Hotel

I went out to clear my head with a bottle of tequila still in my hand. I had no idea that crossing paths with him in the hallway would change everything that night.

My wife noticed the waiter watching her as he served the tea, and I came up with the most forbidden idea of the entire trip: inviting him upstairs.

When the dressing room door opened, I knew it wasn’t my assistant. It was him, and he had that look that made me choose between desire and guilt.

—I need you to sleep with my fiancée —he told me, as calmly as if he were asking the time. And I still didn’t know the trip would change me more than it changed them.

I had promised Daniel I would never look at another man. And yet, when he closed the door to that room, I was the one who took the first step.

I never imagined I’d be the one pushing my wife toward another man, but there I was, reading every email with a racing pulse and a dry mouth.

She dissected other people’s minds for a living; so did he. Sharing a table was enough for them both to stop pretending they only wanted conversation.

I’d known her for almost thirty years. She was my girlfriend, my impossible love, my daughter’s godmother. That night she came into the bathroom wrapped in a towel and let it fall.

Sebastián told her to destroy it all. The only thing she destroyed was the promise she’d made to him, in the bed of a stranger who smelled like triumph.

She told me, “Distrust my husband,” and I laughed. Three months later, my wife walked into my office unable to look me in the eye.

I accepted the massage out of curiosity and because of the heat of his hands. What I didn’t imagine was how much I’d be willing to pay before his alarm went off.

I went down to the pool in my underwear just to provoke him. I never imagined I’d end that same night begging him not to stop inside me.

I’d spent months seeing her in a sweater and glasses behind the monitor. That night, in a wine-colored dress and with a few drinks in her, she looked at me in a way that changed everything.

When I left them alone at the hotel bar, I only wanted to give them some privacy. I never imagined she’d go upstairs with another man while I waited below.

She accepted the job to escape a dead relationship. What she never imagined was that that arrogant boss hid a man capable of taking her breath away.

That morning I opened the envelope expecting a phone number. I found ten thousand euros and a three-word note that shattered me completely.

We booked the hotel to rest, but what I had in my backpack had other plans for that cold, rainy night.

I’d spent years giving massages to strangers, but none had ever made me tremble like that on the table, waiting for him to beg first.

When my mother opened the door and I saw who was coming to dinner, my blood ran cold: it was the man I’d been secretly sleeping with for two months.

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.