My counselor locked the door that afternoon

It was Wednesday at midday when I went up to the fourth floor of the faculty for my appointment with the counselor, as I did every week since the start of my final year. I arrived on time, as always, because they let me leave the seminar early to make it to my slot. When I got there, someone was still inside, so I sat down in one of the armchairs in the small reception area and waited with my backpack on my knees.

After a few minutes, the guy who had been in her office came out, and behind him she appeared. Renata was wearing a blouse with a lower neckline than usual and a straight skirt that hugged her hips. Her heels made her gait stand out. I, on the other hand, was dressed like every day: jeans, a plain shirt, and a pair of worn-out sneakers. Nothing flashy, nothing that stood out next to her.

—Come in, Mariana —she said, stepping aside to let me in.

She closed the door behind us and, without me fully noticing, locked it. It was so no one would interrupt the session, I told myself. Even so, the sharp click of the lock made something inside me bristle. I couldn’t help glancing at her neckline, where the fabric opened just enough to show the beginnings of two big, firm tits, pressed by a black lace bra that showed through. I looked away as soon as I realized what I was doing.

We sat down, her facing me, and she began with the usual questions. How I was doing with my classes, whether I was sleeping well, whether I’d spoken to anyone in my group. I answered while she wrote in her notebook. At one point she was only writing, and silence settled between us. My eyes wandered around the room: no picture frames, no family photos, no ring on her left hand. She lived alone, I guessed. And again, without meaning to, my gaze ended up on the line of her neckline.

—I’ve noticed some changes these past few weeks —she said, and I looked up abruptly—. You’ve come a long way. You’re not the girl who came through that door on day one without daring to look at me anymore. But your professors still tell me you hardly socialize. You should. It’s your last year; it would be nice if you took away good memories before it ends.

—I know —I replied, watching her get up from the armchair opposite mine to sit beside me—. It’s just that it’s still hard for me. It’s… it’s why I don’t get close to people.

—What’s wrong? —she asked softly—. You got nervous the moment I sat down next to you.

I felt her hand settle on my thigh, over the fabric of my pants.

—A little —I whispered, turning my face toward her.

She was too close. My breathing quickened before I could control it. Her perfume filled everything, sweet and warm, and suddenly every detail of her face seemed sharp: the curve of her mouth, a small mark beside her eye, the way she looked at me without blinking.

—I noticed —she said—. I also felt your eyes on me before you came in. And in the previous sessions. You’re not as subtle as you think.

I wanted to say something, to make excuses, but no voice came out.

—You don’t have to be ashamed —she went on, bringing her face a little closer to mine—. It happens to me too. I like having you here every Wednesday. More than I should.

This can’t be happening.

Her hand slid a little farther up my leg, a slow movement, almost a question. My skin prickled beneath my clothes and I noticed, with a mix of shame and desire, that my cunt was already starting to get wet inside my panties before my mind could process anything. Having her that close to me felt good. Too good.

Her mouth brushed my ear when she spoke again, and the warm breath of her voice ran down my nape.

—You’re so pretty it’s hard not to want you close —she said—. Tell me you feel it too. Tell me and this goes no further unless you want it to.

I swallowed. For months I’d been building that scene in my head, in classes I didn’t listen to, on nights when I lay staring at the ceiling with my fingers between my legs, coming silently while thinking about her. Different versions of the same thing: her and me, that office, that locked door. And now it was really happening.

—I want you —I finally admitted, in a thin voice—. I’ve wanted you since the first day.

That was enough. Renata shortened the distance and joined her lips to mine. It was an awkward kiss on my part, because I had never kissed a woman and my hands didn’t know where to stay, but she guided me without rushing, setting the rhythm, parting her mouth just enough for me to follow. Her tongue entered my mouth slowly, warm, and played with mine until I learned to kiss her back with the same hunger. My clumsiness turned into something firmer, more mine.

One of my hands ended up on her breast, over her blouse, feeling the firmness beneath the fabric and the nipple already standing hard against the lace. She let out a low moan inside my mouth and that gave me courage. I slid my fingers down into the neckline and yanked her bra cup down; one tit spilled out, heavy, with the dark, erect nipple pointing at me. I stared at it for a second and she took me by the nape and pushed me down until my face sank into it.

—Suck it —she whispered—. Come on, I was right, you’ve wanted to do that since you walked in.

I caught her nipple with my lips and licked it, first timidly, then with my whole tongue, sucking until I made it hard and shiny. She dug her fingers into my hair and guided me from one tit to the other, breathing softly so no one in the hallway would hear. I unbuttoned her blouse a couple more buttons and freed the other tit too, two big tits out of the bra, and took them into my mouth one after the other while her hand slid down to my crotch and squeezed me over my jeans.

—You’re wet —she said, smiling against my forehead—. I can feel the heat through the denim.

She unbuttoned my pants without stopping kissing my neck and pulled down the zipper. She slipped her hand inside my panties and her fingers, long and cold, glided straight between the lips of my cunt. A moan escaped me without permission and she covered my mouth with her other hand.

—Shhh. Quiet, Mariana. There are half a dozen people right behind that door.

I nodded, eyes shut, biting my lip while two of her fingers moved up and down, soaking in my own juices before finding my clit. She started circling it, slow at first, then faster, and I melted into the armchair. I spread my legs as far as my lowered jeans would allow and she took the opportunity to slide in one finger, then two, all the way in. The wet sound of her hand pumping inside me filled the office and terrified me and turned me on at the same time.

—Look at me —she said, and I obeyed—. There, little one. Look at me while I fuck you with my fingers.

She was about to make me come right there, but she stopped abruptly, pulled her shining fingers out, and took them to her mouth. She sucked them in front of me, looking at me, and dragged her tongue over her lip to make me taste my own flavor.

—Now you’re going to do something for me —she murmured.

She stood up, hiked her skirt to her waist, and sat on the edge of the desk, spreading her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her cunt was on display, shaved, pink, shining from how wet she was. She crooked a finger for me to kneel and I slid from the armchair to the floor without thinking twice. I had never done it with a woman, never put my mouth on another one, but her scent pulled me forward by the hair.

—Use your whole tongue —she instructed me—. From bottom to top. Slowly the first time.

I obeyed. I ran my tongue over her entire slit, from the entrance to the clit, and she threw her head back, biting her hand. I repeated the motion, firmer, and then started sucking her clit the way she had done to me with her fingers. Her thighs closed around my head. She buried a hand in my hair and pressed me against her cunt, grinding slowly against my mouth.

—That’s it, Mariana, like that… put it inside too.

I plunged my tongue into her folds and felt her tremble. I licked her from bottom to top, fucked her with the tip, went back up to her clit and sucked it hard. She panted, holding herself back, moving her hips against my face, soaking my chin. I slid a hand up her thigh and pushed two fingers into her while I kept sucking, copying what she had done to me, and that was enough to make her tense, clamp her thighs against my ears, and come in my mouth, stifling the groan against her forearm. I felt her cunt pulsing around my fingers, my tongue bathed in her hot release.

When she loosened her grip, she looked down at me, breathless, her hair stuck to her forehead.

—Come here —she whispered.

She pulled me up from the floor by my underarms and sat me on the desk, in the place she had just left. She yanked my jeans and panties down to my knees and knelt in front of me. Her mouth went straight to my cunt and I had to bite my fist not to scream. She licked me all over, sucked my clit like her life depended on it, slid her tongue inside me and came back up. I grabbed her head with both hands and, without realizing it, set the rhythm, moving her face against me, fucking her mouth from above. She was so close that I could feel my legs trembling.

She slipped two fingers into me again, curling them upward, searching for that exact spot inside that made me see white. At the same time she sucked my clit without letting go. I didn’t last more than a minute. I came with my mouth open and no sound, pressing her head against me, soaking her face, my whole body shaking in waves while she held my hips so I wouldn’t fall off the desk.

When I could open my eyes, she was wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, smiling up at me from below. She stood, kissed me deeply, and made me taste myself mixed with her.

The kiss deepened, slowed. I accidentally bit her lower lip and heard her laugh against my mouth, a low sound that turned me on even more. Her hand slid from my hip to the edge of my shirt and her fingers found a strip of bare skin. I drew in a sharp breath.

—Relax —she murmured—. We have time. Not that much, though.

I didn’t understand that last line until a small clock on her desk started ringing: the signal that the session had ended. The chime shattered the moment like a bucket of water. Renata pulled away from me slowly, her eyes bright and lipstick smeared at one corner, her chin still shiny with me.

—Not bad, Mariana —she said, running her thumb over my lip to clean a smear of her lipstick—. Though now I’m going to leave wanting more. This was left halfway done; I still didn’t fuck you the way I wanted.

—My next appointment isn’t until next Wednesday —I whispered, still trembling, pulling my panties and jeans back up with clumsy hands, as if someone might hear us on the other side of the door.

She shook her head. She straightened her skirt, tucked her tits back into her bra with a calm I was nowhere near having, and walked to the desk. She took her notebook and handed it to me along with a pen.

—Write down your number —she said—. I’ll text you later. I’m not waiting a week to have you with your legs open again.

I nodded and wrote the digits with my hand shaking a little. When I gave her the notebook back, I stood up and straightened my clothes, still dazed by what had just happened. She came closer again and I stayed still, not knowing what to do, while she placed a brief, soft kiss on my lips.

—I hope you answer me —she said against my mouth—. And now go, you’re late for class.

I smiled at her. She stroked my cheek with the back of her hand and, as if nothing had happened, touched up her lipstick in front of a small pocket mirror. Then she opened the door and walked me out into the hallway, professional again, as if the woman who had fingered and licked me only seconds before were someone else entirely.

Once outside, I felt like I could breathe again. The corridor was full of students coming and going, completely oblivious to what had just happened in that office. I walked among them with my legs a little weak, my wet panties sticking between my thighs, replaying every second: the click of the lock, her perfume, her fingers inside me, the way she said my name while she came in my mouth.

My body was still burning, and I knew that as soon as I got home I would throw myself on the bed and put my fingers inside myself thinking about her until I came again. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone or invisible. I took my phone out of my pocket and looked at it without putting it away, waiting for the message she had promised me, counting the minutes until I saw her again and let her fuck me the way she hadn’t had time to do.