A Stranger Pulled Me Out to Dance the Lambada

My name is Mariana. I’m twenty-six, and I’ve never been ashamed to say I like to tease. I have fair skin, honey-colored eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair. I’m proud of my body: good legs, a good chest, a waist I know how to move when the right music comes on. What I’m about to tell happened not long ago, and I’m still amazed at how easy it all was.

I’d been single for a month. I’d split with my boyfriend without much drama, more out of boredom than anything else, and the days were dragging at home. So when my friend Bianca called to invite me to a party, I didn’t even let her finish the sentence.

—A lot of people are going to be there —she told me—. You might even meet someone.

—I’m not looking for anyone —I lied.

—You always say that. Get ready, I’m picking you up at eight.

I showered at my own pace, rubbed lotion all over my body, and put perfume on the places I like to have smelled. I made a few loose curls in front and pinned the rest up with a clip. Red thong, a light bra that was barely visible under the fabric. Black leather skirt, short, and a white blouse with a neckline that hinted at more than it showed. Over that, a black corduroy jacket to match. Heels. I looked in the mirror and smiled: I was ready to cause trouble.

Bianca showed up on time with two other friends in the car. When she saw me get in, she let out a whistle.

—Wow. You’re coming in hot, huh?

—Just what any mortal deserves —I shot back, and the four of us laughed.

We got there around nine. I thought it was a club, but it turned out to be a big private house, with the lights low and music spilling out through the windows. From the front door, you could already feel the bass in your chest. The four of us went in together, and several men watched us, that thing they do where they size you up from head to toe without even pretending not to.

The other two girls had their boyfriends waiting for them, so they disappeared right away. Bianca and I were left alone. The kitchen doubled as a bar: big, crowded with bottles, glasses everywhere. They served us tequila in shot glasses and we toasted for no reason, just because we were there.

In the next room, people were dancing. You could see couples all over each other, moving close, with the energy of a night that was just getting started. I stood at the bar watching for a while, drink in hand. They looked like normal people, nothing out of the ordinary, and that calmed me down.

Before long Bianca was already talking to some guy, laughing at everything he said. I ended up alone, bored again. The men were looking at me, but none of them worked up the nerve to come over. On my third tequila, I decided to go to the bathroom, which was at the end of the hallway.

To get there I had to pass the door to the room where they were dancing. Inside they’d hung a mirrored disco ball, and the lights spun in dots across the walls, like an old disco floor. The crowd was pumped, giving themselves over to the music.

***

In the bathroom I fixed myself up a little more. I loosened a couple of buttons on my neckline, almost like an experiment, to see what would happen. I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror and told myself I wasn’t going to be bored tonight.

When I came out, a song I loved had just started, one of those that makes me move without thinking. I walked the few steps that separated me from the room and went straight onto the dance floor. About twenty people were dancing under the light ball.

I danced alone for a good while, eyes half closed, letting myself go. I didn’t need a partner to have a good time. That song ended and a cumbia kicked in. I was already about to head out when someone took my hand.

—Come on, let’s dance —a voice said.

She caught me so off guard I didn’t even know what to say. I just let myself be led. When I looked up, I found another girl, and not just any girl: copper-brown skin, black curly hair, slim, with a firm ass and medium-sized breasts outlined under her black blouse. Tight pants, direct gaze. She was gorgeous, one of those women who don’t need to try for you to look at them.

We started dancing cumbia. She led me with a confidence that undid me: she spun me, pulled me back in, kept time with her hand on mine. Her eyes were huge and black, and she kept staring at me without shame. I moved and held her gaze, amused, still not understanding where any of this was going.

And then the song changed.

The first chords of a lambada came on and something in the air turned thick. I let go of her hand, ready to leave, because lambada is danced differently and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But she caught my wrist.

—Hey… where do you think you’re going? —she said, with half a smile.

She pulled me toward her with a gentle tug and placed her left hand on my lower back. For a second I froze, not knowing what to do with my arms, with my body, with the heat climbing my neck. Later I’d learn her name was Renata, but at that moment she was just a beautiful stranger who had decided I was going to dance with her.

She started to move, hip to hip, leading me slowly. I let out the breath I’d been holding and started to follow her, shy at first, then with more desire. She moved her hips to the rhythm of the lambada and I felt her leg slipping between mine with each turn. Our thighs brushed, separated, then found each other again.

At one point, Renata spun me around and stood behind me. She took my torso in both hands and pressed herself against my ass, grinding in time. I felt her breath at the nape of my neck and, unable to stop it, an electric current shot straight down to my pussy. This isn’t just dancing, I thought, and instead of frightening me, the thought turned me on even more.

I raised my arms and hooked them back around her neck, offering her the whole front of my body. She took the chance to slide her hands up and barely brush under my breasts. My tits bounced with the movement and I noticed she wasn’t taking her eyes off me. We were dancing for the two of us; the rest of the room had become a blur of spinning lights.

I’d had dreams about other women before, wet dreams I woke up from confused. I never thought it would happen to me awake, on a dance floor, breathing hard and with my panties starting to get wet.

With a bold move, Renata spun me again and came to stand in front of me. Pussy to pussy, the two of us holding each other by the waist, we kept the rhythm of the lambada as if we’d been doing it for years. Every time she shoved her hip against mine, a low moan slipped out of me, swallowed by the music. She dropped her eyes to my neckline without hiding it, and I smiled at her. I gave her permission with that smile.

When the lambada ended, I was right on the edge of something. I pulled away abruptly, legs shaking, and hurried down the hallway trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding in my ears.

***

I didn’t get far. Renata caught up with me before the bathroom and pinned me against the back wall, where the music was only a murmur and the light barely reached.

—You weren’t getting away that easily —she said, very close to my mouth.

I didn’t answer. I kissed her instead, because I couldn’t hold back anymore. Her mouth was soft and firm at once, and when her tongue found mine I grabbed the back of her neck so she wouldn’t pull away. I felt her hands slip under my blouse, travel down my back, unhook my bra with an ease that made me a little jealous and a whole lot more turned on.

—Not here —I managed to say.

She took my hand and dragged me into the bathroom, the same one where I’d loosened those buttons earlier without knowing why. She locked the door. The mirror threw back the image of the two of us, hair messy, lips swollen.

Renata lifted my blouse and pulled it over my head. She looked at my breasts for a second, like someone confirming something, and then lowered her mouth. When her tongue circled one of my nipples, my knees went weak. She held my waist while she licked me, slowly at first, then hungrier, alternating between one and the other. I dug my fingers into her curly hair and let out the moans I’d had to swallow on the dance floor.

Her hands went down to my leather skirt, found the zipper, and let it fall to the floor. She looked at my red thong and smiled.

—Red. You knew what you wanted.

—I had no idea —I admitted, and it was the truth.

She pulled the fabric to the side with two fingers and touched me for the first time. I was so wet her finger slid in without effort. I let out a long whimper and grabbed the edge of the sink so I wouldn’t collapse. She played with me slowly, drawing circles, learning how my body responded, while she kissed my neck and spoke softly in my ear.

—Easy. Enjoy it. No one’s coming.

When she slid two fingers into me, I threw my head back. Renata knelt without stopping her hand and replaced it with her mouth. The first time her tongue ran over me from top to bottom, I thought she was going to undo me right there. No woman had ever done that to me before. She knew exactly where and how, without hesitation, as if she knew my body better than I did.

I put one leg over her shoulder to open myself wider and let her do it. Pleasure rose in waves, getting closer and closer, while I bit the back of my hand so I wouldn’t scream and have half the room hear me. Renata grabbed my hips and pressed me against her mouth, mercilessly, until everything that had started on the dance floor exploded at once. I came shaking, my legs squeezing her head, repeating her name I had only just learned.

She stood up slowly, her mouth shining, and kissed me so I could taste myself. I laughed against her lips, still breathless.

—Because of the lambada —I said.

—Because of the lambada —she repeated—. Now it’s your turn.

And that night, in the bathroom of a house that wasn’t mine, I discovered that desire doesn’t understand labels or plans. I had gone to that party to forget a man and ended up learning, against the cold tile, everything my body had been waiting for without me even knowing it.