In Public

I was half-naked in the car of a man I didn’t know, in a crowded parking garage, and he told me to relax because my checkup was only just beginning.

My adrenaline surged just thinking about it: going out at night to a remote area and letting men I didn’t know use me however they wanted. I knew the risks.

She’d been in all afternoon when she walked in. I knelt to fit her with a heel, and with her bare foot in my hands, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.

We spent weeks looking for an audience on Telegram with no luck. That night, in a dark pine grove, someone parked beside us and kept watching what my girlfriend wanted me to do to her.

No one would imagine those giant, ridiculous sneakers were keeping my secrets. That night on the road, with everyone asleep, I finally dared to do what I’d been fantasizing about.

I had never paid attention to anyone’s feet until that hot afternoon when she stretched one toward me and asked, with a smile, if I dared to touch it.

I chose the spot closest to the water, dropped my bikini, and before lying down, searched for the one who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off me.

No one dared move, but she knew that one gesture from her would be enough to make the whole beach hold its breath and the circle cease to be only sand.

I only wanted to sit in the dim light and touch myself for a while. I didn’t expect a complete stranger three seats away to make me lose my mind.

Neither said it out loud, but both knew it: every gesture under the sun was a challenge, an invitation no one on the beach could ignore that afternoon.

Two gleaming bodies, a circle of men watching, and one unanswered question: would they fight for attention or split it like accomplices?

No one dared move, until she lifted the bottle of oil toward the strangers and, without saying a word, invited them into the game.

When the sun began to sink, neither woman needed words to lead: a single glance was enough for every hand to know where it belonged.

Four hands lifted her above the sand while the whole circle held its breath, waiting to see how far she would dare to go that afternoon.

She had never crossed the threshold of a circle like that, but that afternoon, with her skin covered in oil and salt, Daniela understood that certain desires only exist when shared.

I booked two seats in an almost empty theater and gave one to a stranger who read me. I didn’t know if she’d come until I saw her find her seat in the dark.

The mirror in the dressing room reflected a woman she didn’t recognize. In a few minutes, dozens of strangers would see her naked. And still, she chose to step through the curtain.

I know I shouldn’t, but every time I walk home alone in the early hours I look for him: that stranger who’ll pin me to the wall and not ask permission.

I walked onto the stage without thinking, in front of a room full of strangers and a man who no longer looked at me. That night I stopped begging and started feeling.

The moment I cast off I knew that afternoon wouldn’t end with a simple sail: she was already looking at me differently, with that half-smile promising much more.