Vera’s Obsession Reached Our Bed

I’m Rodrigo, and I’d been with Clara for two years when this happened. Two years that had not been exactly calm, because Clara is the kind of woman who turns your whole life upside down with just one look. Shoulder-length brown hair, generous hips, and that way she had of laughing that made everything else stop mattering. I met her at a birthday party for a mutual friend, and in less than an hour we already knew there was something between us. We went home together that night and never separated again.

Life as a couple with Clara was good. We had our rough patches, like anyone, but the attraction never faded. In bed, we were compulsive. That didn’t change. What did change, little by little, was something else: Vera’s appearance.

Vera was Clara’s coworker at the communications agency where she handled client accounts. Tall, very short black hair, athletic build. A lesbian, and she didn’t hide it from anyone. Clara introduced her to me one night at a company dinner I’d been invited to as her plus-one. I shook her hand, we exchanged a few words about some exhibition or other, and at the time I didn’t think much of it.

But Vera did think a lot of Clara.

The gifts started a month later. First a bouquet of sunflowers sent straight to the office. Then a box of chocolates with a handwritten note. Then a novel Clara had mentioned wanting to read, wrapped in gift paper with a ribbon. “For the person who makes Mondays worth it,” the card said. Clara showed them to me with a mixture of discomfort and flattery that I didn’t quite know how to interpret.

—That’s just how she is —she explained—. She’s intense, I told you.

—And you don’t think that’s too much?

—I think she’s a little obsessed, yes. But nothing’s going to happen, Rodrigo. I’m with you.

I believed her. And at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I started noticing changes in Clara. Little things. When we made love, she was more direct about what she wanted, more precise in her directions. “Slower there, with the tongue like that.” Details that hadn’t come out so clearly before. She never said anything, but the question kept circling my head every night: had someone taught her that? And the strange thing was that the question didn’t make me angry. It made me feel an excitement I couldn’t quite understand.

I rationalized it however I could. It was a fantasy, nothing more. The abstract idea of Clara with a woman. But when I stopped to be honest with myself, I knew there was something more concrete. It was Vera specifically. Vera with her big, steady hands. Vera looking at Clara with that hunger I’d seen at the company dinner and pretended I hadn’t seen.

***

The night everything changed came on a Friday in November.

Clara came into the apartment carrying a bouquet of red roses that covered half her face. She set them on the counter without looking me in the eye, went to get a vase, and only when she was arranging them did she say:

—They’re from Vera. Again.

—They’re pretty —I said, from the sofa.

—Rodrigo.

—What?

—Don’t look at me like that.

—I’m not looking at you any kind of way.

She turned, and I saw something in her face that wasn’t exactly guilt but came close. She came over and sat beside me, too close for this to be a casual conversation. She put a hand on my thigh.

—Vera asked me if I can have dinner with her tomorrow. She says she wants to talk about something important.

I felt a warmth in my chest that wasn’t jealousy, or not only that.

—And what do you think she wants to say?

Clara took a moment.

—I think I already know what she wants to say.

I kissed her then. Her lips tasted of something not entirely familiar, and that turned me on more than it should have. My hands went to her waist, I pulled her closer, and she responded without resistance. I sat her on top of me and, as I kissed her, I felt her breathing loosen, her mouth opening in search of more. I slipped my hand under her T-shirt, pulled it up her back, and ran my fingers over her skin until I reached the clasp of her bra. Clara let out a small moan when I undid it and slid the straps off her shoulders.

—Tell me the truth —I murmured against her mouth—. Have you thought about her?

Clara closed her eyes.

—It’s not something I’ve gone looking for.

—That’s not what I asked you.

I pulled her shirt down until her breasts were bare. They were firm, full, with her nipples already hard from arousal. I sucked them one by one, alternating tongue and mouth, squeezing her waist so she couldn’t get away from me. Clara threw her head back and a rough breath escaped her.

—Sometimes, yes. A little. But not...

She didn’t finish the sentence. I laid her out on the sofa, and she didn’t need to finish it.

I slid her pants down together with her underwear, slowly, watching her face so I wouldn’t miss a single reaction. Her cunt was already wet, glossy, the lips swollen from so much held-back desire. I ran my fingers through her slit and she shuddered all over. Then I bent down and licked her first from the outside, moving the soft lips apart with my tongue, and then inside, long, deep, savoring her taste in my mouth while she gripped my hair hard.

—Like that —she gasped—. More like that.

I slid two fingers inside her while I kept sucking her clit, setting a rhythm that made her arch again and again. Clara breathed in ragged bursts, her thighs tight, her body growing more and more undone. When she came, it was with a brutal tremor, crushing my head between her legs and letting out a broken moan that left my cock hard as stone.

That night was different. I don’t know if it was the tension that had built up, or the roses on the counter, or the fact that for the first time we were naming something that had been in the air for weeks. When Clara asked me to slow down just when I couldn’t take any more, and when she arched her back in that specific way that made me think she’d practiced that movement with someone, I couldn’t keep quiet.

—Who taught you that?

She opened her eyes.

—What?

—That thing you do with your hips. That new thing.

A long pause.

—No one taught you anything you didn’t already know —she said, and pulled me toward her so I couldn’t keep talking.

But she was smiling when she said it.

***

The next day, before Clara left to have dinner with Vera, I suggested something.

—Invite her here. The three of us.

Clara looked at me steadily for several seconds.

—What for?

—For dinner. To talk. So I can get to know her better.

—Rodrigo...

—I’m not asking you for anything. Just dinner.

Another long silence. Then she picked up her phone and typed a message.

Vera showed up on Saturday night at 9:15. She wore a sleeveless gray T-shirt that showed off her arms, dark jeans, and a bottle of red wine in her hand. She greeted Clara first, with a hug that lasted exactly one second longer than normal, and then handed me the bottle with a direct smile.

—I’ve heard a lot about you —she said.

—Good things, I hope.

—Interesting things.

Nothing seemed to happen during dinner. We talked about work, about a series Clara and she were following, about a trip Vera had taken to Lisbon the year before. But the air had a different texture. Vera didn’t take her eyes off Clara for more than thirty seconds at a time, and every time Clara laughed, Vera leaned slightly toward her, as if she were gravitating.

I watched it all from the other side of the table and felt my blood moving faster.

After dessert, when the bottle was almost empty, Vera rested her elbows on the table and looked directly at Clara.

—Can I be honest?

—Always —Clara said, though I noticed she gripped her glass more tightly.

—I’ve spent months wanting to tell you something you probably already know. The gifts aren’t just kindness. I like you, Clara. And not as a friend.

The silence that followed lasted long enough for me to feel my own pulse.

Clara opened her mouth, but I was the one who spoke first.

—And if I told you that doesn’t bother me?

Vera turned slowly toward me.

—It doesn’t bother you?

—I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. And no, it doesn’t bother me. The opposite, actually.

Vera held my gaze for a moment. Then she looked back at Clara.

—And you?

Clara didn’t answer with words. She reached out and placed her fingers on the back of Vera’s hand.

***

What happened after that started slowly and then became everything all at once.

Vera kissed Clara on the living room sofa, with the glasses still on the table. A cautious kiss that gradually turned into something else as Clara didn’t stop it. I was sitting across from them and didn’t move. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Vera slid her tongue in slowly, testing, and Clara responded by opening wider, throwing herself against her with an urgency that left my mouth dry.

Clara pulled away for a second and looked for me.

—Come here —she said.

I moved closer and kissed her, and when I pulled away Vera was there with that expression of someone who has been waiting a long time for something. I ran my hand along the nape of her neck, brought her face to mine, and kissed her too. Her mouth was hot, her lips firm, and she smelled of wine and of that electricity of hers that had filled the apartment since she walked in.

What followed was in the bedroom.

Vera took her time with Clara, as if she had planned that moment for months, which she probably had. She traced Clara’s neck with her lips, slowly unbuttoned her blouse, and took off her bra without hurry. Clara’s eyes were closed and she was breathing with a calm that was really the opposite of calm. I knelt behind her, pulled her pants down over her hips, and moved her underwear aside to leave her ass exposed and her cunt open, already soaking wet.

—Like this? —murmured Vera, sliding two fingers between her lips and rubbing her clit slowly.

—Yes —said Clara—. Just like that.

I buried my face between her legs and started sucking her hard, licking her center while Vera opened her thighs with one hand and squeezed her breasts with the other. Clara writhed between the two of us, pushing her ass back to give me a better angle, gasping when Vera gently bit one nipple. I licked her cunt until she started trembling, and then Vera pulled me away with a crooked smile.

—Don’t just stand there.

I moved behind Clara, swept her hair away from her neck, and pressed my lips to the back of her neck. She arched toward me while Vera kept descending with her mouth, taking her time, skipping nothing. Vera licked her clit with precision, opening her with her fingers, while I rubbed my cock between Clara’s ass cheeks, now wet with saliva and the moisture from her body. It was at that moment that Clara, between breaths, said something I didn’t expect:

—A week ago I was at her place.

I stopped.

—What?

—It was just a moment —Clara said, without opening her eyes—. We drank wine, started talking, and it happened. I didn’t know how to tell you.

Vera didn’t interrupt anything. She kept doing her thing as if the confession were part of the plan.

I processed what I’d just heard. I searched inside myself for some kind of anger and found none. What I found was the usual thing: that fire that had been burning me for weeks, more intense now that it had a concrete shape.

—Did you like it? —I asked.

A pause.

—Yes —Clara replied softly.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind.

—Good —I said.

Vera looked at me with those dark eyes of hers and, without stopping touching Clara, nodded toward the bed. I took off my shirt, pulled down my pants, and stood naked while Clara half-sat up to look at me. Her breathing was broken, her hair tousled, her lips wet from kisses and from Vera’s mouth. She reached out and grabbed my cock, heavy, throbbing.

—Come here —she said.

I lay down between them, and first it was Clara who rode me, coming down on me slowly, with an almost cruel slowness. I sank into her hot cunt while she braced herself on my thighs and Vera held her waist to guide her. Clara started on top, lowering herself little by little, opening for me with that ease only someone who knows your mind and body can have. When she was all the way in, she stayed still for a second, biting the air.

—Fuck —she whispered.

Vera ran her tongue over her shoulder.

—Move —she told her.

Clara began riding me hard, rising and falling on me, squeezing my cock with her cunt until it nearly took my breath away. I gripped her ass with both hands and set the pace from below, while Vera slid a hand between her legs and helped her find the angle better. Every thrust of Clara’s hips made her breasts bounce, made her face change expression, stripped away the last defenses she had left.

Vera positioned herself behind me and sucked my ear.

—Look at her —she whispered.

And I looked. I watched Clara coming down on me with her mouth open, gripping my chest, letting the two of us do whatever we wanted to her without a trace of shame. I brought my hand to her clit and rubbed it with my thumb just as Vera put two fingers in Clara’s mouth for her to suck. Clara obeyed, sucked them slowly, wet and shameless, looking at us with wide eyes and a filthy, delicious expression.

—That’s it, I like that —said Vera.

Clara let out a muffled laugh and came over my cock with a long spasm, clenching me until she nearly dragged an orgasm out of me too. I held her by the hips while she kept moving, more and more undone, until Vera made her get off me and laid her flat on her back.

What followed was a mix of mouths, hands, and bodies shifting places without pause. Vera rode me after that, climbing on top with cold, delicious confidence; her cunt was wet from Clara and from me, and she moved with a looseness that drove me insane. I grabbed her thighs and filled her from below while she threw her head back, baring her neck, breathing hard, and Clara, beside her, sucked her nipples eagerly while her hand wandered between my balls and the base of my cock.

—Harder —Vera asked.

There was no softness in what came next. I pushed deeper, faster, until Vera started moaning without restraint and Clara, still trembling, knelt in front of us to suck my cock wet with the remains of her own cunt. She looked at me while she did it, her tongue sliding over my glans and her lips sealing around the head, and I almost broke in that instant. Vera held Clara’s face and the two of them kissed again, with my cock between them, slick with saliva and with semen about to spill.

There was a moment when I stopped and looked at Clara, her head thrown back and breathing slowly, completely inside what was happening, without the usual buzz of her head full of unfinished things. It had been a long time since I’d seen her that present.

Vera looked at me from the other side.

—Are you okay?

—Very okay —I said.

And it was true.

***

Afterward, the three of us lay in bed for a while without talking. Clara in the middle, Vera on one side, me on the other. The room smelled warm and the silence was the kind that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

It was Vera who spoke first.

—I’d had this kept inside me for a long time.

—I know —said Clara.

—Since when? —I asked.

—Since the client presentation in October last year. Clara gave a presentation in front of the whole agency and I thought: “this is a problem.”

Clara laughed.

—A problem?

—A big problem, yes.

I laughed too. It was strange to laugh in that context, but it was the right laughter for that moment.

—And the gifts? —I asked.

—They’re my way of courting. I’m old-fashioned about some things.

—I liked the gifts —Clara admitted.

—I know. That’s why I didn’t stop.

There was another silence, shorter this time.

—What happens now? —I asked, with no accusation in the question, just curiosity.

Vera propped herself up a little on one elbow.

—That depends on you two. I’m not here to complicate anything.

Clara found my hand beneath the sheets.

—And what do you want? —she asked me.

I thought about the last few weeks. About the built-up tension, the questions I didn’t ask, the nights Clara asked me for something new and I wondered where it came from.

—I think I want to see where this goes —I said.

Clara squeezed my hand.

—Me too.

***

That was three months ago. Since then things have changed, but not in the dramatic way one might imagine. Vera didn’t move in with us or anything like that. She’s still Clara’s coworker, still sends direct, no-nonsense messages, and every two or three weeks she shows up at the apartment and the three of us have dinner together, or go out, or simply spend the night.

It’s not a conventional relationship. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. But there’s one thing I know for certain: since all this started, Clara and I talk more. About what we want, about what excites us, about the boundaries we have and the ones we don’t. Those conversations, which we used to avoid because they seemed uncomfortable, are easy now.

Vera had something to do with that. Her blunt honesty, her way of not beating around the bush, taught us something about saying things out loud.

The gifts still keep coming. Not just for Clara anymore. Last month I got a bottle of whisky with a note that said: “For not running away that night.”

It made me laugh.

It had never occurred to me to run away at any point.