Cheating

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.

My husband was away again, and my back couldn’t take any more. My neighbor’s message said, “The first massage is free.” I never imagined how far it would go.

The tree that grew between our yards was only the excuse. What I really wanted was on the other side of that wall, and I learned to jump it every time he left.

I ran into her in the communal showers and, without thinking too much, decided to provoke the situation. What followed turned a boring trip into something I still can’t get out of my head.

I crept barefoot down the hallway while he slept, determined to give my husband the cuckolding he wanted so badly—but on my terms: he’d never know he already had it.

I came home still burning from the night before, never imagining a kitchen conversation would unravel me more than any caress.

We’d been teasing each other with our eyes in the courthouse for months. That fair afternoon, between two cars and far from everyone, we stopped pretending nothing was happening.

I invited him for a coffee knowing it wasn’t coffee I wanted. At fifty, Raquel discovered guilt had never been stronger than her desire.

I opened the door with my headphones on, suspecting nothing. When I looked into the living room, he wasn’t alone, and I had the cold blood to keep watching.

I caught him watching me in the hotel gym and knew that older married man wouldn’t stop until he had me. What I didn’t expect was how much I wanted him to succeed.

She was alone on the grass, in the shade, with legs that made me forget the book. I had no idea how far we’d go before we said goodbye.

While you slept off the booze in the room, I slipped barefoot down the hotel corridor to discover in his arms what you could no longer give me.

I hated him for the way he stalked me, but that morning under the fridge light I discovered his gaze made me tremble for reasons I refused to admit.

I hadn’t set foot in a club in years, but that night my son’s friend looked at me in a way no man had in a long time.

I only meant to connect the cameras to my phone. Instead I found, recorded and dated, what my mother did every time my father left for work.

It began in front of a webcam, in the dark and safe. But that afternoon, at the reservoir beach, there was no screen—only my body, the sun, and men who couldn’t look away.

When I realized I didn’t have my wallet or my phone, the taxi was already too far. And the driver started looking at me differently through the mirror.

Every night a different car arrived at the house opposite, and all the lights went out except one. That night I approached the window and could not stop watching.

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.

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.