The Night I Let the Whole City Watch Me

The apartment was dark, only tinted by the city’s orange glow seeping through the half-drawn curtains. A movie was ending on the TV, one Renata no longer remembered starting. Lying on the sofa, with her dress rolled up to her waist and her legs parted, she could feel her skin covered in a fine layer of sweat.

She had dreamed something. Something vivid, filthy, impossible to erase. Her body had woken before her mind, restless, hungry, demanding more than the dream had given her.

In the fantasy, the man was her boss. Authoritative, with big hands, a voice that allowed no contradiction. In the middle of a meeting he slid his hand under her skirt while she bit the cap of a pen so she wouldn’t moan in front of everyone. He took her right there, not caring who was watching, and left her trembling against the edge of the table.

Renata opened her eyes, her heart racing. Her nipples, hard, pressed against the fabric of her dress like two small warning signs. When she lowered her hand between her legs, the wetness surprised her. It hadn’t been just a dream: her body had responded on its own, with a hunger that didn’t ask permission.

***

She stripped without thinking. The dress fell to the floor with a whisper and she was left completely exposed under the dim light. She ran her hands over her belly, up to her breasts, squeezed them. She slowly moved down to her swollen clit and began to stroke herself, first in slow circles, then faster, while her back arched against the cushions.

She lifted her gaze to the balcony window.

Distant lights flickered in the night. And she thought: what if someone saw me? What if a neighbor were spying on me from another tower? The thought alone made her even hotter. She stood up naked, without shame, and walked to the glass. Twenty-ninth floor. The whole city was out there, indifferent and attentive all at once.

She pressed her palms to the cold glass, thrust out her chest, spread her legs and touched herself again. This time deeper, harder, with her fingers slipping inside her.

—Look at me —she whispered, her voice barely carrying.

The orgasm hit like a short, brutal storm. Her thighs trembled, her mouth opened in a silent cry, her whole body shook. She dropped to her knees on the cold balcony floor, panting, her hair tousled over her face.

And she knew, with a new certainty, that that hadn’t been enough.

***

The night breeze stroked her skin as she went back inside. Her body was still throbbing, but tonight she didn’t want rest. She wasn’t hungry for affection, but for raw desire. She wanted looks that would devour her, tension hanging in the air, people imagining her.

She stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down her back, washing away the remains of pleasure and igniting new ones. She soaped herself slowly, lingering over her sensitive nipples, over her still-hot crotch. When she got out, she looked at herself in the fogged mirror with a crooked smile.

—Tonight I’m pure poison —she said under her breath.

She chose a short black dress, tight like a second skin. She didn’t put anything underneath; she liked feeling the direct brush of the fabric against her body. Her nipples showed without shame. She painted her lips red, lined her eyes with a firm stroke, and slipped on heels that lengthened her legs and gave her a defiant stride.

She opened the door and, with the calm of someone who knows the weapon she’s wearing, pressed the elevator button.

***

The doors opened with a soft chime. Inside was a couple. He was tall, white shirt open at the neck, a curious look in his eyes. She was shorter, clinging to his arm, as if she sensed danger.

Renata stepped in unhurriedly and stood right in front of them. The silence grew dense. The man looked at her: first at her eyes, then at her lips, and then he couldn’t help letting his gaze drop. There they were, her breasts pushing against the fabric, her nipples outlined without a trace of shame. He didn’t need confirmation: that woman was completely naked under the dress.

He swallowed. His imagination did the rest, and his pants tightened.

She noticed it, of course. She shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other, as if getting comfortable, and it was enough for one of her breasts to brush the man’s jacket. A minimal, electric contact.

The girlfriend noticed too. She pressed her lips together and clung tighter to his arm.

—Eighteenth floor —she said, sharply.

The elevator stopped. The couple got off. The man looked at her one last time and she winked at him. The doors closed and she was left alone, throbbing.

The rest of the ride down felt like a victorious parade. In the lobby, the receptionist on duty —a young woman with a sweet expression— greeted her with a quick look that slid over her body before returning to her eyes.

—Have a lovely night —she said, in a high voice.

—Thanks —Renata replied, hoarse, loading the word with intent.

***

She slid into the car and the seat belt squeezed her breasts in a delicious provocation. She pulled the top of the dress down and let her breasts spill out. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror and the image lit her up again. She stroked herself while looking for music. Then she hiked the skirt up to her hips, letting her bare skin brush the warm leather of the seat. A low moan escaped her.

At a red light, a car stopped beside her. A man was riding alone. He turned his head and saw her. His eyes went wide. She didn’t look at him directly, but she knew she was being watched: her breasts bare, her body on fire. The man made an obscene gesture with his tongue. Renata laughed just as the light changed, and sped off.

The city was waiting for her and she was ready to devour it.

***

She parked a few blocks from the bar district. Not out of caution, but for pure pleasure. She liked walking like that, with the dress on the verge of scandal, her heels striking the pavement like a warning. Her nipples were still visible under the black fabric, and between her legs she could feel the free wetness with every step.

She entered the nightclub as if she owned it. The place vibrated with music, flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and alcohol hanging in the air like a thick perfume. She wasn’t looking for a table, or conversation, or names. She only wanted to be touched.

She pushed her way through the crowd. Every brush was a stimulus, every look a caress. Some men watched her. Some women stared with a mix of desire and envy. When she reached the center of the dance floor, she began to dance as if she were making love to the music: hypnotic hips, lips parted, one hand on her drink and the other gliding down her thigh. The dress rose with every movement.

A group was dancing nearby. One of them, tall, with a trimmed beard and a dark T-shirt, came up behind her. His cologne made her close her eyes.

—Dance with you? —he whispered in her ear.

She didn’t answer. She only moved her body toward his. That was enough.

He put his hands on her waist and slowly slid them down to her hips, setting the rhythm. Soon the two bodies were pressed together, pretending to be something more than dancing. The music covered everything, even the soft gasps she let out.

The man’s hands went lower. First her thighs, then the inner side. When he touched bare skin, he understood what she didn’t need to say: she had nothing on underneath.

—Jesus… —he murmured, disbelieving.

His fingers disappeared between her wet lips. Renata moaned, low but real, threw her head back and pressed her body against him. She could feel him harden. She wanted more, but not from him. She opened her eyes, turned, looked him straight on and smiled. She took the hand that had been touching her and moved it away with an elegance that was almost mocking.

—I’m stepping out for a moment —she murmured, and disappeared into the crowd without waiting for an answer.

***

She went into the restroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her nipples shamelessly pressing against the fabric. She wet her neck with cold water and took a deep breath.

—I love your dress —said a voice behind her.

A young woman, fair-skinned with short hair, was watching her from the back with a tilted smile. She came closer, pretending to dry her hands. She lowered her eyes to the neckline, where one of Renata’s nipples was peeking out, and with a provocative finger tucked it back under the fabric, holding her gaze.

They looked at each other. Fire. Silence. Desire.

They kissed.

There were no words. The stranger took her by the hand and led her to the back stall. They touched each other like two hungry animals. Renata pulled the dress down to her waist and the other woman trapped her breasts, worshiped them with her mouth, licked, bit. Then she knelt, hiked up her skirt, and buried herself between her legs until Renata’s knees threatened to give out. The orgasm shook her in a scream she had to swallow.

When she opened her eyes, part of her was smiling and part of her understood nothing. She straightened her dress and left the bathroom without looking back. She walked to the car not knowing whether she was laughing or crying. Because she understood something: the night wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

***

The city watched her like a silent lover as she drove back. The seat still held her scent; her clit throbbed like a blaring alarm. She wasn’t satisfied. Not yet.

She stopped at a gas station. She didn’t need fuel. She needed temptation. She got out of the car with her dress half-adjusted and the night air brushed her skin. She walked calmly toward the store, knowing the cameras were already recording her.

Inside, three men were chatting by the beer cooler. One of them, burly and tattooed, noticed her immediately. She wandered between the shelves without looking at anyone, aware that all of them were following her with their eyes. She bent down in front of some bottles and the dress climbed up her thighs. She pretended to be looking for something, but she was really offering herself.

—Can I help you with something? —one of them asked, in a deep voice.

Renata turned slowly and looked at him.

—Yes. But not here.

She walked out of the store without turning around, leaving the door open, and headed for a dim alley at the side of the station. There she slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. Her breasts were left bare, the nipples hard, gleaming under the lone light.

The three men followed her. The tattooed one, another with a scruffy beard, and a third with hunger in his eyes.

—Don’t penetrate me —she said quietly, firmly—. Just touch me.

And they obeyed. One knelt behind her and kissed her ass with devotion. Another grabbed her breasts and bit her nipples. The third drove his fingers into her soaking cunt while kissing her on the mouth. She let them, eyes closed, surrendered, each caress like a jolt.

—Fuck me —she ordered at last, her voice in pieces—. All three of you. Here. Now.

The strongest one turned her against the wall and drove into her in a single thrust. Renata cried out, not from pain but from release. Another positioned himself in front of her and took her mouth. The third traced her back and legs with his tongue. The thrusts were brutal, the gasps almost animal, the alley filled with broken breaths. She came once, twice, three times. She lost count.

When they finished, she was trembling. Her dress hung off her like a rag. She wiped her lips.

—Thank you —she whispered, and went back to the car.

***

She drove back in a trance. She got home and collapsed onto the sofa, right where it had all begun. She closed her eyes.

At last, she was at peace.

Until the next time the beast woke up.