Intensive Perreo Course novel · Chapter 2 of 12
Chapter 2: Against the Mirror
I sank all the way down, and my whole body clenched around one single point.
I came on top of him, still wearing my thong, watching my ex’s face in the mirror.
I screamed without thinking about anyone else.
Ramsés held me by the hips until I stopped shaking, and the class burst into applause and whistles.
“That’s it, Yaz!” Nayely shouted. “That’s a ten!”
I stayed there on all fours, panting, sweat running down my back and my thighs soaked.
At the door, Rigo stepped inside.
“So this is what you’re taking classes for?” he said, way too loud. “With the money you stopped paying in rent?”
All eleven students turned to look at him.
I stood up on shaky legs, adjusted my shorts, and walked barefoot to the door.
When I stopped in front of him, my voice wasn’t shaking anymore.
“I paid the rent, Rigo. For two whole years.”
“Don’t get like that.”
“I’m in class. If you want to talk, make an appointment with the front desk.”
Cinthia snorted and lifted her phone.
“You look so tacky, Yazmín.”
“And you’ve got some big-ass ears,” Nayely shot back, coming to stand beside me with her arms crossed. “Get out, or we’ll throw you out.”
Ramsés got up from the floor without hurrying, his sweatpants already pulled up.
He didn’t say anything.
He just stood beside me, so still that they both left before he even opened his mouth.
The door closed.
Then a nervous laugh escaped me, and the laughter gave way to a tremble.
Nayely hugged me tight.
“You were incredible, Yaz. That asshole’s not gonna sleep tonight.”
We finished class with stretches, and I didn’t hear a word.
The students left one by one, laughing, gathering their mats, blowing me kisses.
Nayely was the last to say goodbye.
“Text me when you get home. And if the instructor offers you something, say yes.”
She left with a wink.
The studio was empty, the lights low, the smell of sweat still hanging in the air.
I was at the barre, looking for my water bottle, when the music cut off.
“Stay a while,” Ramsés said from the doorway.
He’d taken off his shirt and had it draped over his shoulder.
His chest was defined, his skin tan, with a tattoo of a drum tangled in roses over his ribs.
“Why?”
“So you don’t leave with that in your head.”
“With what?”
“That look you had in the mirror.”
He locked the door.
I leaned back against the barre, my hands gripping the metal.
“I’m not embarrassed,” I said. “About class.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I’m just not used to people looking at me.”
“Eleven women looked at you, and so did I,” he said, coming closer. “And we all saw the same thing.”
“What?”
“A woman who knows how to move.”
He stopped in front of me, so close I could feel the heat of his chest.
“But the mirror still hasn’t believed you.”
He took my hand and led me in front of the big mirror that covered the entire wall.
He stood me in front of my own reflection, with him behind me.
My top clung to me with sweat, and my nipples stood hard beneath the fabric.
“Look at yourself,” he said. “Not at me. At you.”
He slowly pushed up my top until my tits were bare in front of us both.
His big, warm hands came to my breasts, and he squeezed them, his thumbs pressing over each nipple.
I bit my lip.
“Tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me, Yazmín.”
“I see... a woman who likes it.”
“She likes it,” he repeated, sliding one hand down my stomach.
He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of my shorts and found them soaked.
“A lot,” he said, and pulled off my shorts and thong together.
I was naked in front of the mirror, my legs pressed together and my heart pounding in my ears.
Ramsés lifted me by the ass, plopped me down on the ballet barre, and spread my knees.
The metal was cold against my hot skin, and I let out a squeal.
He knelt in front of me, his right knee on the floor and his left leg stretched out, just like in class.
He looked up at me.
“I’m going to eat you out right here,” he said. “And you’re going to watch it all.”
His mouth came down to my pussy.
His first lick was long, from bottom to top, and pulled a moan from me that echoed through the whole studio.
“Oh, God.”
“Keep it down,” he said against my skin. “You’re a student, not a singer.”
But he sucked my clit with his whole mouth, and keeping it down wasn’t happening.
He did it with a patience that undid me.
He spread my lips with his thumbs, licked me all over, and stopped at the exact spot where everything was throbbing.
He pushed his tongue inside me and pulled it out, again and again, while his hand squeezed my thigh.
I grabbed his shaved head.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
“Look at the mirror.”
I looked.
My naked body, spread open over the barre, and his head between my legs, moving hungrily.
My tits rose and fell, my mouth hung open, my eyes shining.
She was the dirtiest, freest woman I’d ever seen in my life, and she was me.
“You taste so good,” he said, and went back to sucking my clit hard.
Then I came again, deeper and longer, my thighs closing around his face.
Ramsés didn’t move until the last spasm let go of me.
He stood up with his lips glistening and kissed me, and I tasted myself in his mouth.
“That wasn’t for the class,” he said.
“Then what was it for?”
“For you. The rest is work.”
I climbed down from the counter, my legs like jelly, and got dressed in front of him without a shred of shame.
At the front desk, Doña Lupita was waiting with a notebook in her hand and one eyebrow raised.
She handed me my backpack without saying a word about the moans that had drifted up the stairs.
“Mija, the woman who just left gave me this.”
It was the class registration form, filled out in big handwriting with long nails.
Cinthia Rentería.
She was starting Thursday at seven, in my same group.
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