The Stranger Who Fucked Me in the Dark Was a Coworker

Going out partying gets me horny, even though I almost never end up doing anything. It’s the atmosphere: the music blasting, the couples looking for each other in the dim light, the hands that slip under clothes when they think no one is watching. All of it leaves me so worked up that afterward I don’t know where to put it.

That night I’d gone out with people from work. There were almost fifteen of us, and honestly, we had a good time. Lots of beer, lots of laughter, a few confidences too many thanks to the alcohol. But nothing to write home about in the other department: pure office camaraderie. Since the place was only two streets from my apartment, I did my usual disappearing act and left without saying goodbye to anyone.

I got home with that restless feeling that doesn’t go away on its own. The apartment was silent, still with the sticky heat of the summer night sneaking in through the window. I threw myself on the sofa and opened the app, more out of habit than hope. At that hour there’s almost never anything interesting left: the same profiles as always, the same recycled photos. I was about to give up and crawl into bed when a message came in.

The profile picture was just a pair of pecs. He wasn’t huge, but you could tell he had a worked, solid body. The age said thirty-nine. And the description left no room for doubt: “Horny straight guy. I come to your place, fuck you, and goodbye.”

I laughed to myself. It was exactly what I needed that night, no conversation, no names, no promises. We talked for a while, just enough, and I confessed I was dead tired. He promised he’d be quick. Then I came up with a game.

—I’ll leave the door open —I wrote—. You get here, we won’t turn on any lights, and you’ll fuck me in the dark. No seeing each other’s faces.

I don’t know why the idea of not knowing who he was turned me on so much.

—Deal —he replied right away.

I turned off every light, left the deadbolt unlatched, and waited in my boxer briefs on the bed, my heart hammering in my chest. A few minutes later I heard the door, then his footsteps feeling their way toward the bedroom in the dark. He said nothing. He reached me by touch, grabbed the back of my neck, and kissed me with a brutality that left me breathless.

He smelled like expensive cologne and sweat, a mix that stuck in my head. He stripped me bare, yanking at my clothes in a rush, as if he’d been holding back for hours. He shoved me over and buried his mouth between my legs, opening me slowly, with no hurry this time, until I was trembling and completely ready. I clung to the headboard, stifling my gasps, trying not to make a sound in the middle of the night. By then I was no longer thinking about anything except what came next.

When he entered me, he did it all at once. There was no hesitation, no probing. He was strong, much more than that blurry photo suggested, and he started fucking me at a pace that gave no respite. Every thrust tore a moan out of me against the pillow. I asked him to get me fully onto the bed and he threw me onto the mattress without ceremony.

He got on top of me, and with every shove of his hips he drove me deeper into the mattress. I gripped the sheets, bit the fabric, tried to keep up and couldn’t. The guy had stamina that wasn’t normal. He kept pounding me hard for a good while, never easing up, breathing against my ear, whispering filthy things that made me even hotter.

—I’m coming —he said at last, his voice breaking.

—Do it inside —I begged, and he obeyed.

He stayed sprawled over my back, exhausted, for a long while. Then he got up in silence, groped around for his clothes, and dressed. He didn’t say goodbye, or if he did, I was already too sleepy to hear it. I heard the door and fell asleep almost instantly.

***

I woke up a few hours later and went to the bathroom to clean myself up a bit. On the way back to bed, my foot hit something on the floor. I crouched down to look and found a watch. A big one, silver, with a metal band and a fair bit of weight in my hand. Nice. Expensive, probably.

What was strange was that it rang a bell. I didn’t know why, but I had that uneasy feeling of having seen it before. I hurried to message him on the app so he could come back for it, but he had blocked me. The profile no longer existed for me. “What a shame,” I thought, while trying the watch on my wrist. It was way too big. I tucked it into the nightstand drawer and forgot about it.

***

Monday I went back to work with my head somewhere else. During coffee break, the usual people were talking about how well Friday night had gone, that we had to do it again, that next time I couldn’t duck out so early. Everyone was in good spirits. Everyone except Bruno.

Bruno didn’t usually talk much with me. He was the classic attractive, slightly cocky guy, big, the kind who fills a room just by walking in. And on top of that he was my direct supervisor, which meant I always had to keep some distance with him. That morning he seemed off, absent, as if he were dragging around a bad mood that didn’t fit with the rest.

Without thinking too much, I asked him what was wrong. And that was when everything came crashing down on me.

—I’ve lost a watch —he said, rubbing his face—. One my girlfriend gave me. I have no idea where, and I’m climbing the walls.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I already knew why that watch in my nightstand drawer sounded familiar. It was his. Bruno was the stranger who had fucked me in the dark that night. My supervisor. The guy who played at being so straight.

I froze, not knowing what to say. Any move seemed like a mistake. If I opened my mouth, I’d give myself away too, and on top of that I’d be exposed in front of my boss. But seeing him like that, wrecked over an object I had tucked away, stirred something in me. I turned it over in my head all morning until, after lunch, I finally decided to write to him.

“Bruno, hi. Hey, I need to talk to you about something, but I’d rather it be outside work. Can we meet later at the café on the square?”

“Sure, no problem. I hope everything’s okay,” he replied.

We got there almost at the same time. We sat at a table in the back and I started talking as best I could, choosing every word.

—Look, I know you’re having a rough time, and I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing telling you this because of everything it implies. But seeing you so fucked up... I have your watch.

—What? —his voice shot up—. You have it? Did you steal it from me? How do you have it?

I could tell he was getting pissed off, getting defensive.

—Bruno, stop. You’re getting it mixed up. I have it because you left it at my place.

His face changed completely. He went white, the cup halfway to his mouth. It took him several seconds to react, and when he did, he lowered his voice until it was a whisper.

—Fuck. Fuck, fuck. —He ran a hand through his hair, looking around to see if anyone could hear us—. On the one hand I’m relieved, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Promise me.

—I swear I haven’t talked to anyone and I’m not going to —I said calmly—. I’ll give you back the watch and we’ll act like it never happened. Come to my place if you want and I’ll give it to you right now.

***

We took a taxi and he didn’t say a word to me the whole way. He stared out the window, jaw clenched, as if he were still processing what he’d just found out. We went up to my apartment, I closed the door, and went straight to the nightstand to get the watch. I put it in his hand and, finally, I saw his shoulders loosen a little.

I offered him coffee and he accepted. We sat in the kitchen, the same apartment where everything had happened in the dark a few nights earlier, and the situation felt unreal. We chatted for a while about anything: work, the office people, how absurd coincidence was. Little by little, the tension faded. I even dared to make a few jokes, and he laughed for the first time all afternoon.

—Hey, sorry about before —he said, finally looking me in the eye—. I got defensive like an idiot.

—No, I get it. I didn’t know how to tell you about the watch either when I realized it was you. You didn’t look like someone who’d fuck like that —I blurted out, half serious, half joking.

—Yeah. And you didn’t look like you’d be that submissive —he replied with a half smile—. With guys, I let myself be as rough as my girl won’t let me be.

—Yeah, I noticed. But no complaints from me.

—None from me either.

Silence settled over the living room. One of those loaded, electric silences where words are unnecessary. I got up to walk him to the door, convinced that was the end of it. But as soon as we were close, he grabbed my arm and slammed me against the wood.

—Well then —he murmured, pressed against my mouth—, I’m going to thank you the way you deserve.

And this time there was no light to switch off.