The fantasy of my husband that ended up becoming mine
We’d been together fifteen years and I thought I knew everything about him. Then, one ordinary night, he whispered something in my ear that changed everything.
We’d been together fifteen years and I thought I knew everything about him. Then, one ordinary night, he whispered something in my ear that changed everything.
For a year she dreamed of the day she could give back every lie. On Día de Muertos, an obsidian amulet offered exactly that.
Since Tomás’s death, I embraced my lust without restraint, but the package wrapped in black velvet that arrived that night hid something my fantasies never imagined.
I’d spent three weeks swallowing dust and loneliness when the driver looked at me fixedly, without smiling, and said: “Come, my house.” It wasn’t an invitation: it was an order, and I followed him.
I thought it was the receptionist coming back for something she’d forgotten. It was her, with that smile that never meant anything innocent, and the lock turning behind her.
That witching night, he wasn’t expecting company. But something cold materialized at the foot of his bed and whispered his name as if it knew all death.
He came in uninvited, wearing a smile that promised pleasure and hid hunger. That night, every body he touched stopped being theirs forever.
If we ordered beer, we’d say goodbye. If we ordered wine, we’d stay. I never imagined where that glass she chose without hesitation would take us.
Confessing how many partners we’d each had was only the beginning. What she proposed that night, with my taste still in her mouth, was unlike anything we’d ever discussed before.
A stranger’s hand brushed my waist just before I left the bar. One question in my ear was enough to make me forget my friends and follow that couple home.
I wear the thong under my cycling shorts and no one knows. It’s my secret on the bike, the beginning of the fantasy I rehearse in my head again and again.
I was pregnant, alone, and hotter than I’d ever been; when those two men offered to walk me home, I already knew what I was going to let happen between the three of us.
I don’t know your name, but I know what’s waiting for you. I also thought it was love before I learned to obey every one of his orders.
I had her against the wall when her phone rang. I ordered her to answer on video call: her friend was going to see just how far her obedience went.
She kept telling herself she was a decent woman, but that night, in the hotel room, she discovered how badly she wanted to obey every one of my orders.
I hit play thinking it was a tender goodbye. Two minutes later I understood she knew everything I hid, and that night her voice was in charge of me.
Beside the open casket, while everyone pretended to grieve, Mariana could only think about the hands of those two men and what they would do to her that same night.
I came in thinking I owned everything. Marisol, on her knees in yellow gloves, had already decided that tonight the owner would be her.
They dragged me into the exam room for not following the rules. They didn’t know that was exactly what I wanted: for someone to finally decide for me.
I’d gone days without hearing from her, dreaming of her orders. That afternoon I walked through a door I shouldn’t have and discovered how far I was willing to go.