Bisexual

We both knew the other was bisexual, but we had never done anything about it. That afternoon, a beer and an old game changed everything.

I never imagined that agreeing to partner swapping would end up revealing a secret my husband had kept since school.

I texted “Want to play?” from my fitting room. Five seconds later I slipped into hers, ready to make her come in silence before the saleswoman noticed.

I’d known Esteban for years, but that stifling afternoon I discovered his house held a secret that would change our friendship forever.

I got off the bus hot-headed and tight in my pants. I knew what I was going to the vacant lot for, but not that I’d get fucked three times in a row.

At forty-eight, in a Miami bar, my best friend grabbed me by the neck and kissed me. It was my first time with a woman, and I knew I could never go back.

When I felt his cock against my ass in the darkness, I knew neither of us would sleep that night. Fifteen years later, I still think about it.

When Camila put the second tequila in my hand, I knew something was going to break that night. I just didn’t know it would be everything I believed about the two of us.

Andrés locked the door even though he knew there was no one else on the floor. When he stood in front of me again, he was no longer my boss but something else.

We were alone in front of the mirror. I was fixing my lipstick; she was staring at me with an intensity that was no longer friendship. And then she came closer.

I thought we were only going up to the pine grove to eat omelet and drink red wine. I never imagined my cousin would ask me to touch her among the trees that afternoon.

I’m 41, and that early morning I accepted a much younger couple’s invitation to a rehearsal space. What happened changed my idea of desire.

I’d been buying her chocolates and roses for months without knowing what to expect. That afternoon, in the taxi home from work, she leaned into my ear and everything changed.

I got off the museum ship with my head spinning. That same night, facing the Pacific, a woman I barely knew kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

I went out to clear my head one Saturday afternoon. When I looked up from my coffee, she was already sitting across from me, smiling as if she’d known me all her life.

I came out of the bathroom with my mouth smeared and a new pulse between my legs. She, with my red lipstick on her lips, didn’t know her boyfriend was already watching.

I’d only been in the alley for a month when I was put in charge of the punch with house 207. I didn’t expect the woman who opened the door and her husband to change my idea of desire that very night.

When she kissed me in front of the car, I knew it wasn’t the alcohol. It was everything she’d kept quiet for ten years finally spilling out of her mouth.

Tomorrow marks eight years since that last night with him, and I still wonder whether I was brave or just selfish to ask him for that.

We talked for weeks without sending each other a single photo, until she told me she wanted to be the first to do it to me, in person, in her bed.