The DJ Made Me an Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

After that weekend that changed everything, Andrés and I returned to Murcia as if nothing had happened. But something between us had broken, and we both knew it without needing to name it. We didn’t talk about what had happened in Granada. He preferred silence, that comfortable way some men have of looking the other way while life bleeds out in their hands.

Andrés carried on with his routine as a salesman, his trips, his endless routes around the province. I stayed home, turning over a new feeling I couldn’t quite understand. At thirty-eight, I thought I knew myself, but that trip had awakened another woman inside me, one who found risk tasted better than anything my husband could offer.

His only reaction was a clumsy promise, spoken in a low voice in the early hours of the morning.

—The next weekend we can, we’ll go back to that club —he told me—. I promise it’ll be different this time.

I told him yes, without much enthusiasm. His need to fix everything with a gesture seemed almost tender to me, and pathetic at the same time. That’s not how you fix it, I thought. Not after what I saw.

***

In the middle of the week, with Andrés away on business in Seville, my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t have saved.

—Hi! How are you? What a weekend you two had, huh? —The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it—. It’s Rubén, the DJ from the club. Rubén Casal.

I froze for a second, but something inside me quickly loosened. We talked for quite a while. He told me he was in Murcia, that he had DJed at an event the night before and was leaving the following day. He was downtown and suggested we have a drink before he left.

I should have said no. I had a thousand reasons to hang up and forget about him. But I was bored, alone in that house that was far too big, and the thought of that new risk drew me in like a magnet. I accepted before thinking twice.

I dressed carefully, choosing each garment like someone preparing an ambush. A tight white blouse with a plunging neckline that left no room for doubt, a short, flared black skirt, and my high heels, the ones that made me walk as if I knew exactly what was going to happen. Underneath, a black lace thong that was already wet before I left the house. I looked at myself in the mirror. The woman looking back at me wasn’t the bored wife of a salesman. She was a female in heat, ready to be fucked.

***

I arrived at the bar and found him on the terrace, sprawled in his chair with the confidence of someone who had access to everything. Rubén greeted me with the superficial cordiality of men accustomed to getting what they want. He suggested we go inside for a beer at the bar, away from the sun and prying eyes.

He told me about his projects, his tours, a world of parties that never ended and business deals he preferred not to go into. It was obvious he was a man of the world, the kind who collected cities and women with equal ease. I listened and drank, one beer after another, feeling the heat slowly rising through my body, feeling my pussy getting wetter beneath my skirt every time he looked at my tits without the slightest attempt at concealment.

That was when he brought up the idea, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

—Did you know a woman like you could make a lot of money? —He let the sentence hang for a moment—. In certain places they’re looking for classy girls with presence. Accompanying high-level clients, people with money. No effort, Carolina. You just have to know how to conduct yourself.

What he was suggesting had an old name, but he wrapped it in elegant words. I didn’t answer him. I only listened, and the idea lodged itself somewhere in my mind. The money, the luxury, access to that world of power where everything seemed permissible. A door opening just as mine was closing.

—You don’t have to decide anything today —he added, reading my face with an ease that made me uncomfortable—. I’m just saying that a woman your age, with your head on your shoulders, is worth much more than you think. Young girls don’t know how to conduct themselves. You do.

There was something perverse about the way he flattered me, about how he turned my thirty-eight years into a virtue instead of a sentence. I’d spent too long feeling invisible, just another woman in the supermarket line, Andrés’s wife, the woman no one looked at twice anymore. And suddenly this man was talking to me as if I were the most coveted piece on the board.

As we talked, I noticed his hands. First on my arm, casually. Then on my knee, without even trying to hide it. He was the kind who touched a lot, the kind who advanced inch by inch, waiting for no one to stop him. I didn’t stop him.

With the bar shielding us, he slid his hand beneath my skirt and stroked the inside of my thigh with his fingertips, slowly moving up until he brushed the edge of my thong. We were in a secluded corner, and I let him, parting my legs slightly to invite him in. He pushed the soaked fabric aside and plunged two fingers into my pussy in one clean thrust, as if he’d known for some time how wet I was going to be. A moan escaped me, which I disguised by raising my beer to my mouth. He smiled at me without removing his fingers, moving them slowly inside me, searching me, feeling my cunt tighten around them.

—You’re soaked, Carolina —he murmured against my ear—. Truly soaked. It’s going to show on the stool.

By instinct, I answered by running my hand over his trousers. His cock stood out, stiff, thick, hard as a rock beneath the fabric. I squeezed him through his pants and heard him let out a breath. I lowered his zipper an inch, just enough to slip my hand inside and touch the hot tip, already wet with precum. We were both boiling in silence, pretending to have a conversation neither of us cared about anymore. His fingers slowly fucked me beneath my skirt, going in and out of my pussy, while his thumb found my clitoris and began tracing precise, perfect circles until my vision blurred.

—Don’t make me come here —I begged in a very low voice.

—Not yet —he replied, pulling his fingers out, glistening with my juices.

He brought them to his mouth in front of me and sucked them slowly, one after the other, without taking his eyes off me. Everything inside me clenched.

***

His command came right against my ear, in a low voice but leaving no room for argument.

—Let’s go to the bathroom. Now.

That brusqueness aroused me in a way I couldn’t contain. I followed him to the bathroom as if my legs had made the decision for me. We went into the only stall and he slid the bolt shut. There were no preliminaries, no gentle words. He gently pushed me down by the shoulders until I was kneeling on the cold floor.

He undid his trousers completely and pulled them down to his knees along with his underwear. His cock sprang out, hard and thick, its tip flushed red and a clear drop trembling on the head. It was bigger than I’d imagined, with a veined shaft that made me swallow. I wrapped my hand around it and felt it pulse between my fingers.

—Suck it properly —he ordered, his voice hoarse—. All of it, Carolina.

I started slowly, savoring the moment, the absurd transgression of being there, in the bathroom of some random bar, with a man I barely knew. I licked the tip first, gathering that salty drop with my tongue, then took him into my mouth inch by inch, feeling him fill me, forcing his way down my throat. He leaned against the tiled wall and let out a breath through his teeth, one hand closed in my hair as he guided my rhythm.

—That’s it, just like that, take all of me —he panted—. Let yourself drool, I don’t care.

I did as he said. I took him all the way down until my gag reflex rose and my eyes filled with tears, then pulled him back out, leaving a strand of saliva running down my chin. I sucked his balls too, one first and then the other, while stroking his cock with my hand and listening to him mutter curses under his breath. Every minute that passed became more intense, more impatient. He held my head with both hands and began fucking my mouth himself, thrusting his hips against my face without the slightest consideration, until I felt his thighs trembling.

—I’m coming, I’m coming in your mouth —he muttered, and came inside me in a series of hot spurts that nearly choked me.

I held on. I swallowed every jet of that thick semen without letting go of his cock until the last drop. When I finally pulled it from my mouth, my lips were shiny and a drop was sliding down the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and stood up.

We left the bathroom as if nothing had happened. He paid for the beers, picked up the keys from the table, and looked at me.

—Let’s go to my hotel —he said.

I didn’t think about it. There was nothing left to think about.

***

The hotel was one of the expensive ones, the kind with marble reception desks and padded silence. In the elevator we devoured each other with kisses, his hands everywhere, mine gripping the back of his neck. He slid a hand beneath my blouse and pinched my nipples through my bra until they were hard as rocks. His other hand was already beneath my skirt again, two fingers buried in my soaked pussy, fucking me against the elevator mirror. The doors opened and we nearly fell into the corridor, tangled up in each other.

As soon as we entered the room, he threw me onto the bed. He ripped my blouse off carelessly, sending two buttons skittering across the parquet floor, then yanked my bra down to expose my tits. He attacked them as if he’d been waiting for hours, sucking one nipple while pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger, biting them with exactly enough gentleness to make a moan escape me. He moved down my belly with his mouth, leaving a wet trail, and tore off my skirt and thong in a single movement.

—Let’s see what you’ve got here —he said, parting my legs with his hands.

He settled between my thighs and opened my pussy with his thumbs. He stared at it for a second, glistening and open for him, and smiled. Then he pressed his mouth to me and began eating me with genuine hunger. His tongue traveled up and down, plunged inside me, came back up to lick my clitoris in quick circles, then descended again. That son of a bitch knew what he was doing—he knew exactly what he was doing. He slid two fingers inside me while sucking my clitoris with his lips and tongue at the same time, curling them upward, searching for a spot that made me lift my hips from the mattress.

—Fuck, fuck, don’t stop —I begged, my voice broken, clutching his hair with both hands.

He didn’t stop. He fucked me with his fingers faster and faster, sucked my clitoris harder and harder, and I came all over his face with a cry that must have carried into the corridor. My whole body shook, my thighs tightened around his head, and he kept licking me through the last contraction, swallowing everything I released over him.

He positioned himself over me and entered me with one thrust, without pause, all the way to the balls, establishing a hard rhythm from the very first second that made me dig my nails into the sheet. His cock plunged all the way in and came out shining with my juices, every thrust pounding deep inside me with a wet sound that filled the room. There was no tenderness in it, and that was precisely why I liked it. It was the exact opposite of the tepid, predictable nights of my marriage.

—You’re so fucking tight, God, the way you squeeze me —he growled without stopping fucking me.

—Harder —I begged—. Fuck me harder, you bastard.

He pinned my wrists against the mattress and looked down at me as he moved, studying every expression on my face as if he wanted to memorize the exact moment I stopped resisting. He thrust harder and harder, making the bed shake against the wall, and I held his gaze as long as I could, until pleasure forced me to close my eyes and arch my back. He raised my legs until my ankles rested on his shoulders, and from there he destroyed my pussy with sharp, hard thrusts, driving all the way in, until I felt my second orgasm rising from my feet. Murcia, Andrés, the empty house—everything had been left miles away from that room while I came for the second time with a stranger’s cock buried balls-deep inside me.

After a while he told me to turn around, to kneel on the armchair beside the window. I obeyed. I placed my hands on the back, my ass raised and my legs spread, offering him all of me. He stroked one cheek, then gave me a sharp smack that made me jump.

—What an ass you have, Carolina. What an ass.

He positioned himself behind me and ran the tip of his cock along my cleft, up and down, wetting it in my pussy again. Then he began to push slowly, opening his way into my cunt with a patience that contrasted with everything that had come before, making me feel him inch by inch until his balls struck my clitoris. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation, on the vertigo of doing exactly what I shouldn’t, my tits hanging down and another man’s cock buried deep inside me from behind.

He began to move, gripping my hips and setting a steady, deep rhythm. Every so often he ran his thumb, moistened with my juices, over my asshole and pressed it gently, without actually inserting it, just enough for me to feel the threat and clench all over.

That was when my phone began vibrating on the bed.

I turned my head and read the name on the screen. Andrés.

—Fuck —I murmured.

Rubén kept up his rhythm without stopping and, with a crooked smile, pointed at the phone.

—Answer it —he said, almost amused.

I stretched out my arm, answered, and brought the phone to my ear with a hand that barely trembled. I spoke to my husband as if I were lying on the sofa at home, asked what time he would be back from Seville, told him I was waiting for him and that he should drive carefully. Meanwhile, Rubén kept moving behind me, slowly at first, fucking my pussy with long, leisurely thrusts while I tried to keep my voice steady. Then, as soon as he heard Andrés speaking again, he increased his pace, dug his fingers into my hips, and began thrusting into me with sharp blows that made me bite my lip to keep from moaning into the phone.

—Yes, darling, of course —I managed to say while the fucking bastard slapped my ass—. No, everything’s quiet here.

When I finally hung up, I let the phone fall onto the mattress and buried my face in the back of the armchair.

—You’re a bastard —I told him, without anger.

He laughed in response and increased his pace even more, gripping my hips with both hands, fucking me so hard that the armchair began sliding across the carpet. He reached around me from the front, found my clitoris with two fingers, and rubbed it in the same rhythm as his thrusts. And the worst part—or the best—was that I loved it. I loved the transgression, the split in two, this new woman who was capable of talking to her husband while another man possessed her on all fours.

I came for the third time with a long moan, squeezing around his cock, feeling the orgasm travel from the nape of my neck to my heels. He didn’t last much longer. Before he finished, he made me turn over, threw me onto the bed again, spread my legs, and began jerking himself off over me with his mouth hanging open.

—Open your mouth, stick out your tongue —he ordered, panting.

I obeyed. He came violently with a hoarse growl, thick jets of semen spilling over my neck, mouth, and cheek, with some landing in my hair. I stayed there, my face smeared and my tongue out, panting, my heart racing, while a strange clarity settled in my mind and I felt the drops slowly slide down my skin.

***

Afterward, lying on that enormous bed while he smoked beside the window, with the semen already dry and pulling at my skin, I knew there was no turning back. Not because of the sex, which after all was only sex. It was because of the other thing, that door Rubén had left ajar for me at the bar.

I understood that I couldn’t return to my old life, to Andrés’s silences and the nights spent counting the cracks in the ceiling. Something had been lit inside me, and I no longer knew how to put it out. While he dressed and promised to call me with details about that luxury job, I stared at the hotel ceiling and thought that, for the first time in years, I had a life ahead of me worth living.

Or at least that was what I told myself that afternoon, when I still believed that world of power and money would be mine without making me pay a price.