Desire

No one in the supermarket, the pharmacy, or the bakery imagined what I had hidden under my clothes. And that was exactly the part that excited me most.

He was twenty-seven, had a girlfriend, and a tidy life. Then that neighbor looked at him on the bus as if he knew something Tobías had not yet dared to name.

I arrived at her place an hour before dinner and found her naked in front of the mirror, torn between two dresses and about to change everything.

When I opened the door I expected to find her alone on the sofa, as always. I hadn’t counted on the second silhouette watching me from the living room’s half-light.

He asked me to hold some tools while squatting down. I knew perfectly well what he was doing, and still I didn’t get up.

You texted me “I’m hungry,” and I knew exactly what you wanted. We’re not a couple, not even my type, but there’s something between us no one would understand.

She caught me looking at her while she leafed through a Cortázar. She held my gaze for three seconds, smiled crookedly, and I knew that afternoon in the bookstore wasn’t ending among books.

I never told anyone, but the moment he leaves, there’s a name and a body that take over my whole imagination.

I was late to dinner, but not because of traffic. It was because of the detour we took to that vacant lot fifty meters from the restaurant.

I put on the smallest bikini I had and went down to the garden just to see his face. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to stop.

The apartment walls were paper-thin, and my girlfriend’s best friend slept just on the other side. That first morning, we pretended not to remember she was there.

I came out of the water shivering with cold and saw her adjusting her bikini in the sun. Neither of us knew that morning would change everything between us.

I paid a fortune to find the perfect wife. The app sent me one profile: Daniela. What I discovered at the hotel wasn’t in any photo.

I took off my bikini in the jacuzzi knowing he was watching me from the roof. What I came to forget became the only thing I remember from the trip.

When Sara came out of Don Aurelio’s cellar, her legs were trembling and she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I knew exactly what had just happened in there.

That night the dare was simple and insane at the same time: cross the property naked, on all fours, right past the window where anyone could see me.

He came up behind my son with Bruno pressed against my back, holding my breath. I knew it was wrong, and that was exactly why I couldn’t stop.

It had been less than five minutes into the movie when his hand was already reaching under my shorts, and instead of pulling away, I prayed no one in the theater would turn to look at us.

I had spent half a year clinging to a memory and to my nights alone. On Friday I took off my panties at a rest stop and drove the rest of the way shaking.

I’d spent years swallowing her taunts and playing the patient friend. That August afternoon, on her balcony facing the sea, something inside me broke.