Anal

We had been whispering about it for days, but neither of us imagined how far we would go that night.

No one suspects the respectable woman I pretend to be by day. Only you know what I whisper when we’re alone again, glass in hand.

I thought I’d buried the woman who charged for her time. One offer from my own boyfriend was enough to wake her and take control of the night.

I hadn’t dressed in two years. Then I found the key to the room the owner told me not to open, and inside was everything I needed.

I changed clothes, put on coconut-scented perfume, and went back to the bar with one plan in my head: to find out whether that smile was for real.

I only wanted to sweet-talk him into raising my grade, playing the pickpocket who distracts to steal. I never imagined how far my own bluff would take me.

He thought the locker room was empty when he stepped into the shower. He didn’t count on two strangers watching him, or on how much that look would stir him.

He asked me to go upstairs and get myself ready just for him. That night, at last, I was going to earn the other girls’ respect.

I chose the emptiest screening to be alone with my exhaustion, until she crossed the theater and sat two seats to my right with a smile that promised trouble.

What we had was already over, but that summer night I discovered how far I was willing to go just to feel him inside me again.

My boyfriend went away for thirty days and I promised myself I’d resist. I lasted fifteen. What happened next turned me into someone I no longer recognize.

When I started teasing Diego inside the tent, Camila had her eyes closed. But her hand was already moving under the sleeping bag, and I knew she wasn’t asleep at all.

I found him hiding in the garage, frozen with cold. I never imagined that a year later I’d be the one inviting him into my bed and my marriage.

I’d been running into her in the garage for weeks with that smile. The day she pressed against me in the elevator, I knew it wouldn’t stay a neighborly hello.

I’d spent the whole night with three men and I still felt insatiable. So I picked up my phone and wrote: “Are you ready not to let me sleep all weekend?”

She crossed her legs, looked at me over the book, and I knew that woman hadn’t asked permission for anything in years. The dead hour of the metro turned into something else.

For months I’d imagined it: a black dress, heels shining under the lights, and me standing on a corner, in plain view of everyone passing by.

We went to confront him believing we were in control. It took only for him to close the office door for my wife and me to lower our eyes and obey every word.

I just wanted to feel girly for a while under my guy clothes. I never imagined he’d notice, or that that night would end with me on my knees before him.

She was thirty-eight, had a predictable husband, and a body nobody had ever known how to read. That night, alone at home, she decided she wanted to feel something at last.