Confessions

Everyone suspects what I am from the way I dress, but I never confirm it. It’s my secret, and telling it anonymously turns me on more than anything else.

We’d spent months fucking under the rule that he was straight. That night, with my plan on hold, he looked at me in silence and I knew something was about to break.

When the whiskey spilled on my pink dress, I knew that wedding wouldn’t end the way I thought. I didn’t know the bride’s uncle would be waiting for me in the darkest hallway.

I’d never been attracted to men, but that figure on the screen stirred something I couldn’t name. Then she offered to pay me.

For weeks I’d been pretending everything was fine, until that night a man looked at me the way my husband had stopped looking at me, and I chose not to resist.

I was forty-four, had two daughters, and a recent divorce when the girl from across the street looked at me differently and said what I didn’t dare think.

We were up in the cherry tree stealing fruit when Hugo confessed the obsession he’d carried since childhood. That same afternoon, his mother still had no idea what was coming.

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

At three in the morning, Damián was still sunk into my sofa, shirt soaked with sweat and breathing heavy. And I was no longer thinking about anything else.

She was twenty-five and, on paper, his stepmother. Dinner began with seafood and white wine, and neither of them planned to end it at his place.

I thought the party was over when I closed the door. But she was still barefoot on my sofa, glass on her knee and another box in her hands.

I want to put on my wig, make myself up, and give in to a stranger who’s read my stories. One night only, no strings, before it’s too late.

Lucía was the most proper girl in the school crowd. That night I saw her walk into the birthday party in a miniskirt and realized the Sunday-Mass girl was gone.

It was seven in the morning, I’d just broken up with my girlfriend by text, and my neighbor was still face down in my bed. I wasn’t about to waste the morning.

That night I went downstairs for a glass of water and never made it to the kitchen. What I saw in the shadows of the corner left me frozen for an hour.

When Bruno looked up from his monitor and saw his boss staring at his mother, he knew he had two options: make a scene or stay silent.

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 told myself it was just curiosity. I uploaded four photos, used my fake name, and waited to see if anyone still looked at me. That same week, Matías appeared.

Her white T-shirt soaked with sweat, her nipples pressing through the fabric, and the question thrown between two glasses of wine: is what they say about you and Lucía true?

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.