My experienced business partner stayed the night with me

This happened just a few weeks ago, and it still surprises me whenever I think about it. I’d gone months without sitting down to write, because the start of the year in my line of work leaves no free room, but what happened that cold night deserved to be told.

The Friday before, our consultancy organized the year-end lunch. We booked a private room in a client’s restaurant and gathered there the eighteen people who, in one way or another, keep the company running: the office girls, my two partners —Lorena and Renata—, the woman from the real estate agency we work with, the insurance agent, the two cleaning ladies, and a couple of friends who always lend a hand. Twenty women and me. Same old story.

It was a long, excellent lunch, but I kept myself impeccable. I didn’t have a single drink too many, I didn’t flirt with anyone, I didn’t allow myself even one improper look. With so many eyes on me, my role was strictly professional, though more than once I would have liked to let my guard down. I know these dates are a magnet for slip-ups between coworkers, especially after company dinners, and precisely for that reason I was twice as careful.

We finished around six. After the goodbyes, instead of going home, I stopped by the office to drop off some papers. I went down to the garage and was surprised to find Renata’s car parked in her space. It was almost eight on a Friday evening.

I went up. On the floor, very low music was playing through the sound system, the lights were off, and there was only a glow under the door of her office. I knocked twice with my knuckles.

—Can I come in? —I asked.

—Come in —she said, without looking up from the screen.

—Renata, what are you still doing here? Why didn’t you go home?

—Damián went to the mountains with his friends for three days; he’s back Tuesday. —She said it seriously, almost without intonation—. I don’t have anyone waiting for me and an empty house suffocates me. I’d rather finish these balances and leave your accounts closed for the first half of the month.

—You’re a workaholic. We come from lunch and you lock yourself in here. —I gave her shoulder a gentle tap—. You’re like a coffee pot.

—Look, look at this. —She turned the monitor toward me.

I stared at the figures for the year. I wasn’t expecting those numbers. I knew we billed well for our size, but the control my two partners exert over every expense is on another level: they squeeze every line item and scold me if I go one euro off budget. Tough as nails, but brilliant.

—Fuck, that’s good —I said.

—And what’s coming. If the projects come through, next year we’ll grow ten percent. It’ll be the year we consolidate; we deserve it. —She smiled at me with that confidence of hers that I’ve always liked.

—Thanks to you both. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me professionally.

That was when I really looked at her. Sitting in her armchair, wearing a bottle-green dress that clung to her body, the neckline suggested far more than it showed. Her straight blonde hair fell to either side of a face that, at thirty-eight, looked better than ever. Two bright blue eyes that at that moment held my gaze longer than was wise.

—What are you looking at? —she asked, taking a hand to her neckline, half joking.

—Renata, I’m not made of stone. What do you want me to look at?

—You’re hopeless. —She laughed, but she didn’t look away.

—I’m a good boy. If you weren’t my partner, and if you hadn’t been with Damián for so many years, I don’t know what would happen.

—Nothing would happen. We’ve known each other for eight years and nothing ever happened.

Her hand rested on the wood of the table. I looked at her again and, I don’t know why, I thought of Lorena. For years I promised myself I’d respect my two partners above all else, until Lorena, on the day she turned forty-five, asked for a ride in my car as her birthday present and we ended up breaking that promise in a vacant lot outside town. I sinned, yes, and I discovered I liked it far too much. With Renata the temptation had been there longer, but I’d never dared go that far.

—It’s true —I said, and laid my left hand over hers—. We’ve spent too long being just friends.

I thought she’d pull her hand away. She didn’t. She turned hers over and laced her fingers with mine. We held each other’s gaze for a second too long. Slowly, without letting go, she stood up. We were both on our feet, face to face, and she hugged me.

—Martín —she murmured against my neck—, I had many doubts when I left my steady job to get into this with you. And today I’m the happiest woman in the world. I come to work eager to be here. Thank you for the way you treat us.

It was a real hug, tight, grateful. She didn’t separate her body while I answered, and her chest stayed pressed against mine. God, how incredible is this woman.

—Thank you, Renata. You’re very important to me, you know that.

She rested her face to one side and squeezed me again. When she pulled back, her eyes searched mine and there were no more words. She closed her eyelids, brought her lips closer, and I couldn’t hold back. We melted into a long, deep kiss, loaded with everything we’d been keeping silent for years. A cold December afternoon, in a dark office, after a lunch where we hadn’t even sat near each other.

***

We stayed pressed together, her leaning against the edge of the desk and my body against hers. I felt my erection answering, uncomfortable inside my trousers, and I lowered my hand to adjust it without breaking the kiss. Renata noticed. She barely parted her mouth, drew in a breath, and spoke in a rough voice.

—I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.

I didn’t answer. I slid one hand to her back and the other to her hips as the kiss continued. She lowered hers, slowly, until she found the bulge in my trousers, and when she felt it she suddenly widened her eyes.

—God, you’re hard.

—That’s what you do to me.

I slid my hand under her dress and lifted her to the edge of the desk. I moved aside the thin fabric of her underwear and caressed her with my palm; she was soaked, hot, ready. Renata turned her face away from mine.

—I want us to do it here. Now.

—Wait, I’ll get a condom.

—No. Like this. I want to feel you.

I didn’t argue. I brought her closer to the edge, parted her clothes, and entered her slowly, feeling her take me in centimeter by centimeter, feeling her walls open with each small push of my hips. She threw her head back, moved her hips toward me, and started to moan softly, biting her lip so as not to make noise in that empty building.

I took my time. I held her by the hips and set a slow, deep rhythm, searching for the spot that made her tremble. I wasn’t in a hurry: I wanted her to remember that first time for weeks, not minutes.

—Faster —she asked against my ear—. Like that, don’t stop.

I sped up. Her face changed, the moans turned into shorter and shorter gasps, and when I felt her tighten and shudder against me, I knew she was coming. She clung to my shoulders, dug in her nails, and let out a long moan that slipped past her control. I held on until she stopped trembling, without finishing myself, holding her while she caught her breath.

I hugged her and kissed her slowly, saying nothing. I didn’t want her to feel used; I wanted her to feel desired. I came out carefully, and when our eyes met, I saw tears filling hers. She turned her face away, buried her head in my shoulder, and broke into silent tears, little sobs against my ear.

I didn’t rush her. I stroked her back and her hair until she calmed down. I knew a thousand things were crossing her mind at once: what had just happened, Damián, the fear of having made a mistake. I let her unload it all, no hurry, no pressure.

***

I have a small apartment on the top floor of the building, an old break room that over the years I turned into a refuge. We went upstairs. Renata went down to the car first to make a couple of calls and, when she came back, she found me getting out of the shower.

—Do you want a coffee? —she asked from the kitchen.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind while she put the capsule into the machine and moved her hair aside to kiss her neck.

—If I drink coffee, I’ll have you up all night —I told her—. And with you next to me, I make no promises.

—Men are so dramatic. —She laughed—. In the movies they spend the whole night fucking. In real life I never experienced it, that’s why I say it.

—Never?

—Never. I had two quiet relationships and Damián is a good guy, but he does his own thing. I never spent a night like this.

I turned her around and kissed her. She’s asking me for exactly that.

—Then get ready —I said—, and accept the consequences.

We moved to the bedroom. I undressed her slowly, without urgency, and before anything else I took my time with my mouth between her legs, playing with my tongue until she came twice in a row, gripping the headboard, surprised by her own body. When I straightened up and kissed her with the taste of her pleasure still on my lips, she licked my mouth over and over, uninhibited, hotter than ever.

The first time I let go was with her underneath me, her legs up, the two of us kissing while I pushed harder and harder. The moment she felt the first throbbing inside, she opened her eyes, opened her mouth, and came at the same time as I did, convulsing, her gasps mingling with mine into something that sounded like a single voice.

—My God —she murmured afterward, still trembling—. I didn’t know this existed.

We rested for a while in each other’s arms, covered with the duvet, caressing each other like two lovers who wanted to stop time. That was when she came clean.

—I have to confess two things to you —she said, her face pressed against mine, not looking at me—. I’d never wanted sex this way before. And this has been, without a doubt, the best night of my life.

—Don’t thank me —I replied—. I should be thanking you.

We started over more than once that night. At two in the morning I had her on her knees in front of the wardrobe mirror, seeing the whole scene reflected: my hand in her blonde hair, her breasts swaying with every thrust, her mouth open, moaning without restraint. When her sex started clamping down on me as if it wanted to hold me there, I couldn’t take it, and we both came at the same time for the second time that night.

—I can’t take any more —she said, laughing, wrecked—. You’re destroying me. I didn’t know it could feel like this.

We slept barely three hours. I always wake at dawn, no way around it, so I made coffee and toast while she slowly opened her eyes, lost, gorgeous.

—Good morning, sleepyhead.

—I’m still in a trance —she murmured, and pulled me in to kiss me.

We had breakfast calmly and, by midmorning, after she rode me and came once more, I went looking for the ending I’d been saving all night. I positioned myself so my cock was over her face, asked permission with my eyes, and when she let go, I emptied everything I had left into her mouth. She swallowed almost without meaning to, went red for a moment, and when it was over, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

—It’s the first time I’ve done this —she said—. And you didn’t warn me, asshole.

—There’s always a first time. And you’re gorgeous.

We said goodbye a couple of hours later. She went to lunch with her parents, as she does every Saturday.

On Sunday I sent her a message and she replied that she’d loved what happened. Nothing more.

A month has passed since that night and, I’ll be honest, everything is still exactly the same as before. Renata hasn’t hinted at anything again and we act in the office like two partners who respect each other. But I’m an old dog and I know how to read a look: something changed inside her. I notice it in the way she goes off into thought, in the way she watches me when she thinks I can’t see her. I’m not going to pressure her or set a trap for her. I’m going to wait, patiently. And I’m convinced that this story, sooner or later, will have a second part.