The Masked Stripper at the Bachelorette Party Was My Ex

It all started because Mariela was getting married in three weeks, and the three of us had sworn to throw her the most unforgettable bachelorette party of our lives. Daniela would take care of the music and the décor, Pilar of the drinks and a surprise she refused to tell us about, and me of the venue. It seemed simple when we planned it over laughter, wineglass in hand. I had no idea what that night was going to stir up inside me.

I spent an entire week going from bars to clubs to event halls around the city, looking for the perfect place. None of them convinced me. Some were too open, others wouldn’t let us do what we had in mind, and Mariela’s family was conservative enough that any leak would cost us a scandal. In the end I made the most practical and most dangerous decision: we’d do it at my house.

—Your house? —Pilar asked, lifting an eyebrow—. Then I’ll make sure nobody recognizes anyone.

That was her surprise: masks. Feathered masks, lace masks, Venetian masks. I thought the idea was brilliant. With our faces covered, none of us would have to worry about photos, rumors, or Mariela’s gossiping cousin. We could be other women for an entire night.

Daniela and Pilar took care of hiring the evening’s entertainer. They were looking for someone with a good body, cheerful, proactive, someone able to read the room without making it grotesque. They saw several profiles and, when they found one, they didn’t hesitate. They showed me a blurry photo, torso only, and I approved it without paying too much attention. I had a thousand logistical details on my mind.

***

Saturday arrived faster than I expected. Since early morning my friends invaded my living room with garlands, colored lights, and a drink table worthy of a bar. I kept running back and forth hanging masks on the wall, testing the playlist, hiding anything valuable. We were all nervous, laughing too loudly, filling the silence of the preparations with jokes so we wouldn’t have to admit how anxious we were.

In the middle of the afternoon Pilar’s phone rang. I saw her face change: first surprise, then a huge smile she couldn’t hide.

—You’re not going to believe this —she said when she hung up—. The guy we hired is asking whether instead of one we can send four. He says the group works together and that for the same show, all four are coming.

—Four? —Daniela laughed—. Perfect, one for each of us.

I nodded, amused, not knowing that change of plans was going to twist my night completely. Only Daniela seemed to hesitate for a second, as if she feared something, but she said nothing.

***

They arrived when we were already all a couple of drinks in. They came in wearing their masks, impeccably dressed, and the living room filled with screams and applause. The music dropped to a slow beat and the show began.

Watching them strip little by little was hypnotic. Shirts opening button by button, defined abs, skin faintly gleaming under Daniela’s lights. Mariela was squealing happily, Pilar was filming everything between bursts of laughter, and me… I got hung up on one of them. I couldn’t explain why. There was something in the way he moved, in the confidence of his hands sliding over his own body, that dried my mouth.

I worked up the courage with the help of wine and stood up. If I was going to have a man like that in front of me, I wasn’t going to watch him from the sofa. I went over, let the music guide me, and started moving against him, drawing slow circles with my hips. I spun around him, arched my back as I went up and down, offering my body with a shamelessness that usually isn’t mine.

Then his hands took me by the waist.

And my body recognized him before my mind did.

It was a strange shiver, a feeling of familiarity that made no sense. Those hands knew exactly where to press. I kept dancing, confused, trying to understand why I was reacting like this to a stranger. Until a deep voice brushed my ear.

—Do you still remember me? —he whispered.

I spun around sharply. The mask covered half his face, but I would have recognized those eyes anywhere. It was Adrián. The man I had shared the best and most complicated year of my life with, the one who had disappeared without saying goodbye, the one who still appeared in dreams I preferred not to tell anyone about.

There was no time for questions. We kissed as if the three years apart had never existed, his hand sliding up my thigh, mine clutching the back of his neck. The arousal was immediate, shameless, impossible to hide. In the middle of the chaos of the party, no one paid us any attention.

I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.

***

The moment I closed the door, the noise of the party stayed on the other side, distant. Adrián kissed my neck, went down to my shoulder, and my whole skin prickled. He knew that path by heart. He kept going down my back, along the curve of my hip, touching me over the dress, tracing with his fingers places I thought I had forgotten.

—I thought I wasn’t going to see you again —I told him, my voice breaking.

—I never stopped looking for you —he replied, and turned me toward him.

He kissed my stomach, my breasts through the fabric, then came back up to my lips. Then, unhurried, he began to take off my dress. I was left almost naked in front of him, with my underwear as my only defense, my hardened nipples betraying what I was feeling. He lifted me in his arms and laid me on the bed with a tenderness that contrasted with the obvious desire between us.

—Close your eyes —he said.

I obeyed. Darkness multiplied every sensation. I felt his lips on my breasts, his teeth sliding my last garment down my legs, his breath descending slowly. A current ran from my feet to the nape of my neck.

—I haven’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already trembling —he murmured against my skin—. Enjoy it. Tonight it’s just you and me.

I heard him move away for a moment. He came back, and what touched my neck wasn’t his mouth: it was a piece of ice. He dragged it along my throat, between my breasts, over my belly, leaving a cold trail that evaporated under the heat of my body. The contrast tore a moan from me that I couldn’t hold back. I gripped the sheets, breathing in broken bursts, dizzy with pure pleasure.

When the cold reached where I needed it most, my legs started to tremble. Adrián replaced the ice with his tongue, and the change in temperature undid me. He traced slow, exact circles, alternating pressure and softness the way only he knew how. I clutched his hair, arched my back, and let myself go in a long orgasm that left me breathless.

***

I didn’t want to be the only one losing my mind. I pushed him onto the bed and settled over him, reversed, offering him again what I had just tasted while I took him in return. I ran my mouth slowly over him, savoring every inch, listening to the air escape between his teeth. He answered with his tongue, with his fingers, and I answered his answer, in a circle of pleasure that had the two of us on the edge.

—Come here —he said suddenly, his voice rough.

He positioned me on all fours and entered me with a slowness that was almost revenge for all the time lost. The sensation of feeling him inside me again was overwhelming. He started gently and gradually picked up rhythm, holding me by the waist, reading every one of my moans so he’d know exactly when to press harder.

—Don’t stop —I begged, not recognizing my own voice—. Please, don’t stop.

He didn’t stop. I felt him open me carefully and shift position, silently asking whether I wanted more. I told him yes with my body, pushing back against him. He went in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, until there was no distance left between us. What came out of my mouth were no longer moans, but sounds I didn’t even know I was capable of making.

While he moved, I touched myself, multiplying every sensation. Then I leaned back over him and took control, setting the rhythm myself, going up and down first slowly and then mercilessly, riding him until he moaned my name. I felt him swell, I heard him hold his breath, and when he gave in he did it clinging to me, as if he were afraid I’d disappear again.

We ended up lying there, tangled together, trying to catch our breath and gather enough strength to go back out into the world.

—Don’t leave without saying goodbye again —I told him, still pressed against his chest.

—I don’t intend to —he answered, and for the first time in years, I believed him.

***

When we came out of the bedroom, hair disheveled and our clothes half put back on, things outside were not exactly calm. My friends were pacing back and forth with panicked faces: the bride-to-be had disappeared. Mariela had slipped away at some point during the show with one of the other guys in the group, a friend of Adrián’s, and nobody could find her.

Adrián called his friend and, after a couple of tries, he answered. Mariela was fine. They had escaped to a café around the corner to get away from the noise and talk in peace. When we went to look for them, we found them laughing at a back table, as if they had known each other all their lives.

We said goodbye on the sidewalk, in the early hours of the morning. Adrián squeezed my hand before letting it go and promised he would call me the next day. This time, as I watched him walk away, I didn’t feel the same emptiness as before. Something told me that mask had not been the end of anything, but the beginning of a reunion neither of us had expected.

And to think all I had done was find the venue.