Confessions

I first saw her cheering from the stands, with wet hair and that easy laugh. Ten days later, behind the fronton, she taught me something I’ve never forgotten.

He shut the room door with all my clothes in his hands and left me on my knees, naked, with one order: “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

We had arranged to exchange some photos. What neither of us said aloud was that this reunion had been waiting for months to happen.

I’d spent months imagining it and couldn’t bring myself to admit it. That afternoon, an ordinary conversation was enough to send everything out of control.

I thought I controlled everything at home, until the woman I married made it clear who really ruled the three of us.

When her number appeared on the screen as a missed call, I knew that night in the mountains was going to break something in her that could never be put back together.

When he had us go up on the stage and people started betting on what we were wearing under our dresses, I knew the luxury party was no longer normal.

For years I told myself I was the typical straight guy. I was lying. My hand jobs were for the guys in the locker room, and it took me too long to admit it.

I came to Buenos Aires to save up a little money for my family. I never imagined the nicest house in the neighborhood would change my life the way it did.

I’d spent weeks avoiding her, convinced what we had was over. Then the phone rang and her voice was enough to tell me I’d fall again.

We’d met to review for finals, but by six o’clock the books were closed and no one wanted to leave. What came after still makes my pulse race.

At eighteen I entered medical school with the country’s highest score. At twenty-four I still didn’t know what an orgasm was. This is my story.

We thought it was a twenty-block ride. Neither Lucía nor I imagined we’d get off that bus as two completely different women.

He’d been ignoring me for weeks. That night I dressed for another man, and just as I was kissing him at the next table, he walked in arm in arm with a stranger.

Every week we stared at the photos by the entrance without daring to go in. The night we crossed that door, I discovered how far I could go with him watching me.

When she told me what really turned her on, I knew we were opening a door we’d never be able to close again. And I didn’t want to close it.

Everyone at the university knew what I was like, and the guard at the gate only needed a smile to understand that that afternoon, after cleaning up, I wouldn’t be leaving so fast.

I stopped my bike in front of Andrés’s house not knowing his mother was waiting for me in the doorway, and that that empty afternoon would change everything between us.

She lowered her dress's zipper in front of the entryway mirror and, seeing herself surrounded by his arms, knew there was no going back that night.

I took my time handing her coat over, enjoying the way men looked at her. I never imagined one would dare that much in front of me.