What Nora Gave My Girlfriend Was Not Friendship

I met Carla in a creative writing workshop two years ago. She arrived late, her hair wet from the rain, carrying a blue notebook that left ink marks on her fingers. She sat down across from me, looked up, and apologized with a smile that made me forget what I was about to read aloud. That same night we had dinner together, and we haven’t been apart since.

She has almost olive-green eyes, a laugh that escapes through her nose when she drinks, and a way of crossing her legs in bed that undoes me. We live in a small apartment near the river, with too many books and a cat named Bach. What we have works because we don’t hide anything from each other. Or so I thought.

The problem started with Nora.

Nora is Carla’s colleague at the publishing house: a copy editor, openly lesbian, tall, with black hair cut to ear length. I met her at the office Christmas party and noticed something from the very first handshake. It wasn’t hostility or curiosity. It was the way she looked at my girlfriend. She looked at her the way you look at a book you’ve been wanting to read for years.

—She’s intense, isn’t she? —Carla told me that same night, on the taxi ride home.

—She wants you —I replied, without thinking.

Carla laughed, but she didn’t correct me.

The gifts started a few months later. A Wisława Szymborska book with a dedication in pencil. Imported jasmine tea. A thin silver bracelet with no pretext. And then flowers: roses, lilies, peonies when they were in season. They arrived at the publishing house on Monday mornings, sometimes without a card, sometimes with brief notes. “For the woman who lights up my week.” “Because your voice heals my gray days.”

Carla told me everything. Or almost everything. She’d come home with the flowers wrapped up and set them on the kitchen table as if they were a vaguely embarrassing object. She’d roll her eyes. She’d say, “It’s Nora, again.” And I’d pour her wine, nod, and silently wonder why she had never turned down a gift, why she had never asked Nora to stop.

What was strange was realizing that instead of making me jealous, all of that turned me on. The thought would ambush me in odd places: on the subway, brushing my teeth, waiting for coffee. I’d imagine Nora sitting across from Carla in the office, her hand under the table between my girlfriend’s thighs, writing her notes while Carla read them biting her lip and pressing her legs together around another woman’s fingers. I’d imagine them in the elevator, Carla’s skirt hiked up to her waist, Nora’s fingers buried in her wet cunt as the floor numbers climbed. I had always been a calm man, with no great hidden fantasies, but that image started living with me like a silent guest, and my cock would go hard in the most inconvenient places.

There were other signs. Carla changed in bed, in tiny, almost imperceptible details. She asked me to lick her cunt more slowly, with my tongue flat and broad, right over the clit, not aiming directly at the bud but making long upward passes that she had never specified so precisely before. One night, with my mouth pressed to her wet lips, she whispered, “don’t bite, suck,” with a new authority, and guided my head so I would close my lips around her clit and pull gently, sucking it like it was a tiny piece of candy. I obeyed, while her cunt opened beneath my tongue and dripped down to her asshole, and I thought: someone taught her that. Someone who isn’t me. Someone whose mouth is made for sucking women’s cunts.

I didn’t ask her. I was afraid of the answer and, at the same time, afraid the answer would never come.

***

One Friday night, Carla came home from work carrying an absurd bouquet of white roses. She set them on the counter and came over to kiss me before taking off her coat. She tasted of wine, someone else’s cigarette, something I couldn’t name.

—She invited me to dinner tomorrow —she said against my neck—. She says she wants to talk to me. For real.

—About what?

—I don’t know. I think about her.

I took her by the waist and pushed her against the counter, not roughly, just enough for her to understand I was listening with my whole body. I lifted her skirt. Her stockings were cold from the street and the skin on her thigh was hot. I slipped my hand between her legs over her panties and found them soaked through.

—Has she kissed you? —I asked.

She stayed silent a second too long.

—Today, when she gave me the flowers. On the mouth. She put her tongue in for a moment.

That’s when I knew it was true, what I had suspected. And I also knew, with a strange clarity, that I didn’t want it to stop. I yanked her panties aside and sank two fingers in to the knuckles. Her cunt sucked them in at once with a wet sound.

—And you?

—I didn’t pull away —she admitted, with her forehead against my shoulder while I finger-fucked her standing up against the counter—. I don’t know why. My cunt got wet in the elevator.

That night we fucked without talking much more. I lifted her into my arms to the sofa, took her panties off with my teeth, and spread her legs wide over the cushions. Her cunt was swollen, her lips parted and shining, her clit peeking out like a small hard pearl. I kissed her there first, with my mouth closed, one long kiss on her lower lips. Then I ran my tongue flat from bottom to top, slowly, collecting everything that had gathered there, until I reached her clit and stopped. I sucked it with my lips closed, the way she’d taught me. She bent her hands into my hair and started lifting her pelvis against my face.

—Like that, Diego, like that, don’t stop.

I slid two fingers in and curled them upward, searching for the rough spot just behind the bone, while I kept sucking her clit. Her thighs tightened around my head. When I felt her close, I pulled my fingers out and drove my tongue deep into her cunt, as deep as I could, fucking her with my tongue while I pressed her clit with my thumb. She came moaning softly, tugging my hair, and filled my mouth with a warm, tart gush that I swallowed down whole.

Still trembling, I climbed on top of her. I pulled my cock out and rubbed it along the lips of her cunt, wetting my tip with her juices and mine.

—Put it in now —she begged—. Put it in all the way.

I thrust in at once. I drove it all the way inside and she arched her back. I started fucking her slowly, all the way to the base each time, pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in. I drove it so deep that her tits bounced against her chest every time I slammed into her ass.

—Tell me what you like about her —I whispered in her ear—. Tell me everything while I fuck you.

—Her mouth —she said, eyes shut—. I think about her mouth. About how she must suck cunt. I think about her kneeling between my legs, eating me out.

—Go on.

—Her tits. What it would be like to rub my cunt against her cunt.

I sped up. I grabbed her hips with both hands and started fucking her harder, slamming into her with all my weight. I came listening to her say it, emptying myself inside her with three, four deep thrusts that made her moan again. I felt my cum spilling out of her cunt around my cock while I was still buried to the hilt.

Afterward, sprawled on the sofa, with our breathing still broken and my semen dripping down her thigh, I asked her if she wanted to invite Nora to dinner at our place on Saturday. Carla opened her eyes slowly, looked at me for a long moment, and said yes.

***

Nora arrived at nine, on time, with a bottle of red wine and a short black dress. She’d made up more than usual. She smelled of leather and bergamot. We had pasta with clams, talked about books, about an Italian novel they were translating, about the boss they both detested. I drank more than I should on purpose. I wanted my nerves awake.

For dessert, Nora set her spoon on her plate and looked at Carla.

—I have to tell you something and I don’t want to keep pretending. I’ve been in love with you for a year.

Carla dropped her gaze. She ran a hand over the back of her neck as if something were weighing on her. I didn’t move.

—I know —Carla said.

—I wanted to say it here, in front of Diego, because I don’t want to do things in secret. Again.

The word “again” hung over the table.

—Again —I repeated, slowly.

Carla closed her eyes.

—Last week we kissed at her place —she said—. Just that. And I promised myself I’d tell you and I didn’t.

I expected to feel a punch in the chest. What I felt was my breathing speeding up, my hands getting hot, my cock hardening under the table, an absurd excitement that embarrassed me and pushed me forward at the same time.

Nora looked at me. Not with defiance, but with a question.

—What do you want to do, Diego?

I took time to answer. I poured myself more wine without my hand shaking, which was almost a miracle.

—I want her to decide —I said—. But it doesn’t bother me. Not in the way I thought it would. I’m getting hard listening to you two, just so you know.

Nora smiled. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smile like that.

—And if I want her to stay? —Carla asked, without looking at either of us.

—Then she stays.

***

What came after wasn’t something wild. It was, almost, something careful. We moved to the living room with our glasses. Nora sat next to Carla and tucked her hair behind her ear with a gesture she’d been imagining for months. She kissed her slowly, with tongue, with a contained surrender that left me breathless. Carla answered her as if she’d spent the same number of months waiting for that permission, opening her mouth, letting Nora suck her tongue between her lips.

I sat facing them. I didn’t move closer right away. I wanted to watch first. I wanted to understand what their mouths did when they met.

—Do you mind if I watch? —I asked, already squeezing my cock over my pants.

—I want you to watch —Nora said—. I want you to take it out and jerk off while you look at us.

I pulled down the zipper. I took my hard cock out and started stroking it slowly, watching them.

She slipped both straps of Carla’s dress down and left her tits bare. Carla has small tits, with pink, very sensitive nipples. Nora bent down and closed her mouth around one, sucking it while her tongue circled. Carla gasped. Nora took the other breast in her hand and pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling it slowly while she kept sucking. Nora’s free hand slid up the inside of my girlfriend’s thigh, pushing the skirt of the dress aside until it reached her panties. I could see the contrast: my girlfriend’s light hair, Nora’s darker skin, the yellow lamp light falling over both of them like a spotlight. She pulled the panties aside with two fingers and ran the pad of her thumb over the lips of Carla’s cunt. Carla arched her back against the sofa.

—You’re soaking wet —Nora murmured against her breast—. You’ve been soaking wet for me all month.

—Yes.

When Carla turned her head and looked for me, I stood up. I went behind the sofa, kissed her forehead, ran my hand along her neck.

—Are you okay?

—Better than okay —she murmured.

Nora had slid her down, spread her legs over the cushions, and was kneeling in front of her. She tore Carla’s panties off from the sides without asking permission. She kissed the inner part of her thighs, slowly, marking her skin with her teeth. She blew gently over the open cunt. Then she ran her flat tongue between her legs, from bottom to top, with a calm I recognized: it was exactly the same calm Carla had asked me for in bed months ago. I understood everything in an instant and almost laughed out loud.

—It was you —I told Nora—. What she was asking me for was what you did to her. You taught her with your mouth.

Nora didn’t lift her mouth from my girlfriend’s cunt, but she nodded. She spread Carla’s cunt lips with two fingers, exposing the clit, swollen and shining, and started sucking it, slow and deliberate, the way you suck a ripe piece of fruit. Carla bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming and a rough sound slipped out of her that I had never heard before.

I knelt beside the sofa and pulled her hand away from her mouth.

—Don’t be quiet. I want to hear you scream when I eat you out.

Nora pushed her tongue inside Carla’s cunt and started fucking her that way, in and out, while rubbing the clit with her thumb. Carla started moaning loudly, no longer covering her mouth. She grabbed Nora’s head with both hands and pressed her face against her cunt. I kept jerking off slowly, a handspan from the scene, watching Nora’s chin shine with my girlfriend’s juices.

—Put your fingers in her —I asked Nora—. While you suck her.

Nora obeyed. She slid in two fingers and curled them upward. She closed her mouth over the clit. The fingers went in and out with a wet, splashing sound while her tongue kept moving nonstop over the bud. Carla came two minutes later, screaming Nora’s name, her thighs closing over her head and her cunt pouring around Nora’s fingers.

***

That night there was no rush. We moved to bed when Carla’s legs started trembling. Nora undressed slowly, without choreography, like someone used to her own body. She had big tits, broad dark nipples, and a triangle-trimmed patch of black hair between her legs. Her cunt was open, pink and shining, already wet from eating my girlfriend out so much. She lay on her back on the bed and beckoned Carla with two fingers.

—Come here. Sit on my face.

Carla crawled onto the bed and straddled Nora’s head, looking at me. She lowered her hips and pressed her cunt to Nora’s mouth. Nora grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands, spreading them open, and started eating her cunt from below, her tongue all the way in. Carla held on to the headboard and lowered and raised her hips against Nora’s mouth, fucking her face.

I came up behind her and took my girlfriend’s tits in my hands from underneath. I bit her neck. She turned her head and kissed me, mouth open and desperate. Nora, underneath, had her legs apart and her cunt open. I slipped between her thighs and ran my tongue over her for the first time. She tasted of salt and something cleaner than I expected. Nora moaned with my girlfriend’s cunt full in her mouth and arched her hips against my face.

I stayed there a while, eating Nora out while she ate Carla out. I searched for her clit with my tongue. Hers was thicker than my girlfriend’s, easier to catch between my lips. I sucked it slowly and slid two fingers in as deep as they would go. Nora started squeezing her thighs against my ears.

When I sat up, my cock was so hard it hurt. I penetrated her slowly, right there, while she kept eating Carla’s cunt. Nora went rigid for a second and then started wrapping her cunt around my cock, squeezing me with her inner muscles. I started fucking her with short thrusts, not pulling all the way out, so I wouldn’t break Carla’s face away from her cunt.

—He’s putting it in me —Nora told Carla between licks—. Your boyfriend is fucking me while I eat you.

—Fuck her properly —Carla panted, looking me in the eyes—. Fuck her like you fuck me.

We changed positions. Nora got on all fours and buried her face between Carla’s legs, Carla having lain back on the bed. I positioned myself behind Nora and slid my cock into her again, now all the way, grabbing her by the hips. I started fucking her hard, watching her head go up and down between my girlfriend’s thighs with every thrust. Each time I drove in, Nora’s face was slammed deeper into Carla’s cunt.

I put my wet thumb at her asshole. Nora moaned and pushed back, making it clear she wanted it. I worked her open slowly while I kept fucking her cunt. When I had her open, I pushed my thumb all the way in and felt, through the wall, my own cock fucking her cunt. Nora went wild. She started eating Carla out with her tongue out, panting against the clit, and Carla came a second time, gripping Nora’s hair with both hands.

—Don’t go —Carla begged me, glassy-eyed, reaching for my hand.

—I’m not going —I replied—. I was just watching myself put it in her.

—Don’t watch too much. I want you here.

I pulled out of Nora’s cunt and lay down beside them. The two of them tangled over me, mouth to mouth, tits against tits. They rubbed their cunts against each other’s thighs without stopping their kissing. I ran my hand over their asses, over their backs, slipping my fingers into their cunts one after the other. They were both so wet my fingers sank in on their own.

We ended up the three of us in an absurd position we hadn’t planned. Carla on top of me, my cock buried in her cunt, moving slowly. Nora behind Carla, licking her asshole while she took my balls in her hand. I could see my two women’s faces pressed together over me, looking down at me from above, cheeks flushed and mouths wet.

We came almost at the same time. Carla first, biting my shoulder, squeezing my cock with her cunt in long spasms. Nora after, silently, rubbing herself against my thigh with her fingers buried in my nape, leaving hot juice all down my leg. I held out until the end and pulled out of Carla just in time. I finished over my girlfriend’s belly with three long spurts that reached her tits, and it was Nora who licked the tip of my cock clean and then Carla’s belly, gathering everything up, swallowing what was left, without any theatrics, as if it were the last line of a conversation we’d been having half-finished for months.

***

Several months have passed since that dinner. We haven’t talked much about names or labels. Nora still works with Carla. She still sends flowers on Mondays, but now they come for all three of us, with signed notes. She has dinner with us almost every Friday. Sometimes she stays. Sometimes she doesn’t. There are nights when we only have dinner and watch a movie, and that’s part of who we are now too.

Carla and I are still ourselves. That was what surprised me most: that none of the important things broke. When it’s just the two of us, she curls up the same way she always did, goes quiet in the same way when she reads, still my girlfriend in every sense of the word. But when Nora walks through the door, there’s a third pulse in the house, a different light over the table, a new way the three of us look at each other.

Not long ago I asked Carla whether she had imagined this could be possible. She was brushing her teeth. She looked at me in the mirror and said:

—I didn’t imagine it. But I’m not surprised either.

Neither am I. Nora’s obsession was a question that had been waiting for the two of us for months. All we had to do was stop pretending we hadn’t heard it.