What We Talked About at the Beach Bar That Afternoon

They had been in the same apartment on the coast for five days: four adults who had known each other for nearly ten years and who, for a reason none of them had wanted to examine too closely, had decided that sharing a vacation was a good idea. Marcos and Diego had been friends since university. Valeria and Natalia had hit it off from the very first moment, with that ease some people have for creating intimacy where others only create distance.

The problem —if it could be called that— was that from the first day Marcos had not been able to stop looking at Natalia.

It was not a brand-new attraction. He had always seen her as a beautiful woman, but here, on the beach, with the sun and the water and that clothing that was barely clothing, looking had become something hard to ignore and even harder to hide. He followed the curve of her ass beneath the swimsuit, the outline of her tits when she got wet, the way she bit her lip when she laughed. Every gesture seemed like an invitation he did not know whether he had the right to accept, and yet it kept lodging itself in his cock, uncomfortable, hard at times just from watching her walk across the sand.

Diego knew it. Marcos was fairly sure Diego felt something similar toward Valeria too.

They both knew it. Neither had said it. Until that afternoon.

***

—I’m going to get another beer —Marcos said, getting up from the sand with a movement harsher than necessary.

Diego looked up from his towel.

—Another?

—This one’s warm already.

It was not entirely a lie, but it was not the whole truth either. Marcos needed to get away for a few minutes from that image: Natalia coming out of the water with the swimsuit stuck to her body, water dripping down her shoulders, laughing at something Valeria had said to her. Her nipples were outlined, her skin shining, and Marcos felt the groin of his shorts tighten with ridiculous urgency.

Diego hesitated for just a second before standing too.

—I’ll come with you.

They walked along the shore to the beach bar. Valeria and Natalia were still in the water, farther out now, in that conversation men are always left out of and, deep down, are grateful for.

The bar was called El Ancla. Old wood, high stools, a cooler with bottles at four degrees. The bartender had big hands and the calm gaze of someone who has heard too many things behind a bar without moving a muscle in his face.

—Two beers —Marcos asked.

—Coming right up.

His name was Bernardo, according to the tag on his chest. He left the bottles without a sound.

Marcos drank almost in one go. The cold ran down his throat and cleared something in him.

—Have you noticed the way Natalia’s wearing her swimsuit today?

Diego took a while to answer.

—Yeah.

There was not much else to add, but Marcos could not hold back.

—She didn’t pick it by accident.

Diego rested his elbow on the bar.

—They never do.

Marcos smiled.

—And Valeria in that dress this morning...

—Stop —Diego said. But he was laughing when he said it.

—I’m not telling you anything you haven’t already thought.

Diego drank more slowly.

—No. I suppose not.

On the other side of the bar, Bernardo was polishing a glass that was already clean.

—We’ve been here five days —Marcos went on— and it’s driving me crazy.

—Natalia or the situation?

—Both.

Diego nodded, unsurprised.

—Same for me. With Valeria, of course.

—Of course.

Marcos set the bottle on the bar.

—If we were completely honest...

—We’re pretty honest already.

—Completely —Marcos corrected—. We’d say we’ve been thinking the same thing for five days. All four of us.

Diego did not answer right away. He glanced at Bernardo out of the corner of his eye. The bartender had stopped polishing, but he was still looking elsewhere with great interest.

—And you think they...? —Diego began.

—Haven’t you noticed the way they look at each other?

Diego frowned for a moment, then stopped frowning. Because yes, he had noticed. Valeria and Natalia had spent five days in a continuous conversation that sometimes seemed less like a conversation and more like something they were building together, with an intention Diego would not have known how to name but recognized perfectly.

—You may be right —he said softly.

Bernardo cleared his throat on the other side of the bar.

—Another round? —he asked, in that neutral tone bartenders use when they have heard more than they should have.

—Yeah, go on —Marcos said.

Bernardo poured the beers without adding anything. But when he set the bottles on the wood, he muttered almost to himself:

—Some conversations are better had with everyone involved inside the room.

Diego let out a short laugh.

—Wise man.

Bernardo shrugged with the calm of someone who has spent thirty summers behind the same bar and walked away without saying more.

***

They went back to the beach twenty minutes later. The women had already come out of the water and were lying on their towels with the sun falling full on them. The damp fabric clung to their skin and the salty air made everything seem slower, hotter, more indecent.

Marcos sat down beside Natalia. She opened one eye.

—Did it take long?

—We found a good topic of conversation.

Natalia looked at him with that expression of hers that meant she already knew more than she was saying.

—About what?

Marcos held her gaze.

—Tonight.

The silence that followed was not awkward. It was one of those silences that are, in themselves, an answer.

Valeria, beside them, opened her eyes too. She looked at Diego. Diego looked back. Something passed between the four of them that needed no words.

***

That night, after dinner, the four of them stayed on the terrace longer than usual. The wine lasted longer than it should have. The conversations slowed down, weighted more by silences than by words. Every time a hand brushed another, the contact seemed to last too long. Every time someone leaned over to grab the bottle or pour more wine, the neckline, the crossed legs, the smell of skin and sweat under clothes became an open provocation.

It was Valeria who said it. Without drama, without ceremony, like someone suggesting they go for a walk.

—Should we go inside?

And nobody asked what that was about.

***

The living room light was low. Someone had put music on without anyone remembering choosing it.

Marcos sat on the sofa. Natalia settled beside him, so close their shoulders touched. Valeria went to sit in front of them, but before reaching the couch she changed direction and took the other side of Marcos, naturally, as if that had always been her place.

There was no protocol for this. No instructions. Just four people who knew each other well and that night had decided to get to know each other differently.

It was Natalia who leaned in first. She kissed Marcos slowly, hands on his face, and Marcos felt Valeria’s hip press against his from the other side of the sofa. Natalia opened his mouth with her tongue, nipped his lip lightly, and stayed a centimeter from him, breathing over his mouth. Marcos was already hard, pushing against the fabric of his pants, and Valeria’s hand slid down his thigh without disguise until it found the growing bulge, squeezed it once, and tore a low groan from him.

Diego was watching them from the armchair. Not with discomfort. With that mix of desire and curiosity that has little direct translation but that everyone knows.

Marcos turned his head toward Valeria. She looked at him for a second, asking without asking, then crossed the small distance left between them. The kiss was different from Natalia’s. More urgent, less ceremony. As if she had been headed in that direction for days and no longer wanted to stop. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, grabbed the back of his neck, and Marcos felt the heat of both women at once, one pressed against his chest, the other brushing his groin with a hand that grew less shy by the second.

Natalia, beside him, did not move away. She put her hand on Marcos’s back without interrupting, as if giving him permission to keep going. Then she slid it down to his waist, opened the button on his pants, and slipped her hand inside his boxer with obscene confidence. She took his cock in her palm, slowly at first, then firmer, moving it up and down while Valeria kissed his throat and licked his neck.

Diego got up from the armchair and went toward Natalia. She received him without hesitation.

For a good while the four of them were on the sofa, entangled in a way that had no clear geometry. Mouths and hands and hot skin and the certainty that what was happening was exactly what had nearly happened for five days. They unbuttoned each other, slid clothes off shoulders, touched as if trying to check what color the skin was underneath all of it. Breathing grew shorter, dirtier. Fingers were searching for nipples, mouths sucking necks, thighs opening shamelessly over the upholstery.

***

Without anyone organizing it, things split apart.

Diego took Valeria toward the bedroom. The door stayed half open, and the sounds coming from there left no doubt where the night was heading. There were dull blows of headboard against the wall, a muffled moan, the quick friction of skin against skin.

Marcos and Natalia stayed in the living room.

She unbuttoned his shirt calmly, unhurriedly, and Marcos felt the coolness of her fingers against his chest. He helped her take off her dress. What was underneath was less than he had imagined that week and more at the same time: a thin bra, round firm tits, a flat stomach, the pubic mound barely covered by a tiny pair of panties that did not take long to slide down her hips. Natalia stood there for a moment, looking him up and down with a crooked smile.

—Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to do something?

Marcos did not answer. He laid her down on the sofa and parted her legs with his hands, slowly, as if asking permission from each centimeter. Natalia was already wet; when he slid his fingers through her cunt he felt the thick, hot dampness, and she let out a long, open sigh, making no effort to hide it. Marcos leaned down and licked her nipples first over the bra, then lowered the cup with his mouth until one nipple was bared and he nipped it carefully. She arched her back and pushed a hand into his hair, tugging just enough to make it clear she wanted more.

—You’ve been looking at me for days —she said.

—I know.

—I was looking at you too.

Marcos had not fully counted on that.

He moved slowly down her body, spread her legs wider, and took his time with her. He ran his tongue over her clit, top to bottom, then over her wet lips, tasting a flavor that was salty and sweet at once. Natalia writhed against the sofa, breathing over him, wordlessly asking him not to stop. Marcos ate her out with his face buried between her thighs, alternating suction and tongue, slipping two fingers inside her a little while he kept licking so he could hear her voice break. Natalia was not quiet, and from the bedroom came an involuntary response that made the two of them laugh for a second before getting back to it.

When she pulled him up toward her, Marcos yanked down his pants and boxer in one motion. Natalia took his cock in her hand, guiding it to her mouth for a moment, licking the tip, running her tongue over the head and leaving it glossy before kissing him again. Then she positioned herself underneath him, legs open, and Marcos entered her slowly, feeling her cunt open around his cock, hot, wet, tight at first and then giving way with an ease that made him close his eyes. He slid all the way in and stayed still for a second, buried in her, hearing her breathe through her teeth.

—More —Natalia told him, digging her nails into his back.

Then he started moving. First slowly, in a way that was almost cruel, pulling his cock out only a little before thrusting back in to the hilt. Then harder, faster, the sofa complaining under the weight of both of them. Natalia wrapped her legs around his waist and set the rhythm with her hips, and Marcos felt the dull impact of their pelvises slamming together again and again, the wet sound of her cunt swallowing him, the tremor rising up from his thighs. When he changed the angle, she shouted his name and came with a visible spasm, clenching around his cock in a way that nearly sent him over the edge too.

They collapsed to the floor, onto a blanket one of them had pulled off the sofa at some point without either of them remembering when. There they kept going, no longer bothered by the furniture, with Marcos behind her and Natalia on her hands and knees, offering him her ass while he took her from behind again. He grabbed her hips, spread her legs wider, and pushed his cock into her with a depth that tore a raw groan from both of them. From the hallway came the sound of Valeria saying something between gasps, and that only excited them more. Marcos slapped one ass cheek with his palm, not hard but enough to see her shiver, and Natalia responded by pushing back against him, asking for more without words.

When he felt himself getting close, Marcos pulled out for a moment, sat back on his heels, and jerked off watching her, while Natalia ran her fingers through her wet cunt and brought her hand to her mouth, licking her own juices as if she wanted to provoke him even more. He came over her back and ass, hot and thick, and Natalia stayed still for a second before laughing with her breath in pieces, slipping two fingers into her pussy and pulling out a trace of semen to show him as if it were a victory.

***

When the music stopped, the four of them were back in the living room. Someone had brought water. Natalia had wrapped herself in the blanket. Diego and Valeria appeared from the hallway with that look of people who are not quite sure whether to sit down or keep standing. Valeria’s hair was messy, her mouth swollen from kissing, and Diego had his shirt half buttoned and a red mark on his neck.

Nobody said anything important for a while.

It was Diego who spoke first.

—Remember what the bartender said?

Marcos smiled without opening his eyes.

—That it was better to have this conversation with everyone inside the room.

—That’s it. —Diego paused—. He was right.

Valeria lifted her glass of water.

—I toast to Bernardo.

That made the four of them laugh, in that comfortable darkness of three in the morning, when things no longer need any more explanation because they’ve happened, plain and simple.

***

The next day, Marcos and Diego went back to the beach bar. Alone, like the afternoon before.

Bernardo saw them coming and already had two bottles on the bar before they said anything.

—How was the night? —he asked, in that tone that could be completely innocent if one wanted to take it that way.

Marcos picked up his bottle.

—Good.

Diego nodded.

—Very good.

Bernardo raised his eyebrows slightly and went back to his work.

No more words were needed.