What Happened in the Bridal Suite Wasn’t Part of the Plan

For months, I’d been imagining what my wedding day would be like. What I never imagined was how the night would end.

My name is Lucía, I’m twenty-nine, and that morning I had put on a white dress my mother took three fittings to accept. She said it was too tight, that everything showed, that Grandma would cross herself. Grandma did cross herself, yes, but out of emotion. The rest of the guests, distant cousins and Tomás’s office coworkers, watched me through the entire ceremony.

Well, almost all of them.

Elena, my best friend since my first year at university, wasn’t looking at me like the others. She was looking at me as if she knew something I still hadn’t fully admitted to myself.

***

We got to the reception at nine. Dinner, toasts, a slow dance with Tomás, photos with every aunt I hadn’t seen in years. At eleven-thirty, my father kissed my mother on the forehead and they left. At midnight, the open bar was a different story.

The music changed, ties started loosening, the older women sat down to gossip, and the younger ones stayed on the dance floor. Elena didn’t leave my side for a single minute. Every time I turned to talk to someone, I felt her hand at my waist, her fingers grazing my side beneath the bodice.

—Tomás dances terribly —she whispered in my ear, smiling—. I hope he’s better at fucking in other things.

I laughed louder than I wanted to. Tomás, on the other side of the floor, winked at me. He hadn’t heard her.

At one-thirty, Elena dragged me to the bathroom on the excuse of touching up my lipstick. She closed the cubicle door with me inside and, while I leaned on the sink, stayed very close, so close I could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her body through the red dress she was wearing.

—You look incredible today —she said.

—So do you —I answered without looking at her.

—I wanted to tell you that since you walked into the church. And not exactly because the white suits you so well. It’s the way your ass looks when you walk.

I looked up. She had that same smile as always, the one she used back in college when she talked me into going to parties my boyfriend at the time didn’t want me to attend. The difference was that tonight I no longer had a boyfriend. I had a husband. And I had just promised him fidelity in front of everyone.

—Elena.

—I didn’t say anything —she cut in. But she rested two fingers on my thigh, over the stocking, and slid them up a centimeter. Just one. Enough to make my throat close.

And I, worse still, hadn’t said no.

***

At quarter past three, the last guests left. Tomás, my husband for eighteen hours, had had just enough to drink to be cheerful without being a nuisance. Elena, on the other hand, was two drinks ahead of the rest of us and walking barefoot through the hotel lobby with her heels dangling from one finger.

—You coming up with us? —Tomás asked when we got to the elevator.

I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Elena.

—My room is on the floor below —she answered—. But if I’m invited for one last drink…

—The suite has a minibar —he said, too quickly.

Elena stepped into the elevator before I could say anything. This shouldn’t be happening. The thought flashed through my head and yet I didn’t press my floor button. I pressed the suite button.

***

The door shut with that soft click expensive hotels make. Tomás dropped his jacket on an armchair, loosened his tie, and poured three whiskeys without asking. Elena sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. I remained standing in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do with my hands.

—Come —said Elena, patting the mattress beside her.

I sat down. The dress tightened over my hips. Tomás brought me the glass and kissed my temple, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it is. Maybe they’ve talked about this before and I’m only finding out now.

—Tomás? —I said softly.

—Whatever you want —he answered—. If you say she should go, she goes. If you say she stays, I’ll sit there and watch her fuck you.

My mouth fell open. I said nothing. I looked at Elena. She wasn’t waiting for an answer. She was waiting for me. She’d been waiting for me, I realized then, since that afternoon three years ago when we were alone in her apartment after a birthday party and almost something happened.

Almost.

I took a breath. Set the glass on the nightstand. Turned toward her.

—Stay —I said.

***

Elena kissed me like she’d spent years learning the shape of my mouth. Slowly at first, biting my lower lip, then with an urgency that left me breathless. She pushed her tongue deep inside without asking permission, and I felt her saliva mixing with mine and running down my chin. Her hands found the zipper of the dress at my back and lowered it so slowly I wanted to beg her to go faster and never stop, both at once.

Tomás sat in the armchair in the corner and said nothing. He only watched. He loosened his tie completely, poured another finger of whiskey, and took hold of the bulge in his pants without the slightest shame. I’d never felt his gaze like that before, as if he were seeing me for the first time, and it was strange that the first time should be while another woman pulled my dress off my shoulders and my husband was stroking his cock over his clothes while watching us.

The white slid to the floor. I was left in a bra, thong, and stockings. Elena stood up, stepped back, and pulled the red dress over her head in one clean motion. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her body was firmer than I remembered, her skin pale, a constellation of freckles running down her neckline to small, already hard pink nipples. She pulled her panties down over her hips with her thumbs and let them fall. She was completely shaved. The lips of her cunt gleamed.

—I’ve spent too long thinking about this —she said, kneeling slowly in front of me—. Twelve years touching myself thinking about you, Lucía. Twelve.

She unclasped my bra with one hand, never taking her eyes off mine. When it slipped off, she lowered her head and sucked one nipple completely into her mouth, wide open, tugging hard with her lips. Then the other. She left them red, swollen, shiny with saliva. She bit just under my breast, marking me, and moved downward, leaving a trail of wet kisses over my stomach to the edge of my thong.

—Lift your ass —she ordered.

I lifted it. She yanked the thong down my legs and tossed it over her shoulder. She stayed there, looking at my cunt from below, very still, as if deciding where to start.

***

Her hands pushed me, unhurried, until I was lying on my back at the edge of the bed, my legs hanging down and my feet planted on the carpet. She pried my thighs open with both palms, shoving them apart until my hip cracked, and looked down at me with a smile I didn’t know she had.

She started on the insides of my thighs, slowly, with a tongue that seemed to know exactly where not to press yet. She kissed me, bit gently, licked long, and kissed again. She came close to my cunt and then veered away at the last moment to my groin. When she finally lowered her mouth onto me, she ran her entire tongue from bottom to top, very slowly, very flat, gathering me in one long stroke. I screamed. I screamed for real, unable to keep quiet.

—Shhh —she said, smiling against my cunt—. The whole hotel’s going to hear you.

—Let them hear me —I gasped.

Tomás climbed onto the mattress, sat against the headboard, and brushed the hair away from my temples. He had pulled out his cock and was holding it in his right hand, hard, thick, the glans red and a bead of fluid shining at the tip. He wasn’t saying anything. He watched me as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Elena had patience. The same patience I remembered from notes scribbled in the margins at university, the same patience with which she explained statistics to me without losing her temper a week before the exam. She applied it to other things. She sucked my clit with her lips closed, tugging, letting go, tugging again. She pushed her tongue into my cunt and drove it deep, fucking me with it. She moved up to my clit, traced circles, gently took it between her teeth. Then she moved down and licked my ass, without warning, and I jerked so hard it made her laugh.

—Easy, princess —she murmured—. Not yet.

When she started slipping two fingers into me while using her tongue, I was done for. She curled them upward, hunting for a spot even I didn’t know how to find that fast, and began moving them with a steady rhythm, pulling them out halfway and plunging them back in whole. I arched against her mouth and clutched the sheets with both fists.

—Put them deeper —I begged her, not recognizing my own voice—. Deeper, Elena, please.

She added a third. I felt the stretch, the pressure, the wet snap of her fingers going in and out. The bed smelled like me. Everything smelled like me.

When I came for the first time that night, Tomás was holding my face between his hands and forcing me not to close my eyes. I saw his black, dilated eyes, so close to mine, while I shook all over and soaked Elena’s hand to the wrist. I screamed her name. I screamed his after, almost like an apology. Elena didn’t lift her head until I stopped trembling. And when she did, her face was drenched, shining from chin to brow, and she ran two fingers over her lips and sucked them clean.

***

—Your turn —she whispered then, her voice thick.

We switched places. Elena lay on her back on the rumpled bed, opened her legs without the slightest shame, and nodded at me with her chin. I positioned myself between her thighs. I’d never been with a woman. I’d never put my mouth on anyone’s cunt. All I knew was what had felt good to me, and I did it step by step, reading her through her breathing, through the way her fingers tightened in my hair when I got it right.

I ran my tongue over her in one long stroke, just as she had done to me. She tasted salty and clean, a little like expensive soap and very much like woman. I opened her with two fingers and found her clit. It was swollen, bigger than I’d imagined, shining between the folds. I licked it in circles, first lightly, then harder, and she moaned and lifted herself a few inches off the bed.

—Like that —she said—. Just like that. Don’t stop.

I slid a finger into her. She was soaking wet, hot inside, gripping me. I slipped in the second and moved them the way she had moved them inside me, curling them upward, searching. When I found the spot, I knew it: her whole belly went rigid, her knees closed against my ribs, and she yanked my hair so hard tears sprang to my eyes.

Tomás finally took off his shirt and tie and came to the side of the bed. He stood there, completely naked, his cock pointed at the ceiling, looking down at us. Elena held out a hand without opening her eyes, and he gave it to her, and she brought it to her mouth and started sucking his fingers as if they were something else. Then she let go of his hand, took his cock, and brought it to her face.

—Put it in my mouth —she said—. While your wife eats my pussy.

Tomás looked at me. I nodded without taking my mouth off her. He knelt on the mattress, brought his cock to Elena’s lips, and slid the tip between them. Elena took him in all the way, to the throat, eyes closed. She sucked him slowly, swallowing, letting my husband fuck her mouth while I kept eating her cunt.

The three of us were joined in a strange geometry that, in any other context, would have embarrassed me. I didn’t feel that. I felt something much stranger: relief. As if I’d been holding my breath for years.

Elena came biting down on the back of her free hand so she wouldn’t scream, with Tomás’s cock still inside her mouth. I felt her cunt clench around my fingers, pulsing, pushing me out little by little. When she caught her breath, she pulled Tomás’s cock from her mouth with a wet pop, sat up, grabbed the back of my neck, and kissed me deeply, mixing the flavors: me, her, him.

—Your husband’s next —she said against my mouth—. He’s about to blow.

***

She put me on all fours in the middle of the bed. She lay on her back in front of me, my hands around her head, and kissed me again while Tomás took position behind me. I felt his hands on my hips, with a force I’d never known in him, his fingers digging into my flesh. He dragged his cock over the lips of my cunt, up and down, soaking himself, and drove it into me in one thrust.

I screamed against Elena’s mouth. Tomás filled me all the way, more than he had in six years, as if he suddenly knew how to push in a new way. He started fucking me with a slow, deep rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in, making my hips hit his with a sound that echoed through the room like slaps.

—Look at her —Elena panted beneath me—. Look how you’re taking it.

Tomás growled something and sped up. He grabbed my hair, pulled me back, and forced me to arch my spine. I rested my forehead on Elena’s tits, sucking one nipple while my husband fucked me from behind, and Elena whispered things in my ear I’d never heard her say to anyone.

—That’s it, slut, you love cock, with your best friend watching while he fucks you, still wearing your stockings on your wedding day…

I came again. I came without warning, unable to hold it back, squeezing my cunt around Tomás’s cock and scratching Elena’s back with both hands. Tomás held my hips so I couldn’t escape and kept thrusting, faster, harder, until he groaned loudly too and sank all the way in. I felt the spasms, the jolts, the heat of his orgasm filling me from inside.

Elena’s fingers were tangled with mine, helping me hold my own weight. The open wardrobe mirror, all three of us reflected, my own unfamiliar face in the glass. The stockings still on, ridiculous, white, stained with semen and saliva. Elena’s low laugh when she saw the wedding dress thrown on the floor and tossed a pillow over it, as if covering its eyes.

When Tomás pulled out, a thread of semen ran down my thigh. Elena turned my head, looked at my cunt, and, without asking, bent down and licked me clean. She cleaned me with her tongue, swallowing his cum, and kissed me again with a mouth full of it. It was the dirtiest thing I had ever done. And it didn’t disgust me at all.

There was a moment, just before the end, when Tomás stopped, turned my face toward him, and asked:

—Are you okay?

He wasn’t asking whether I liked it. He was asking whether I was still me. I nodded. I kissed him. I told him yes.

He started moving again, slower at first, and I stopped thinking.

***

Dawn came at seven-thirty. Light slipped through the half-closed curtains and painted the three of us a worn golden color. Elena was asleep on her stomach, hugging a pillow, the imprint of my fingers still visible on her hip. Tomás was breathing against the back of my neck, one arm crossed over my waist, possessive even in his sleep. One of my stockings was ripped at the knee and my cunt was sore, still throbbing.

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling and tried to understand what had happened, not out of regret, but surprise. I’d been with Tomás for six years and we’d never talked about anything like this. I’d had twelve years of friendship with Elena and we’d always pretended that what happened in her apartment that afternoon had meant nothing.

And now the three of us were in the same bed, with the wedding dress balled up at the foot and the sheets stained with three different people.

Elena woke first. She looked at me without moving her head, as if checking whether I was still there. When she saw that I was, she smiled. It wasn’t a smile of victory or complicity. It was almost shy.

—Good morning, Mrs. Tomás —she said very softly.

—Good morning —I answered.

Tomás shifted behind me and muttered something unintelligible. Elena reached a hand over me and stroked his hair slowly, the way you touch someone you know more deeply than you should.

—So what now? —I asked her.

She shrugged under the sheet.

—Now we have breakfast —she said—. And then we’ll see.

I don’t know if what we have has a name. I don’t know if it’s going to happen again or if it was just a one-night exception, a crack opened by the open bar and by twelve years of things kept locked away. What I do know is that when we went down to breakfast, the three of us together, the receptionist looked at us strangely and I didn’t care. I had my new wedding band on my finger and, in my handbag, Elena’s lipstick instead of mine.

Something had begun. And, for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t afraid of not knowing how it would end.