Lesbian

Mariana asked me whether I’d ever been curious about kissing another woman. I answered with an impulse that changed what we were forever.

When she asked what it felt like to be with another woman, I told her she’d have to try it herself. I didn’t expect her to stand up and straddle me.

I woke with my body burning and my hand between my legs. I never imagined my sister would open the door that morning… or what would happen next.

When we turned off the lights and climbed under the same blanket, I never imagined that silly question about kisses would end with her fingers seeking mine in the dark.

When I walked into the teachers’ lounge, hands wrapped around me from behind and lips slid down my neck. I recognized her perfume instantly.

For days I had felt eyes fixed on the back of my neck while I played. That Friday I locked the doors and came down from the stage determined to find her.

Bruna knelt in the shower in front of her cousin, and none of the women in the bathroom could look away. Not even the mother, who already had her hand under her dress.

When I went into the empty classroom to change, the door opened behind me. It was her, the student council president, and she hadn’t come alone with words.

One split second—a towel slipping, her wet skin under the balcony light—was enough for me to know I’d never be able to look at her the same way again.

I heard her in the shower that first morning and, for no reason I could name, I froze in the doorway. When she turned and looked at me, I didn’t look away.

When she gave me the keys to her apartment and left for work, I already knew that night we were going to debut much more than the bottle of wine I had packed in my suitcase.

We were coming back to the hotel at three in the morning, having gotten nowhere with the guys. What happened once we closed the door changed our friendship forever.

When she came through the salon door, I knew that session was going to break something inside me. And I wasn’t wrong.

For years, Romina had imagined her mother while making love to her boyfriend. That night, with wine loosening her tongue, she could no longer keep it inside.

The voice on the other end of the headset gave me a simple order: I couldn’t finish until she decided. And then she logged off without saying when she’d be back.

When she walked into the office with those hips, I knew the appointment wouldn’t be routine. What I didn’t imagine was how far her exam would go.

After a decade of bad sex with men, I met Renata, her drawer full of toys, and a finger where no one had gotten before.

When she rang the doorbell with two bottles of wine and that smile, I knew our unfinished conversation at the bar would finally end on my couch.

I used to dream about men. Now it’s only her: the stranger who touches me under the table and slips into my bed every night, even though my partner sleeps beside me.

When she asked me to put sunscreen on her, my hands already knew what my mouth hadn’t dared to say yet.