The Stranger at the Bar Took Me to the Ladies’ Room

That night we had arranged to meet at a small bar in the center, one of those places with dim lighting and music that doesn’t get in the way of conversation. I was there with Diego, my partner, and we’d been joined by a friend of his from work and the friend’s girlfriend. His name was Tomás. Hers, Renata.

The two men were tangled up almost at once in a conversation about a project they were working on. Deadlines, meetings, client names that meant nothing to me. I nodded a couple of times out of politeness and then stopped pretending to be interested.

That was when I really noticed Renata.

She was beautiful in a way that was hard to ignore. A redhead, with her hair pulled back into a loose bun from which a few strands had escaped. She was wearing a dark, tight dress, and she had a way of holding her glass, with two fingers around the stem, that seemed studied without actually being so. I surprised myself by staring at her more than I should have.

She looked up and caught me. Instead of looking away, she smiled. A slow, unhurried smile that made it clear she didn’t mind being watched. I smiled back and turned my head toward the guys, as if their conversation mattered to me.

I held out for a few seconds. Then I looked at her again.

This time it was she who made a gesture. A tiny tilt of her chin toward the back door, where the bathrooms were. Is this really happening?, I thought. But my heart was already hammering against my chest, and my body had a clear answer even if my mind was slower to catch up.

Renata picked up her purse from the chair.

—I’m going to the bathroom for a minute —she said, without addressing anyone in particular.

I counted to five. I set my glass on the bar.

—Me too —I murmured, and no one paid attention.

The hallway at the back was darker than the rest of the bar and smelled of cheap soap. I pushed open the ladies’ room door and there she was, leaning against the sink, waiting for me as if we had planned it for weeks.

—I thought you wouldn’t come —she said.

—I almost didn’t.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with one finger.

—You look gorgeous tonight.

—You’re dangerous —I answered, and I was surprised by my own voice, husky, different.

I took a step toward her. The space was narrow and that single movement was enough to press us together, the fabric of my blouse brushing against her dress. I smelled her perfume, something warm and sweet, and beneath it the heat of her skin.

***

She was the one who came in for the kiss first. There was no hesitation, no typical second of doubt in which one seeks the other’s permission. Her lips found mine and we kissed slowly, testing each other, until the kiss turned hungry and our tongues stopped being careful.

She kissed with an intensity that left me disarmed. I slid my hands around her waist, down to her hips, and pressed her against me. She bit my lower lip and gave a low laugh when she heard me breathe in raggedly.

A noise in the hallway stopped us dead. Footsteps, a distant conversation getting closer. I grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her into the stall at the back, and locked the latch. We stood still, stifling laughter, while someone came in, turned on a tap, and left again.

As soon as the silence returned, Renata picked up where we had left off, now even less carefully than before.

I sat on the edge of the narrow shelf beside the toilet, spread my legs, and drew her into the gap between them. She kissed my neck, nibbled at it, worked her way down my collarbone while her hands searched for the hem of my blouse.

She undid the top buttons with a patience that contrasted with everything else. Then she pushed my bra down without taking it off completely and left my breasts bare, exposed to the bathroom’s cold light.

—I’ve spent half an hour thinking about this —she whispered before closing her mouth over one of my nipples.

She licked it, squeezed it gently between her teeth, and a shiver ran down my entire back. She moved from one breast to the other, neglecting neither, alternating tongue and fingers. Every touch tore a sigh from me that I tried to smother so it wouldn’t be heard outside.

I buried my hands in her hair and undid her bun without meaning to. Red hair spilled loose over her shoulders. I stroked her arms, the back of her neck, everything my fingers could reach, while she kept going lower.

She hiked my skirt up to my waist. I lifted my hips to help her and let her slide my underwear aside with a single finger. The cold edge of the shelf against my bare skin made me clench my teeth.

—Put your leg up there —she instructed, pointing to the wall.

I did as she said. I lifted my left leg, braced my foot against the tiles, and leaned back, completely open for her. I felt vulnerable and, at the same time, more aroused than I could remember being in a long time.

Renata knelt in the little space there was. She started with her tongue flat, a long, slow pass that made me arch my back. Then she focused, sucked with her lips, traced circles with the tip. I brought my hand to my stomach to steady myself and ended up resting it on her head, guiding her without meaning to.

—Don’t stop —I asked in a very low voice—. Please, don’t stop.

She didn’t stop. She changed the rhythm, sped it up, slowed it down again just when I thought I was about to come, playing with me. My legs were shaking. The music from the bar reached us muffled, as if from another world, and that made everything even more vertiginous: we were a few feet from our partners and neither of us was thinking of stopping.

I tugged on her hair, brought her mouth closer to me, and then she really stopped playing. Pleasure shot up through me all at once, dense, unstoppable. I bit the back of my other hand so I wouldn’t cry out and came undone against her tongue, shaking, breathless.

***

It took me a few seconds to come back. When I opened my eyes, she was looking up at me with a half-smile, her lips shining.

—Your turn —I said, still breathless.

I made her stand and we switched positions. I slid the straps of her dress down and let it slip to her waist. Her breasts were freed, and I leaned in to lick one, slowly, squeezing it in my hand while I felt her breathing quicken.

There wasn’t much room, so we improvised. I sat her on the closed toilet lid and opened her legs. She leaned back, rested her spine against the cistern, and raised her knees to make room for me.

I caressed her first with the palm of my hand, from top to bottom, feeling how wet she was. I gave her a couple of soft slaps that made her moan and bite her lip. Then I knelt down.

I used my tongue the same way she had used hers on me, giving her back everything. I licked her all over, paused where I knew she liked it most, and when she started shifting, looking for more, I slid a finger inside her. I pushed it in slowly, with rhythm, while I kept working with my mouth.

Renata grabbed my hair and began to move her hips against my face, any modesty already forgotten. She was panting, trembling, whispering things I could barely understand. I held her by the hip with my free hand so she wouldn’t slip off the edge.

—Almost there —she said, voice breaking—. Don’t move away.

I increased the pace of my finger and pressed my tongue exactly where she needed it. I felt her tense all at once, her thighs closing around my head, and heard her let out a long moan that she had to swallow half of. She came shaking, gripping my hair, her whole body quivering.

I stayed there a moment longer between her legs, feeling her slowly relax, before climbing up to kiss her. She tasted herself in my mouth and didn’t care. She kissed me back with unexpected tenderness, almost sweet after everything else.

***

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in that absurd little stall, laughing quietly at what we had just done. Then we put ourselves back together as best we could. She redid her bun in front of the mirror. I buttoned my blouse and smoothed my skirt, trying to erase any trace.

—Are we going to act like nothing happened? —I asked.

—We’re going to act like nothing happened —she confirmed, amused—. But give me your number before we leave.

We left the bathroom a few minutes apart. When I got back to the table, Diego didn’t even look up; he was still absorbed in his conversation with Tomás. Renata arrived a little later, sat down next to her partner, and crossed a quick glance with me over the glasses.

A glance that said everything, and that no one else at that table knew how to read.

I finished my beer trying to hold back my smile. I thought about how easy it had been, how a single look had been enough to ignite something that had been asleep without my realizing it. That night I discovered that desire doesn’t always warn you, and that sometimes it appears exactly where you least expect it: between two beers, in the bathroom of any old bar, in the eyes of a stranger.

I saved her number under a fake name in my phone. Something told me that wouldn’t be the last time.