Lesbian

Lorena opened the suitcase to help put away the clothes and found the toys. Her new cook was watching from the doorway, not a shred of shame on her face.

Three glasses of wine, warm water, and a nineteen-year-old redhead who still didn’t know that night would make her more than just the house cook.

I thought I had only gone to open the door, but that night she came into my room with me and whispered that she was going to make me lose my mind.

I was twenty and thought I understood my desires—until my mother-in-law opened that album and showed me who she had been. That night I turned off the light and understood everything.

I’d spent the whole morning imagining being caught. I didn’t expect it to be the professor I’d been thinking forbidden things about for months.

The first time they called me a warrior, something inside me straightened. But it was her hand on my waist beside the fire that finally set me ablaze.

The fire burned low in the cabin when the young orphan arrived with nothing but her ragged dress. Marisol, a widow alone with her child, had no idea how hard she would find it to look at her.

A hallway bulb gave out and went dark. In the dimness, her hands circled my waist and I knew she’d been waiting years for that moment without daring to name it.

At the New Year’s dawn, Camila asked for a kiss. What looked like a drunken game ended with a vibrator and a confession kept for twenty years.

It had been weeks since I’d set foot in her apartment, but that night, with two half-finished beers and her hand sliding up my thigh, I knew my vacation was off to a very good start.

I handed her a blouse one size too small without telling her why. When I heard her muffled cry from the fitting room, I knew I was going in and I wouldn't come out the same.

When I saw my sister crossing the restaurant with that new sway, I knew the game I'd invented to arouse my lover had stopped being a game for me.

When she came into the bathroom to leave me a clean towel, I knew something was about to happen. What I didn’t expect was for me to be the one to make the first move that night.

I met her on a reading app. Black-haired, tall, intimidating. I agreed to be her submissive because I never believed a woman like her would look at me twice.

He climbed into my boat thinking he owned the river. By the time we touched land, he was ours: she was laughing beside me and he had no idea what was waiting for him.

She woke in a bed that wasn’t hers, with Renata’s fingers around her wrist and sweat sticking her hair to her forehead. Renata asked nothing—she only kissed her temple.

It started as an admirer’s email about my stories. It ended with me hiding her photos, aching to cross an ocean just to touch her once.

They had known each other since adolescence and desired each other in silence. When both married men who let them be free, they stopped hiding.

They had shared the same room since childhood, and she watched her sleep every night. That morning, when her aunt let the towel fall in front of the mirror, she knew she could no longer keep pretending.

She always sat in the back, untouchable, until a kiss on the cheek cracked her armor. I never imagined the most reserved girl in class would end up trembling in my arms.