The Mature Neighbor Who Offered Me Her Shower and More

I’m one of those men who have always liked older women. I’m twenty-five, and as long as I can remember, the ones who undo me are the ones who already know what they want, the ones who don’t ask twice. I don’t turn my nose up at the rest, but a mature woman has a calm about her that drives me crazy.

I was coming off a fallout with Sofía, a story I’d rather not get into here. When she moved back to Mendoza, I went back to my usual routine: no relationships, keeping to myself a bit, letting time pass. Six months later, life’s twists led me to my first proper job.

I sent out a couple of résumés and got hired for a temporary position at a pizzeria that had opened just over a month earlier. The coincidence was both cruel and generous: the place was around the corner from the apartment Sofía used to live in, and now belonged to Marina, a friend of hers who had taken over the lease.

Marina was forty-two and had a way of looking at you that always seemed to be calculating something. Sooner rather than later she started showing up at the place and became a regular customer. She cared about the food about as much as I cared about astronomy — that is, not at all — but she used the promotions as an excuse to stick around and chat with me at the counter.

—What’s the special today, kid? —she’d ask, leaning on the counter, fully aware I’d already told her.

My shift ran from six in the evening until closing. In summer I got out at two in the morning on weekends; on weekdays, at midnight. Since we both hung out at the same nightclub, it was only natural that we’d run into each other. The second time we crossed paths, we went for a drink before each of us headed off with our group.

—You can’t come straight from work —she told me, wrinkling her nose with a laugh—. No matter how much cologne you wear, you smell awful like food. You need a shower.

She was right. When you work in a kitchen, you can change clothes and douse yourself in as much perfume as you want, but the smell of grease gets under your skin.

—So what do you suggest? —I said—. They still haven’t turned on the shower at the shop; it only runs cold water.

—Don’t be silly. We’ll sort it out, you’ll come by my place and take a proper shower like a human being. I don’t get to the club until after two-thirty, so you’ve got plenty of time.

The offer was tempting: a hot shower, clean clothes, then going out. But something told me it wasn’t going to be free.

—I’ll take it. What do you want in return?

—Obviously something —she laughed—. Bring me food from the place. Empanadas, a pizza, whatever. You know money doesn’t exactly grow on trees for me. You shower, I have dinner, deal?

—Deal.

***

The first Friday I stopped by her door a little after one in the morning, with a box of still-warm empanadas tucked under my arm. Marina opened the door in flip-flops, her hair hurriedly tied up. The apartment was a kind of friendly chaos: the bed unmade, clothes scattered everywhere, glasses with the remains of something on the table, books piled on a chair. Nothing like the monastic order Sofía had kept when she lived there.

—Order isn’t my thing —she said, shrugging—. While I tidy up a bit, go take a shower. You smell like milanesas and it makes me want to bite you.

—And what do I wear after? I only brought what I’m wearing.

—There’s a pair of shorts and a T-shirt of yours in the bathroom. You left them the other time. Go ahead.

I went into the bathroom and the first thing I saw was a tiny thong hanging from the faucet: just a translucent little triangle of fabric with sky-blue edges, and a thin string in back. I left it where it was and got under the hot water, using her shampoo, her scented soap, a silky-soft towel. Let’s be honest: that garment made me imagine it on her, and I came out of the bathroom with my head in all the wrong places.

Like magic, she had almost finished tidying everything up. She was putting my work clothes in the washing machine along with hers.

—I saw I left a thong hanging up there —she said without turning around—. I hope you didn’t do anything weird with it. I know you like those little things. Sofía and I didn’t have secrets.

—Oh yeah? No secrets at all? What else do you know?

—A few things. But this isn’t the time. We’ll eat and then, if you want, we can talk about everything.

We ate спокойно, talking about anything and everything, skirting the hot topics. Then we smoked a cigarette sitting on the edge of the bed. I asked her about Sofía, about how her life had changed since she left, and Marina settled onto her side so she was facing me.

—Listen, kid —she said, letting the smoke out slowly—. I know you and Sofía had an arrangement. No feelings, just having a good time. But she wavered. She was one step away from giving in, and that scared her. That’s why she went back. You shook her up and she didn’t dare admit it.

—I find that hard to believe.

—Believe it. One thing is fucking for fun, another is when you start giving yourself over. And she was giving herself over. Do you know how many times she got me hot telling me how you two rolled around? I would never have agreed to something like that.

—Don’t say that, Marina.

—Why not? If you turn me on, we roll around and that’s it. The difference between Sofía and me is simple: my hand doesn’t shake. There are no feelings involved, just desire.

She said it while holding my gaze, without a shred of shame. She was a woman without filters, the kind who says exactly what she feels. We finished the beer, she took down my almost-dry clothes, and before we said goodbye, she threw out the idea of a swingers club she wanted to check out.

—But bring clothes to shower in —she added, winking—, or I’ll bite you, because there’s hunger in this house.

We said goodbye with a short kiss on the lips, almost absentmindedly. The sun was already coming up when I got home, and so were my misgivings about her.

***

The next day I stopped by early to drop off my clothes so she’d have them ready. She opened the door just awake, wearing a long T-shirt that barely covered her thighs.

—Mate? —she asked—. I’ll take a quick shower.

I set up the thermos while she went into the bathroom. A while later she asked from inside that I hand her the towel and the clothes from the clothesline. I took down the vanilla thong —the same one I’d seen the day before—, a very worn-out light-colored T-shirt, and a huge pink towel. When I brought everything over, she cracked the door open just enough, and in the reflection of the mirror I caught a glimpse of her naked body, wet, generous.

She came out minutes later wrapped in steam, her wet hair dampening the T-shirt clinging to her breasts, the thong outlining the triangle. My body reacted at once.

—Well, well —she said, looking at my crotch with a crooked smile—. Woke up in a good mood, did we?

—Cut it out, Marina, you’re practically naked.

—Naked would be the least of it. I woke up horny.

She sat on the bed cross-legged, a little bottle of polish in her hand, ready to paint her toenails. From my chair I had a privileged view: bare thighs, the fabric molding itself to her pussy, the wet T-shirt sticking to her skin.

—You’re going to have to learn how to do this —she said, straining to reach her right foot—. It’s an awkward position and it leaves me completely exposed. Do you like seeing me like this?

—Who wouldn’t?

—Good thing you’re behaving like a gentleman. Another guy would’ve made me throw the polish to hell.

Those words made something strange happen to me: an enormous urge to go further and, at the same time, the fear that she might stop me. I made her some mate, trying to hide my erection. I glanced at the clock: time to head to work. I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked toward the door. She got up to walk me out, careful not to ruin her nails.

—You’re unbelievable —she complained—. I told you I was hot, I showed you everything, and what did you do? Make me mate.

—If I’d done anything, I wouldn’t have made it to work.

She came up to me, hugged me, and gave me a kiss that was no longer shy at all. She rubbed her body against mine, pushing me back against the door. I kissed her back and grabbed her ass firmly so she wouldn’t pull away, while our tongues searched for each other.

—Don’t go —she murmured against my mouth—. Stay a while.

—If I stay, we’ll end up fucking. And I have to work.

—Then don’t leave me like this. Do something and go.

I lifted her up, wrapped her legs around my waist, and carried her to the bed. I laid her down, pulled up her T-shirt, and lowered her thong just a little. I settled between her legs and started running my tongue over her, slowly, opening her up, sinking into her.

—Like that, kid —she gasped, threading her fingers into my hair—. Right there, don’t stop.

I followed every one of her instructions, determined to make her come even if we went no further. She planted the soles of her feet on the mattress, opened herself as wide as she could, and tensed her body. When she came, it was with a muffled cry against the pillow, squeezing my head between her thighs.

—What Sofía was missing —she said afterward, breathless, with a slack smile.

—I have to go, Marina. We’ll continue later.

—You’re leaving without anything for yourself? That’s ugly.

—I told you. If we keep going, I won’t make it to work. Tonight, when I come to shower, we’ll sort it out.

***

That night she showed up at the place around eleven and ordered half a dozen empanadas to go. Before leaving, she winked at me and whispered, “I’ll be waiting later.” The hours until closing felt endless. When we pulled the shutter down, I flew through restocking drinks and arranging glasses. The one hundred and fifty meters to her door felt like I was floating.

But she was already waiting, dressed to go out, with my clothes laid out on the bed. There would be no action yet that night: we were going to the famous swingers club she had booked. The place was called Penumbra, and it lived up to its name. A tiny dance floor, sofas separated by tall partitions, almost no light at all. The waiters moved around with weak flashlights so they wouldn’t bump into anything. Slow music played at a very low volume, interrupted now and then by some moan coming from the private rooms. A true den for lovers.

They brought us drinks and a plate of sandwiches. Bare silhouettes could barely be made out moving in the dark, and you didn’t need to be very sharp to understand what was going on there. We went to dance a slow one, bodies pressed tightly together. When she pulled away to go to the bathroom, on the way back I saw one woman riding her partner on a sofa, another on her knees in front of hers, and a whole couple going at it in a corner. An orgy in the shadows.

—I can’t believe it —Marina said when she came back, weaving around bodies—. People are fucking their lives away in here, and the waiters don’t even blink.

—I’d bet most of them are lovers. It’s a place for forbidden encounters.

An hour later we asked for the check. Once in the car, she sat sideways and pulled a red thong from her coat pocket.

—When I went to the bathroom, I took it off —she confessed, laughing—. I thought I might work up the nerve to copy the others, but I couldn’t. I got insanely turned on. I want to fuck now.

She brought the fabric up to my nose so I could smell that womanly perfume mixed with the vanilla I already knew.

—You choose: a motel or the apartment.

—The apartment —I said, sliding my right hand toward her crotch.

—One thing, though: tonight you sleep with me. You’re not going to your own bed.

***

We came in kissing, without turning on the lights, because we knew the way by heart. Clothes fell wherever they fell. A faint reflection filtering through the window guided us to the bed. I landed first and she on top of me, both of us desperate to finish what had been left half-done.

—Promise you’ll eat me out again —she asked—. I loved it.

—Anything you want.

She turned until she was facing my mouth with her sex and spread her legs, bracing herself on my chest so I could reach as deep as possible. I didn’t disappoint her. I licked her all over, slowly at first and then with hunger, while she moved in circles over me, setting the rhythm. She came once and didn’t stop; she kept seeking me out with her hips until I felt her trembling again.

—It feels so good —she murmured—. Don’t stop.

I was already at my limit. When she finally asked me to, she flipped over, settled herself on top of me, and took me all the way in. She rode me for a long, long few minutes, letting herself go completely, until I stopped her. I was on the edge and didn’t want to finish that way.

—I want to finish inside you —I told her.

—Put on a condom and go ahead —she replied—. I don’t want to get pregnant. I’m on my period and I’m very horny, but I’m not stupid.

We did it carefully, and this time we both finished, her clinging to my back. Only then did she relax and collapse beside me, spent.

—If you’d done me raw, I’d definitely end up pregnant —she said, catching her breath—. I’m at my most fertile right now. When I get like this, I can’t stop. I know it and I take the risk anyway, but today I needed this.

—That much?

—You have no idea. Everything is burning and the second anyone touches me, I spread my legs. What happened this afternoon had me crazy all day.

We rested a while in each other’s arms and, a couple of hours later, went at it again. It was true: she switched on by herself and never let up. She wrecked me.

***

The next morning she was calmer. We made breakfast exactly as we were, both naked, in no hurry. We showered together and went back to bed to recharge.

—If we keep seeing each other —she said, playing with my hair—, the next horny night we spend in a motel. I want the full luxury package: jacuzzi, time, no watching the clock. Deal?

—More than deal. If we managed in a single bed, imagine what we can do in a real one.

—I owe you, though —she added with a smile—. Today I needed to fuck and I didn’t give you everything I had planned. Next time I’ll make it up to you.

The promise hung in the air, but that’s another story. What I can say is that that deal of food in exchange for a shower ended up costing me —and giving me— a hell of a lot more than either of us had calculated.