Fantasies

She grabbed my arm in the middle of the street and whispered that if I let her go, she might disappear. I had no idea how far that night would go or what price I’d pay for following her.

When I walked into the café and recognized him, I knew that photo session wouldn’t stay just a photo session. His gaze had already undressed me before I said a word.

I left the sheer babydoll hanging where he’d see it, planned every move, and waited to see how far the guy in 4B would dare go.

I thought it was the receptionist coming back for something she’d forgotten. It was her, with that smile that never meant anything innocent, and the lock turning behind her.

It was two in the morning, we were alone on the 25th floor, and her back was stiff. What started as a favor ended up becoming something else.

He only had to come too close for the heat we had denied for months to give us both away. That night there was no way to keep pretending.

That witching night, he wasn’t expecting company. But something cold materialized at the foot of his bed and whispered his name as if it knew all death.

She entered uninvited, with a smile that promised pleasure and concealed hunger. That night, every body she touched stopped belonging to itself forever.

Diego was touching himself while thinking of Nadia when his desire opened a door sealed for eighteen hundred years. What crossed through was hungry, and the city would be its feast.

If we ordered beer, we said goodbye. If we ordered wine, we stayed. I never imagined how far that glass she chose without hesitation would take us.

We went into the shower just to shake off the day’s fatigue. We came out with something very different in mind and a challenge neither of us intended to lose.

Tomás gave me a massage as a gift, but he didn’t tell me he’d be learning to give it alongside the masseuse. What happened in that room surpassed anything we’d fantasized about.

“I was expecting you today,” she said, and Tomás realized their chance reunion was anything but accidental.

Confessing how many partners we’d had was only the beginning. What she proposed that night, with my taste still in her mouth, was unlike anything we’d discussed before.

I sent him a photo of a little box and four words: “tonight I’ll play with you.” I didn’t know the new toy wasn’t for me, but for him.

I went upstairs to lock myself away, thinking no one had seen me. I had my fingers between my legs and my eyes closed when I felt the door give way slowly behind me.

They humiliated him every day at school until an unmarked bottle promised him strength. What he took that night turned him into someone unrecognizable.

A stranger’s hand brushed my waist just before I left the bar. One question in my ear was enough to make me forget my friends and follow that couple home.

I never told my partner. But when I close my eyes, I’m no longer the one in control: someone comes in, holds me down, and my body stops obeying me.

When he lingered half a second too long on her feet, I knew something inside me had broken. And, to my surprise, jealousy wasn’t the first thing I felt.