Lesbian

I thought it would be a quiet afternoon in front of the TV, until my stepsister’s bare foot started climbing my thigh and one question changed everything.

I turned off the light, and as I settled in, I felt a lump under the sheets: it was the shorts I had lent her. I brought them to my face without thinking, and my body understood before my mind did.

We’d been talking every day for a year. On that fifth night in Seville, playing on her phone while sitting on her couch, I touched her hand by accident. Neither of us had ever been with a woman.

When everyone else went to sleep, she came to the sofa, looked me straight in the eye, and said something I never expected to hear from a friend.

We bought the harness saying it was to practice so we could teach them. What we didn’t expect was to end up trembling against each other.

The bathtub was ready, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them she was already naked in the doorway, offering me a massage that didn’t end at my shoulders.

I imagine a woman like me: same soft skin, same mouth. We caress each other slowly until there’s no turning back and I finally live out what I’ve dreamed of alone for so many nights.

She’d been alone in that lost village for almost a year. Then two younger friends invited her over for wine, pizza, and confessions that changed everything.

We were alone in the office at seven. By ten Camila was leaning against a shelf in the archive and I couldn’t think about the client anymore.

On the first day of class she sat next to me smelling of vanilla. I had no idea that girl would completely change the way I understood desire.

We always slept in the same bed and told each other everything. That night, with a drink too many, Renata took my face in her hands and kissed me like never before.

I looked down and saw her hand resting on my thigh. We’d been friends for five years, but that night, after the second glass of vodka, everything changed in an instant.

I’d been traveling for twenty hours with one thought: back in their arms. I never imagined that reunion would force me to cross a line I’d sworn never to cross.

She wore the tightest yellow dress in her closet and a head full of arguments against that woman. An hour later, she no longer knew whether she hated or desired her.

At that hour we all seemed more beautiful, and nobody wanted to go home. Mila opened the door to her room, and none of us imagined how the night would end.

I went upstairs still carrying the smell of the hospital on my skin. The half-open door, the warm light, her silk nightgown. No words were needed: I already knew how the night would end.

When I asked for a full waxing, she arched a brow and her smile stopped being professional. The wax and her fingers soon became one.

I was married and alone at the town fair when my two exes showed up the same night. They hated each other at first. Then they decided to share me until dawn.

When I opened the door wrapped in a towel, she came in without letting me speak. She wasn’t the guy my friend was expecting, or the plan my head had imagined.

I tied the blindfold on carefully and told her to just feel. She had no idea someone else was waiting behind the curtain for her turn.