What My Husband Arranged with the Cruise Ship Neighbor

The Mediterranean dawned in a golden light that filtered through the slit in the curtain. I woke before Adrián, as almost always, and lay there for a while staring at the cabin ceiling, reliving the night before. The towel over my eyes. The footsteps on the balcony next door. The burning certainty that someone was watching me while I pretended not to know it.

I shivered, and it wasn’t because of the air conditioning.

Beside me, Adrián was breathing deeply, oblivious to my thoughts. Or so I believed then. I got up carefully and went to the bathroom. In the mirror I found a different woman. My brown eyes had a new shine, and my smile, the one I’d used all my life to hide my shyness, now looked like a conspirator’s. Like someone keeping a delicious secret.

Good morning, Helena, I told myself. Let’s see what the second day brings us.

***

Adrián woke in an excellent mood, more affectionate than usual. While we were having breakfast at the buffet, I noticed his gaze slipping again and again toward the neighboring couple’s table. Marco and Sofía, I learned later they were called. She was laughing with some friends who had joined her for breakfast; he was leafing through the newspaper with an indifference that felt far too rehearsed.

—Do you want more coffee, my love? —Adrián asked, suddenly getting to his feet—. I’ll get it.

I nodded distractedly, watching Sofía. She was pretty, I couldn’t deny it, but there was something about her that put me on edge. Maybe that ease with which she laughed in public, that self-possession I had never had.

From my chair I couldn’t see Adrián, so my attention shifted to Marco. I saw him straighten up when my husband approached the coffee machine, right beside him. They exchanged a few words. Barely a few seconds. Adrián took two cups, Marco gave a barely perceptible nod, and both of them went on as if nothing had happened.

When he came back, he set my coffee down in front of me with a smile.

—Did you know the neighbor’s from Valencia? —he said casually—. His name’s Marco. Good guy.

—Oh, really? —I replied, trying to sound just as calm—. And the woman?

—Sofía. She’s out with a group of friends. Apparently tonight they’ve got a girls’ plan, bingo or something —Adrián said as he spread jam on a piece of toast—. Hey, how about we go dancing tonight? There’s a themed evening in the bow lounge. Latin music.

I nearly choked on my coffee.

—Dancing? You? —I asked, not believing it—. You always say dancing is “moving your arms with background music.”

Adrián shrugged with a carelessness that seemed odd to me.

—We’re on vacation. And besides, I’ve seen you a thousand times moving your hips when you think I’m not looking. You’re good at it.

The compliment took me by surprise. So did the insistence. But I said nothing. I nodded and let the day drift by between the pool, a book, and a long nap.

And yet, an idea began to grow inside me, slow and persistent. Why did Adrián suddenly want to dance? And why had he mentioned my hips right after talking to Marco?

***

That night, in front of the mirror, I chose a dress I hadn’t worn in a long time. Black, with thin straps, and a modest neckline that defined the shape of my breasts. The skirt fell softly over my hips and brushed the tops of my thighs. Adrián looked at me in a way that made me blush.

—You’re beautiful —he said, and there was something in his voice that went very deep inside me.

In the bow lounge, Latin music filled everything. Couples spun, laughed, sweated. Adrián ordered a bottle of white wine and filled my glass before I could protest.

—Come on, Helena —he urged—. One drink to loosen up.

The first tasted like freedom. The second, like desire. The third I don’t even remember drinking.

And then we danced. Or rather, I danced. Adrián held me, guided me, but soon his hands began to move with more daring than I knew in him. One slid down my back and stopped just where the curve of my ass began. The other circled my waist and pulled me against him.

—Do you like it? —he whispered in my ear.

I nodded, my head already a little clouded by the wine. The music, the heat of his body, the brush of people around us… everything wrapped me in a warm, exciting haze.

At some point, while a slow bachata was playing, his hand moved down to my hip and squeezed. His fingers sank slowly into my flesh, and I, by instinct, pressed my body against his. I rested my head on his shoulder and, through the fabric of his shirt, I felt his heartbeat.

That was when I saw him among the crowd. Marco was at the bar, alone, with a glass in his hand. And he was looking at me.

Our eyes met for barely a second. Just long enough for my heart to lurch. I looked away at once and buried myself again in Adrián’s shoulder, but the image of those dark eyes stayed etched in me.

He’s alone, I thought. Sofía must still be with her friends.

—Another drink? —Adrián asked, pulling back slightly to look at me.

—I’m going to the bathroom —I said, needing a moment alone—. I’ll be right back.

I left the lounge with steady steps, though inside I was trembling. The air in the corridor soothed me like a balm. I walked quickly, cheeks burning and the dress sticking to my damp thighs.

When I got to our door, just as I was sliding the key card into the slot, the neighboring cabin door opened.

And there was Sofía.

She was wearing comfortable, casual clothes, perfect for a girls’ night. She smiled at me politely.

—Hi! You’re the neighbor, right? —she said—. We saw each other at the buffet. I’m Sofía.

—Yes, Helena —I replied, returning her smile, though I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks for no apparent reason.

—Great —she said, clearly on her way somewhere—. My friends are waiting for me. Have a lovely night!

And she left, leaving me alone in the corridor with my heart pounding.

Why did I blush? I wondered as I went inside. She’s just his wife. She has nothing to do with me.

But deep down I knew it. I knew her absence meant something. I knew Sofía wouldn’t be back until late. I knew Marco was alone, in the cabin next door.

I closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply. I needed cold water on my face. I needed to think.

But when I went into the bathroom and turned on the tap, the cool water did nothing to put out the fire I felt in my belly. I looked at myself in the mirror. Bright eyes. Flushed cheeks. Breasts, barely covered by the thin fabric, rising and falling with the rhythm of my unsteady breathing.

Go back to Adrián, I ordered myself. Go back to the lounge and dance with your husband. This is madness.

But then, like a murmur, another voice spoke inside me. The voice of the Helena who had licked her fingers on the balcony the night before. The voice of the woman who had moaned knowing she was being watched.

Go out to the balcony, that voice said. Just to cool off. There’s nothing wrong with stepping out for a moment.

My heart was pounding hard. Too hard. The wine had loosened me up, yes, but it had also lent me a courage I had never had.

***

I opened the bathroom door and crossed the half-dark cabin. The sliding balcony door was ajar, just as we had left it. Adrián always liked the sea air coming in.

My bare feet stepped onto the cold wood. The sound of my own footsteps seemed deafening. The salty breeze stroked my skin, raised goosebumps on my arms, hardened my nipples beneath the fabric.

I took a step. Then another.

The divider between the two balconies was a structure of wood and frosted glass. But that night something was different. I moved closer slowly, holding my breath, and then I noticed it.

The panel separating the balconies was open.

Not all the way, not blatantly. But the latch had been slid back and the glass moved just enough. A tiny gap. Enough to see. Enough to be seen.

My heart lurched.

And I knew, with a certainty that chilled my blood and set me ablaze all at once, that this was no accident. That Adrián had planned it. That Marco knew.

That the two of them had talked about it at the coffee machine that morning, while I watched Sofía laugh.

A shiver of desire ran through me. My legs were shaking. I wanted to run and I wanted to stay. I wanted to scream and I wanted to be silent.

Instead, I took another step.

And then, from the neighboring cabin, a sound came. Barely a creak. The rustle of a body against a deck chair.

He was there. On the other side. Waiting.

I laid my trembling hand on the glass. I could push it. I could open it all the way. I could…

But I didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, with my heart in my throat, I slowly turned back toward our side of the balcony. And, with deliberate slowness, aware of each movement, I began to slip the straps of my dress off my shoulders.

One. The left. The fabric gave a little and exposed my shoulder, the beginning of my breast.

Two. The right. The dress slid down a few centimeters and stopped right where my breasts held it up.

I bit my lip. Closed my eyes. And I knew, with every fiber of my body, that his eyes were on me.

Slowly, I let the dress fall.

The breeze stroked my bare skin. My breasts offered themselves to the night, to the moon, to his gaze. My nipples, erect and hard, were two points of desire aimed at him.

I didn’t look. I didn’t need to. I knew he was there. I knew he was watching me.

And then, unhurried, with a sensuality I hadn’t known I possessed, I turned toward the cabin interior. I walked slowly, knowing that the curve of my ass, round and firm, was the last image he would take with him of me that night.

I didn’t close the balcony door.

When I got into the shower minutes later, the hot water couldn’t put out the fire. I had to turn it down to lukewarm, and then to a cold stream that tightened my nipples and made me shake all over. I pressed myself against the tiles, imagining his eyes, imagining his hand, imagining that on the other side of the wall he was thinking of me too.

I bit my arm to keep from crying out.

But in my head, the cry was for him.

I still have to go back to the lounge. Adrián is waiting for me. But I know, with the same certainty I know the sun will rise tomorrow, that tonight I will go back out onto the balcony.

And this time, perhaps, there won’t be any glass between us.