What Happened with My Friend After the Last Tequila

I went out dancing one Friday with Renata, and she wasn’t just any friend. We had known each other since university, had cried together over men who weren’t worth it, and had lent each other clothes, secrets, and hangovers for years. But nothing had ever happened between us. Nothing we could put a name to, at least.

Renata has long, straight black hair and wears thick-rimmed glasses that give her the air of a studious girl. That image always seemed like a trap to me, because behind those glasses was a look that promised the exact opposite of good behavior. That night she was wearing a short, tight skirt that clung to her ass every time she moved, and I couldn’t stop noticing it.

I had put on fitted pants and a white top that clung to my tits. I got myself more made up than I’d admit out loud. I told myself it was for the photos, to feel good, for no one in particular. Liar, I thought in front of the mirror, and went out anyway.

We got to the bar and ordered what we always did: two tequila shots to get started on the wrong foot. Then came the margaritas, and then another round of tequila, because neither of us wanted to be the first to say enough. The music was so loud we had to talk into each other’s ears, and every time she leaned in to tell me something, her breath made the hair rise on the back of my neck.

We laughed at everything. At the guys who looked at us but didn’t dare come over, at the song that reminded us of being twenty, at the two of us dancing worse with every drink. We danced like no one else was on the floor, and at some point I stopped knowing whether it was the tequila warming my skin or if I had simply wanted something to happen between us for too long.

Diego, a friend of Renata’s, was with us — nice guy, one of those who laughs at anything. At one point, half-jokingly, someone suggested a threesome kiss. For fun, for the tequila, for the night. We did it laughing, it was quick and stupid, the kind of thing you tell the next day as a funny anecdote. But when Diego went to the bathroom, Renata stayed looking at me in a different way.

—How about a kiss, you and me? —she said, with a crooked smile—. To strengthen the friendship.

I laughed. I thought it would be a little peck, innocent, the kind we gave each other on the cheek when saying goodbye. I told her sure, and played along.

It wasn’t a peck.

It was slow. Long. Mouth open and tongue searching gently, as if we had all night and no one to answer to. Her mouth was confident, warm, sweet and shameless all at once, and it completely undid me. I, who thought I was the calmer one of the two, felt my thong go wet and my pussy pulse with need.

When we pulled apart, neither of us said anything. No need. We started dancing pressed together, her waist in my hands, my hips against hers, the rhythm getting slower and slower even though the song was fast. The whole bar became background noise. Only her eyes behind her glasses existed, and the way she bit her lip when I held her tighter against me.

—Let’s go —she whispered in my ear, and it wasn’t a question.

I was going to stay over at her place, like so many other times. Only this time the phrase carried a different weight.

***

The taxi was a delicious torture. We rode in silence, our hands close but not touching, our thighs an inch apart. Every time the car turned, her knee brushed mine and we both pretended not to notice. I stared out the window at the city passing by without seeing anything, my heart hammering against my ribs, my pussy soaked and my mouth still hot from her kiss.

We tiptoed into her apartment so as not to wake the neighbor. The second she closed the door, the air between us changed. There was no music or friends or excuses anymore. Just her and me, and a silence that said much more than anything we could have said out loud.

I thought she’d go to the bathroom to put on her pajamas, like always. But no. She stood in the middle of her room and started undressing in front of me, unhurried, keeping her eyes on mine the whole time. I sat on the edge of her bed, swallowing hard, unable to move.

She slowly pulled down her skirt and was left in a red string thong and matching bra. Her body in the half-light was better than my imagination had ever dared invent over all those years. The curve of her waist, the way the lingerie outlined her hips, the hard nipples pressing against the red fabric, the way she breathed, knowing she was being watched. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

—You went quiet —she said, taking a step toward me.

—I just don’t know what I’m doing —I admitted, and it was only half true. I knew perfectly well what I wanted; what I didn’t know was how to ask for something like that.

—Start by touching me —she whispered—. Then we’ll see.

She straddled my legs, not touching me yet, letting the heat of her pussy speak first. I put my hands on her waist almost by instinct, and her skin burned just like mine. I could feel her hot cunt pressed tight against my pants, moving just barely, as if she couldn’t help herself.

—Can I touch you? —I asked, my voice rougher than I’d expected.

—If you want —she answered, and took my hand and brought it to her thong—. Touch me here. I’ve been soaking wet for you since the bar.

She didn’t say it like a friend. She said it like someone who knew she already had me wrapped around her finger, like a provocation wrapped in sweetness. And that finished setting me on fire.

I kissed her again, and this time there was no one who could interrupt us. I kissed her on the mouth, along the jaw, down her neck, while she tilted her head back and let out a sigh that went through my whole body. I fumbled with her bra, laughing at my own shaking hands, and she laughed with me, and for a second we were the same two girls we’d always been, only naked and about to cross a line.

My mouth went to her tits and I took one nipple fully into my mouth, sucking it hungrily, biting just enough to pull a sharp moan from her. She gripped the back of my neck and pushed me harder against her chest, asking for more without saying it. I moved to the other nipple, licked it in circles, sucked hard, and she began rubbing herself against my thigh, grinding her soaked thong up and down, searching for friction.

—Don’t stop —she panted—. Suck them, like that, harder.

I laid her carefully on the bed and stretched out over her, skin against skin, feeling her breathing quicken to match mine. I yanked her thong off her hips and threw it to the floor. There she was, open beneath me, her shaved pussy shining with wetness, her thighs trembling with anticipation.

—I never imagined you’d be like this —she murmured between kisses.

—Like what?

—This decisive —she said, and bit my lip hard enough to hurt.

I kissed my way down her belly in wet kisses, biting the taut skin of her hips, until my mouth was an inch from her cunt. The smell hit me and clouded my head. I spread her thighs with my hands, without an ounce of shame, and dragged my whole tongue from bottom to top, slowly, tasting her. Renata let out a long, guttural moan I had never heard from her before.

—Oh, baby, yes, like that, don’t stop —she moaned, grabbing my hair.

I sucked her clit with my lips, trapped it, let it go, licked her again. I slipped my tongue between her lips, sank in as far as I could, then came back up to her clit to suck on it hard. She writhed beneath me, arched her back, shoved my face against her cunt as if she wanted to disappear inside my mouth.

—Put them in —she panted—. Your fingers, put them in, please.

I shoved two fingers into her in one go. She was so wet they slid all the way in at once, and she cried out, covering her mouth with one hand. I started fucking her with my fingers while I kept sucking her clit, moving my wrist hard, feeling her squeeze around my knuckles. I curved my fingers upward, searching for that spot that makes your head go blank, and by the way Renata jerked I knew I’d found it.

—There, there, there —she repeated like a mantra—. Don’t move from there, bitch, right there.

The bed creaked. Her hips rose to meet my hand with every thrust. I looked up at her from below, my face soaked, my chin dripping, and she looked back at me with her glasses crooked and her eyes glazed, mouth open, moaning my name between affectionate insults. I sped up, sucked her clit harder, and felt her whole body tense, her thighs clamping around my head.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, oh fuck, I’m coming —she squealed, and came around my fingers in spasms that wouldn’t stop.

I kept licking her slowly, drawing out the very last drop of pleasure, until she pushed me away laughing because she couldn’t take the tickling anymore. I climbed back up her body and kissed her mouth, letting her taste herself, and she sucked my lips hungrily, moaning into my kiss.

—Now you —she said, and with one shove she flipped me over.

I landed on my back against the mattress. She tore my top off in one yank, yanked my pants and thong down together, and sent them flying. She stood there looking at me naked for a second, biting her lip, and then bent down and spread my legs wide open.

—What a delicious pussy you have —she murmured, and blew slowly over my clit before licking it with the tip of her tongue.

I jolted. I had been hot for hours, my pussy swollen and throbbing, and her tongue was like a short circuit. Renata licked me with that same studious-girl curiosity she had never quite lost, studying me, testing what made me moan louder, memorizing me. She sucked my clit, nibbled it with her lips, went down to lick my entrance and came back up.

—Put it in me —I begged, not recognizing my own voice—. Fuck me with your fingers.

She shoved three in at once and started pumping hard, her palm slapping my clit with every thrust. I grabbed the headboard, arched my back, opened my legs wider for her to get deeper. She never stopped looking at me from below, smiling with her mouth shining with me, knowing perfectly well what she was doing to me.

—Look at you getting so worked up —she said, without stopping fucking me—. All wet for me. Tell me you like it.

—I love it, you filthy bitch, don’t stop.

She laughed and went back down to my clit with her mouth while her fingers stayed inside me. The combination destroyed me. I felt the orgasm rising from my feet, tightening inside me, and when it burst it was so strong I let out a scream the neighbor definitely heard. I shook all over against her face, gripping her hair, coming in her mouth without being able to control myself.

We didn’t stop there. We tangled our legs together, pressed my cunt against hers, and started moving against each other, clit against clit, sliding because we were so wet. She held onto my hips, I held onto hers, and we rubbed faster and faster, looking into each other’s eyes, panting the same breath. We came again almost together, trembling, covering our mouths so as not to wake up half the block.

There were laughs between kisses, half-finished words, the occasional awkward move we fixed with tenderness. It wasn’t the perfect movie scene; it was better, because it was real, because it was us, because every caress carried years of friendship underneath it. The tequila was still pulsing through our blood, but it wasn’t the alcohol in charge anymore. It was her telling me softly what she liked, it was me obeying without needing to be asked twice.

***

It was nearly four in the morning when we finally ran out of strength. We were exhausted, half-drunk, with our underwear tossed on the floor, the sheets soaked, and the two of us tangled up in the same mess. We fell asleep wrapped around each other, her back against my chest, my arm around her, my hand resting on one of her tits, my heart still racing.

When I woke up, light was filtering in through the blinds and she was already looking at me. We were naked, disheveled, with smeared makeup and the smell of sex stuck to our skin. For a moment I feared the awkward silence, the next morning that ruins good things.

But Renata just smiled, slid her hand under the sheet, and pinched one of my nipples slowly.

—Good morning —she said, as if nothing and as if everything.

We laughed. No explanation was needed. We looked at each other like two accomplices sharing a secret that didn’t need words, a secret that belonged to us and no one else.

We didn’t talk about it again in the days that followed. We left it there, tucked away, as something that maybe could only happen once. We stayed friends, kept going out, kept lending each other clothes and secrets. But something had changed, and we both knew it.

Because I was left wanting more. Her laugh against my mouth, her wet pussy against mine, that mischievous look behind her glasses. To cross the line again without the tequila excuse, without the alibi of a three-way game. To tell her, some night, that I no longer wanted it to be a secret.

I’m looking for that spark again. That vibe that raises your skin with a single glance, that complicity of going out, drinking, dancing pressed together and letting a fire grow that’s impossible to ignore. I want to get close without fear, for kisses to stop being a game and turn into a need, for the touch of hands to ignite what common sense keeps trying to put out.

I want someone I can show myself to without filters, lose myself with without guilt, explore every curve without rushing, and fuck with the freedom of being two hot, naughty women. If you feel that too, if you want to live something intense and without reservations, maybe we’ve been looking for each other for too long. And I’m more than ready to find you.