m a pretty ordinary girl, but the part of my body I like most is my ass. It’s fleshy, it stands out, and although I’m not one to show myself off too much, with certain clothes it’s hard to hide. I’m tall, with straight hair and medium-sized breasts that don’t call attention to themselves, so I arrange them so they at least suggest something.

When the intercom rang, I still didn’t know that dinner was going to change something between us. Matías had gone out to buy drinks and Damián arrived early, right at the worst possible moment.

—Come on in, come on in. Mati went to get some beers, he’ll be right back —I told him, trying to sound as warm as I could.

I took him upstairs. In the elevator we only exchanged two or three obligatory phrases, the polite stuff, just enough. From the tone of his voice you could tell he wasn’t comfortable being alone with me. He was praying his friend would show up quickly, and I was more or less thinking the same thing.

And that’s when I found out, in that mirrored little box. I saw it in the reflection. A quick glance, fleeting, but unmistakable: he was looking at my ass. A sudden heat climbed from my chest up to my ears.

The elevator stopped on our floor and neither of us said anything. The silence weighed like a blanket. That second when his eyes had slid down my body had left me restless. And, to my surprise, aroused.

We went into the apartment and I offered him something to drink.

—A beer? Wine?

—A beer is fine —he replied, not holding my gaze, as if it were hard for him to keep his eyes on me for more than a second.

I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I bent a little more than necessary to take out the can. I knew he was behind me. I knew he was watching. And the idea, far from bothering me, I liked it.

When I handed him the beer, our hands barely brushed. Again that tiny shiver, that nothing of a touch that says too much.

We sat down in the living room. Me with my legs crossed, my skirt tight, my back straight. Him uncomfortable, turning the can between his fingers. We talked half-heartedly until, for better or worse, Matías arrived.

—I’m here! Breaking the ice? —he asked from the doorway.

—Little by little —I said, with a smile only I understood.

Matías opened a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. The conversation loosened up, but the gestures said more than the words. Damián was looking at me. Matías was looking at me looking at him. And I was letting myself be seen. The tension was soft and constant, an invisible thread stretched between the three of us.

By the second bottle, the air was already charged with something else. At one point Matías got up to use the bathroom and, as soon as we were alone, Damián lowered his voice.

—Do you always dress up like this for dinner?

I turned slowly. I looked at him meaningfully and crossed my legs even more slowly, letting the sheen of the lycra make a little sound.

—No —I answered—. Only when I want to be looked at.

Silence. Glass in hand. His eyes locked on mine. And right then Matías came back.

—Oh? Did I miss something?

—Nothing, nothing —I said. But all three of us knew that wasn’t true.

Matías looked at me a second too long. And I knew he understood. The strange part was that it didn’t bother him. On the contrary.

He put on music, dimmed the lights, poured another round. We settled back onto the long couch, and somehow I ended up in the middle, between the two of them.

This is going somewhere.

And in that closeness, a hand slipped under the tablecloth and found mine. It wasn’t Damián’s. It was Matías’s. He stroked my palm with his fingers and, without anyone noticing, guided it to his thigh. He was hard.

Damián shifted at the far end, clearly not knowing whether to stay or make up an excuse to leave. I, on the other hand, already knew I wanted him to stay.

—He’s watching you, you know? —Matías whispered, in that deep voice of his, right against my ear.

—I know —I said, and I felt myself getting wet just from saying it.

The low music filled the room while Matías held my gaze with a complicit smile. His fingers kept tracing my hand and the heat of his skin traveled up my arm like a current.

Damián was perched on the edge of the couch, breathing a little faster, eyes fixed on us. He couldn’t hide how much what he was seeing affected him, and that mix of desire and bewilderment on his face turned me on even more.

Matías grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. My legs settled over his and I felt his hardness through the fabric. No words were needed: the language was skin, friction, heat.

He started kissing my neck slowly, biting just a little, while I arched my back and let out a sigh, knowing Damián was following every movement from his corner. I caught a side glance of him: one hand was already resting over his pants, torn between modesty and temptation.

Matías slowly pushed my skirt up. His hands explored my skin and I felt vulnerable and powerful at the same time, wrapped up in a game only the three of us understood. I started undressing while he unbuttoned his pants and ended up in his underwear. The music kept playing in the background. Damián, no longer bothering to hide it, was rubbing himself over his jeans, clearly showing how much the scene was affecting him.

Matías took off his shirt, grabbed my hand, and led me toward the bedroom, with a soft smack on my ass that raised goose bumps all over me. Damián followed us and sat down in the armchair inside the room. With slightly trembling hands he unzipped himself and started touching himself, watching us with total attention, completely surrendered to the show we were putting on for him without asking permission.

I knelt in front of Matías and took him into my mouth, sliding my tongue all over his hardness while he held my breasts firmly. And while I did it, I fixed my eyes on Damián, enjoying seeing him watch, knowing I was the exact center of his desire, the only show he couldn’t peel himself away from.

We moved to the bed. Matías laid me back and thrust into me with hunger, without rushing, and I couldn’t stop looking at Damián, who swallowed hard with every sound that escaped me.

—Do you like being watched? —Matías asked in my ear, his voice rough—. Do you like knowing he can’t touch you?

—I love it —I admitted, and it was true.

Matías made me kneel at the edge of the bed and got behind me. I felt his hands gripping me hard as he set the rhythm of each thrust. The heat of his body against my back made me tremble, but my attention stayed fixed on Damián: his eyes shining, his breathing quick, his hands restless between his legs.

—See how much he wants you? —Matías said again in my ear—. He wants to touch you, but all he can do is watch.

Damián couldn’t take it anymore. He was stroking himself slowly, mouth half open, absorbed, letting out an occasional muffled groan as if two actors were putting on an exclusive performance just for him. Every sound I made, every thrust of my hips, wrapped around him a little more. And I, soaked in pleasure and power, let myself be taken completely, knowing we were the third guest’s show.

Matías turned me gently so I’d look him in the eyes while he kept moving inside me harder. At that moment, Damián sped up. His gasps blended with ours and with the sound of skin against skin, until no one could really tell whose moan was whose.

Matías tensed, let out a contained growl, and pulled out just in time. He came up to my face and finished there, holding me by the nape of the neck, and I felt the heat spread over my skin as I looked at him and, out of the corner of my eye, at Damián.

Almost at the same time, Damián exploded with a long sigh, unable to hold back, spilling over his own hand and his legs. He had come right there, in front of us, without even touching me once.

We stayed like that for a while, the three of us breathing, connected by that shared fire no one named but which was more alive than any word. Then came the usual strange silence: reality returning little by little, the clothes, the glances that no longer knew where to rest.

We showered, got dressed, and walked him to the door. In the elevator, as we went down to say goodbye, everything was silence again. Damián barely managed a “thanks for dinner” that sounded like something else.

When we went back up, alone now, a whirlwind was tearing through my body: guilt, pleasure, surprise, and a new freedom I hadn’t gone looking for. That shared fire had opened a door. I didn’t know if I wanted to cross it all the way, but one thing I knew for sure: after that night, nothing between us was ever going to be the same again.