Anal

She came home every dawn smelling of American tobacco and new perfume. I said nothing and kept my suspicions, until the night I decided to follow her and find out who she spent those hours with.

At forty-nine, I thought I’d seen it all—until that soaked stranger took off his shirt in my yard and I knew the afternoon wouldn’t end with gardening.

No one in the supermarket, the pharmacy, or the bakery imagined what I had hidden under my clothes. And that was exactly the part that excited me most.

We crossed that door knowing that, by doing so, we would no longer have any will of our own until Monday. Neither of us wanted to turn back.

When I opened the door I expected to find her alone on the sofa, as always. I hadn’t counted on the second silhouette watching me from the living room’s half-light.

I crossed his garden every afternoon to help with the vines, but we both knew I was really there for the way that huge man looked at me.

When she felt the breeze raise goosebumps on her skin, she knew that full-moon night wouldn’t end on the seashore. And she didn’t want it to.

Every morning I spied on him from the window without admitting it. That rainy afternoon he showed up at my door soaked, and I knew there was no way to keep pretending nothing was happening.

That night, while I was correcting his exercises in the hotel room, I felt his gaze fixed on me and knew I could no longer be just his teacher.

We had never gone beyond a polite greeting, but that soaked afternoon, trapped by the rain in his shop, everything changed with a single message on my phone.

I barely knew him, but when that stranger grabbed me in front of everyone, the driver set down his drink at the bar and walked over with a calm that was scarier than any shout.

He got two smiles out of me in one week, and I gave him my number. That afternoon, on the stairwell of his building, I showed him everything an experienced woman can do.

When she handed me her card and told me to come hungry, I knew that woman wasn’t after conversation: she wanted someone who could keep up with her until dawn.

Ten years after their last goodbye, he looked at her over coffee and knew exactly how he would help her. And what he would demand in return.

They had warned her there would be no mercy on the second day. What she didn’t know was how far the two ladies in the white room were willing to take her.

Bruno thought he had control over everything: his girlfriend, his lover, and his pride between his legs. He had no idea that night he’d lose all three at once.

I knew the rules: one hour, no agreed limits, four against me. What I didn’t know was how much I’d enjoy losing control in their hands.

We’d gone a month without daring anything more, until she picked another domination film and asked me, with that smile, if I wanted to do it for real.

It had been months since I’d heard from her. Her call was an order, not an invitation: that night I would stop being a person and become her property.

Every time I’m alone in the house, I repeat the same ritual. And every time, it gets harder to tell the game from what I truly long to be.