Forbidden

That night in the hotel I discovered that desire doesn’t care about promises. My husband served me up to his best friend, and I let myself be handed over.

When I went up to his room to see why he hadn’t come down for lunch, my son asked me to close the door. He had something to show me on his cellphone.

I caught her naked in bed, with two fingers buried in her cunt. What I didn’t expect was for my own mother to show up and join the game without asking.

I promised him I wouldn’t mind hearing about his dirtiest memory. I lied. By the time he finished, I already had mine ready.

I’d rejected him a hundred times, called him the ugly duckling in front of everyone. When I opened my eyes, my wrists were hanging from a bar and he had a whip.

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.

My husband thought kisses and promises had fixed everything. But that night I learned that true betrayal needs no bodies, only precise words and a cruel smile.

I heard him out patiently and smiled. I wasn’t going to argue with his fantasy. I was going to take it to the very end, right where he never dared to look.

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.

We had been married for years when she confessed that her greatest fantasy wasn’t with another man. It was me and another woman—and she had the perfect candidate waiting.

When Ricardo explained what he wanted to do with me and his five friends at the country house, I should have said no. I thought about it for six days before saying yes.

Camila was already on the bed when I walked in. She looked at me with that smile of someone who knows something you still don’t, and then the Master closed the door behind us.

When Doña Hilda opened the door and looked us up and down, I knew that night by the fire would cost us far more than a dry roof.

I thought everyone was asleep when I got naked in the pool. Then I heard the kitchen door and saw her silhouette approaching, not hurrying to look away.

We’d been in a comfortable rut for months. That afternoon in the pine grove, with another couple three meters away, my girlfriend decided she was done waiting for me to do everything.

The sun burned our naked skin while Damián split me open without mercy, and in the water, a few meters away, my mother discovered that she was hungry too.

I had gone three days without sleeping properly, replaying every detail of that night with him in my head. That morning, with my coffee growing cold, I picked up the phone.

I was only going to try on some jeans. She was on the other side of the curtain, with a smile unlike the one she gave any ordinary customer.