Exhibitionism

Marina hadn’t slept from excitement. What none of the three of us imagined was that that hidden cove would strip us of a lot more than our clothes.

We went down to the garage to play like we used to when we were dating. What we didn’t expect was that someone else would be awake among the cars that night.

I only needed a bathroom that hot afternoon. What that old man at the garage did with his phone left me trapped and at his mercy for days.

Most of the time I’m the man I was born as. But some nights I put on the wig, look in the mirror, and let Sabrina go out looking for what she really wants.

I left home in an ordinary dress, but underneath I was wearing something only he would see. I knew what he was going to ask for, and I had already decided to say yes.

I came home from my second date with my heart racing, never imagining that my own husband would ask me that night to tell him everything.

I thought those photos were mine alone—until she counted to five by the ships and hiked up her dress without warning.

When I blindfolded her, I didn’t expect to see the old man on the balcony watching us. And instead of lowering the blind, I offered my girlfriend to him.

She wore absolutely nothing beneath her long coat, and as soon as the doors closed, I sent the elevator to the top floor to have her all to myself.

When I was down to just my bra and thong, my friend climbed onto the stage and asked for the music to start over. She didn’t want to leave me alone up there.

I was furious at my husband’s idea, but when I took off my last piece of clothing and floated naked in front of them both, I realized I liked it more than I should have.

I crept barefoot down the hallway while he slept, determined to give my husband the cuckolding he wanted so badly—but on my terms: he’d never know he already had it.

We’d been married twelve years, and I’d never seen her so fully in command of herself as that afternoon, standing in the water and letting strange men look at her.

I boarded the last car expecting a quiet trip. I never imagined the woman in the green dress would invite me to watch what her partner was about to do to her.

I told her she set the limit. What I didn’t expect was how much I would enjoy standing aside and watching others discover her.

The first time it was just a reflection in the glass: a still silhouette on the other side of the courtyard, watching her eat breakfast in her robe. She didn’t pull the curtain. She didn’t close it either.

When I pulled her thong down to put cream on her, I noticed the couple next to us had stopped pretending. And then I understood that watching was part of the game too.

I thought arriving at the dead hour would protect me from their eyes. I didn’t count on them coming in to clean just as I got out of the shower.

I hid on the stair landing just to hear his deep voice talking about my body. I knew it was wrong. I also knew I couldn’t stop listening.

She had been beside me, watching as I lost myself in the painting. When she finally spoke, I knew we both wanted exactly the same thing.