Mariana Asked Me to Hold Her That Afternoon

Life inside the gated community moved at a slow, almost drowsy pace, and I liked it that way. I handled the maintenance for the houses, and every morning I drove through the internal streets in the electric cart, stopping one day at one home and the next at another, depending on what each family needed. A dripping faucet, a gate that wouldn’t close, a jammed blind. Small things that made me, without meaning to, the man who knew everyone’s private life.

Every so often I stopped by Mariana’s house, even when nothing was broken, just to see whether everything was all right. She put the coffeemaker on and we sat in the kitchen, that spacious corner of pale marble and a window wall onto the garden where the morning light fell diagonally.

She never talked about her marriage. Instead, she talked about her loneliness. She still hadn’t managed to make friends in the neighborhood, and her only distraction was work, those hours in front of the computer that kept her together.

When I asked about Esteban, her husband, she would lower her gaze and fall silent. Then I’d change the subject and ask about the kids. That was when her face softened, the shadow disappeared, and a smile appeared as she told me how well they were doing at school and at the club, each with their favorite sport.

You didn’t need to be very perceptive to realize that marriage was broken. The clearest sign was Esteban’s car, more and more absent at night, its spot in the driveway empty like a silent accusation.

***

One afternoon Mariana called me about a problem in the kitchen. One of the stove burners had clogged and wouldn’t light properly, giving off that gas smell that made her nervous with the kids at home.

I was kneeling in front of the stove, with the burner taken apart on a dish towel, when her cell phone rang. I saw her hesitate before answering.

—Hello, Esteban… yes, I’m listening.

On the other end there was a murmur, a man’s voice I couldn’t make out. I barely looked up and saw Mariana’s eyes start to shine, that held-back dampness that comes before tears.

—Again, Esteban? You’re not coming home to sleep tonight either? I don’t even know what to tell the kids when they ask about you…

Her voice was breaking, losing its calm word by word. I tightened a nut that was already tight, just to keep my hands busy, so I wouldn’t be out of place in a scene that wasn’t mine.

—You promised we’d talk about it… Esteban, listen to me, please. For the kids.

There was a long silence. And then something in her snapped. When she could no longer hold back her anger, her voice came out sharp, different.

—Go on, Esteban, go fuck around with your secretary. Fuck her good, shove it all the way in, do whatever you want. But if you don’t come home tonight, tomorrow you can go pick up your things at the guardhouse. You’re not setting foot in this house again, I swear it.

She ended the call and threw the cell phone onto the marble countertop, where it sounded like a dry blow. She covered her face with her hands and started to cry.

I didn’t know what to do. It’s true that Mariana and I had a history, long ago, one single time that was never repeated and that both of us kept silent about like a buried secret. But this moment wasn’t about us. It was about her falling apart in her own kitchen.

I set the tools aside. She turned around, her eyes red, and came toward me.

—Hold me, Damián —she said in a thread of a voice—. I need to cry.

I held her in my arms. I stroked her long dark hair, that mane she always wore immaculate and that now was getting mussed against my chest. I led her slowly to a chair, sat her down carefully, and let her rest her head against my waist while I dried her tears with my fingers.

—Give me a minute —she murmured.

***

She picked up the phone again. Dialed.

—Hi, Mom —she said after a few seconds, still trembling—. Yes, Mom… Esteban again.

On the other end, a worried, hurried voice.

—No, no, Mom, I don’t want you to come. Please. I need to be alone.

More murmuring.

—If you want to do me a favor, pick the kids up from school and have them sleep over at your place tonight. It’s Friday, make something up, take them to the movies, whatever. I don’t want them to see me like this. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.

There was a long pause.

—Thanks, Mom. Yes, I’ll be fine. I promise. See you tomorrow.

She hung up and started crying again, this time more quietly, as if she had no strength left. While she was talking to her mother I’d made two coffees. I poured the two cups and sat down across from her at the table.

—What an asshole! —she burst out suddenly, almost shouting—. At least he should have the balls to show his face for his children. The fucking asshole.

—Calm down, Mariana —I tried to soothe her.

—No. This was the last straw, Damián, I swear it. I forgave him a thousand times. But that’s it, it’s over.

I took her hands in mine across the table. She squeezed them hard, like someone clinging to something so she wouldn’t fall, and started telling me everything.

—The bastard got tangled up with the secretary, a girl fifteen years younger than me, and the little slut got herself pregnant on purpose. Looks like she loves getting fucked without a condom, having him fill her up inside. That much we’d already talked about. Our marriage wasn’t the same anymore, I know that, but for the kids we decided to stay together until we found a way to tell them.

She paused to breathe.

—And today he calls me to say he’s going to the coast with her for the weekend. That he’s going to fuck that whore in a hotel while I stay here taking it. That he’s coming back home Monday like nothing happened. What am I supposed to tell my children, Damián? I can’t keep lying to them anymore.

Tears fell from her eyes again, but now there was something else in her gaze, something darker than sadness.

—Today I need… I don’t know. I want revenge. I want to feel like I’m still alive. I want a man to remind me that I’m a woman, that I have a body, that I can still make someone desperate with need —and she broke down crying again, inconsolable.

***

I moved closer. I held her hands again, lifted her chin with two fingers, and looked her in the eyes. I made her stand up and hugged her tight. So beautiful, my Mariana, and seeing her like that was tearing me to pieces.

I only wanted to comfort her, protect her. I swear what came after wasn’t in either of our plans. I think it was pure instinct.

She looked up at me and something changed. Her eyes, bright with tears, suddenly lit up like two embers. She hugged me harder and kissed me without thinking, with her mouth parted and her tongue urgent, entering mine, searching for it, biting my lower lip until it hurt. There was anger in that kiss, and thirst. Thirst for revenge and, at the same time, need. The need to feel desired again.

As for me, I let myself go. I can’t hide what Mariana had always awakened in me, that desire I had spent years keeping under control beneath the neatness of visits and morning coffees. Having her close again was like touching something I thought was lost. I felt her slip her hand between us, reaching for me without shame over my pants, squeezing the bulge already straining the fabric.

—You’ve got a hard-on, you son of a bitch —she whispered against my mouth, half laugh and half sob—. You’ve got a hard-on because of me.

—I’ve had a hard-on for you for years, Mariana —I answered, and bit her neck.

Between increasingly clumsy kisses and hands that couldn’t find where to stop, she led me by the hand to her bedroom. She started unbuttoning my shirt, button by button, and kissed my chest as she went down slowly, dragging her tongue over my sternum, over my navel, nibbling at the skin of my hips. She knelt in front of me, undid my belt, and yanked my pants down in one pull, underwear with them. My cock sprang up hard, pointing at her face, and she looked at it for a second with her mouth open, as if I’d served her something she’d been waiting for a long time.

—Look how hard you are —she whispered—. Look how hard you are for me.

She took my cock in her hands. She stroked it lightly, squeezing from base to tip, looking up at me from below with her eyes still wet, and then brought her mouth to it. First she traced the glans with her tongue, slowly, teasing, trapping it between her lips and letting a thread of spit run down her hand. She sucked my balls, one and then the other, with her tongue hot, while she kept jerking me with her hand. Until, all at once, she took my whole cock in her mouth and started sucking me off with such hunger it made me close my eyes and brace my hand against the wall.

—Like that, Mariana… like that, suck it all —I murmured.

I felt her moan with my cock filling her mouth, and that moan vibrated deep in my glans. She moved her head faster and faster, swallowed me down until she choked, pulled me out dripping, and took me in again, staring straight at me, defiant. No one had sucked me like that in years, with that kind of hunger, with that mix of fury and need.

She yanked off her blouse and unclasped her bra. Her breasts spilled free, bigger than I remembered, the nipples dark and hard as pebbles. She spat into her hand, wet her cleavage, and squeezed my cock between her breasts, starting to slide it up and down while every so often she lowered her head to suck the tip peeking out between her tits. Spit ran down her chest and soaked her skin completely.

—Fuck my tits, Damián, come on, fuck them —she panted, and I grabbed her hair and started moving her head against my cock to my own rhythm, fucking her mouth and her chest at the same time.

I felt her moan softly, focused, as if in that act she were unloading all the fury she had inside. Every so often she pulled back, stuck out her tongue, and licked my cock from balls to tip, only to take it back down her throat again.

I let her do it for a while, enjoying it, but soon the need was mine. I took her under the arms, lifted her carefully, kissed her with everything I had, tasting my own cock in her mouth, and laid her down on the bed.

I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off along with her underwear, leaving everything to one side. Her panties were soaked, a rag, and when I opened her legs I saw her cunt shining, swollen, with the clit already peeking out between her lips. I kissed her breasts, bit her hard nipples until she screamed, and went slowly down her body, tracing her with my tongue and lips, nibbling at her belly, until I reached between her legs.

I licked her while my fingers kept playing with her nipples. I spread her wide with my thumbs and ran my tongue flat from the entrance of her cunt to her clit. Her first moan came loud, unfiltered.

—Ahhh, yes… eat me, Damián, eat it all —she arched her back, looking for more contact.

She was burning. I licked her slowly, then quickly, then trapped her clit between my lips and sucked on it while I slid two fingers inside her and curled them, searching for that spot that made her shudder. She clung to the headboard, writhing, pressing my head against her pussy with both hands.

—Put it in with your tongue, come on, put it inside me —she begged, and I shoved my whole tongue into her cunt, fucking her with my mouth while my thumb rubbed her clit. I kissed the insides of her thighs too, nipped them with my teeth. Her breathing grew shorter, more broken.

—Yes, Damián, like that… fuck me already, I can’t take it anymore. Put it all in, please.

I settled over her and placed the tip of my cock at the entrance of her cunt. I slid it up and down, wetting it well with her own juice, brushing her clit with the glans until she began moving her hips, searching for me, desperate.

—Don’t torture me, you son of a bitch, put it in —she panted.

I entered her slowly, giving her time, feeling her cunt open around my cock, tight, hot, wet to the brim. For a moment we both stayed still, looking at each other, as if we were only just understanding what we were doing, my cock buried to the balls inside her.

—More… harder —she begged, digging her nails into my back—. Fuck me already. Fuck me good and hard. Break me, Damián.

And my thrusts grew deeper, more intense. I started pounding her hard, pulling my cock almost all the way out and driving it back in with one blow, to the hilt. Our hips collided in an increasingly violent rhythm, the bed creaked beneath us, and the wet noise of her soaked cunt every time I went in and out filled the room. The heat of that moment was almost unbearable in how good it felt.

—Like that, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop —she moaned—. Harder, treat me like a whore. Tonight I’m your whore, Damián, fuck me however you want.

I grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mattress above her head. I fucked her cunt mercilessly, with all the rage I’d kept for years, while she looked at me with her mouth open, panting, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. I leaned down to suck one nipple without stopping, and felt her tremble all over.

—Get on all fours —I ordered, pulling out all at once.

She turned over without hesitation, got on all fours at the edge of the bed, and arched her back, offering me her ass. I gave her a hard slap that left the red print of my hand, and she moaned for more. I grabbed her waist and drove into her again in one thrust, all the way to the balls. I buried myself deep, looked down at her from above, with that arched back and that black hair spread across the sheets, and started fucking her with all the strength I had.

—Yes, yes, yes, there, don’t stop, you son of a bitch, fuck me hard —she shouted, biting the pillow, her face mashed into the sheets.

I squeezed her breasts from behind, pinched her nipples, ran my hand over her clit while I kept pounding her. She pressed herself against my cock, searched for it, fucked herself against me. She squeezed me, scratched me, pushed me against her body as if by doing that she could erase everything the other man had done to her.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, Damián, oh God, I’m coming…

I felt her trembling all over, her cunt clenching around my cock like a hot fist, and she started convulsing under me.

—Esteban… —she said suddenly, a second before the orgasm shook her to the last corner of her body, a strangled scream against the pillow.

The name hung in the air, half resentment and half release. I grabbed her hair, tugged lightly, and drove my cock deep into her. I felt everything come, unstoppable, and I unloaded inside her with two, three, four spurts that filled her cunt with warm semen, with no strength left to ask anything. She moaned with every beat of my cock as if it were making her come again.

I stayed buried in her for a little longer, feeling her pulse around me, until I slowly pulled out and saw a white thread starting to run down the inside of her thigh.

***

Afterward, while we both caught our breath, I lay down behind her and held her tight, tenderly, pressing my chest to her back. I felt her body go loose, and then she broke into tears again.

But this was a different kind of crying. It was no longer the crying of betrayal or rage. It was the crying of someone who, for a while, had stopped being alone. I held her like that, in silence, until the afternoon faded completely behind the glass wall and the kitchen, with its two now-cold cups of coffee, waited on the other side of the door.