Female Friends

What started as a paid massage in a small-town hotel turned into something my friend and I swore we’d never tell a soul.

An old ballad comes on the radio and I stop listening to the lyrics. I start seeing something else, a scene I shouldn’t tell you about, but I confess anyway.

Daniela had spent years hiding what she felt for her best friend. That night on the terrace, one word — dare — gave her the excuse she’d never dared seek.

I walked out of the shower thinking no one had seen us. That same night I found on his phone that someone had recorded every moan from the next cubicle.

I thought I was going to spend a quiet afternoon at Renata’s villa. I never imagined I’d end up holding my breath while she gave Ximena orders.

I always thought there was nothing dirtier than feet. That night, barefoot and nervous in my friend’s bed, I found out how wrong I was.

When the elevator doors closed, nobody was pretending anymore. Marina took my hand and guided it under her skirt while you kissed me without taking your eyes off them.

His wife’s friend opened her legs in front of him, smiling, just to show him what he would never get to touch that night.

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.

The taxi rolled through the dark when Lena pulled out a blindfold and covered her eyes. Bruna trusted her best friend, never imagining where that night would lead.

Three days of putting up with her whims were enough: this time Renata wasn’t going to let a single thing slide, and Daniela was about to find out just how far her patience went.

I slipped into the house without making a sound to look for a paper and found my wife with her slipper in hand and her friend over her lap, waiting for punishment.

I saw her at the edge of the water, eating my boyfriend up with her eyes in front of me. That night I taught her, tied up and on her knees in my room, where she belonged.

I returned the apartment keys and, without planning it, that week ended with the confession I never thought I’d tell anyone: two men, a friend, and a single night.

I accepted the dare without thinking: kiss whoever was to my right for five seconds. And to my right was her, the woman who had spent a year pretending not to want me.

You didn’t know us from Adam, but you spent the whole afternoon with your hand in your swimsuit, watching us play. And we knew it from the start.

They went up to the second floor carrying a tray of pastries. None of them imagined they’d learn that afternoon how much desire had been sleeping between the three of them.

When she suggested that the loser take off a piece of clothing, I said yes without thinking. I never imagined what would come next—or that we’d end up naked.

It was the first time I saw her appear in a nightdress at three in the morning, barefoot and with that smile that asked permission without asking.

I went downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water. The back bedroom door was half open, and from inside came a faint light and two conspiratorial laughs.