Desire

I stepped into the center of the circle thinking I had the situation under control. I had no idea my shorts would slowly ride up until they left me nearly exposed in front of everyone.

He stopped the car in front of the building with shaking hands. She was waiting behind the window, and both of them knew that glass of wine was only the beginning.

By day he was the atelier’s perfect assistant; by night he tried on lace in front of the mirror. One photo was enough for someone to discover who he really was.

That night flight began as a chat between friends and ended with a confession: in my bed there was always room for my husband, for my lover, and, that night, for her.

My friendship with that rough but good-hearted old man took a turn one afternoon over wine, in a lost village, when he whispered what he planned to do with me.

She climbed the ladder in front of me, wearing nothing under her nightgown, and I knew I wasn’t leaving that house the same man.

I sat in the dim light, determined not to touch anyone and only observe. But my fingers had other plans as I watched her give herself to two men a meter away from me.

I spent weeks thinking about her every night, until that dinner ended in the car seat, with her hand finding what I could barely hide.

I was only going to have a beer with her while waiting for the couple she’d arranged to meet. I’d never been to a club like that, and curiosity got the better of me.

Every night a different car arrived at the house across the street and the lights went out, all but one. That night I went to the window—and couldn’t stop looking.

My boyfriend went on a thirty-day trip and I promised myself I’d hold out. I lasted fifteen. What came next turned me into someone I no longer recognize.

When I started teasing Diego inside the tent, Camila had her eyes closed. But her hand was already moving under the sleeping bag, and I knew she wasn’t asleep at all.

I’d spent the whole night with three men and I still felt insatiable. So I picked up my phone and wrote: “Are you ready not to let me sleep all weekend?”

I only wanted to breathe away from the smoke and the jokes. I never imagined I’d watch, from the back seat of my own car, what that stranger dared to do to my wife.

She was thirty-eight, had a predictable husband, and a body nobody had ever known how to read. That night, alone at home, she decided she wanted to feel something at last.

We worked in the same building, and one brush in the elevator was enough for me to understand I was about to lose something I thought untouchable: my will.

When my friend opened the bag, there was no uniform at all—just wings, a garter belt, and fishnet stockings. And the trailer was already waiting to set off.

I chose the town’s most coveted guy not because I loved him, but because I needed someone I could shape while my head was somewhere else.

He texted me to ask where I was. Twenty minutes later I was in the back of his tram, biting my lips so I wouldn’t make a sound.

Every time she leaned over to write down my answers, her vest opened a little more, and I could no longer concentrate on a single question in the questionnaire.