Fantasies

Marcos almost choked when I told him what I’d done. What came next surpassed any fantasy we’d imagined in six years together.

He had the kind of arms you notice even when you try not to. He said goodbye in thirty seconds and went back upstairs. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Andrés thought he was alone in the sports center showers. When he looked up and saw the coach watching him from the door, it was already too late to stop.

I had him drunk in my hands. Months of fantasies about my roommate, and now only his wet underwear stood between us.

The bet was simple: the boldest costume wins. What Sonia didn’t expect was for Vera to walk out of her room wearing nothing but a bow and a smile.

For months I’d been fantasizing about seeing her with another man. When I suggested the trip to Valeria, all three of us knew something was about to change forever.

It was my first day settling into the house when I heard splashing in the pool. I looked out and saw them naked, kissing, completely unaware of me.

When Sandra came out of the shop with that smile I knew so well, I knew that night there was no turning back. I had given her permission. Now I just had to watch.

The most powerful voice in the country put her card in my hand with one instruction. Half an hour later, I was standing at her door.

I followed him on Instagram out of curiosity and ended up reading his texts at midnight, heart racing. Just text. Just words. Just him.

He adjusted the binoculars toward the lit fourth-floor window and found something that hadn’t been meant for him.

She was alone at the water’s edge when he arrived. Ricardo watched them from above, unable to look away. What happened wasn’t meant for anyone else.

I had the apartment to myself, candles lit, and a toy waiting in the drawer. The first time had failed; this time would be different.

When she saw what was sticking out of that hole in the wall, I knew there was no turning back. My anniversary gift would take us farther than we ever imagined.

I’d spent years imagining that moment. When it finally came, sitting in that armchair while Camila and Diego looked into each other’s eyes, I could barely breathe.

Three days in Paris, four men dead in their beds, and an anonymous message summoned me over the Seine. I never imagined crossing that bridge meant leaving myself behind.

My heels were killing me and the wig was itching, but when that man looked at me from across the room, I knew the night had only just begun.

I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone, but I couldn’t stop imagining another man inside her, moaning louder than she ever moaned for me.

When she closed her fingers around the card, she whispered that I had twenty minutes to decide whether I was going up to her apartment or staying a journalist.

When I opened my eyes in that black marble suite, she was there, naked, looking at me like she’d known me forever. And maybe death was my best accident.