Monday 6 December, Irina’s attic

The beginning of my interview with Salvat had been a fiasco. I arrived late, he was angry about the “insulting” fee we’d requested for Irina to work as a waitress, and the tapes from Yokohama that I showed him were endless and of such poor quality that the penis in the final scene could have belonged to me or any other guy with a somewhat similar body type. But then, surprisingly, Julia came to my rescue. She cut off my stammering and stated that she wasn’t getting involved in the sexual aspect, but that Reina was taking the local elite by storm, and we needed to ramp up the show—for which an amateur competition would be a perfect fit for the preliminaries. Ultimately, the excitement of the arm-wrestling matches depended on how evenly matched the contenders were, and unconventional pairings—with large differences in age or physical appearance—could prove enormously appealing to the audience even if the individual wrestlers weren’t top-tier athletes.

Whenever Julia spoke, Salvat took a deep breath. “Why didn’t I meet her sooner?” he seemed to be asking himself.

“Where else could the audience see a young guy testing his muscles against a woman thirty years his senior and forty kilos heavier, Albert?” Julia gestured, shooting me a look out the side of her eye.

And the man in question narrowed his eyelids, causing the mountain range of wrinkles on his stiff, UV-tanned skin to bristle, and changed the direction in which he swirled the spoon in his coffee cup.

Julia’s proposals put the businessman at ease. No sex for now, but we were hired for the Velvet. He offered Irina 80 euros an hour under the table, and he told me he wasn’t ruling out the Japanese thing, but before we got into any kind of agreement, he wanted a written letter of recommendation from Bruno and an authoritative recording of my triumph at Maná. In the meantime, I had to find him a soundboard and set up a PA system at the club, for which he gave me a ridiculously low budget.

Our sponsor at the time, the owner of the mega sex shop, surely still had some high-quality tapes. I contacted him, and he promised to look for them.

“I owe you one, for real,” I confessed to Julia as we said goodbye at the door of Salvat Produccions.

“I’m off work on Tuesday and had plans with Karen; we accept an invitation to dinner. She’ll enjoy a change of scenery. She’s gotten tired of seeing my same old friends.”

I think I ended up joining the long list of people for whom Julia Romero was a sort of guardian angel. Before I even knew the outcome of the interview, I had already canceled my return ticket and moved into Irina’s attic. During the day, she would head off to her part-time jobs, and I would wander around downtown looking for stores that sold used stereo equipment, picking up home decor and kitchen accessories for us along the way, as well as chocolates for my mother. At night we’d squeeze into her narrow cot, and I—guided by her Vietnamese friend—would learn the techniques of female Yut Suan to earn the right for her to practice her tekoki on me. Swept up in the excitement of our mutual anatomical discovery, sleep would overtake us entwined, before we could figure out who could make the other cum harder.

Tuesday, 7 December, 9 pm, in a trendy restaurant.

Irina, as the expert on local dining, chose the place. She figured that after six hours of cardio and weight training at the gym, Reina would be starving, so she reserved a private room at an exotic steakhouse famous for its generous portions. The private booth was a charming little nook for four, decorated with live plants and lit by candles that gave off a surprisingly fresh scent, with small swinging doors that provided some privacy. Karen and Irina ordered the chef’s aged steak—which was free if you finished it in less than an hour—Julia ordered roast ostrich, and I went for garlic soup. It simply caught my attention to see garlic soup on such an adventurous menu. My mom hates garlic, and I had never tried it before.

Up close, you realized that Reina was much younger than she appeared on stage. When she was relaxed, her imposing musculature gave way to soft, sensual curves that were alluring rather than intimidating. She tossed her hair and let out loud giggles just like girls her age, and she used the same expressions, so she connected with Irina right away. Julia seemed delighted that her protégée was getting close to someone younger than the circle of friends she could offer Karen. Actually, I was the youngest, but my mother always said I looked like an old man before my time, always locked up in my room instead of going out to party with Luna and her friends.

Since Reina was openly gay, physical attraction was part of their bond, but since both had their partners present, they kept any potential erotic tension in the background, letting their conversations—in which they showed sincere curiosity about each other—take center stage.

“You know Irina’s story?” I asked Karen to jump into the chat. “It’s kind of sad. To make money, as soon as she was an adult, her father would pimp her out to strangers, but since they’re so religious, they couldn’t have sex with her.”

“What did they do then?” she replied, shoveling appetizers in her gob, not even thinking about the feast that was coming.

“Well, she’d strip for them while they jacked off, or at most give them a handjob… That’s how we met! At some nightclub that held a handjob contest.”

“And may I ask who won?”

Lowering my eyelids, I got all high and mighty.

“I’m afraid it was yours truly…”

As if to make up for my immodesty, I rested my hand on Irina’s thick thigh and ran the tip of my tongue along the wavy ridges of her beautiful ear. She stretched like a big cat. She was wearing her lovely turtleneck sweater with nothing underneath. I slipped my hand inside, and she pulled away, smiling at our guest.

“Don't worry about me, lovebirds. Go at it. It's nice to see you—I can tell you haven’t been together long.”

“How long you two been together?” I retaliated.

“Well, not that long, huh?” Karen replied after exchanging a glance with her partner like she was asking for permission. “But it feels like half a lifetime to us. I’ve never been in anything this serious before.”

“Yeah, but you two still look good as fuck together,” Irina coaxed her.

The way Karen pursed her lips revealed that, for her, talking about her feelings was harder than beating a strongman in an arm-wrestling match.

“We try to look out for each other.” She looked at Julia again, this time clearly to make sure she approved of the direction the conversation was taking. Julia was pointlessly skimming the wine list, since they’d already made their choice. “She helped me a lot when…”

“When you finally stopped wasting your time with guys,” Julia interjected from behind her reading glasses.

"Same sex, different age..." Irina insisted, ignoring my pat on her thigh under the table.

The maître ushered in two waiters carrying the enormous cuts of meat.

"For me!" the two girls said in unison and exchanged giggles. Reina narrowed her brown eyes, licking her lips, while Irina seemed more intimidated by the colossal size of her portion. Julia's ostrich thigh wasn't far behind.

"As you know, it's on the house if you finish them completely before... 10:50," announced the maître d' after glancing at her gold watch. One of the waiters returned with my soup. I sensed a hint of contempt as he set the bowl down in front of me.

The girls brandished their carving knives and dug into their portions. I picked up my spoon and resumed the conversation to let them eat in peace, given the task they had ahead of them.

"When did you realize you were so strong? You look athletic, but you’re beating up dudes way bigger than you."

"Are you a fucking reporter?" Karen asked with her mouth full. "Could be, judging by the stupid questions you make."

With that, she snatched the spoon from my hand, clenched it in her fist, and pressed down with her thumb until the thick metal gave way and bent at a right angle.

"I guess when I started doing this kind of thing and saw others couldn't."

She said it with a certain excess of ferocity, as if she hadn't learned to moderate her conversations with strangers and was still asserting her leadership on the high school playground. But Irina grinned; maybe she liked Karen's boldness.

La Reina refilled her wine glass, did the same with her own, and, against Julia’s advice, ordered another bottle of the same brand.

"Honestly, Jimi," Irina admonished me, "you got no clue what those guys did to me."

She grabbed my wrist and yanked my hand off her thigh. She was right about one thing: I'd never been too keen on her past beyond wanting to know how she'd acquired the skills she was practicing with me. But was she going to say it, or would I have to ask? It was La Reina who finally spoke up.

"What did those bastards do to you?"

"First of all, Karen"—and I'll admit that quick exchange made me jealous—"you have to know Dad and I, we cooked this whole thing up together, every detail under control. Of course, we kept it a secret from Mom. She was different. God-fearing, you might say."

"You pass me the mashed potatoes?" she added, holding out her long, white hand. Karen slid her the enormous bowl and Irina served herself four scoops.

"So," she continued with her mouth full, "the thing is, getting some chick to give you a handjob isn't that hard, so they don't shell out much for that. That's why we went looking for weirder things that would bring in more cash."

This time Karen stopped chewing for a brief moment. The blonde grabbed the spoon La Reina had just bent by the concave part with both hands and began to press the bent end into the center of one of her breasts. Using it as a lever, she tensed her arms with all her strength, trying to straighten the handle again. It took several good shoves, accompanied by corresponding grunts, to succeed. Once the handle was straightened, she set the spoon down on the table and continued her feast. Karen's face flushed beneath her eyes, and her own breasts quivered as she mentally pictured the pain of the maneuver. But instead of feeling discomfort, a pleasant warm wave trickled beneath her skin and down her body. She lowered her gaze and tried to hide her face behind the cutlery.

“Truly impressive,” Julia remarked, looking up for a moment from her ostrich leg. “Salvat’s looking for a warm-up act for our show. What do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” Irina protested, scrunching her nose. I retrieved my battered spoon and went back to my garlic soup. Between sips, I let slip a comment to my sweetheart.

“How much did you want Salvat to pay you to jiggle your boobs?”

A silence fell, broken only by my slurps of soup.

“Ji, are you kidding me?” Irina complained.

“Relax, Iri. Your boobs are for looking at, not touching.” I set down my spoon and, turning to Julia, I held out my hand toward her and added, “Do you guys know what finger wrestling is?”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin and, following my instructions, hooked her middle finger with mine.

“Now I’m turning my fist inward, and you try to do the same in the opposite direction. It hurts, uh? I’ve seen competitions online.”

As if hypnotized, Karen and Irina interlocked their fingers and began to struggle. Karen took it easy while Irina gave it her all, her swan-like neck tense and throbbing.

Julia let me win and went back to her ostrich feast.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. We’ll have to set some rules so there’s a clear winner and the fights last long enough for people to place bets.”

Karen picked up her fork with her free hand and continued eating while Irina huffed and puffed from the effort.

“Damn. You’re so strong!”

“You’re telling me?” replied La Reina, raising her eyebrows.

They burst out laughing in unison, their fingers still intertwined.

The head waitress interrupted the girls' laughter by reminding them that they had 10 minutes left to complete the house challenge. La Reina had almost finished, but Irina still had a third of her mega-portion left.

"Give up, Iri," I advised, "I don't want to spend the night holding your forehead in the stairwell bathroom."

Karen shot me a disdainful look.

"Don't even think about it, sweetie."

She snatched her plate and Irina's, and swapped them.

"C’mon, brave girl, we'll have five minutes to spare."

Julia took advantage of the girls being caught up in the competition to order a different brand of wine.

When the waiter arrived, she opened the bottle herself and poured me a glass.

“You’ll like this one better—you’ll see, wanker.”

“Does it pair well with garlic?”

Julia laughed, and for the first time that evening, she gave me a look free of suspicion. The kind of look a lifelong friend would give you. Leaning toward me so the food devourers wouldn’t hear us, she whispered.

“Listen, Jimi, your girlfriend is a real gem. Try to make her happy instead of just using her for your own pleasure.”

“What are you talking about? She enjoys it too.”

Julia looked me up and down.

“I swear! She comes herself while she jerks me off.”

“What do you mean by ‘comes’?”

“Damn it, she enjoys it. Plus, afterward, I… we… do the usual.”

“Boom-boom-ahh, right? That’s what enjoying it means to you. What about her?”

“Come on, girl, don’t give me that typical anti-penis lesbian spiel now.”

She swirled the glass in front of her face and watched the droplets trickle down its inside. My annoyance, rather than offending her, actually amused her.

“For you guys, pleasure means ‘coming’—period. You lack the ability to enjoy it more and more, to build on that first orgasm with an even more powerful one, and then another.”

She took a big gulp from her glass and wiped her lips.

“Why don’t you come up to my apartment and the four of us can continue the evening there? What do you think?”

Irina’s scream startled me.

She had dropped her cutlery onto her empty plate and was opening her mouth to show us that there was nothing left inside.

Karen swallowed what she’d been chewing for a while and did the same.

“No way, I went first. I beat you, cheater!” Irina shrieked, her metallic pupils fixed on La Reina’s moist eyes.

“Enough,” Julia declared. “Let’s go back to our apartment and have a digestif; it’ll do us good. It’ll settle our stomachs and clear Jimi’s bad breath.”

Wednesday, 8 December, 0:35 am, at Julia's flat.

Julia lived on the top floor of an old house in the Eixample district that she had tastefully renovated. The original wooden floorboards, worn by time, were covered by several layers of soft, oriental-style rugs, upon which were scattered cushions, low tables, and stacks of books that served as impromptu pieces of furniture. The walls were completely covered by bookshelves, paintings, and display cabinets, leaving only the window openings exposed. Through these, one could step out onto a charming walk-out balcony overlooking the leafy canopies of the trees lining the space between the sidewalk and the street. In contrast to the chaos reigning in the living room, the open-concept kitchen was dazzling and ultra-modern, almost as if it had never been used, indistinguishable from its photograph in the catalog.

The hostess prepared some mixed drinks and offered us some sky-blue little pills, which Irina and I swallowed without asking any questions. Karen set her drink down on the coffee table and took my girlfriend by the hand to lead her into the bedroom and offer her some more comfortable clothes. At some point along the way—which had gone unnoticed by me—Julia must have had a chance to fill her in on her plan. Or perhaps the bond between the curious pair was already so close that they could read each other’s minds. In the bedroom, Karen began opening drawers full of clothes. Irina tried on a couple of Ibiza-style blouses, and before she knew it, La Reina, with her usual nonchalance, was lifting her feet to step out of her panties, which rolled onto the floor. Trying not to show her surprise, Irina took off her turtleneck sweater and tried on a piece of lingerie.

"My tits are bigger than yours," she said with a little smile.

"Nah, nah," Karen denied, "those are Julia’s. These are mine—wanna try?"

Reina fastened it in her friend's back using the tightest setting since her chest was much wider than Irina’s, and she walked around to look at her from the front. It was a little loose in the band, but the cups were overflowing.

"Damn, you really can fill it out. With those baggy clothes you’re always wearing, you’re fooling everyone." Irina snapped the clasp open and handed the garment right back, her face glowing with pride. Suddenly she felt as comfortable with her breasts exposed as she would in the room of a coveted older sister. The two exchanged compliments about their figures, and after several try-ons, they opted for long shirts whose hems reached mid-thigh, but the Polish girl kept her panties on.

Meanwhile, in the living room, I was having a heated discussion with Julia. Whether it was the alcohol, the pill, the trust we’d built up through our dealings with Salvat, or probably a combination of all those factors, I found myself speaking to her almost rudely. And she wasn’t holding back either.

When I saw my girlfriend walk in wearing one of Julia’s oversized blazers, instead of complimenting her great figure, I gave her a brusque welcome.

"Julia doesn’t believe you enjoy it when you jerk me off."

Karen grabbed both ends of the glass table that dominated the living room and lifted it as if it were made of paper to make room between the armchairs.

"I reckon what Julia really believes," the strong woman replied calmly, eyes scanning for a place to dump her load, "is that there’s some other things that could get her more satisfied."

After placing the heavy table on its side against a bookshelf, she took Irina’s wrist and tilted her head toward the space she’d cleared. Irina took a sip of her cocktail and nodded in approval. Holding hands at their fingertips, both folded their legs at once and sat on their heels, facing each other on the carpet. The hems of their blouses fluttered with her movement and settled on their ample thighs.

Karen’s full lips parted slightly, making a faint smacking sound that sent a shiver down my girlfriend’s neck.

"What are you gonna do to me?" my angel questioned.

"We ain’t gonna do anything, sweetie," Julia replied, getting up to kneel behind her girl. "Your man’s gonna do whatever you want—anything you ain’t never dared to ask him to do. Meanwhile, I’m gonna get this gorgeous body in front of me fired up. Men got such limited imagination, so I hope this gives him some ideas he can put into practice with you."

The nurse rolled up her sleeves and slid her skilled hands under the hem of Karen’s shirt, tracing the curve of her breasts with her fingernails until the tips of her middle fingers reached the hard nubs of each nipple. The broad jaw of La Reina trembled slightly at the moment of contact. Irina felt her new friend’s shudder transmit through the touch of her fingertips, and instinctively squeezed her hands.

"Come on, Ji, what are you waiting for? Let’s show these snob smart-asses what we’re capable of. Get me going, and I’ll hold out as long as it takes."

I lifted the back of Irina’s blouse, dipped a finger from my other hand in my saliva, and slid it inside her panties.

Soon, the two girls’ clasped hands clenched fiercely, and their lips pressed together to stifle their moans.

"You’re full of surprises, kiddo," the veteran admitted, realizing that my girl wasn’t falling behind; her head was slumping, and beads of sweat lined her temples.

"Do you want me to make her come?" I asked. "Does the one who makes her come first win, or the one who makes her come the most times?"

Julia’s face hardened, and deep crow’s feet rose behind her half-closed eyes. La Reina had shut her eyes and was struggling to delay her climax—or perhaps to prolong it, panting like a steam locomotive. I had Irina boiling. The sheer fabric of her blouse clung to her drenched skin, revealing the phenomenal contours of her body.

"Don’t worry, they’re gonna be the ones to call who won. There won’t be the slightest doubt."

Still holding hands, Irina’s eyes popped open, and she turned her head to me.

"Yeah, that’s it, Ji, easy now… but just a little deeper."

And when I’d obeyed, she wrinkled her nose and nodded frantically, bobbing her head.

"Jushht like that… yeah, jushht like that… push now… push hard, goddammit! There, right there! Ahhhhh…"

"C’mon, honey, let’s go for another one," I encouraged her as soon as her pussy stopped twitching and was ready for more.

But as soon as a touch to her perineum made her start moaning again, we both froze. Before us, Karen’s chest had swelled to colossal proportions, and a wisp of icy air flowed from the depths of her throat with every exhalation. The muscles in her shoulders were straining against the seams of her blouse, threatening to burst them open. Her breasts had risen, and her erect nipples were pushing their way through the see-through fabric of the garment, which suddenly looked like a child’s size. Julia was now using all her strength to cover her burly pupil’s sex—which was on the verge of erupting—with both hands, but one finger on each hand was bent inward, pinching a nerve that set off the strong-woman’s howls. Irina felt the bones in her hands shatter inside Karen’s, but she was so overwhelmed by the brutality of her incredible partner’s scream that she felt no pain, only excitement at being part of that supernatural event.

Using every ounce of strength in her still-athletic, attractive forty-something body, Julia managed to hold La Reina’s belly within her embrace, control its contractions, and maintain her double-handed grip until Karen’s stunning, bulky frame gave a final spasm and went limp. Then she pulled her fingers out of her lover’s sex and offered them to Karen, who put them in her mouth, like a 180 lb. baby suckling docilely at her mother’s breast. She let go of Irina’s hand and sank down without stopping her sucking, resting her broad back against her conqueror’s chest.

Without exchanging a single word, we gathered our things and left the apartment, unable to erase from our minds the image of that massive strong-woman transformed into a docile baby in her mistress's arms.

It was chilly, but an invisible magnetic field prevented our bodies from drawing closer.

After quite a while, Irina broke the silence.

"Everything about that girl is over the top, huh? Her fierceness, her muscles, her orgasms…"

I couldn’t answer. I was on my way to a celestial blonde’s attic, and we had the whole night ahead of us, but all I could think about was what it would be like to sleep with that beast, whether I’d have the chance to challenge her sex drive, and whether I could measure up to her.