Desire

He was in his chair, oblivious to everything, wearing his headphones. And I was on his bed, with a silly idea I finally dared to act on that afternoon.

When the attic window gave way to the wind, he no longer saw the servant who served his coffee: he saw the soaked woman who held his whole world together.

She arrives at ten-thirty, leans against the shelter, and crosses her legs. She doesn’t know it, but in my head we’ve already done everything we’d never dare.

My friend thought we’d just come for some fresh air. I’d already picked my prey: the dark-haired man playing with his son ten meters from us.

She knew what they had agreed to, but no words prepared her for what she would feel when she crossed that door and the room closed behind her.

I’d spent hours searching for a spark in other people’s eyes and found nothing. Until I decided to cross the room and put the whole game in his hands.

I used to hide everything. That night I went into the theater without underwear, in a short skirt and with the certainty that someone would look. And I wanted them to.

When the train left without me, I thought the night was lost. Then I saw him at the other end of the platform, motionless, looking at me as if he’d always been waiting.

The paper robe barely covered me. When his hot hands slid down my back, I knew that session wasn’t going to end the way I’d imagined.

Three hours under the sun, soaked in sweat, and from the shade of the tree he saw something on the terrace that took his breath away: they knew he was watching them.

I went into the bathroom wearing my thong and came out with it tied in my hair. I had no idea the line for the theater would be the longest part of the night.

—You don’t have to believe you can —he whispered in her ear—. I do. Your only job tonight is to surrender and let your body obey.

I poured him tea to help him relax, but I knew work wasn’t the only thing making him tense. That night, I decided to do something about it.

I put on my shortest miniskirt just to see if I could make him nervous. I never imagined that night he’d show up again, this time inside my head.

His wife’s friend opened her legs in front of him, smiling, just to show him what he would never get to touch that night.

The steam erased faces and names. Only the heat remained, his fixed gaze on mine, and the certainty that neither of us was going to stop.

I placed my hands on the cold wall, took a deep breath, and understood that on the other side someone was waiting for the invisible permission to start touching me.

We had a pact and one word to stop everything. But as she slept face down, I knew that morning I wasn’t going to say it.

We’d spent years brushing our hands against each other without saying a word. That night, in my dim living room, looks were no longer enough—and none of us wanted to pretend anymore.

I saw her among hundreds of people and knew I was going to look for her. What happened next, by the sea, was the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.