In Public

When I felt his erection pressed against my ass, I knew I wasn’t going to move. And I knew, too, that at the next station, we were both getting off.

I watched her legs cross the stage and knew I wouldn’t make it through the day. Desire led me to the last bathroom stall, alone with my own need.

I closed my eyes to imagine a stranger, but when I opened them I found half the site watching me from the scaffolding. And I didn’t want to stop.

I was hanging the laundry in the middle of the night, cold and bored, when something in the silence of the patio lit me up inside and I couldn’t stop.

The video came without warning: him in his car, the light red and one hand not on the wheel. I knew I wouldn’t make it home in time.

That afternoon I didn’t need a video. I only had to close my eyes to drift to a balcony where someone watched me come, and everything else stopped mattering.

I parked behind the trees, spread the towel over the back seat, and thought I was completely alone. I had no idea what I’d see when I switched on the headlights.

I had never been an exhibitionist, but that afternoon I opened the curtain, placed a chair in front of the glass, and stripped naked not knowing who was watching.

It was nine in the morning, I was wearing a dress easy to slip aside, and a secret was vibrating between my legs. No driver beside me had any idea what I was doing.

I promised myself I wouldn’t touch myself until I got home, but between work, the gym, and one way-too-hot stranger, my body had other plans.

My uncle was driving in a rage, lost for the umpteenth time, and she used every bump and sharp turn to drive me crazy without him noticing a thing.

She leaned over the railing to watch my uncle’s car disappear, and I came up barefoot behind her. I’d been looking at her like that for years. That morning I stopped just looking.

I closed my eyes to imagine him watching me. When hands grabbed my waist from behind, I thought I knew whose they were. I was completely wrong.

She wore a tiny black bikini, two triangles tied with strings, and looked at me over her shoulder as if she already knew what was about to happen between us.

When she twisted her ankle, my aunt didn’t look for another chair: she sat right on my lap in front of the whole family and started moving slowly.

She stood still against the mirror, breathing through her nose, letting me do as I pleased in silence while the rest of the building rode up without suspecting a thing.

She’d spent the whole dinner without panties, knowing exactly what she was doing to me. When she saw the empty alley, she lifted the red skirt slightly and pressed herself against the wall without saying a word.

The elevator was old and narrow, and she was right in front of me. I only had to slide my hand around behind her and pray her husband kept his eyes on his phone.

I’d been crossing paths with her in the lobby for months, avoiding her gaze. That afternoon, trapped in the elevator with her drunk husband beside us, I stopped avoiding her.

She knocked on my door in desperation: her husband had been arrested. I agreed to go, but on one condition, and she was in no position to refuse anything.