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| | mercredi, août 17, 2005

( note: this story is not new, but it wasn't on the internet anymore...)

Sophie and I we had always been friends and she had always know that I wanted it to be more than that. We had tried to imagine what kind of couple we would be, but when I’d get too seriously wrapped up in it she’d laugh and say that she would never be able to have a relationship with a woman. Not a lasting one. And certainly not with the first woman she would have sex with. “I would feel liberated probably, once I’d taken the step and I would need to experiment more.” She had said. Who was I to argue. She had her career, her boyfriend and big plans for the future.

I had gotten used to the idea that what I wanted I would never get. But some nights we’d go out and get tipsy and while we were talking and laughing she would become more beautiful and sexy every time I looked at her. At moments like that I was painfully reminded of my position as the rejected lesbian friend. But I never could give up our friendship for it. We had a good time together. She’d cry on my shoulder, trust me with her secrets. That was more important.
When I was with her I just tried to numb out that part of my feelings that had to do with sexual responsiveness. The part of my feelings that went in overdrive from the moment I’d see her. One night I had been talking about a recent business trip to Madrid and how I had fallen in love with this big city of icy winds and thousands of shoe shops. And she had said “Let’s go there together.” And so we did.

We had 3 days and 4 museums to visit. On our first day, we spent hours in the Prado. I don’t know how we managed to get lost in the tube on our way back, but it was near dusk when we got out of a metro station that wasn’t the one we expected. Traffic was rushing by and people hurried into tapas bars for a glass of cava and fresh squid. I was stunned. The grandeur of the enormous buildings and boulevards, feeling completely lost and almost threatened by the ferociousness and speed of the city in full movement.
“Isn’t this wonderful” I said, looking at the cars speeding by in rivers of noise.
“It’s unbearable. I can’t breathe. Get me out of here.” Sophie said.
She panicked. I took her to the nearest bar, so we could ask where exactly we were and lift up our spirits.

The bar was noisy, littered with paper and food rests. We asked the woman behind the bar for a glass of wine.
“Tourist?” she asked. I nodded. She smiled and yelled something at a group of business women at the counter. They interrupted their animated discussion to look at us and laughed too. She gave us very big glasses.

“Go ahead, sit here.” She pointed to two high chairs at the bar.
After a while the woman sitting next to us, who had been previously engaged in the noisy discussion, turned around, facing us and said: “You lost the way, eh? You took wrong metro from Prado. Wrong direction. Where’s your hotel?” She talked fast and loud, with a raw voice. Her eyes were dark and beautiful, sparkling with laughter.
I showed her an address card from the hotel. She looked at it and showed it to her friends, commenting in quick Spanish words.
Then she turned back and said. “You can go with me if you want. For free. Taxi is very expensive. But first you drink some more,” she grinned and pointed at the bar woman, who had been observing us and quickly poured us two equally big glasses of wine. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or not.
“Don’t worry,” the bar lady said, leaning in to me confidentially. “It’s all right. She will bring you to Plaza España, in the city centre.”

It took a while before the woman was ready to go. We had been keeping an eye on her and commenting on her looks. I thought she resembled Victoria Abril, but Sophie kept telling me Victoria Abril would never have such a short haircut. She was getting tipsy after the second glass.
I put her into the front seat, just to be sure she wouldn’t get sick and finally we drove off for a ride through Madrid.
Although we took the big boulevards it took half an hour before I recognized the surroundings again. Colourful advertisements of movies and theatre shows. Saturday night. The streets were packed with people. The Spanish woman didn’t talk. She just smiled at Sophie once in a while and I noticed that she kept looking in the rear view mirror, even when we stopped in front of the traffic lights, observing me with her dark piercing eyes.

After a while she turned into a small street and then a still smaller one and then stopped, only barely missing some trash cans and parking half on the pavement, on a street corner.
“I am inviting you for a drink.” She said, looking at me, then briefly at Sophie. Your hotel is right behind that corner this way. She pointed into a dark street. But drinks is that way.” She smiled. “Come on, it’s Saturday.”
Sophie looked at me and hesitated. I don’t know if she expected me to decline the offer or not, but I thought, “what the hell”, and said “Yes, We’d like to go for a drink.”
Then I noticed how pale Sophie’s face was. She shook her head. “I’m going back.” She said. “I’m not feeling up to it.” Before I could say anything, the Spanish woman had taken her arm. “What’s the matter? You had too much wine?”
She started walking into the dark street with Sophie. “Come, we’ll help you to get to the hotel. What’s your name? Sophie? Ah, nice. Nice name. I’m Victoria.”

I felt useless. Victoria walked Sophie all the way to the elevator, while talking to her and putting her at ease. All I could do was notice her carefully manicured hands on Sophie’s sleeve and her stylish long coat. She even left her card, so Sophie would be able to call her, if she needed help. Then elevator doors closed and I saw Sophie’s confused face disappear. “She’ll be all right.” Victoria said. “Come on. I know a nice bar.”
I should have known what I got into, but I was taken by surprise when we turned the corner and suddenly we were in a small street with bars everywhere. Rainbow flags, red lights: the gay district.

Victoria looked at me. “You like it here?” she grinned. She led me into a small cosy candlelit bar. The slow beats of Massive Attack’s Mezzanine were pouring out of the stereo. Several women at the bar looked at us when we came in. They looked gorgeous, cosmopolitan, wild.
Victoria was talking to the bar lady, she was a regular here, obviously. She handed me more wine.
“Let’s dance”. She said and dragged me to the small dance floor in the back.
“I’ve never danced to Massive Attack before,” I whispered. But she seemed determined and started moving, closer and closer, forcing me into the rhythm.
Her body was slender and firm, like a dancer’s and when I saw her move I amazed at how much lust her movements provoked in me. She was beautiful and strong and sexual. And so different from Sophie. She was a dyke and she was seducing me and the way she danced up to me about knocked me off my feet.

“You look like you need a woman badly, am I right?” she whispered in my ear. “And you know what? So do I.”
What could I say? So, I moved closer and kissed her. Softly, playfully. I tasted her lips and her perfume and it made me delirious. So foreign, dark and sweet. We kept dancing for a while and with every movement I felt my body stir, as if it was reloading itself. Every inch of skin was coming alive, hot and cold and shivering.
“You want to go somewhere private?” she whispered in my ear, slinging her arms around me and grinding her hips into mine. “I have a key. We can go upstairs.“ She saw my questioning look and said grinning: “Rooms to let here, you know.”

The small room she pulled me into was cosy and surprisingly warm. It had a big bed and a chair and if there was more I wouldn’t really have noticed, because she pulled me in and kept her face so close to mine, the only thing I could see were her eyes and jaw line and beautiful collar bones.
Her body was undiscovered territory. I knew from looking into her dark eyes that underneath those layers of clothing her olive skin was burning to be touched. She kept kissing me slowly, tongue and lips thick and wanting and delicately searching an answer. We were already establishing a rhythm and every time her tongue slowly slid into my mouth I could feel desire flowing into me like lava. Through the pit of my stomach and lower still down between my legs.

She dragged me down onto the bed, moaning a little when I answered her kisses with long thrusting movements. I tried to contain myself. I wanted to make love to her slowly, give her all I had, make her beg me to fuck her. But before I knew it she had me pinned down on the bed, arms above my head and her body on top of me.
She started grinding into me, slowly moving her hips, one leg between mine. Her breasts touched mine and I could feel her nipples harden.
I desperately wanted to take off her shirt, but she wouldn’t allow me.
”You first” she said, and she pulled up my t-shirt and slowly took off my bra. I needed to feel her skin . And when, after she had pulled out my jeans, she finally did take off her clothes and crawled back over me, naked and warm, I realised how much I had missed it. The taste and heat of someone else’s body.

Her breasts had beautiful dark nipples and in between her legs she was wet and warm. But I wouldn’t let her come. Not yet. I started teasing her, sliding my tongue along her breasts, her belly and down along her cunt, but not just there were she wanted it. Her pussy was just too beautiful to let go off, too juicy and swollen to give in to it. She moaned, giving me hints about where she liked it. She pushed her clit into my mouth, sitting on my face, but I turned her over quick and held her down with my legs. I circled her cunt with my finger. “Can I go in?” I asked. She didn’t hear me, just moaned and shoved, pushing my finger in deeper. With every thrust she moved her finger along my clit, although I begged her not to. And then I gave in to it. I fucked her and fucked her, two fingers inside her, thumb on her clit until I exploded into orgasm. My mind went blank and I couldn’t even cry, just feel happy.

She put an arm around me and started kissing again, long and deep kisses and she whispered something in Spanish. Her hand slid down again, in between my legs and deeper into me. Then she crawled on top of me, thrusting in her finger while sliding her pussy over my hand. With every thrust the orgasm slammed into my body again like fire. I thought I would pass out. And then she started to come. She moaned and shouted and I felt her breath on my cheek. We were caught in a rhythm together. My body contracting with hers, until she stopped moving an buried her head into my hair and neck and pushed her body close to mine.

We fell asleep for a while. I don’t know how long we stayed into that room. But when I woke up she was sitting on the bed, already dressed holding up a glass of cava for me. “It’s on the house,” she said, with a beautiful grin. She looked stunning. “We need to get out here now. It’s 5 o’clock. The bar will close.” She told me. “I will bring you to your hotel.”
She did. She gave me one of those long kisses and handed me a card. ”Call me, if you are around.” She said. Then she was gone.
I was tired and sleepy and tried not to wake up Sophie when I slid into the bed next to hers in the sad, worn out hotel room.
“Is that you?” she asked, just when I thought I managed to get in quietly.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes,” I sighed, “Yes, I did”, just before I drifted off in an oblivious after-sex coma.

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