The suite we shared without talking
The twilight spread like a velvet ribbon over the waters of the Seine. The terrace of the private hotel was so narrow that two people could barely fit without brushing. Clara arrived first. She leaned on the wrought iron railing, her black dress girded on the body marked each curve with discretion. The high heels hit the tile floor when she swayed, nervous. The air smelled of recent rain and night jasmine.
Edward appeared five minutes later. He wore a glass of Bordeaux and a dark grey suit. He stopped on the other side of the railing, with the right distance between them. The lights of the bridges shone in the water. No one uttered the first word. His gaze went down from her lips to the neckline insinuating the dress, then returned to his eyes. Clara responded with the same slowness, letting the wait become a game.
"Good evening," he finally said, with a loud voice that was lost among the river's rumor.
"Good evening," she repeated. Her Andalusian accent softened her rhes.
Eduardo supported the glass on the railing. The tarnished glass reflected the red lights of a distant announcement. Clara watched him turn his wrist, notice the mark that left the cloth as he climbed up his forearm. She also advanced one step. The wind lifted a lock of his dark hair and stuck it to his cheek. He pulled it apart with two fingers, the contact was so mild that it seemed more like a caress to the air than to the skin.
"Does she come alone?" asked Eduardo.
Clara nodded. Her pulse was felt in her neck. He reached up to the edge of the cup and turned it between his fingers. The rubbing of her nails against the glass was the only sound for several seconds. She bowed forward, the neckline opened a little more. The warm skin contrasted with the cold stone of the railing. Eduardo drank a sip without turning his gaze away from the movement of Clara’s throat by swallowing saliva.
The city seemed to have withdrawn. There was only the murmur of the water, the cracking of the wood from the ground when one of the two changed the weight of one leg. He lowered his hand until he brushed the back of her. Clara’s fingers opened. The palm remained up, in a gesture of surrender. Eduardo deposited the cup there. The contact of the cold glass against the skin gave him a chill. She left him on the railing and interlaced his fingers with hers. Eduardo’s thumb drew a slow circle over the back of Clara’s hand. The gesture was so intimate that she closed her eyelids for an instant.
Without letting go of his hand, Eduardo led Clara to the only door that connected the terrace with the suite. The corridor was in dim shadow. The wall lamps projected golden rectangles into the carpet. Clara’s heel sounded stronger here, like a metronome that marked the rhythm of his breathing. Eduardo opened the door with the card. The lock click sounded dry. They entered.
The suite was a rectangle of dim light. The white linen curtains let the lights on the pier pass. A white linen bed occupied the center. Eduardo released Clara’s hand. She turned, leaned her back against the closed door. Her breathing had accelerated. Eduardo took off the American one and left it on the back of a chair. The movement of his shoulders under his shirt revealed the shape of the torso. Clara felt her mouth dry.
He took a step. The distance between the two was reduced to an extended hand. Eduardo lifted his fingers and touched Clara’s collarbone. The thumb went down to the hole between the collarbones, then down to the first button of the dress. Clara inspired. The button gave way. The second one also. The fabric opened like a flower. Below there was a combination of black lace that barely covered the breasts. The nipples were marked against the fabric. Eduardo drew the contour of the lace with the nail. Clara trembled. He bowed and kissed the skin that was exposed. The kiss was wet, slow, left a trail of heat that Clara felt down to the belly.
She unbuttoned her shirt. The buttons jumped one by one. Clara’s palm rolled through his male chest, noticed his strong and regular heartbeat. Eduardo took his shirt off over his head. The bare torso shone under the dim light. Clara bowed and licked the hole in his collarbone. The salt and cologne water flavor filled his mouth. Eduardo groaned short. His hands found the zipper of Clara’s dress and lowered it to the base of his back. The dress fell to the ground in a black puddle.
The combination was loose. Eduardo slipped it through Clara’s shoulders until it was left on his hips. His breasts were exposed. Hardened nipples tightened when the air brushed them. Eduardo took them between his lips, one after the other, sucking softly. His tongue drew wet circles that made Clara bow her back. Her hands searched for Eduardo’s belt. The leather creaked when he unbuttoned it. Eduardo’s pants lowered along with his underwear. Eduardo’s sex was released, already hard, smooth and hot skin against Clara’s palm. She surrounded him with her fingers and stroked him from top to bottom, measuring the thickness and length. Eduardo breathed between teeth.
She drove her to the bed. Clara lay on her back. The linen quilt was fresh against her skin. Eduardo took off her shoes and pants at once. She was naked in front of her. The thigh muscles were marked as she moved forward. She placed herself between Clara’s legs. Her hands climbed up her thighs until she found the last garment left: some lace panties that were already wet. Eduardo lowered them slowly, leaving a kiss on each knee. When the panties fell to the ground, the smell of excitement filled the air between them.
Eduardo bowed and licked Clara’s center. The broad tongue swung through the swollen folds, climbed up to the clitoris and surrounded him. Clara groaned and buried her fingers in his hair. Eduardo sucked softly, introduced two fingers inside her and curved them upward. The wet and constant movement made Clara squeeze her thighs around Eduardo’s head. Orgasm came as a slow wave that broke against his tongue. Clara shouted his name.
Eduardo joined. His mouth shone. He placed himself on Clara and penetrated her in one movement. The feeling of being full made her gasp. He began to move with a slow, deep rhythm. Each attack pressed against the sensitive point that had just woken up. Clara entangled his legs in Eduardo’s waist. His hands held his hips, guiding the swing. The sound of the wet bodies filled the room. Eduardo lowered his head and kissed Clara in the mouth, his tongue entered a dance that imitated the movement of his hips.
The rhythm accelerated. The onslaughts became shorter and faster. Clara felt the second orgasm growing at the base of her spine. Eduardo grunted against her neck. The muscles of her arms trembled. When Clara contracted around him, Eduardo got carried away. The orgasm swept through her whole, the spasms of her sex within her dragged her at the same time. Both shook, sweaty, with short breathing.
Eduardo fell to one side of Clara, still inside her. She turned her head and kissed him in the corner of her lips. The silence was again settled, broken only by the sound of her breaths that slowly calmed down. Outside, the Seine was still flowing. The lights of the bridges continued to flicker. In the suite, two unknown bodies had been found and recognized without the need for names or promises. Only the certainty that that night, and that night alone, they had shared something that neither of them would forget.
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