Couple

A comment at the office was enough for him to decide his wife would go into surgery. Not for the baby: to remain the sole owner of her body.

Maite knew that when Andrés lowered his voice to that deep whisper, the decision had already been made—and all she had left to do was obey.

My lover left me wanting more, but my husband knew exactly how to treat me: without romance, without mercy, like the submissive I am.

She had spent years deciding who obeyed and who begged. None of her clients knew that behind the mirror, someone was studying how to dethrone her.

I came back from the bar with a beer in my hand and saw her dancing with him. Nothing happened... or did it? The question sank in, and to my shame, it turned me on too.

I had spent thirty years closing projects for the company. On my farewell trip, I never imagined the woman traveling beside me would be the one to say goodbye to me in a different way.

We always thought no one could see us. That lie we told ourselves was the beginning of everything that came after, night after night.

It started as a joke in the park: “Should I wrap him up so we can take him home?” Months later, a hidden camera would turn that joke into something else.

From the dance floor we were already sneaking our hands to each other; what we didn’t finish in the car, we continued in my room, unhurried and unclothed.

We went up to hang the laundry under any pretext. Among the water tanks on the rooftop, I discovered she was as impatient as I was to stop pretending.

I knew something was wrong the second I saw his face when he came in. No greeting, just calculated coldness and an order: “Say out loud what you’re responsible for.”

It began with a twisted ankle on the court and ended many weeks later, one night when her house was empty and there was no longer any reason to hold back.

Our bedroom window faced his rooftop exactly. That night I realized the idea of being watched aroused me more than I’d ever admit.

I agreed to my boyfriend’s fantasy believing we’d both come out ahead. That night, while I was screaming in one room, he heard everything from the other side of the door.

I left the curtains open on purpose and pretended not to see him. He, standing on his rooftop, didn’t miss a single detail of my naked body.

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.

A yellow Post-it on the little box said just one word: “Play me.” It was two in the morning, and curiosity beat out the night’s accumulated exhaustion.

I turned on the system from the office just to keep an eye on the tools. What came up on the screen was my wife taking off her bikini in front of him.

—Marina, you won’t believe this: I went in to clean the room and there was a couple in the bed. And I just stood there watching from the doorway, unable to move.

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.