The Mature Man I Found in the Kitchen That Night
When I went downstairs to the kitchen it was three in the morning. He was sitting there with a cup in his hand, bare-chested, looking at me as if he’d been waiting for me.
When I went downstairs to the kitchen it was three in the morning. He was sitting there with a cup in his hand, bare-chested, looking at me as if he’d been waiting for me.
I thought I knew myself well. Valentina took just three weeks to prove I was completely wrong — and I was infinitely grateful to her.
The first time I saw him, I knew he was a mistake. A mistake I spent three years avoiding, until the night he knocked on my door at two in the morning.
Still tasting her skin on my lips, I knew that night in the car would change everything I thought I knew about desire.
I gave her permission to be with another man. What I didn’t expect was to be glued to the phone, listening to everything, unable to hang up.
I knew there would be consequences for being late. What I didn’t know was that Marcos had planned something far worse than punishment.
I was taking a deep breath in front of the bedroom door when his hands wrapped around my waist from behind. I wasn’t ready for what came next.
That giant of a man was eating a sandwich at the bar. One look was enough to know I’d be back at the nightclub door that night looking for him.
When Valeria corrected his form on the machine, he couldn’t help making it obvious. She saw it, smiled, and offered him something that wasn’t in any training plan.
The garden was dark when Marcos dragged me behind the hedges. What followed, amid champagne and bodies, was nobody’s plan.
Too wired on caffeine to sleep, I went down to the lobby and there she was: blonde, elegant, with a coffee cup in her hands and that smile that wasn’t quite innocent.
I parked a block away so I wouldn’t make noise. The lights were off, but from the back of the house came laughter that didn’t fit any quiet gathering.
I’d gone three months without anyone, and when I saw him walk into the lobby I knew that night was going to be different. I wasn’t wrong.
I walked to school feeling Ramiro’s semen between my legs. The day had barely begun.
When Natalia started taking off her blouse, I understood that goodbye wasn’t going to be like the others. I was 18 and had never touched a woman.
When I got out of the shower, Sebastián had the pink garments in his hand and that steady look I knew I wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Under his jacket, something was moving. I should have left. Instead, I slipped my hand in, and what happened next changed that summer forever.
I walked barefoot down the hallway and rested my forehead against the bedroom door. I knew he’d come after me. And I knew exactly what he was going to do to me there.
It was only a game to make friends, but when she asked if she could come over that night, I knew we’d crossed a line I wanted to cross.
I accepted without thinking. I read everything he posted. I never liked a single post. Three years later, I still don’t dare write to him, but I think of him every night.