What My Stepmother Discovered in My Room

When my parents split up, they gave me a choice of which one I wanted to live with. I’m an only child and I was always my dad’s favorite, so I didn’t hesitate for a second. I stayed with him.

I was always his confidante. Over the years he told me that my mother had cheated on him for a long time with a coworker from the office, and that he had put up with it for my sake, so I wouldn’t have a trauma on my shoulders. When I was old enough, they decided to go their separate ways without too much drama.

It took my father a couple of years to rebuild his life, until he met Adriana. She was a lawyer, and from the very first day I understood why he had fallen for her. She had a natural elegance, a sure way of speaking that filled the room. Her perfume lingered in the air after she passed by, and she kept her body firm through Pilates and going out for a run every morning.

I have to make something clear: I had never felt attracted to another woman. But one thing doesn’t cancel out the other, and recognizing that someone is a goddess is nothing to be ashamed of. Adriana was.

***

Everything got complicated one afternoon when I was cleaning. I was up on a ladder organizing the high shelves in the hallway when I lost my balance and fell in the worst possible way. I broke my right arm, and the doctors immobilized it from my fingers almost up to my shoulder. A huge cast, heavy and useless.

They left me at home, away from my job and any kind of routine, for weeks. The worst part wasn’t the pain, but the frustration. I couldn’t do any of the things I usually handled without thinking. My left hand was clumsy, slow, and everything took three times as much effort.

One of those dead afternoons, sick of the ceiling and the silence, I put on a series a coworker had recommended to me a thousand times. She said the plot was amazing, that it hooked you from the first episode.

And did it ever hook me. The further it went, the hotter it got. Scenes between women, couples who held nothing back, loaded looks, bodies tangled together. Without realizing it, I started squirming in bed, that familiar tension spreading down through my belly.

I wanted to touch myself, but it was a disaster. With my good hand I barely managed to take off my blouse and yank my shorts down. I spread my legs and, with those clumsy fingers, started rubbing over my underwear, from top to bottom, slowly. On the screen one girl was kissing another girl’s chest, and my own body responded to every image as if it were being touched.

I was so wrapped up in it that I didn’t hear her come in.

When I looked up, Adriana was standing in the doorway. She was carrying a tray with cut fruit and a glass of orange juice, and she had frozen completely, watching me.

***

I covered myself as best I could, which wasn’t quick or graceful, wrestling with the sheet using only one arm. I could feel my face burning.

She didn’t laugh at me. She only curled her lips and asked, with disarming calm, if I was okay, if I needed anything.

—No, I’m fine —I mumbled, head bowed.

I felt like a little girl caught doing something forbidden. The guilt weighed more than the cast. But she came in without hurry, set the tray on the nightstand, and stepped closer. She lifted my chin with two fingers, forcing me to look at her.

—It’s okay —she said softly—. It’s the most normal thing in the world. You don’t have to feel bad.

There was something in her voice that calmed me all at once, as if all my embarrassment had evaporated. And then, in my usual clumsy way, I remembered I hadn’t stopped the series. Right at that moment a moan was playing, and when she turned her head toward the screen, the image showed two girls tangled together, one tongue trailing over a nipple in close-up.

Adriana let out a soft laugh.

—And that’s what you were watching? —she asked.

I rushed to hit pause, but it was too late. I shook my head, nervous again.

—Are you into that kind of thing? —she insisted, without sarcasm, with genuine curiosity.

I didn’t know what to say. It was obvious what I was watching, but it was hard to admit out loud the desire I had been hiding for who knows how long. I told her no. Her gaze, fixed on mine, made me give up on the lie.

—I do like watching it —I confessed at last—. But I’ve never tried it. And right now I can’t even give myself pleasure by myself.

She knew perfectly well that I didn’t go out with anyone. I was the kind of person who went from work to home and from home to work. Few friends, no affairs, too prudish for my own taste.

And then she said something I would never have imagined.

—If you want, I can help you calm that heat down. Maybe I could relax a little too after this.

***

If I could have seen my own face, I would have laughed at myself. In fact, she did laugh, because I must have opened my eyes wide as saucers. I felt her hand settle on my bare thigh, warm, firm, and she looked me over, waiting.

I didn’t say anything. I leaned back onto the pillows and she brought her face closer to mine. She invaded my space without asking permission, and at the same time she took possession of that fire that had been burning all afternoon.

I lay fully back, legs still open, when I felt her tongue brush my lips. I resisted for just a second, more out of habit than anything else, because inside I was burning. Then I parted my mouth and our tongues met.

I started shifting from where I was lying, and her breasts swayed over my naked body. I felt her unfasten her pants and take off her blouse without pulling her mouth too far from mine. I couldn’t see much, but I could hear our ragged breathing, getting closer and closer.

She stopped for a second, with that low voice that made my skin prickle.

—Help me with my pants.

She lifted her legs and, with the soles of my feet, I pushed the fabric down until I got it all the way off. Her underwear matched, dark lace against her skin. A gasp escaped me, and she swallowed it with another kiss, this one much hungrier, tongues out, saliva sliding down my chin.

She went down slowly. She kissed my neck, traced my breasts, massaged them carefully around the side of the cast. She caught one nipple and then the other, licking them, biting them softly, leaving them so sensitive that every touch made my back arch.

I felt like I was dreaming, but it was real, too real.

***

When she reached my pelvis, she pulled at the sheet and spread my legs with a skill that didn’t seem improvised. She placed her mouth right where I needed it most, brushing every inch with her flat tongue, unhurried.

I parted my sex with the fingers of my good hand to make the way easier for her, and she understood the hint. Her tongue sank into my opening and started going in and out in a way so delicious I lifted my legs by pure instinct, as high as I could.

Hearing her sighs between my thighs was a delight. I felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

Then she asked me to turn over and disappeared from the room for a few seconds. She came back with a black harness and a dildo attached to it. I had no idea where she had gotten it or how many times she might have used it. I wanted to ask, but I kept quiet.

I got myself into position on all fours very carefully, resting my casted arm on a pillow so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I waited, expectant, ready for her to take control.

—Do it —I begged her—. Don’t stop.

She tightened the straps with one last tug and moved in behind me. She pressed the tip against my opening and started pushing with patience. When she felt how wet I was, she picked up the pace, faster, deeper.

I was in a trance. My experience was scarce, almost nonexistent, and no one had ever taken me like that. Adriana varied the intensity up and down, sometimes pulling back to go lower and stimulate me with her tongue, then coming in again.

The first orgasm hit me all at once and made me collapse face-first onto the bed. I had never felt anything like it.

***

But she wasn’t finished with me. Her hand slipped underneath, stroking my clit while she let me catch my breath for just an instant. I already thought I couldn’t take any more, and yet I still wanted more.

Clenching my teeth, curled over on my knees, I felt her pull a second orgasm from me, this time so strong I ended up trembling against the sheets. A whole series of spasms ran through me, and I rolled onto my back, exhausted, my breathing in tatters.

Then I felt her legs settle on either side of my head. She leaned down until she placed her sex right over my mouth.

—It’s your turn —she said—. I want to finish like this.

I stuck out my tongue and tasted another woman for the first time. I licked her clumsily but eagerly, while my good hand went back to searching for my own center. It was obvious I didn’t want to stop, that I wanted more, much more.

I was completely out of myself. I wanted to feel her come, and that’s exactly what happened. Her moans over my face turned me on more and more, until she warned me, her voice breaking, that she was about to. I kept going without stopping and felt everything: her pleasure spilling against my lips, her body shuddering above mine.

We both lay there, one beside the other, breathing fast and skin burning. For a few minutes there was only slow caresses and the occasional lazy kiss. Then she got up, dressed without rushing, and gave me one last kiss heavy with desire before leaving for work.

We never spoke about that afternoon again. It never happened again. But every time I see her cross the living room with that perfume floating behind her, I know neither of us has forgotten it.