Anal

When she climbed on top of me at dawn on New Year’s Day, I thought that was the whole story. I had no idea her secret would change everything between us.

She parked in front of the building, looked in the rearview mirror, and did not recognize the woman staring back. That night she had decided to stop being the perfect wife.

When he took off his trousers in the fitting room, she had to step away from the curtain so he wouldn’t hear her hold her breath.

When she opened the door in that black lingerie and that cold smile, I knew there would be no talk tonight: only orders, and I was ready to obey every one.

I agreed to help him organize his new house out of pity. I never imagined that each bet would leave me with less clothing and more eager to lose the next one.

I always took his comments as office banter, until the night I closed my suitcase, put on my makeup in the mirror, and knocked on his door.

I’d spent years imagining him from the other side of the wall. That night, alone in my aunt’s house, he was the one who rang the bell.

Each strike against her skin aroused her more, and Renata didn’t know whether the worst part was surrendering or discovering someone was watching from the top of the stairs.

He was new, shy, and polite. He never imagined that that afternoon, after everyone left the office, a single command from me would be enough to put him on his knees.

The noise was coming from the gym. Samanta thought thieves were inside; what she saw through the half-open door left her breathless and changed how she felt about her mother.

The theater was almost empty when she chose the seat one place away. She wasn’t watching the screen—she was watching me, and wanted me to notice.

At fifty-five I thought desire was a thing of the past, until my daughter’s husband looked at me the way mine had long forgotten how.

He hadn’t seen me in years, but when I opened the door at midnight and felt his firm hands on my waist, I knew my godfather was looking at me differently now.

I decided the night before, while he slept: the next morning I would begin, alone, a routine I had imagined for years but never dared to maintain.

When she opened the door in that red housecoat, I knew summer wasn’t over yet: we still had unfinished business between the sheets.

When Sofía whispered in my ear that we wouldn’t be alone that night, I felt a shiver I couldn’t tell was fear or desire. The stranger was already on his way up the stairs.

Every time she left that apartment, she swore it was the last time. And the next day she came back in the shortest skirt, ready to please him again.

I’m 46, and I’ve never told anyone this. I entered a dead-end tire shop alone, accepted the first beer, and stopped thinking about going home.

That night, after publishing, I opened my email and found a message from him. I didn’t know a stranger could move me so much with words alone.

I had promised him a different kind of gift: that weekend I wouldn’t decide anything. He would take the reins, and I would only have to obey and let myself go.