I Went for My Books and Found Her

It was Saturday afternoon when I remembered I still had a box with some of my things at Andrés’s apartment. Old books, marked-up novels, two notebooks from college, and a couple of photos I no longer wanted his eyes to see. I’d been putting off that errand for months. The idea of running into him bored me, not enraged me. What we had was over a long time ago and there was nothing left to salvage, except the box.

I texted in the chat with the casualness of someone asking for a dentist appointment: “Hi, are you home? I need to come pick up the box of books.”

Andrés replied almost immediately. “I’m not there, but I’ll leave the key in the planter at the entrance. Carolina went out to run errands, so the apartment is empty. Take your time.”

That was all I needed. I got myself ready without thinking too much. A cream tube top that clung to my body and didn’t need a bra, blue denim shorts that barely covered my ass, and gold mid-heel sandals that lengthened my legs. I tied my hair up in a high ponytail, put gloss on my lips, and left.

I drove to the neighborhood, parked half a block away, and walked over slowly. The planter was where he’d said it would be, and underneath it was the silver key I’d used myself so many times. I opened the door expecting an empty apartment. What I found was something else.

Carolina was standing in the middle of the living room, barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater and holding a cup of coffee. She looked up, saw me come in with the key dangling from my finger, and froze with the coffee suspended in midair.

—What the hell are you doing here? —she snapped, setting the cup down hard on the table.

—Relax —I answered, trying to keep my voice from shaking—. I texted Andrés and he told me I could come in. I came for a box with my things, that’s all.

—Liar —she spat, planting herself a meter from me—. You’re shameless. No wonder he left you, right? Look at what you’re wearing. You think I can’t tell you came here looking for him?

I let out a short laugh, more incredulous than amused.

—Don’t be ridiculous, Carolina. I already knew he wasn’t here. He told me over chat five minutes ago. I came for my books and I’m leaving.

I walked past her without waiting for a reply and went into the service room where, as I remembered, Andrés had put my things. Carolina followed me, glued to me like a shadow, and started hurling words at my back while I dug through boxes.

—Slut… whatever… innocent little bitch. It shows all over your face how easy you are.

I clenched my jaw. Part of me wanted to ignore her. The other part, the one that had spent months swallowing the same scene in my head, wanted to answer back. I found the box, lifted it, turned around, and looked her in the eyes.

—Maybe. But he never complained about me. In fact, he loved it.

It was like tossing a lit match onto gasoline. Carolina stepped forward, eyes flashing.

—That was before. Now he’s with me, and there’s a reason for that.

—Look —I told her, setting the box on the floor—. I didn’t come here to fight over some man. I don’t care about Andrés. But I’m not going to put up with your cheap little sermon either.

She shoved me with both hands. More out of surprise than force, I staggered back a step. When I recovered, I shoved her. We ended up face to face, breathing hard, our chests almost touching, our noses a hair’s breadth apart. The air in the room had turned heavy.

—You’re a whore —she said, in a low voice, almost in my ear.

—And you’re insecure —I shot back just as quietly—. If you trusted him, you wouldn’t be this hysterical.

We wrestled. It wasn’t a fight like in the movies. It was a clumsy grapple, hands on shoulders, hands on arms, nails barely scraping skin. In one of those tugs, her finger caught the edge of my top and the elastic gave way with a dry snap. The fabric dropped all at once and one of my breasts came out, the nipple hard from the friction or the cold, I couldn’t say.

Carolina went still. The rage froze on her face and her eyes dropped for a split second to my breast. Just long enough for me to notice.

—What’s the matter? —I said, with a crooked smile—. Did you lose your place?

She didn’t answer. She lunged.

I thought she was going to hit me. She did something else. She grabbed my neck with one hand, shoved me against the wall, and lowered her head until her mouth closed around my nipple. She didn’t kiss it. She bit it. She bit me and then sucked me with a fury that didn’t seem like desire yet, it seemed like revenge.

—Look at you —I panted, grabbing her hair and pressing her head harder against me—. So proper, such the perfect girlfriend, and here you are sucking me off.

—Shut up, slut —she murmured between licks.

—And you keep going.

I yanked her hair and forced her to switch to the other breast. She licked it the same way, with the same rage, leaving my skin wet and reddened. I could feel drops of her saliva running down my stomach. I could also feel the heat between my legs, that dull throb I recognize before any word. I was soaking wet and she still hadn’t touched me.

I took her face in both hands and lifted it. We looked at each other for a second, both of us breathing through open mouths. And then I kissed her.

It was a desperate kiss, with teeth, with saliva, with swollen lips from all the biting. Both of us were hungry for something, and that something wasn’t affection. It was winning. It was proving to the other who was in charge of that body, of that moment, of that apartment where we had both set foot in different ways. Our hands didn’t stay still: hers squeezed my ass through my jeans, mine pulled up her sweater searching for skin.

I pushed her back until she retreated to the edge of the bed in the main bedroom. His bed, and now hers too. I yanked her sweater off and underneath she was only wearing a tight pink panty. I tore it off with my nails. She let me, looking at me with a mix of hatred and surrender that set me on fire.

—Kneel down —I ordered.

—You don’t give me orders.

—Kneel down or I’ll leave and tell Andrés everything, step by step.

She bit her lip. She knelt.

I fumbled open her shorts without taking them off completely, and shoved my face between my legs. Carolina caught on fast. Her tongue came out to find me with an urgency I hadn’t expected. She worked all over me, without shame, from my clit to farther back, drawing slow circles and then fast ones, alternating. I grabbed the doorframe so I wouldn’t fall. The moans came out of me hoarse, against my will.

—Like that, bitch… keep going like that.

When I felt my legs start to give way, I stopped her. I wasn’t going to give her the pleasure of making me come standing up, pinned against a wall. I shoved her to the floor and climbed on top of her. I sat on her face with my knees on either side of her head and pressed my sex against her open mouth.

—Now —I said, looking down at her—. Now you suck me like God intended.

She did. She licked me while I leaned forward and spread her legs. I found her shiny, swollen, ready. I lowered my head and gave her the same intensity back. I sucked her without mercy, alternating long licks with sucking on her clit, while I slid one finger into her, then two, then three. Carolina screamed against my sex and every scream came to me like an electric vibration.

We rolled onto the floor and ended up on our sides, in a perfect sixty-nine. My head between her thighs, hers between mine. The sound in the room was obscene: wet slaps, saliva, muffled moans. My fingers never stopped going in and out of her and hers gripped my ass hard, leaving marks I’d see in the mirror the next day.

I made her stand up before she could come. I lifted her onto the bed. I sat facing her, spread my legs, she spread hers, and I pressed our sex together until the contact drew a moan from both of us at the same time. We started moving slowly, testing each other, then with rhythm, then without any rhythm, just looking for the exact angle where the clits rubbed against each other.

It was an absurd scene. Two naked women on a bed that was hers, gripping each other by the knees, looking at each other with glassy eyes, their breasts bouncing with every thrust. A wall mirror threw the image back at us and I couldn’t stop looking at us.

—Look at you —I whispered—. Look at what you’re like with me.

Carolina didn’t answer anymore. She only moaned. The mask of the perfect girlfriend had fallen off and underneath it was a woman lost in her own desire. We came almost together, two seconds apart. Me first, her right after, both of us arching our backs, both of us letting out a long cry that bounced off the bedroom walls. I felt my wetness mix with hers on the sheet.

We stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard, our bodies shining with sweat and saliva. Carolina was the first to move. She sat on the edge of the bed, covered her tits with her arms as if only now she realized she was naked, and grabbed the sweater from the floor.

I got off slowly. I picked up the torn top, the shorts, the sandals. I dressed without rushing, letting her see my body still marked by her mouth. I walked to the service room, lifted the box of books, and went back to the living room.

Carolina was standing in the hallway, her sweater on crooked, her eyes red. She looked at me without saying anything. I paused for a second in the doorway.

—Tell Andrés to take good care of you —I said, adjusting my high ponytail—. Because if he doesn’t, I’ll come back and steal you too.

I closed the door behind me. I left the key where it was, in the planter. I went down the stairs with the box pressed against my chest and my heart still pounding hard. When I got to the car, I sat behind the wheel for a second, looked at my face in the rearview mirror, and smiled.

I hadn’t gone to fetch anything but my books. I left with that, with the box on the passenger seat, and with something else my ex wouldn’t be taking from me in the next fight.