Fantasy

I stepped into the shower to wash off the day’s exhaustion and ended up on the floor, the stream between my legs, calling your name under my breath.

I’d been walking for half an hour when the heat between my legs stopped being an idea and became urgency. The concrete wall was cold; I was burning.

He doesn’t know that when he closes his chat window, I turn off the light and let my hands do what his hands could never do to me from so far away.

The rain was hitting the window and the house was silent. I had the whole afternoon to myself, and for the first time I decided to stop imagining it and feel it for real.

I never thought something as stupid as a comb could leave me trembling, alone in my room, biting my lip so I wouldn’t scream.

There was no one home, no plan, no excuse. Just me, the sofa in front of the window, and the dangerous idea of leaving everything on display.

I closed my eyes to imagine a stranger, but when I opened them I found half the site watching me from the scaffolding. And I didn’t want to stop.

I stripped off because of the heat, closed my eyes, and suddenly there she was, in black lace lingerie, straddling me in my empty bed.

He’d been thinking about it for weeks. The box arrived on an ordinary Tuesday, with no sender, and Adrián hid it in the closet until the house fell silent.

He was thousands of miles away and I woke up burning. I opened my laptop, read what my readers fantasized about me, and let my hands do the rest.

At first it was just a little game under hot water. Then I needed more, and one day, with two strangers at my door, I twisted it into something that changed everything.

It was two in the morning when I finally gave in to sleep. I never imagined something would slide between my sheets and wake a desire I thought was asleep.

They arrived in a box with no return address. I never imagined that same night I’d end up locked in my room, biting my pillow so no one could hear me.

It had been ten years since anyone had touched me with those intentions. That afternoon, face down on the therapist’s table, I discovered my body still knew exactly what it wanted.

Your message arrived before the coffee: “What would you do to me?” And I, naked and half awake, knew that question was going to cost me the whole morning.

The whole house silent, the keys still in my hand, and an idea crossing my mind as I looked at the fruit bowl on the kitchen table.

I came home from the gym burning up, stripped in front of the mirror, and knew that shower wasn’t going to be like the others: a freshly opened package was waiting for me.

I’ve been writing for half an hour and I no longer know whether the hands running over that skin are the character’s or mine on my own body.

I had the house to myself, two toys in the drawer, and an idea that had been haunting me for weeks. That night I was finally going to dare.

I turned off the alarm with one thought in my head, and I knew that shower was going to take far longer than it should.