In Public

He asked from the screen, and I obeyed: opening the window, dropping my clothes, and letting those men watch me shamelessly.

I never had privacy for anything. That afternoon, on an empty bench with my skirt hiked up, I understood I could finally do exactly as I pleased.

I had been walking for half an hour when the heat between my legs stopped being a thought and became urgency. The concrete wall was cold; I was burning.

I had finished all my work, no one was left on the floor, and the heat had me restless. That afternoon I decided to play with fire on the desk.

There was no one home, no plans, and no excuse. Just me, the sofa facing the window, and the dangerous idea of leaving everything on display.

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

I saw her legs cross the stage and knew I wouldn’t make it through the whole day. Desire carried 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 laundry at dawn, cold and bored, when something in the patio’s silence lit me up inside—and I didn’t want to 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.