He Spotted Me on the Terrace and Knocked on My Door

It all started with a business trip no one else at the company wanted: five days in a capital city, alone, all expenses paid, with no acquaintance within fifty kilometers in any direction. To most of my coworkers, it was a dreary, lonely chore. To me, it was an entire week of freedom.

I checked in wearing my usual suit, the one I reserved for looking like what was expected of me in professional settings, and took my suitcase up to the room. As soon as I locked the door, I opened the large zipper and took out what I had actually packed: the black lace outfits, the sheer blouse, the satin garter belt, the straight-seamed stockings, the brown suede heels I had bought three months earlier in anticipation of exactly this kind of occasion.

I took all the time in the world. That is part of the pleasure too: doing it slowly, without rushing, savoring every detail. The long shower, putting on my makeup in front of the bathroom’s enormous mirror, lace against skin that was still damp. There is something that happens in those moments that I find difficult to explain to anyone who has never experienced it: it is not just the clothing, but the state of mind that comes with it, a calm that arrives when I can finally be myself without apologizing for it.

The hotel was the kind they no longer build: high ceilings, marble floors veined with gold, long corridors with dark carpeting, and a terrace on the first level that opened directly onto the inner gardens. There were neatly trimmed hedges, short palm trees, a roughly twenty-five-meter pool gleaming in the distance, and also a bar in the basement whose music reached the gardens like a faraway murmur as the night wore on. It was the kind of hotel where people wandered around and did not mind getting lost.

I went out onto the terrace with my phone in my hand and my pencil skirt tight over the garter belt. I sat at the only free table, determined not to read a single work message, even though my email was open. The afternoon had that orange light that intensifies everything. I crossed my legs so that the fabric rose just enough for the black lace of my stocking to show against my thigh, and I made no effort to pull it down.

The garden was empty. No one was passing by. Even so, the mere possibility that someone might see me at any moment was enough to turn me on. I began stroking my thigh discreetly, pretending to adjust the garter clip, feeling anticipation run from my feet all the way to the nape of my neck.

Then I heard footsteps on the grass.

A man appeared, walking between the hedges with the attitude of someone who had no clear destination but was in no hurry to find one either. He looked about forty, of average build, wearing a navy-blue linen shirt with the first two buttons undone. He was not the kind of man who stopped traffic, but there was something calm and self-assured in the way he moved that I liked from the very first second. I saw him slow down as soon as his eyes found me.

I did not close my legs. Not immediately. I gave him a full second of the view before crossing them with all the calm in the world, as though I had only just noticed his presence. He did not look away. He kept walking, even more slowly, and when he had nearly reached the far end of the terrace, he blew me a kiss with two fingers without saying a word.

I stood up.

—Hi —I said. —Are you looking for something?

He stopped. He smiled with the smile of someone who had not expected to be spoken to but was glad it had happened.

—I was trying to find the way out to the pedestrian promenade —he said. —I got a little lost.

—I can point you in the right direction —I replied. —Although it depends which center you want to get to.

I said it with the pause exactly where it needed to be. He understood, because his eyes dropped to my legs for a moment and then returned to mine without any apparent awkwardness. Only with something I recognized immediately: interest.

I went into the room without saying anything else. I drew the curtains until only a slit of light remained, left the door ajar, and waited, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He knocked three minutes later.

—Can I come in? —he asked from the doorway.

—Come in —I said. —We’ll be more comfortable in here.

***

His name was Sebastián. He told me while looking around the room with the attitude of someone trying to seem relaxed and not quite managing it, which struck me as sincere and charming at the same time. I introduced myself as Valentina. He took my hand and held it for a moment, as if he were checking something.

I guided him toward the armchair by the window and sat on his lap without any preamble. He took me by the waist with both hands, warm and firm, and began stroking my back over the blouse, tracing slow lines that descended a little farther each time. I felt his lips find my neck and closed my eyes.

When he reached my mouth, he went straight for it, without hesitation. A long kiss, his tongue exploring slowly, learning. One of his hands found my breast through the lace of my bra and squeezed it carefully, gauging my response. I felt him smile against my lips.

—Let’s put on some music —he said.

He found something on his phone that sounded exactly like what the moment needed: slow, deep, with plenty of bass. We stood up and moved together in the narrow space between the bed and the window. I could feel his body reacting against mine with every movement, the growing pressure of his erection against my belly whenever he pulled me close. I undid one button of his shirt, then another, and buried my hand in his bare chest, feeling the heat already rising through his body.

He brushed my waist, moved down along the curve of my hip, and found the edge of my skirt with a confidence that made me arch my back slightly. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, touched the garter, the stocking, the elastic of my panties. I was already soaked, and I had no interest in hiding it from him. I opened my legs wider, making it clear with my body that he could take whatever he wanted.

Then his hand moved below the edge of my skirt and found what I was hiding beneath my panties. He went still for a second. Just a second. Then he slipped two fingers between my folds, slowly at first, and immediately felt how wet I was. He pulled a moan from me when he began rubbing me in slow, firm circles, searching for exactly the right spot.

—Well —he said softly. —We’ve come this far anyway. And you’re incredibly feminine.

He paused briefly.

—Besides, I like girls like you too.

He said it with a naturalness that disarmed me. Not like someone trying to convince himself, but like someone stating a simple, familiar fact. I gave myself to him without holding anything back. I took his hand and pressed it harder against my pussy, inviting him to keep going, to show no mercy. He obeyed without losing his rhythm, sinking in one finger, then two, opening me patiently while he kissed my throat and lightly bit my skin.

—Look at you —he murmured. —So beautiful and so hot.

—Touch me more —I answered, almost voiceless. —Don’t stop.

***

He took me to the bed carefully, as if that mattered—and it did matter. I undressed slowly while he watched: first the blouse, then the skirt. I remained in complete lingerie—garter belt, stockings, black lace bra, and matching panties—while he took off his shirt and placed it over the back of the chair.

He began kissing me from my neck downward, skipping not a single inch. His tongue passed over my collarbone, the edge of my bra, my navel. When he reached my belly, I tensed with anticipation, and he noticed, because he stopped there for a moment before continuing. He slipped his thumbs beneath the elastic of my panties and lowered them slowly, very slowly, without taking his eyes off my face. When I was finally naked from the waist down, he opened my thighs with his hands and stared at me as if he were devouring the scene with his eyes.

What came next lasted for an amount of time I am incapable of measuring. His mouth was exactly what my body was asking for: firm at the precise moments, gentle when necessary. He licked me first on the outside, tracing my lips with his tongue and soaking it with me, then sought out my clitoris with a precision that made me tremble immediately. He did not rush: he brought me slowly to the edge, licking, alternating pressure and suction, pushing his tongue deeper when I pressed his head against my pussy. I gripped the sheets with both hands and let whatever sounds came out of me come out. When he slid two fingers inside me again and began fucking me with them while he licked me, heat shot up my entire back like a clean blow.

—That’s it —he said between my thighs. —Like that. Fuck yourself on my mouth.

I moaned without shame and dug my heels into the mattress. He kept going, tireless, until I felt the contraction tightening me from within. I came with a violent start, squeezing his head between my legs as I spilled over his tongue. He did not pull away until I stopped trembling.

When he sat up and looked at me, he had a look in his eyes that I recognized and that always produced the same effect in my stomach. I undid his belt. His pants fell to the floor. I knelt on the bed in front of him.

I took him into my mouth slowly, starting with the head and descending little by little, learning his rhythm through the gentle pressure of his hand on the back of my neck. My lips sucked him eagerly, traveling over the smooth, taut skin, and I felt him grow even harder beneath my tongue. He did not hurry me at any point; he only guided me. When I felt him getting too close, I paused, looked up at him from below, and he exhaled with a smile.

—You raised the price without warning me —he said.

—The best things don’t have a fixed price —I replied.

I licked the tip, took him all the way into my mouth again, and played with him until he was shining with saliva. Then he lifted me by the hips and threw me onto my back on the bed. He positioned himself over me, hard and hot, rubbing the head of his cock against my mound and my wet fold, as if he wanted to make sure I felt every second of what was coming.

—I want to hear you —he told me.

—Then fuck me.

He opened my legs wider, lined his cock up with my entrance, and began pushing with cruel slowness. First the head, then a little more, until my body yielded with a muffled moan. When he was completely inside me, he remained still for a moment, buried to the hilt, letting me adjust to his size. I wrapped my legs around him and asked him with my mouth to keep going. Then he began to move.

He fucked me slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in with a depth that tore long moans from me. Then he picked up the pace, each thrust firmer than the last, the bed banging against the wall, my breasts bouncing beneath the bra as he gripped my hips and spread me with delicious insistence. He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and changed the angle until he hit exactly where I needed him most. I felt his cock opening me from within, filling me with brutal precision, and I begged him not to let up for even a second.

—That’s it, Sebastián —I said. —Give me that cock.

He let out a short laugh and drove deeper, harder, until the only things that existed were the sound of our bodies colliding, the wet friction of his skin against mine, and the broken moans escaping me without a filter. We changed positions whenever one of us asked with a movement or with words. At one point he put me on my back and held my legs open, looking straight into my eyes as he moved inside me with a rhythm that was exactly what I needed. At another, he put me on all fours and fucked me from behind, gripping my ass with both hands and sinking into me until he made me scream. I told him to keep going like that. He told me he had no intention of stopping.

His hand returned to my clitoris while his cock pounded into me from behind, combining the pressure with the hard rocking of his hips. I writhed, wet and lost in that mixture of delicious little pain and pure pleasure that was undoing me. When his breathing began to quicken, I knew he was close, and that turned me on even more. I felt him tense, his cock pulsing inside me, and almost at the same time I realized I was reaching the edge again too.

—Come with me —he said in my ear. —Come on, slut. I want to feel you.

And we did. He came inside me in a long, hot pulse, thrusting all the way in as he released a deep groan, and that same jolt made me finish again, this time more intensely, my legs trembling and my pussy squeezing around him in short spasms. I was left breathless, sunk against the mattress, while he kept pumping slowly until he had emptied himself completely. He did not take his hand from my hip until we were both motionless.

We lay still for a while, sweaty, the sheets in disarray. The room smelled of sex and his cologne. From the garden came the distant sound of the automatic sprinklers.

***

—Are you hungry? —he asked after a while.

—For music —I said.

—There’s a bar downstairs. A nightclub, the receptionist told me.

—I know exactly where it is —I replied, already on my feet, searching for the dress with my eyes.

We got ready together, which has an intimacy of its own. He watched me touch up my makeup in front of the bathroom mirror without making a comment, simply wearing that calm look of someone observing something he found interesting. We went downstairs after midnight.

The basement bar was exactly what I expected: music at a reasonable volume, low lights, a long bar of dark wood, and a small weekday crowd. Sebastián took me by the waist as soon as we entered and led me toward the little dance floor as if we had been dating for weeks.

We danced pressed together. His hand dropped from my waist to the edge of my skirt and stayed there, firm and possessive. He kissed me in the middle of the dance floor without caring about the four or five guests around us, and I returned the kiss with the same indifference to our surroundings. At one point he put his hands on my hips and pulled me so close there was no space left between us.

—Shall we go upstairs? —he said in my ear when the third song ended. —I’m hornier than I am musical.

We went back up to the room.

***

The second time was different. More direct, more urgent, without the courtesies of the beginning. He pushed me against the door before I had finished closing it and lifted my skirt with both hands. I undid his pants without wasting any time.

There was nothing slow about it. He fucked me standing up, one hand on my hip and the other braced against the door above my head, moving with an urgency I completely shared. I dug my fingers into his forearm and asked him to go harder. He did. He penetrated me with quick, hard thrusts, making me bounce against the wood until I felt the familiar vertigo of an approaching orgasm again. He lowered his hand to touch my pussy while he kept moving in and out of me, and the combination made me lose control with obscene ease.

We ended up on the floor, exhausted and half dressed, laughing with the knowledge that what had just happened had no reasonable name but did not need one.

—How many more days are you staying? —he asked while catching his breath.

—Four —I said.

—Good —he replied, and that was the only agreement we made.

***

We agreed to see each other every afternoon for the rest of the trip. And we did. Every afternoon and every night, plus one morning neither of us had planned. Sebastián had meetings until six and I finished earlier, so I learned to get ready slowly before he arrived. I liked that prelude almost as much as everything else.

Sometimes, when I remember that week, I think about older things too. About the teenager I used to be, hiding at home when the doorbell rang, rushing to change in thirty seconds and opening the door in my usual clothes as if nothing had happened. My heart racing, embarrassment mixed with something I did not know how to name then but know perfectly well now.

The distance between that girl and the woman who went out onto a hotel terrace with her garter belt showing, waiting for someone to pass by, is enormous. I do not know exactly when that distance closed. I only know that it did, and I am very glad it did.