Desire

I didn’t want her to belong to anyone else. And yet, every night I closed my eyes and imagined her giving herself to men who didn’t even look at me.

A firm hand on her nape was enough for her to understand that tonight I made the rules. The rest depended on whether she dared to stay.

Her ass was offered up, the whip still unused in my hand, and she was begging me to begin. But the master’s pleasure is different: making her wait until fear and desire blur together.

While my husband was sucking on my breasts in front of the mirror, I was thinking about her and the body of the man we’d be having dinner with that night.

I asked Damián to come with me and wait in the waiting room. The doctor invited him in. I said nothing. That silence changed everything.

For twelve years I’d been fading in silence. That night I put on the dress he hated, left without saying a word, and came back changed.

Marina had spent months pretending not to look at him. That night, trapped between the cold glass and her boss’s heat, she stopped pretending.

Every time I walked into the garage, he looked up before he even heard the door. That afternoon, with the shutter half down, I stopped pretending.

It started with private jokes and ended with screenshots neither of us should ever have shown the other. She liked girls; I liked her audacity.

What we had lived in the shadows, hidden from everyone. It took me eleven months to understand that, for him, I had never been anything more than a game between friends.

In front of the bedroom mirror, she discovered her body still knew how to ask. What she did not expect was for someone to be willing to listen that very night.

We had whispered about it a thousand times and I never believed it would happen. But that night she knelt in the middle of the room and all I could do was sit and watch.

The light stayed red, his latest photo stayed on my screen, and my hands had already stopped asking permission. I just had to get home. Or not.

I don’t know who you are or where you are, but as I write this I imagine you reading me, and that idea is exactly what’s soaking my thong.

As soon as I heard her keys fighting the lock, I knew I’d have to play it cool. What I didn’t know was that she’d come home determined not to let me off the hook.

She stood in front of her bedroom door, holding her breath. One step more and reason would have burned away between us.

She agreed to share her bed only so she wouldn’t lose me. She had no idea how far I was willing to go so I wouldn’t lose her.

He whispered it in my ear while I was still trembling: “What if next time it’s just two for you?” I didn’t know how to say no, and I didn’t want to.

I lay naked on the table on purpose, not covering myself, just to see what he’d do when he came in with the hot oil.

Twenty years married, and each hid a secret of their own: him in strangers’ bathrooms, me not yet knowing what the yoga woman was about to awaken in me.