In Public

When Diego closed the van door and disappeared toward the supermarket lights, I knew I had half an hour to do everything I’d been imagining for months.

Mateo tipped his head at me and went up the stairs. I followed him without thinking, knowing his girlfriend was my best friend and that nothing could stop us now.

She went down to dinner without panties or a bra. She said she didn’t know what was wrong with her, but I was starting to understand: that day she was going to cross every line.

I got to the pool early in a bikini that left little to the imagination. I wanted to know if the girl with the flirty smile would dare to go further.

My friends were strolling past the display windows laughing. I stopped in front of hers and, by the way she looked back at me, I knew that night wasn’t for them.

I climbed into a van full of foreign guys without thinking twice. My boyfriend would be back from the supermarket in ten minutes. I only needed one.

When we got there that night, my wife was already wearing the plug. What we didn’t expect was to run into a nineteen-year-old who would change the routine.

When I leaned out the car window to see if my sister was still awake, I found him in his window, smoking. And I knew he wasn’t going to look away.

I wanted people to watch her. To devour her with their eyes. What I didn’t expect was that one of the strangers in the back would dare to chase her into the showers.

I went out to smoke in the dark and saw him: crouched behind the palm tree, eyes fixed on the window where she was undressing, unaware she was being watched by two.

At two in the morning, in that room with red lights, I stopped pretending I was only there to keep my husband company. I was watching. And I was liking it far too much.

Our eyes met in the service-area café. I knew he’d follow me into the bathroom, and I knew I wasn’t coming out the same man who went in.

That morning I decided to go out with nothing under my skirt. I didn’t want to be touched, only watched. And in the second-floor ice cream shop, someone noticed.

I saw the bus driver watching us in the rearview mirror and, instead of covering up, I let him pull down my top. At three in the morning, my ex and I were a free show.

The beer had made us affectionate and the terrace seemed empty. Until I saw the flash of binoculars trained on us from the hill.

We were supposed to meet at the fountain, but they didn’t show. Then I got the photo: my girlfriend kneeling in front of my boyfriend, in the back bathroom, waiting for me to finally walk in.

As soon as the lights went out, she stood up from her seat and settled herself in front of us both. What happened next was no trailer.

We’d spent two nights watching without touching. On the third, as two couples mixed one meter from us, my girlfriend squeezed my arm and whispered something to me.

Under my button-down there’s lace. Under my dress pants, fishnet stockings and garters. My coworkers see Matías. I know who I really am.

While the others kept drinking, I already had Andrés cornered in the alley. I'd spent hours unable to take my eyes off him.