The Night My Lover and My Boyfriend Met

My name is Mariana, and I’ve been with Diego for eight years. I was twenty-two when we moved in together; he was thirty-eight. That age gap that at first frightened my friends ended up being the best thing about us. Diego never wanted to cage me, and I never wanted to cage him.

From the second year on, we started talking about what we felt when we looked at other people. We wouldn’t promise to lie. We wouldn’t promise not to desire. We’d only say it when it came up, without drama. He knew that for months I’d been seeing Camila, a twenty-six-year-old girl I’d met at the gym. He never asked for details. Once he asked me if she was affectionate with me, and nothing more.

Diego had also been with someone. A coworker at the publishing house where he works. He hadn’t hidden that from me either, but I didn’t want names or schedules. Each of us had our share of silence.

The Saturday that changed everything wasn’t planned. We went out for a drink at a small bar in San Telmo, one of those places with candles on the tables and too much noise. We ordered whiskey on the rocks and started talking about a trip we wanted to take in the summer. And then the door opened and Camila walked in.

I stared at her as if she’d walked into the wrong bar. We hadn’t seen each other in fifteen days. Her hair was tied up and she was wearing a black shirt unbuttoned down to the third button. When she recognized me, she stopped dead three meters from the table.

—Diego —I said without looking at him yet—, this is Camila.

I said it like that, without beating around the bush, because any beating around the bush would have been worse. Diego stood up, kissed her on both cheeks as if he’d known her forever, and pulled out a chair for her. Camila sat down very straight, with her hands clasped on the table, and looked at the empty glass the waiter had just set down in front of her.

—Order whatever you want —Diego said—. It’s on me.

Ten awkward minutes passed and, all of a sudden, they weren’t awkward anymore. Diego asked her about her job, her sisters, a movie she’d seen. Camila laughed with that low laugh I knew so well, the one that comes out when she starts to feel comfortable. I drank two whiskeys in a row and said almost nothing.

When Camila got up to go to the bathroom, Diego laid his hand on my knee.

—Do you want us to come home together, the three of us?

—Do you want that? —I asked—. To be with both of us?

—I don’t know if I want to be there myself. But I want to see you with her. If Camila says yes, let’s go.

I looked at him trying to figure him out. I had been sleeping beside him for eight years and he still surprised me. Camila came back from the bathroom and stood by the table, waiting.

—Come home with us? —I said to her.

—The three of us? —she asked, and her voice only trembled a little.

—The three of us —Diego replied.

Camila sat down again, drank the rest of her drink in one gulp, and nodded.

***

The taxi ride was silent. Camila sat in the middle, her hip pressed against mine and her knee brushing Diego’s. Nobody spoke. Every bump in the avenue brought us a little closer together. I kept reaching for her hand under her coat and found it cold.

At home, Diego locked the door and headed toward the living room cabinet.

—Go upstairs —he said without looking at us—. I’ll pour myself a whiskey and come up in a bit. Start without me.

Camila went up first. I followed her up the stairs, looking at her shoulders, that line of the nape of her neck I’d kissed so many times in her apartment, in the dark, with the feeling that I was stealing something. Now we weren’t stealing anything.

In the bedroom we took off our clothes unhurriedly, as if we had the whole night ahead of us. We kissed standing up beside the bed, and I loosened her bra clasp with one hand while I held her face with the other. Camila has very fair skin, and finger marks show when I squeeze hard. That night I squeezed hard.

We lay down. It started like so many other times: me on top, her underneath, my hips working over hers, her tongue on my neck. But this time I knew that at some point the door would open, and that added something new, a current that hadn’t been there before.

I moved down her body and opened her legs. Camila bit her hand when my tongue found her. I know her. I know exactly where and how. I made her come twice in a row, with her face buried between her thighs and my fingers digging into her hips. Then I climbed back up, straddled her mouth, and let her do the same to me.

At some point Diego came in. I didn’t hear him open the door. When I подняв my head, he was already sitting in the chair in the corner, still dressed, with a whiskey glass in his hand. I wanted to get off and go over to him, but he stopped me with a gesture.

—Mariana, relax. Keep going.

I looked at him, confused. Camila looked at him too, without moving. Diego stood up, set the glass on the dresser, and opened the nightstand drawer.

—I’ve got something for the two of you.

He took out a flat black cardboard box and set it on the bed. I sat up and opened it. Inside there was a bottle with an amber liquid and a coiled USB cable.

—It’s a warming oil. You plug it in, and when that little light turns on, it’s ready. The texture changes with the heat. It’s good for the whole body. You can kiss over the skin with no problem, it doesn’t taste bad.

I looked at him, mouth open. Camila laughed softly.

—When did you buy this? —I asked him.

—Last Tuesday.

—Last Tuesday? —I did the math. Last Tuesday I’d been with Camila in the afternoon.

—I’ve known for a while that you were going to bring someone home. I didn’t picture it would be today, but I knew that at some point it was going to happen.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I kissed him long and deep on the mouth, and he let me. When I pulled away, his eyes were shining.

—Try it —he said—. I want to see it.

I plugged in the oil. We waited the long two minutes until the light came on. In the meantime, Camila shoved me back onto the bed and bit my left nipple until I screamed.

The oil smelled like something between wood and orange. I poured a little into my palm and spread it over her shoulders, her neck, between her breasts. The temperature was only barely warm, pleasant, not burning. When my fingers slid down her belly and went inside her, she arched as if I had touched her for the first time. I fingered her slowly, with my other hand closed over one of her breasts, while I kissed her mouth and bit her lower lip. Camila wouldn’t let me move; she had my hand trapped between her legs and her head pressed against my collarbone.

—Mariana, this is something else —she said through clenched teeth—. I never want you to stop.

I went down on her. The mix of the oil and her was strange at first and then addictive. I slipped two fingers into her, slowly, and started moving them against the spot I know drives her crazy. She came for a long time, with a sound I’d never heard from her before. While she was still trembling, I took my free hand to my own slit and fucked myself to the rhythm of her breathing.

Diego was still in the chair. His pants were open and he was stroking himself. He didn’t come to the bed. Every time I looked at him, he smiled and nodded for me to go back to Camila.

***

After a long while, Diego stood up and came back with something else. A black harness, with a dildo about the same size as his. I laughed.

—You planned the whole night.

—I planned the possibility —he said.

He helped me put it on. The straps tightened over my hips with a metallic click that raised goose bumps on my skin. Camila was lying on her back, legs spread and eyes closed, waiting for me. I put oil on the dildo and a little more between her thighs, and I entered her slowly. Camila dug her nails into my shoulders and let out a moan that was almost a sob. I started moving. She lifted her hips to meet me. We kissed nonstop, saliva and oil mixing on our chins.

—Harder —she begged.

I did as she asked. The bed started making that sound against the wall that any neighbor would recognize. Camila had two orgasms in a row, one long and one short, never taking her eyes off mine. When she was done, she gently pushed me out and sat up.

—My turn —she said.

She took the harness off me carefully. She laid me on my back and climbed on top of me, but without penetrating me. She soaked her hands in the oil and started roaming over me. Shoulders, breasts, belly, thighs. My first orgasms came that way, without her touching me between my legs, only with her hands firm on my skin and her mouth closed over my nipples.

—Diego, this oil is witchcraft —I said, my voice breaking.

—Glad to hear it, love.

Then Camila went down on me. Her tongue made shapes I couldn’t follow. She held my thighs open with both hands and every so often she’d stop to blow. I came several times. I lost count. When I thought I couldn’t take any more, she asked Diego to help her put the harness on.

I thought she was going to take me from the front. I was wrong.

She made me roll over onto my stomach and sat on my legs. I felt the dildo settle between my ass cheeks, with no pressure. She poured oil over my back and spread it with both hands until I was shining all over. Then she leaned forward and pressed her breasts against my back. The oil made her slide, up and down, while she kissed the back of my neck.

—Open your legs —she whispered in my ear.

I opened them. Her tongue went down, found a place I had never let her find. I had told her no a thousand times, to her and to Diego, that that was the one place I preferred to leave alone. That night I said nothing. Her tongue played slowly, without asking permission, and I arched against the pillow.

She ran oily fingers over the same spot. Then she set the tip of the dildo against me and held it there, not pushing. She went back up, kissed my neck, bit my earlobe. The dildo was still resting there, not entering.

—Camila —I said, my face buried in the pillow—, do it.

—No.

—Please.

—I’m not the one who’s supposed to take that virginity from you. —She said it softly, almost a whisper, and with those words I came apart. I came so hard my eyes watered.

When I lifted my head, I saw Camila get off the bed, go over to Diego, kiss him briefly on the mouth, and leave the harness in his lap. Then she came back, lay down beside me, and hugged me from behind.

I stayed still for a long moment, wanting Diego to get up. He didn’t get up. He stayed in the chair, the harness in his hands, watching us. Then he set the harness on the dresser, came over to the bed, and lay down on the other side. He kissed my forehead.

—Not tonight —he told me.

I closed my eyes between the two of them. I didn’t really understand what had happened, or why he had chosen to watch and not touch. But I understood that something between the three of us had just changed shape. Not for the worse.