My Best Friend’s Mother Was Waiting for Me Alone

Sometimes I think back to the twenty years I had then and I understand why a person at that age is a danger: you don’t measure anything, you don’t calculate consequences, you just feel. Back then I had only two things on my mind, Sunday football and my best friend’s mother. Mateo was like a brother to me; we grew up on the same block and spent whole days together. But stepping into his house was both torture and a reward, and it was all because of Carmen.

She was about forty-seven. I never understood how her husband, Daniel, kept her so neglected. The guy was quite a bit older than her, tall, but already ruined by a belly and by that habit of living sunk into the sofa with a lukewarm beer and the TV blasting.

Carmen, on the other hand, was short, very fair-skinned, with chestnut hair always neatly done. What kept me up at night was her body: wide hips, a waist that showed under any house dress, and a way of moving around the kitchen that I followed with my eyes without even trying to hide it.

When I finished high school I went away for a while, to a job site in another city. Those were months of hauling cement, eating well, and sleeping dead tired for real. When I came back to the neighborhood I was no longer the scared skinny kid from before: I had grown, my shoulders had widened, and the work had carved my body in a way no gym can manage. The sun at the site darkened my skin and gave me another face, another posture.

The first weekend I ran into Mateo at the field and, when the match ended, he invited me to his house as always. Daniel was on the sofa, as if he hadn’t moved in all those months.

—Look who showed up! —he shouted without taking his eyes off the screen—. Carmen’s in the kitchen.

We went in and there she was, with her back to us, wearing gray cotton shorts that clung to her in a way that left my throat dry. When she heard us, she turned around with a huge smile.

I went silent. In my head I expected to find her a little more faded with the years, but she looked better than ever. She grabbed my arm, laughing.

—You’ve gotten strong, boy. The job did you good, you look like another person.

Not the same as the kid who used to blush when she walked into the living room.

We sat at the dining table, right next to the kitchen, while Mateo went to get the glasses. Carmen stayed leaning against the counter, ready in case we needed anything. Every time she stretched to reach the napkins, I followed the movement without being able to help myself.

—Really, what a change —she insisted, sitting across from us—. Look at his arms, Mateo.

—It’s the job site, Mom —he laughed—. He worked like an animal hauling sacks.

Carmen reached out and, as if it were nothing, brushed my forearm with the tips of her fingers. It was a second, her pale skin against mine, rough with cement.

—It shows —she whispered, and held my gaze a moment longer than normal.

***

From that afternoon on, something shifted between us. I no longer lowered my head when she walked by. One hot afternoon, while Mateo and I were playing on the console, I took off my shirt. Carmen came in with glasses of water and I saw her eyes slowly drop over my shoulders.

—You’re skinny, but you look strong —she said, and her voice didn’t come out as steady as usual.

—I rest well here at your house —I replied, holding her gaze until she pulled back nervously, smoothing her dress as if suddenly she cared how she looked from behind.

We entered a silent game. She started wearing a flower perfume that lingered in the air. When our hands brushed while helping her with a bag, I didn’t pull away quickly, and neither did she. That new confidence of mine was slowly disarming her.

A few days later, Daniel went out and Mateo stayed in the yard with the music loud. I heard a noise in the kitchen and went to look. Carmen was standing on a chair, trying to reach some boxes on the high shelf.

—You’re going to fall off there —I told her.

She got scared and wobbled. By instinct I put my hands on her waist to steady her. It was the first time I really touched her, her heat passing through the fabric. I lowered her slowly and we ended up face to face, so close my chest almost brushed hers.

—You’ve become very helpful —she whispered, looking at my mouth.

—Always for you —I answered quietly.

She blushed and asked me to go get Mateo, but she didn’t move from where she was, waiting to see what I would do.

***

One Tuesday I got a message from her: Daniel and Mateo weren’t home and she needed help moving a heavy piece of furniture. I arrived right away. I found her in a light robe fitted to her hips. Together we pushed the wardrobe, and I noticed she kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. When we finished, with the room half-lit, I went around the furniture and stood in front of her. I put one hand on the wall, took her chin with the other, and stole a quick kiss.

She shoved me.

—You’re crazy! I’m your best friend’s mother. Get out right now.

—Sorry —I begged her—. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve liked you for years.

She kept insisting through clenched cries and I had no choice but to walk toward the door. But before I left, she called me in a whisper. She no longer seemed angry, only sad. I came close again and, although she put her hands on my shoulders to push me away, she ended up clutching my shirt. We kissed for a long time, slowly, the kind of kiss that changes things.

—Just this, and that’s it —she told me when we pulled apart, fear in her eyes—. Go, please.

***

It took me three days to show up again. Every hour was hell. On the fourth day I couldn’t take it anymore. Mateo was in the living room with the console and Carmen never came out of the kitchen. I went for a glass of water and found her with her back turned, washing fruit, her shoulders rigid because she already felt my presence.

—Why are you avoiding me? —I said softly—. Tell me the truth. Didn’t you like it? If you didn’t feel anything, I’ll leave and won’t bother you anymore.

She stayed silent, trembling. My calm was dismantling her. I took her by the arms and, although she tried to push me away, she ended up sinking her fingers into my shirt. I kissed her with all the force I’d been holding back and she gave in, wrapping her arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine. Then Mateo’s voice thundered from the hallway asking for water. Carmen shoved me with incredible force and started scrubbing dishes, red as a tomato.

—Go now… please —she barely managed to whisper.

I left with my heart racing, knowing the risk of getting caught was closer than ever, and that that, far from stopping me, was pushing me on.

***

Days later, knowing Daniel was at the bar and Mateo was with his girlfriend, I went back. Carmen tried to lock the door on me, but I stuck my foot in and walked inside.

—You’re crazy! You could be my son —she said softly, backing toward the living room while I locked the bolt.

—Tell me you don’t want me here —I challenged her.

—I don’t want you here… —she answered, but her whole voice was shaking.

—Liar.

I kissed her with rage and desire. She hit my shoulders at first, but soon her hands clung to my back and she let out a moan against my mouth that drove me insane. We started up the stairs in a stumble, her backwards, my hands sliding down from her waist to those hips I had wanted so badly. We reached the hallway panting and she yanked my shirt toward her room.

Inside, the outside world stopped existing. She kissed me desperately while repeating that it was a sin, but her hands never let me go; she tore off my shirt and stopped for a second staring at my chest, running her palms over my shoulders.

—You’re a man now —she murmured, and this time she was the one who sought my mouth.

She undressed me with trembling hands. When I was naked, she stopped. She had always seen a boy, and what was in front of her was something else.

—My God… —she said slowly—. I had no idea.

I lifted her and laid her on the bed. I stripped her quickly, and when I saw her whole body under the dim light coming through the curtain, I lost my breath. She had that mature woman’s body I had dreamed of for years: very fair skin, the natural weight of age, hips that filled the whole bed. Seeing her like that, so real, so different from any girl my age, turned me on.

I settled over her and Carmen was already wrapping her legs around me, squeezing me hard while telling me in my ear that we shouldn’t, but her hands were guiding me where she wanted. When I finally felt her, I thought I was dying. She was much tighter than I had imagined, and her heat wrapped around me completely.

I’d spent months with that desire built up, and she was everything I had wanted since I was fifteen. My body was going out of control too fast.

—Carmen… I’m not going to last —I told her in her ear, with short, firm thrusts.

She tightened her legs around me even more, digging her nails into my back.

—Don’t stop —she begged, her voice hoarse, her face pressed against my neck—. Don’t pull out.

I didn’t think twice. I let myself go with everything while she muffled a long moan into my shoulder. We stayed there, locked in an embrace, sweaty, trembling, hearing only our breathing in the silence of the room.

***

The air smelled like us. Carmen was leaning against my chest when, suddenly, she stiffened and sat on the edge of the bed, turning her back to me.

—What did we do? —she whispered, her voice breaking.

She dressed in a hurry, truly frightened, telling me to erase everything from my head.

—I’m Daniel’s wife and your best friend’s mother. This can’t happen again.

She made me leave through the back door. I felt like the happiest man in the world, but it hurt that she called it a mistake. In the alley I took her face in my hands.

—For me, it wasn’t a mistake —I told her, and I gave her a kiss that, against everything I expected, she returned with a tenderness that left me speechless.

***

I came back two days later, so as not to raise suspicion. Daniel received me with his usual indifference from the sofa. When I crossed paths with Carmen in the hallway, she blushed and looked down, pretending nothing was happening. But in the middle of the afternoon she came into Mateo’s room with a pitcher of juice and, as she served it, her hand brushed mine “accidentally.” I felt her trembling. That hungry look confirmed everything for me: on the outside she was the calm lady, but inside she was still burning.

From that afternoon on, Carmen stopped holding herself back so much. One Saturday, while Mateo fixed a cable and Daniel was in the yard, she started wiping down the table in front of me wearing little shorts that, when she bent over, clung too tightly to her. She stayed in that position longer than necessary.

—It’s so hot! —she said, gathering her hair and showing her waist.

Mateo didn’t even look up from his work, but I went dry. She enjoyed that silent game, those shameless little moves that only I understood, showing me that even if she said it had all been a mistake, she loved being desired by me like that.

***

The following Wednesday, Daniel went on a trip with the guys to visit his mother. Carmen had told me with a nervous smile: if I arrived after ten, there would be no one home. That day felt endless. The moment I saw the car drive away, I didn’t even wait ten minutes.

She opened the door right away, wearing a short silk robe that showed her legs and made it obvious she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. We didn’t say a word. I cornered her against the door and gave her a kiss that left us breathless. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist while I carried her upstairs, stumbling, until we fell onto her bed.

Seeing her naked again, with daylight coming in through the window, was a thousand times better. I stopped for a second to look at her and then went down, kissing her stomach, feeling that heat rising from between her legs. I had never done that before; it was my first time down there and my heart was pounding in my temples.

I opened her legs slowly and she let out a long sigh, sinking into the pillow. I brought my mouth closer and started gently, tasting her. Carmen jerked and grabbed my hair hard.

—Oh, boy… —she moaned, arching her back.

It was a new sensation for me. I could feel her getting wetter and wetter while I kept going, focused on every part of her. She didn’t stop moving or pressing my head against her body, letting out hoarse moans that filled the whole room. I felt like a real man watching a woman like her lose herself over what I was doing to her with my mouth.

—Enough… enough, baby, come here, I’m dying —she begged at last, reaching out to find me.

I climbed on top of her and entered her in one single motion. She was so wet I slid to the bottom without effort. This time I made up my mind to last; I wanted her to enjoy it. I changed positions, grabbed her hips hard, and started with long, firm thrusts. She surrendered completely, letting me handle her body however I wanted, not caring about anything except that moment.

—Daniel never gave me this… —slipped from her between gasps, pressing herself against my neck—. You’re mine.

I lasted much longer than the first time, savoring every second, until I felt my whole body trembling. I put her on her back, lifted her legs onto my shoulders, and with one last deep thrust, I emptied myself inside her while she wrapped her legs around me so I wouldn’t slip out.

***

After that afternoon, something changed in Carmen. She was no longer the frightened woman hiding in the kitchen; now she felt in control of the situation, and I liked that even more. She started sending me the messages herself. “Today at three.” “Come through the back, Daniel’s at football.” Our encounters became almost a secret routine, taking advantage of any oversight, any half hour the house was empty.

What was most intense was how we learned to pretend. Carmen served Daniel coffee with the face of a calm wife ten minutes after I’d had her against the wall. I drank a beer with him as if nothing had happened.

—He’s like another son —she would say without a tremor in her voice, while under the table she brushed my leg with her foot.

Those moments were pure adrenaline: I looked at her remembering how she moaned my name, and she held my gaze just long enough before going back to her role as the lady of the house.

With the months, of course, things cooled off. The fear that Mateo would realize what was happening forced us to space out our meetings, and one good day I met a girl my own age who gave me the stability that Carmen, married and tied to that house, could never give me. But no afternoon ever disappeared from my memory. Carmen taught me, without meaning to, that desire doesn’t understand age or prudence, and that the most forbidden things are always the ones that burn the longest.