Forbidden

Marisol was sitting on the edge of the bed with the baby at her breast, completely naked, when I pushed the door open. Milk was dripping from her and she didn’t ask me to leave.

They arrived at midnight in short dresses, fishnet stockings, and a perfume that hit me like a punch. In three weeks, my house turned into something else.

When I sat beside her in that workshop, I never imagined that quiet, sad woman would end up whispering, naked in her bed, that she had never felt anything like it.

Anyone would have thought we’d be sated after the banquet the night before. In this house, desire never rests, and that Sunday was about to overflow.

By day I signed as Tomás and no one suspected a thing. That folder accidentally opened on my boss’s tablet was going to shatter eighteen months of silence in one blow.

He had spent years pressing his ear to the walls of cheap motels. One night he found a forum promising more: booths with a view of other people’s pleasure.

Mariana asked me whether I’d ever been curious about kissing another woman. I answered with an impulse that changed what we were forever.

I climbed the stairs barely able to walk, my dress reeking of the whole night. I had no idea my mom was awake, waiting for me in the hallway.

When I walked into the bathroom and found the flowers and that card, I knew that summer would mark me forever, even though I still had no idea how it would end.

I woke with my body burning and my hand between my legs. I never imagined my sister would open the door that morning… or what would happen next.

When we turned off the lights and climbed under the same blanket, I never imagined that silly question about kisses would end with her fingers seeking mine in the dark.

In primary school she loved me more than I could return. Twenty years later, her voice on the phone was the same, and my hands trembled.

It was the first time I saw her in person. I meant to tell her about the pool and the lifeguard, but her hand on my thigh changed the conversation before I finished the sentence.

When I walked into the teachers’ lounge, hands wrapped around me from behind and lips slid down my neck. I recognized her perfume instantly.

The car was so packed there was only one seat left: on her son’s lap. Marisol never imagined five hours on the road would be enough to cross the one line she should never have crossed.

Bruna knelt in the shower in front of her cousin, and none of the women in the bathroom could look away. Not even the mother, who already had her hand under her dress.

When I went into the empty classroom to change, the door opened behind me. It was her, the student council president, and she hadn’t come alone with words.

One split second—a towel slipping, her wet skin under the balcony light—was enough for me to know I’d never be able to look at her the same way again.

I’d been drafting the ad in my head for months; it took me twelve minutes to write it, and half an hour later I already had seven replies. His was the fifth.

Under that loose, demure clothing, you could sense a woman with her desire intact. I only had to wait for her to stop pretending in front of her husband.