Father Daughter

I tied him up so he wouldn’t bite me. I washed him among the ruins. What I discovered that night between the empty shelves changed who I was forever.

We were having a perfect day when she came to sit on my lap. I never imagined that one touch, one curiosity, and one mistake of mine would erase the line between father and daughter.

When Joaquín introduced us to his new partner, a blonde ten years older, I never imagined we’d end up breaking every limit in our family that very night.

Rodrigo kept watching me every time I crossed the living room. I’d known for months, and that afternoon I decided it was time to collect a debt.

They tried to pry a secret out of me. What I didn’t know was that they were hiding something much bigger—and that afternoon would change our family forever.

The key turned in the lock at the worst possible moment. Or the best. Dad didn’t even stop when my uncle appeared in the doorway and saw us.

When I heard the door opening, I knew it was my son. It was already too late to stop what was happening, and I didn’t want to.

The brothers surrounded me in the stable and told me what nobody in town knew. Their sister belonged to everyone. Their father gave the order. And I was eighteen, with my eyes wide open.

When I crossed the hall, I heard every taboo I had crunched beneath my feet. I reached his door naked, with only my hair over my shoulders.

My wife whispered in my ear that she wanted that young body too. That night, on the living room sofa, everything forbidden stopped being forbidden.

Forty-five years old, a growing belly, and a chastity device my own daughter controls from across the bar. This is my life now.

They came down to the kitchen with serious looks on their faces. I thought it was over. What they said next turned that night into something none of us could undo.

We were having dinner like any other Sunday when my father dropped the line. Three hours later, my brother and I were closing the door to their bedroom, not knowing what we’d be by morning.

At five in the morning, heels in hand and her dress sliding off her shoulders, Renata got into the car with me and made me a proposal I shouldn’t have accepted.

It was three in the morning when I peeked into my parents’ room and saw my father in front of the television. I didn’t leave. I kept watching.

At eleven we turned off the movie. At midnight I curled up against his chest. At one he kissed me in a way he never should have. And I, a virgin, knew I was his.

They thought she wanted jewelry or a trip. When they asked what she really desired, there was nothing left to do but say the one thing she had never dared speak aloud.

Three weeks after discovering the hidden monitors in my father-in-law’s office, the screen flickered on by itself, just as he was already behind his daughter.

The dress was French-blue voile, almost transparent. My father was in front of me. My husband to the left. And the French guest still didn’t understand what was going to happen that night.

At two in the morning I went downstairs barefoot for a glass of water and heard them arguing in low voices about me, with that married-couple tone.