The Tide: Valeria

In the dimly lit El Umbral café, with its worn wooden tables, three friends gather on a morning charged with unspoken tension in the Autonomous City of New Aurora, year 2180. The air hums with anticipation, as if the atmosphere itself knows the night will bring “The Tide,” a phenomenon that unleashes chaos across the world. Valeria, Sofia, and Camila sit at a table by the window. Steaming coffee cups sit untouched before them, their words too urgent to pause for a sip.

Valeria, 25, leans back in her chair, her slender frame relaxed, dark hair cascading in waves over one shoulder. Her deep brown eyes gleam with a mix of mischief and caution as she watches Camila, the youngest of the trio at 18, her innocence yet to be touched by the fever of the coming night. Sofia, also 25, sits with her arms crossed, her olive skin striking against the white blouse hugging her curves. Her brow furrows, not in anger but from the weight of responsibility she feels speaking to Camila, who drums her fingers nervously on the table, her cheeks flushed with anticipation.

“Listen, Cami, it’s not like anything you’ve ever felt,” Valeria says. “When the comet passed ten years ago, no one knew what was happening. The radiation… it changed something in us. In all women. It’s not just desire, it’s…” She trails off, searching for the right word, her gaze drifting for a moment as if recalling her own experience.

“It’s like your body isn’t yours anymore,” Sofia finishes, her tone serious, almost clinical. “It consumes you. You can’t think, you can’t reason. That’s why tonight’s a disaster out there. People lose control—not just at home. The streets turn into chaos. You have to be ready, Camila.”

Camila, her light brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her wide eyes reflecting both curiosity and fear, bites her lower lip. It’s her first Tide, the first time she’ll feel the uncontrollable desire the others already know. She has no partner—not like Valeria, who plans to lock herself in a reinforced apartment with her boyfriend, or Sofia, who’s booked a fortified hotel room with her fiancé. All Camila has is her small room in an apartment, and the thought of facing the night alone sends a shiver through her.

“But how did it all start?” Camila asks, her voice low, as if afraid speaking too loudly might summon something. “I mean, the comet… how did they know it would be like this?”

Valeria sighs and leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “It was 2170. The comet, called Nemesis, passed so close to Earth that scientists said it’d just be a spectacle, nothing more. But then reports started coming in: women everywhere began feeling… something. At first, it was confusing. They thought it was a disease, an epidemic. Then they realized it only happened one night a year, always on the same date, when the comet’s orbit is closest. The radiation it left in the atmosphere changed our biology. No one knows why it only affects us, but that’s how it is.”

“It’s a curse,” Sofia mutters, her tone dry, though a flicker of resignation glints in her eyes. “The first time you feel it, you think you’ll go insane. You can’t ignore it, can’t distract yourself with anything. That’s why you need to be somewhere safe, Cami. Your room, door locked. Don’t let anyone in, and don’t go out, no matter what.”

Camila swallows hard, her hands gripping the now-cold coffee cup. “What if… I don’t want to feel it? What if I’m not ready?”

Valeria and Sofia exchange a glance, one that says there’s no escape. “You don’t have a choice,” Valeria says, her voice softening for the first time. “When night comes, you’ll feel it. And it’ll be overwhelming. That’s why you need to be in your room, prepared.”

Silence settles over the table like a heavy blanket. Camila, eyes still fixed on her cold coffee, feels the weight of what’s coming. Her fingers tremble slightly as she brushes a strand of hair from her face. Valeria and Sofia wonder how much more they should tell the 18-year-old, whose first Tide is just hours away from consuming her.

“Valeria, what was… your first time like?” Camila asks, her voice barely a whisper, thick with curiosity. Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away this time, searching Valeria’s eyes for something to ground her against the unknown.

Valeria sighs, leaning back in her chair with a mix of nostalgia and caution. “It’s not easy to explain, Cami, but I’ll give you an idea. The Tide only affects women who’ve reached sexual maturity. That’s why you haven’t felt it until now. It’s like… a desire you can’t control, but you’re not blind. You know what you’re doing, you understand every choice—it’s just that you want it. There’s no shame, no fear of judgment. All that vanishes, and nothing else matters.”

She pauses, her eyes drifting to some point beyond the window. “My first time was seven years ago, with my partner back then. I thought being with him would be enough, that we could lock ourselves away and let the night pass. But the desire was… insatiable. It was intense, feverish, like every touch sparked a fire that wouldn’t go out. He fell asleep, exhausted, and I…” She lowers her voice, almost as if confessing a secret. “I couldn’t stay. I climbed out the window, barefoot, naked, not thinking about anything but chasing that feeling. I didn’t care that it was madness, that the streets were full of strangers.”

Camila’s eyes widen, her breath catching. “What happened?” she murmurs, caught in the confession.

Valeria gives a bitter smile. “The streets were chaos. Men, women, all gripped by the same fever. I found others, strangers, and there were no words, just… instinct. It was like the whole world turned into a feast, and the men—well, many take advantage of that night, knowing there are no limits. I let myself go, in an alley. I didn’t feel cold or fear, just that urge consuming everything.”

Sofia, silent until now, speaks up, her voice softer but firm. “It’s a night when, somehow, we make real what we want, Cami. At first, it might scare you, but over time… you learn to embrace it. It’s the only night of the year we feel that desire, and there’s nothing like it. That’s why you need to be prepared but also… let it happen.”

Camila swallows hard, her hands clenched into fists on the table. The idea of that freedom, that total loss of control, terrifies her as much as it intrigues her. Her friends’ words echo in her mind, but the city outside, with its promise of chaos, seems to beckon them all.

The next morning dawns over New Aurora with an eerie calm, as if the city, drained from the frenzy of the Tide, is trying to pull itself together under a gray sky. In the café, the tables are emptier than usual, the scent of freshly ground coffee mingling with a silence that seems to hold echoes of the night before. Valeria, Sofia, and Camila arrive separately, each stepping in with a gait that betrays a mix of fatigue and something deeper, an unspoken weight. Their faces, though etched with exhaustion, carry an intensity absent the previous day. They settle at the same window table, but this time, there’s no small talk or laughter. Coffee cups arrive, steam curling upward, ignored.

Valeria, her dark hair slightly disheveled and shadows under her eyes, crosses her arms, her wrinkled blouse hinting at a story she hasn’t yet voiced. Sofia sits upright, fingers tapping the table, her gaze fixed on an invisible point as if piecing together every moment of the night. Camila, the youngest, seems smaller than usual, shoulders hunched, her bright eyes caught between confusion and a spark of something new. No one speaks at first. The weight of their experiences holds them in a tense silence, their glances meeting, searching, but hesitant to break the stillness.

Finally, Valeria lets out a long, almost theatrical sigh and leans forward, elbows on the table. “What, no one’s gonna spill how last night went?” she says, her voice slicing through the air with a mix of challenge and curiosity. Her eyes scan Sofia and Camila, lingering a moment longer on the youngest, as if trying to gauge how deeply her first Tide marked her. “Fine, guess I’ll break the ice.”

She pauses, not out of doubt but to gather the fragments of a night still burning on her skin. Her gaze drifts briefly to the window, where the city seems to nurse its wounds under the pale morning light. “I told you guys I had it all planned, right? Lock myself in with Diego, reinforced doors, no risks. But…” Her voice drops, more intimate, a fleeting, almost guilty smile crossing her lips. “Nothing went as expected.”

Yesterday, after leaving the café, I headed straight to a lingerie shop downtown. I wanted something that’d leave Diego speechless, something that’d hook him the second I walked through the door. I picked out a tight black lace set and, on a whim, grabbed some silver handcuffs, thinking they’d add a little extra to the night. As I paid, I couldn’t stop picturing it—us locked away, riding out the Tide without the outside chaos touching us. I was sure I had the perfect plan.

Before heading home, I stopped at a gas station to fill up, just to be safe. But the line was endless, cars everywhere, everyone frantic before the city turned into a mess. I checked the time and thought, “No way I’m staying here.” I figured I had enough gas. Big mistake. I was driving home through a forest on the outskirts where I live when the car started sputtering. Then it just died. About an hour from dusk, and not a soul around. The forest’s silence was so heavy I could only hear my own breathing, faster and faster, as fear tightened my chest.

I started running toward home, my sneakers crunching against the dirt path in the forest. The place felt endless, dark and dense, with branches clawing at the sky. My heart pounded, not just from the sprint but from the panic of being stranded here with the Tide so close. Finally, I glimpsed the faint glow of apartment lights through the trees, but then I looked up. The sky was shifting, streaked with strange, vibrant colors—blues and purples swirling like oil on water. It was the radiation, that once-a-year glow. I knew it was starting.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. A heat sparked inside me, spreading fast, like a wildfire I couldn’t douse. My imagination ran wild: images of Diego’s hands on me, the feel of lace against my skin, the click of those handcuffs. But it wasn’t just him. My mind raced to strangers, bodies pressed close, skin on skin, no rules. My breath hitched, and an intense desire surged, growing with every step. My thighs brushed together as I hurried, trying to hold back, but it was like fighting a current. I felt myself growing wet, my body betraying me, screaming for release.

Then I heard the hum of an engine. Headlights sliced through the dusk, and I squinted as a car slowed down. It was my neighbor, Mateo, with his wife, Clara, in the passenger seat. I waved frantically, forcing a laugh to mask how desperate I felt. “Hey! I’m in trouble—my car broke down. It’s starting, I need to get home fast.”

I climbed into the back seat, and the moment I shut the door, the heat in my body became unbearable. Every movement, every bump in the road, made the desire swell. I could feel my underwear clinging to me, and I couldn’t help it: my fingers grazed my thigh, just barely. It was exquisite, each touch like a spark. I glanced at Clara up front and saw her clenching her fists, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She was fighting to hold herself together, just like me, but we still had a ways to go.

From the back seat, I was restless, practically trembling to get home to Diego. But then Clara let out a low, unmistakable moan. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said, and before Mateo could react, she leaned toward him. He tried to keep her at bay, muttering something about needing to drive, but he gave in. He pulled the car to the side of the road, and Clara, without hesitation, started kissing him with an urgency that was almost fierce, her hands moving fast.

I didn’t say a word. I just sat there, watching, and damn it, I was enjoying it. The way Clara moved, the rawness of her desire, set me ablaze even more. I wanted to join in, to touch her, to let go. I’d always had that fantasy—the thought of being with a woman, feeling her softness, her warmth. I tried to hold back, gripping the seat, but the truth was, I didn’t want to stop. The desire was too much, and I was on the verge of breaking.

“What did you do, Valeria?” Sofia asked.

“I’m getting there,” Valeria replied. Mateo mumbled an apology, all embarrassed, saying they couldn’t help themselves. But I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was too caught up in the heat burning inside me, watching Clara move over him. My hands trembled—I wanted to touch myself, slide my fingers over my skin—but I held back, though every second was torture.

In the car, the air grew thick, heavy with their ragged breaths. Clara had climbed onto Mateo, her hips moving with raw urgency, her moans filling the space, drowning out everything else. I watched the curve of her back, her hands gripping his neck, their bodies melding in a rhythm that seemed to consume them. Every move she made sent my own desire skyrocketing, a relentless pulse between my thighs that left no room for thought.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Can I… join?” I asked, my voice hoarse, almost pleading. Clara turned her head, her lips curling into a slow, almost feral smile. Without a word, she slid into the back seat, her body brushing against mine. Before I could process it, her lips were on mine—hot, demanding, tasting my mouth like she wanted to devour me. Her hands found my clothes, tearing them off with an urgency that left me breathless. In seconds, we were naked, pressed together in the back seat, skin on skin, while the car kept moving.

“Get us home,” Clara ordered Mateo, her voice shaky but firm. He didn’t reply, just started driving, the engine’s roar blending with our breaths. Clara pushed me against the seat, her fingers tracing paths across my body, each touch igniting a spark. I lost myself in her, in the softness of her skin, in the heat radiating from her core. Her intimacy was exquisite—wet, warm, with a trace of her husband still lingering, a salty, intoxicating taste I explored eagerly. My tongue moved carefully, savoring every inch, claiming her as she moaned and arched against me. Each motion was a dance, each taste a discovery that made me crave more, plunging deeper into the fever consuming us both.

The car finally reached our building, and Mateo parked with a hurried screech in the underground lot. My body still buzzed, caught in the fire Clara had sparked in the back seat. I stumbled out, naked, my clothes a mess in my hands, barely pausing to mutter an apology. “Sorry, I need to get to Diego,” I said, my voice ragged, more from desire than shame. I ran toward the stairs, the building’s cold air brushing my skin, each step making the ache between my thighs more unbearable.

I raced up the stairs two at a time, my ragged breaths echoing in the empty hallway. But just before reaching my apartment, where I knew Diego was waiting, I stopped. I turned my head and saw Clara and Mateo approaching their door across the hall. Clara, her hair tousled and lips still swollen, locked eyes with me. Her gaze held that wild glint, as if the Tide was far from fading. In that moment, something clicked. It was the one night of the year, the perfect excuse to let go, to give in to what my body was screaming for. I didn’t knock on my door. Instead, I walked toward theirs, my bare feet silent against the cold floor. Clara smiled, holding the door open, and I shut it behind me with a firm thud.

Inside, there were no words. I lunged at Clara, my hands finding her waist, pulling her until our bodies collided. Her lips crashed into mine, hot and ravenous, picking up right where we’d left off in the car. We moved with an almost violent urgency, tumbling onto the couch, skin against skin, my fingers tracing every curve of her body. The desire kept building, like a wave that wouldn’t stop rising, pulling me to a place where thoughts didn’t exist—just need. Her moans filled the air, mingling with mine, and every touch, every press of her hands, made me want more, need everything.

I glanced at Mateo, standing there, watching us with a mix of awe and desire. Clara, her lips still grazing my neck, gestured to him. “Take your clothes off and come here,” she said, her voice husky, almost a command. He didn’t need to be told twice. Mateo stripped quickly, and in seconds, he was with us, his heat joining ours, his hands blending into the frenzied dance that had no rules.

The air in their apartment was thick, heavy with the heat of our bodies and the hunger the Tide had unleashed. We moved as if time didn’t exist, just raw, boundless desire. Clara and I knelt before Mateo, our faces inches from him, our tongues exploring him with an eagerness that left no room for hesitation. As we tasted him, our eyes met, burning, sharing the wicked pleasure consuming us. My fingers slid between Clara’s thighs, finding her wet heat, and she mirrored me, her nails grazing exactly where my desire burned fiercest. We moved in sync, each of Mateo’s moans stoking the fire, each brush of our fingers pushing us closer to the edge. We waited, eager, for the moment he’d let go, knowing it would be ours.

When it came, it was like an explosion, a warm torrent that bathed our faces, lips, and necks. Clara and I didn’t stop. We sought each other with urgent kisses, our tongues intertwining, licking, cleaning each other with a lust that knew no end. Mateo’s salty taste mingled with ours, and every bite, every graze, sparked anew. My neighbor was incredible. Even after that, he didn’t lose an ounce of his vigor. I think he’s always had a thing for me, you know? The way he’d look at me in the hallway, like he wanted to rip my clothes off right there.

Clara met my gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge. I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear, and let the words spill out, heavy with an intensity I couldn’t hold back. “Clara, let me ride him. I want to feel him inside me, I want him to break me.” She smiled, a slow, knowing curve, and helped me up. Her hands guided me to Mateo, who was ready, his desire undimmed. With an almost ceremonial precision, Clara took his hardness and directed it toward me, ensuring every inch found its place. I sank onto him, a moan escaping my throat as pleasure pierced through me, and Clara, still smiling, stayed close, her hands caressing us both, as if orchestrating our dance.

She didn’t step away for a second, her hands firm on my hips, guiding me as I moved over Mateo. Each sway was a blaze, a rhythm she fueled. Her fingers glided over my skin, caressing my breasts, squeezing them with a blend of gentleness and urgency that made me gasp louder. Then I felt two of her fingers exploring lower, slipping into me from behind, a slow but deep touch that tore a moan from me I couldn’t stifle. It was as if she knew exactly how to push me to the brink, each move amplifying the pleasure already shattering me.

I arched against Mateo, my hands braced on his chest as Clara held me, her lips grazing my neck, nibbling the sensitive skin behind my ear. We shifted positions—Mateo lying back, me atop him, my knees sinking into the couch, Clara behind me, never letting go. Then we turned, my back against the couch’s armrest, Clara kneeling between my legs, her hands and mouth working in tandem while Mateo struggled to keep up. The air was thick with our moans, the scent of sweat and desire, the sound of skin against skin.

But Mateo, after so much, began to falter. His breathing grew heavy, his hands fell to his sides, and though he tried, his body gave out, exhausted, unable to match the relentless pace the Tide demanded. Clara and I, though, were far from done. Our bodies still burned, the desire pulsing, insatiable, as if the night had no end. We locked eyes, a shared spark passing between us, knowing we didn’t need anyone else to keep feeding that fire.

Clara and I stayed on the couch, our bodies still alight, craving more, as if the Tide had no intention of letting us go. Mateo, exhausted, mumbled something and stumbled toward his bedroom. We heard the door close, and minutes later, the silence of his deep sleep. But we didn’t stop. We tangled again, skin on skin, our hands and mouths exploring every inch, chasing orgasms that crashed like waves, one after another, yet never enough. Clara kissed me with an urgency that made me tremble, her fingers hitting exactly the spots that had me arching against her, and I returned every caress, every graze, with the same hunger.

At one point, between gasps, Clara pulled back just enough, her eyes glinting with an idea. “What if we go get Diego?” she said, her voice hoarse, thick with desire. The thought hit me like lightning. Sharing Diego had never crossed my mind, not something I’d ever considered. But in that moment, with the Tide still coursing through my veins, it felt perfect, almost necessary. “Let’s go,” I said, not hesitating, and we stood, not bothering to grab our clothes, our naked bodies gleaming under the apartment’s dim light.

We walked down the hall, the building’s cool air brushing my skin, but I didn’t feel cold—just that relentless urge that wouldn’t let me stop. We reached my apartment, and I knocked. The door swung open instantly, as if Diego had been waiting on the other side. He looked at me, then at Clara, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, hungrier. “Sorry I’m late,” I said, with a smile I didn’t try to hide. “I was picking her up for tonight.”

The door closed behind us, and the world shrank to that space, to the three of us. We moved without words, a whirlwind of hands, lips, and bodies that needed no explanation. We saw the sunrise through the curtains, the sky’s soft colors filtering into the room. The Tide’s effects had faded, the heat in my body slowly ebbing, but we didn’t care. We wanted more, and we kept going, lost in a fever that didn’t need radiation to keep us alive.

Valeria leaned forward, a mischievous smile curving her lips, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Well, that’s my night. Your turn, guys. Come on, Cami, what’d you do? I bet you stayed locked in your room all night, right?”

Camila, cheeks flushed and gaze averted, gripped her coffee cup tightly. “What I did was… awful,” she murmured, her voice shaky, but then she looked up, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “But I don’t regret it. I’d do it again.” Her words landed like a stone in the silence, leaving Valeria and Sofia slack-jawed, waiting for more.

Valeria raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Awful? Come on, Cami, spill the details. Don’t leave us hanging.” But Camila shook her head, lips pressed tight, and Valeria, catching her resistance, sighed with a theatrical flourish. “Fine, we’ll save you for last. Your turn, Sofia—blow us away.”

Sofia, who’d been quiet, tapping her fingers on the table, gave a slow, almost secretive smile. “What I’m about to tell you… it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. The Tide was the perfect excuse to make it happen.” Her voice carried a weight that drew Valeria and Camila closer, their faces alight with anticipation, eager to hear what Sofia had unleashed in that night of chaos.

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