What Happened in the Mallorca Suite with Two Strangers

Lorena had been in Mallorca for five days and still hadn’t set foot on the sand. The company had sent her to audit an adjoining lab, and what on paper looked like a week of island sun and mojitos had turned into watch shifts, half-finished reports, and the smell of ammonia that wouldn’t leave her nose.

—On this island do they work more on holidays than on weekdays? —she had asked the manager on the first Sunday, without getting an answer.

Her friends, on the other hand, were on vacation. Carla and Marta had signed up for the trip, taking advantage of a long weekend, with bargain flights and a suite paid for by the company. While Lorena checked procedures, they got a tan, went swimming, and drank one thing after another. At night they had dinner together in the hotel restaurant, the three of them, and then the others went out on the town and Lorena went upstairs to collapse into the double bed.

She fell so exhausted that she didn’t even notice Carla and Marta getting into the foldout bed next to hers. I’m missing Mallorca for an 1980s laboratory, she thought before passing out.

***

The second-to-last day finally ended early. She left the lab with a sigh of relief, changed in the room, and went down to find them at a beach bar. She ordered a mojito and stirred the mint with the straw while listening to them complain that in five days they hadn’t managed to hook up with anyone decent.

—You’re missing the parade —Marta said, nodding toward it.

Lorena looked up. A group of boys just over twenty were staggering along the shore, drunk, kicking a ball around. Built, gym types, but kids.

—They already have driver’s licenses, right? —she said, winking at Marta—. Go for it.

—Shut up, how embarrassing —her friend replied, hiding behind her glass.

It wasn’t the boys who changed their afternoon. It was the two who arrived after them and laid out their towels right beside theirs, because there wasn’t a free spot left. Early thirties, Lorena guessed. Tall, hairy-chested, toned without going overboard. One had a neatly trimmed beard and sat down to type on a laptop; the other went into the water and came back dripping like a dog.

—Executives without the suits —Lorena muttered. She knew their kind well.

***

The laptop guy complained that they had nothing to drink, and Lorena, without thinking too much about it, opened the cooler bag and tossed them a couple of cans.

—It’s not beer, but it’s something.

—Thanks! Very kind of you.

That was all it took. The one who’d been swimming came over to ask for dinner recommendations, and ten minutes later both towels were pressed right up against theirs. Their names were Rubén —the bearded one— and Iván, salesmen for a software company in Málaga, newly arrived and with no idea where anything was. Carla and Marta got lost looking for a restaurant on their phone map while Lorena did the honors of the conversation.

—Chemistry? You’d make a killing here —Rubén laughed—. We’ve been here two days and already we’ve seen half the island passing around “material” before noon.

She didn’t need to ask whether he was married. Halfway through the chat he got up to answer a message from a woman asking how his stay was going, and left out the small detail that the stay included three bikini-clad strangers. Men, Lorena thought, not giving it any importance.

When they discovered they were staying in the same hotel, the plan made itself: quick shower and dinner for five.

***

In the elevator, as soon as the doors closed, the three of them grabbed each other’s hands and started jumping around like fifteen-year-olds.

—You’re crazy! —Marta told her.

—You couldn’t find better fish if you tried —Lorena replied—. With money, handsome, and one of them married, so there’s no risk of him falling in love.

—And well hung —added Carla, who had noticed their swimwear—. Especially the bearded one.

—Tonight we’re fucking —Lorena declared.

Dinner was long, flowy with drinks, and fun. Rubén paid attention to Lorena, Iván split his attention between Carla and Marta, and they wouldn’t let them pay. The girls returned the gesture by inviting them for drinks in a pub facing the sea, and from there they jumped to a nightclub where they danced pressed together until they were on a first-name basis like old friends and hands began to forget their manners.

—If you want to be more comfortable, we can keep going at the hotel —Lorena suggested when they were all already tipsy.

The yes was unanimous.

***

In the suite they kept drinking and dancing to Marta’s speaker. Rubén danced pressed against Lorena’s back, his hands brushing her stomach; Carla joined the dance and the two friends rubbed against each other while the guys clapped.

—It’s hot in here —Iván said, opening a window.

—Then take your T-shirts off! —Lorena half-joked.

They took them off without a trace of shame. And then Rubén went to his wallet and pulled out a little bag of pink pills, handing one to each of them.

—What is this? —Marta asked, the most wary of them all.

Lorena brought it to her tongue. Acidic, bitter, lemon flavor. She recognized it. She looked at her friends, then at the two men in their underwear, and told herself, what does it matter. She swallowed it, and urged the others to do the same.

***

Twenty minutes later the heat was something else. Lorena’s skin was burning and her head was drifting toward a place without corners, where only desire existed. She took off her blouse amid applause. Carla and Marta were dancing, touching each other and letting themselves be touched, and Marta’s shyness had evaporated with the pill.

With Iván behind her and Rubén in front, Lorena pulled down the zipper of her skirt, swaying her hips, and let it drop, left in black lingerie. She went back to them licking her lips, let Iván kiss the nape of her neck and Rubén nibble her arm. I’m burning all over, she thought, and knew, by the way they looked at her, that they could smell it too.

Carla unclasped Marta’s bra, and Marta ended up flinging it at Iván’s head amid laughter. Lorena took hers off in one gesture, and the two salesmen stopped pretending: they couldn’t take their eyes off her. She moved closer to Rubén, rubbed her ass against his bulge, took his hands, and placed them on her breasts.

—Fuck, I’m so turned on! —was the only thing she managed to say out loud.

***

She picked up a shirt from the floor and, playing with it like a dancer, moved toward Rubén again. She licked his lips and then they kissed deeply.

—Hey, you’re engaged! —Marta screamed from the sofa, where Iván was already devouring her breasts.

—And you, Rubén —Iván laughed—. I’m the only single one here!

Lorena put the shirt in Rubén’s hands. Cover me, she whispered. She turned toward her friends so they could watch her, disappeared behind the fabric and went down, kissing, to the edge of his boxer briefs. She stroked him, pulled them down slowly. The shirt swayed to the rhythm of her head, and no matter how much it hid her, there was no doubt what was happening.

—She really is sucking him off! —Carla announced, peeking around the side, dead with laughter.

Lorena pulled it out just to give it a lick from top to bottom and swallow it again, looking him in the eyes. Then she straightened up, rubbed her breasts all over his cock, and kissed him again.

***

The living room had become something else. On the sofa, Iván was undressing Marta between kisses while Carla, now naked, stroked his back and bit her friend’s shoulder. Lorena pulled down her soaked panties and, without thinking, passed them over Rubén’s mouth like an improvised gag; far from pulling away, he closed his eyes for a second before tossing them onto the sofa.

—I need to fuck —Lorena said, and it was no hint.

Iván took condoms out of his wallet and handed one to Rubén without stopping kissing Carla. Marta, red as a tomato but unable to stop, pulled Iván toward the bedroom; she wasn’t about to do it in front of everyone.

—You have more in your wallet —Lorena reminded Rubén, nodding toward the couple leaving.

***

She settled on the arm of the sofa, one leg up and the other on the floor, spread wide open. Rubén sank his fingers into her, pulling them out to spread the wetness in circles, looking at her with a concentration that only turned her on even more. Lorena took the condom from his hands, opened it with her teeth, and rolled it on herself.

She guided him to the entrance. He pushed slowly, centimeter by centimeter, and Lorena arched her back when she felt him all the way in.

—Ah… mmm —she moaned.

Rubén grabbed her thighs and started moving, stopping only to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. Carla, who had been left alone on the sofa, didn’t miss a thing: she crawled over and ate Lorena’s breasts while Rubén hammered into her, the three mouths, the two tongues, and the pill’s heat mixing everything together until she no longer knew where she ended and where her friend began.

Marta’s moans came from the bedroom. Her own came from the living room. Lorena came clinging to Carla’s neck, with Rubén buried to the hilt, and for the first time all week she thought the trip had been worth it.

***

The next morning, with her body aching and her head begging for water, Lorena ran into Rubén in the carpeted hallway. Through the half-open door she saw Iván stuffing clothes into a suitcase, in a hurry.

—Are you in a big rush? —she asked.

—We’re a bit pressed for time —he replied, holding the door for her—. But if we can help you with anything…

Lorena smiled. Downstairs, Carla and Marta were waiting with two mojitos and a half-packed suitcase. She still had one last day in Mallorca, and at last, she thought, she was going to step onto the beach with the clear conscience of someone who had already made the most of all her vacation in one single night.