Exhibitionism

I told Mateo I would tan on my front. I never told him the real pleasure was knowing every passing man stopped to stare at me.

I agreed to my boyfriend’s fetish and went out dressed to be stared at. I never imagined I’d end up alone with a police officer who watched me too closely.

When the obi tightened around her waist, she knew there was no turning back: every fold erased a little more of her, and she had never desired anything with such shame.

The night before leaving, we turned on the screen, played the videos from that mansion, and let the memories prepare us for what the island had in store.

I thought she was asleep while a blonde approached me on the beach. When we got back, she admitted she had watched everything through half-closed eyes.

I was twenty-six and thought I knew my limits. A stranger on the sand and my husband’s complicit gaze showed me I knew nothing.

My boyfriend thought I wouldn’t dare. He bet I’d only get the gardener worked up from the window, but that afternoon he ended up on his knees in front of me.

I told a stranger that my wife was sleeping naked at home without thinking, and that sentence rekindled something that had been smoldering between us for years.

The first order came at seven in the evening, and I understood that night I would obey everything without asking, in front of a camera and a man I knew only through his written voice.

I went up to the apartment alone to shower before the others. What I didn’t expect was someone across the courtyard waiting for exactly that moment.

When the theater lights went out, I knew that night we were going to cross a line neither of us would want to uncross.

A gust of wind tore the towel away on the last step. She didn’t cover herself. She only looked at me, as if she’d been waiting weeks for me to come down at that hour.

When her boss offered to take me out to buy the drinks, my husband was left looking like a fool. I already knew that outing wouldn’t be innocent.

We drew teams and I ended up with her. Within minutes, I realized she'd noticed everything—and that she enjoyed watching as much as I enjoyed being watched.

It was nine on a Sunday morning, and I was the only person out on the street. That’s why I was the only one who saw her leave the shop almost naked, unaware that I was watching.

Everyone at the office talked about Marcos’s wife’s body. I only wanted to see it with my own eyes, even if I had to invent a dismissal to do it.

I started dancing just to entertain my husband, but the nervous look on the young man across from us made it clear that night wasn’t going to end with a dance.

I mapped a jungle where no one spoke my language, yet among clay-painted bodies, I finally stopped feeling like a ghost.

We don't expose ourselves so people can watch us; we simply stop hiding. And if a blind shifts beyond the hedge, she smiles and spreads her legs a little wider.

Sonia was waiting for me at the restaurant door in a dress so short that every time she breathed it told a secret. And I had come ready to tell mine.