My Med School Classmate Kissed Me in Front of Everyone

It was Friday and the get-together started like always, in Mariana’s apartment, three blocks from the teaching hospital. Third-year med students like us had been living the same routine for months: five days of shifts, anatomy, and midterms, and then on Saturday at dawn a packed apartment full of people trying to forget that Monday meant starting all over again.

That night there were ten of us. Mariana always knew how to throw a good party; she knew what music to play and how to pace the booze so the night wouldn’t die at two in the morning. She lived alone in the place her aunt Renata had left her when she moved to Córdoba, and that made the apartment our group’s unofficial headquarters.

I was wearing black jeans and a white blouse that turned just a little sheer in the indirect lamp light. I hadn’t gone out planning to hook up with anyone. I wanted to drink, laugh, and forget the endless list of pathologies I had to review for Monday.

By around one in the morning, everyone was already wasted. We’d had more fernet than any healthy liver would recommend, and someone had produced a few pills that were being passed around from hand to hand. I passed mine to Tobías, the skinny curly-haired guy who slept at my library table; I had no desire to mix in anything that wasn’t alcohol.

—This is so fucking boring —Camila said, stretched out on the couch with her legs over her boyfriend’s knees—. Let’s do something.

—Truth or dare —Esteban suggested, and everyone protested about how cliché it was, but no one said no.

We started in a circle, sitting on the wooden floor. The first rounds were tame: drunk confessions, first-year stories, someone had to sing the national anthem with an apple in their mouth. Then, like always, the questions got heavier.

By the third round, four of us were down to our underwear. I still wasn’t, because I’d gotten away with two truths. I knew how to handle myself: I answered with just enough honesty to make it juicy, but not so much that I’d regret it the next day.

Mariana was sitting across from me, right on the other side of the circle. Her back was against the couch, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. She was wearing a short burgundy dress and a thin necklace that dipped into her cleavage. Every time she laughed, she tipped her head back and her long neck stood out.

I tried not to look at her too much. I’d known her for three years and I had never stopped thinking she was the prettiest woman in the whole faculty. Dark skin, honey-colored eyes, a smile that showed two dimples when she really laughed. Until that night, that attraction had been a silent thing, filed away in some internal folder where I kept what I knew would never be used.

—Your turn —Camila said, pointing at me with the empty bottle—. Truth or dare.

—Truth —I answered without thinking.

Camila tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled wickedly.

—Have you ever been with a woman?

The circle fell silent. I felt the eyes of all nine of them pinning me in place. Mariana was the only one who didn’t look straight at me; she kept staring at the glass between her hands.

—Yes —I said.

There was a mocking round of applause, a couple of whistles. Esteban laughed out loud. Tobías looked at me with the curiosity of someone who’d just found out a new fact and didn’t know where to file it.

—And what does it feel like? —Mariana asked, and only then did she lift her eyes.

That wasn’t part of the game. She had no right to ask me anything out of turn. But she said it softly, almost to herself, and no one complained.

I looked at her. She had a particular way of asking things, as if the answer actually mattered to her. I took a breath.

—If you want to know what it feels like, you’ll have to try it yourself —I said.

I blurted it out without thinking, tongue loosened by the fernet and the long night. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It was too much. It was a shameless move in front of the whole table, and I wasn’t that kind of girl.

Mariana held my gaze a second longer than she should have. Then she set the glass on the floor with a slow, almost deliberate motion. She stood up.

—Okay —she said.

She walked the three steps that separated her from me. I was still sitting with my back against the wall, legs stretched out. She settled onto me, one knee on each side of my hips, and straddled me.

The whole circle made a noise that was part astonishment, part nervous laughter. Someone said, “I can’t believe this.” I could barely hear anything. All I registered was Mariana’s weight on my thighs, the wine on her breath against my mouth, and the scent of her perfume, something sweet with a woody note underneath.

She kissed me.

It wasn’t a game kiss. It wasn’t a party kiss. It was a slow kiss, with a warm tongue, one hand at the nape of my neck and the other spread across my chest. I felt my eyes close without asking my permission. When she pulled away, her lips were a little redder and her breathing was uneven.

—How’s that? —she said, still not getting off my legs.

—We need to try more —I answered.

I don’t know where my voice came from. She laughed without making a sound, just with her shoulders, and got up. She held out her hand. I took it without looking at the others.

We walked down the hallway to her room. Behind us came a commotion that was half cheering and half shock. Tobías yelled something I couldn’t make out. Mariana closed the door with her foot without letting go of my hand.

***

Her room was the neatest in the apartment. There was a double bed with a gray comforter, a wall covered with medical books mixed in with novels, and a floor lamp in the corner casting a warm, low light.

—Wait —she said—. Before we keep going... is everything okay?

I looked at her. Her eyes were shining but her voice was steady. It was that Mariana from oral exams, the one who knew exactly what to answer and how.

—Everything’s okay —I said—. And you?

—I never... —she started—. But I’ve been watching you for a while. A long time.

That confession shook me more than the kiss. I’d spent years fantasizing about her and it had never occurred to me that it might be mutual.

I hugged her. For a moment it wasn’t erotic; it was something else, a kind of relief. Then I kissed her again, slower, and started undoing her dress at the back. The zipper came down slowly, tooth by tooth, and the fabric slid off her shoulders until it fell around her feet. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her breasts were big, round, with skin a shade lighter where the summer sun hadn’t reached it. Between them, right in the middle, she had a small tattoo, an oak leaf drawn in black ink.

—What is it? —I asked.

—Long story —she said, and she grabbed my face with both hands so I’d stop looking at the drawing and look back at her.

I gently pushed her onto the bed. She sat on the edge and I knelt on the floor. I started at her neck, moving my mouth down over her collarbone, her sternum, until I reached her breasts. I ran my tongue around one nipple and then bit it very slowly. She let out a short sigh, almost a whimper.

I kept going down. The skin of her abdomen smelled like some vanilla cream. I kissed the sides of her ribs, her navel, the bone of her hip. When I reached the edge of her panties, I looked up. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back, her hands gripping the edge of the comforter.

—Can I? —I asked.

—Please —she said.

I pulled the last garment down with my teeth and took it off her with my hands. She was completely shaved. I stayed there for a second, staring, my face just inches from her sex, listening to how fast her breathing was getting just from the pause.

I touched her first with my fingers, slowly. She was wet, very wet, and that turned me on more than anything else. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, once, slowly, and felt her shudder all over. Then I started playing.

I made small circles around her clit, without touching it fully. I made her beg for it. When she started breathing harder, I would go down to her entrance, press a little with my tongue, and go back up. That torture pulled rough little moans out of her, muffled against her own hand, because she had put it over her mouth to keep from crying out.

—Don’t cover your mouth —I said, lifting my head for a second—. The music’s drowning everyone else out.

She did as I said. She dropped her hand and let the moans come out raw.

I went back down. This time I went straight to her clit, with my tongue flat, pressing in a steady rhythm. I slid two fingers inside her. It was a little hard at first; she was very tight. Then she opened up and started pushing against my hand.

—More —she begged.

I added a third finger. She was hot inside, clenching around my fingers, and every time I curled my hand upward I could feel her tighten all the way through. My tongue on top, my fingers inside, her free hand clutching my hair. The room smelled of perfume, sweat, and something else, something sweet and salty at the same time.

When she came, she did it with a cry she had no way to hide. Her legs closed around my head, her back arched, and I kept going slowly until I felt the contractions ease.

I let myself fall beside her on the bed. She was sweaty, her hair stuck to her forehead, and she had a smile I had never seen before. She pushed my bangs back with the back of her fingers.

—Tell me that wasn’t the fernet’s idea —she murmured.

—It wasn’t the fernet’s idea —I said.

We stayed like that for a while, holding each other, not talking. Then I don’t remember exactly when we fell asleep. The music outside faded away, the voices got quieter, someone closed the front door when they left.

***

I woke up with the sun coming in through the crack in the blinds. Mariana was still asleep against my shoulder, her arm across my waist. The bedroom door opened without ceremony.

It was Renata, Mariana’s aunt, who had clearly come looking for something and wasn’t expecting us. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene: two naked girls half-covered by the sheet, clothes scattered on the floor, an empty water bottle on the nightstand.

I wanted to die. I tugged Mariana’s arm, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Renata raised her eyebrows, looked at her niece, and laughed. A short, amused laugh, with no trace of judgment.

—How was the night, kid? —she said, looking at Mariana.

Mariana sat up in bed, covering herself with the sheet. She was red but not embarrassed.

—Best of my life, aunt —she answered, and slipped a hand under the sheets to squeeze mine.

Renata laughed harder, closed the door, and I heard her walking away down the hallway. I heard her humming something in the kitchen.

Today is Saturday again. Mariana texted me an hour ago asking what time I’m coming over. There’s another get-together. I’ve been staring at my screen for two hours, thinking there’s still way too much time left before night.