Fantasies

He let his hand slide down his abdomen in the darkness and allowed the scene to form: him in the middle of the couch, his wife on one side, her friend on the other, an impossible kiss.

At ten sharp I walk into the boardroom and, while the boss talks numbers, my head goes to a place where she and I don’t obey any rules.

She sits two chairs to my left and, while the family talks, my head already has her astride my lap. No one knows. Not even her. Not yet.

He only wanted a decent shirt. But then she looked up from behind the counter, and Andrés’s mind began inventing what was never going to happen.

I’d kept that desire locked away for years. That dawn, drunk and defenseless, I let it slip in front of the one person who could make it real.

I thought she was telling me those stories to make me jealous. It took me a while to understand that what was turning me on was something far darker and harder to admit.

We’d been living in routine for fifteen years until a toy forgotten in a drawer sparked something neither of us knew how to control. And that was only the beginning.

His mother had a habit of adjusting her thong as she walked, even when she knew I was watching. That afternoon, her empty bedroom proved too tempting to resist.

I didn’t want her to belong to anyone else. And yet every night I closed my eyes and imagined her giving herself to men who didn’t even look at me.

She came to pose as queen of the underworld. I fired the flash again and again, professional as ever, until she spread her legs and I understood the session was something else.

There is one instant, just when the door closes and I hear the car driving away, when I stop being her husband and become something very different.

The toy was still on the nightstand, staring at me like a witness. And my body remembered everything she’d taught me just hours before.

We had whispered about it a thousand times and I never believed it would happen. But that night she knelt in the middle of the room and all I could do was sit and watch.

I thought selling a few photos would be harmless. But that night, phone in hand, I discovered how badly I wanted someone who was only my friend.

I had forty minutes of class ahead of me, the camera on and the entire dildo inside me. I only had to keep my face still. That was all.

He had been sleeping pressed against her back for a week to soothe the baby. A week of pretending not to notice what was happening between them in the dark.

She came downstairs with a smile that was no longer the same and one hand hidden behind her back. “Guess what I’ve brought,” she said. That night I understood what she was becoming.

It’s eleven, I’m alone again, and your last message is still glowing on the screen. I turn off the light, and then my mind —and my hands— decide for me.

A month went by without hearing from him. When he finally wrote, I knew that night I was going to give him something I’d never dared to give before.

The light stayed red, his latest photo stayed on my screen, and my hands had already stopped asking permission. I just had to get home. Or not.