Fantasies

Bored in front of the television and alone in a bed that was too large, she closed her eyes and let her hand do what she hadn’t allowed herself to do for two years.

In front of the mirror, adjusting my garter and blonde wig, I allow myself the most dangerous luxury of all: imagining someone who stays afterward.

I had two options: stop everything and push her away from him, or give him free rein to take what I wanted most. I chose the worse one.

I never told her what I imagined at night while she slept beside me. This is the confession I’ve kept silent since we arrived in that city.

I had kept that fantasy to myself for years, never even telling my husband. That night, in a house that wasn’t mine, I stopped imagining it and started living it.

I’m thirty-four and I never doubted what I was. Until that seed started growing inside me, silent and persistent, and I could no longer ignore it.

I chose the spot closest to the water, dropped my bikini, and before lying down, searched for the one who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off me.

No one dared move, but she knew that one gesture from her would make the whole beach hold its breath and turn the circle from mere sand into something else.

“I’m your lady and I order you to stay still,” she whispered. I had survived three combat missions, but nothing had prepared me to obey her.

I only wanted to sit in the dim light and touch myself for a while. I didn’t expect a complete stranger three seats away to make me lose my mind.

I hated her with all my might, and yet with her body bound over mine and the gag swallowing her insults, my body betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Neither said it out loud, but both knew it: every gesture under the sun was a challenge, an invitation no one on the beach could ignore that afternoon.

Two gleaming bodies, a circle of men watching, and one unanswered question: would they fight for attention or split it like accomplices?

The rule had always been the same: her virginity was untouchable. Tonight, before a room full of hungry men, that rule would break before the highest bidder.

I was trained to please and obey, but that half-open door awakened something else: a spark of defiance that even cold rings against my skin couldn’t extinguish.

I had imagined it in silence for years, telling no one. That night, at the bar of a hotel that wasn’t mine, a stranger made the choice for me.

I was still naked on the bed when the door opened, and for a second neither of us knew what to do with what the other had just seen.

I went down to the study that night only to discover the plan they had for me. And instead of running, I knelt and said yes to everything.

When he pinned the man who had been harassing her, Mariela felt something she shouldn’t: the certainty that that boy could do anything he wanted with her.

No one dared to move until she raised the bottle of oil toward the strangers and, without a word, invited them to join the game.