Lesbian

I arrived at the concert expecting him to take me to bed. It never crossed my mind that it would be his girlfriend who would drag me into the bathroom after the third song.

I had forty-seven messages from her when I came back to the game, and they all ended with the same screenshot: her avatar on the empty bench, waiting for me at different hours.

Carla went into the isolated festival bathroom desperate for a piss and ended up hypnotized by the pink pubic hair of the stranger peeing in front of her.

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.

When Inés pulled back the tent flap, her girlfriend was already on top of another girl, still panting from an orgasm that wasn’t hers.

I got off the museum ship with my head spinning. That same night, facing the Pacific, a woman I barely knew kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

I went upstairs thinking I knew the fifteen-year-old girl who no longer existed. The box under her bed made it clear: my daughter was someone else—and so was I.

Years had passed since I last saw her. When she sat down across from me at that bar and rested her hand on my thigh, I knew that night would not end the way my cousin imagined.

She was 20 and had never had a real orgasm. That sticky January night, with half a bottle of rosé, my French cousin decided it was time.

When her fingers brushed mine across the table, I knew that night I was going to recover something my girlfriend had been making me forget little by little.

I was her assistant. We worked twelve hours a day. That night, barefoot on her sofa, she looked at me like never before, and I knew something had changed forever.

We talked for weeks without sending each other a single photo, until she told me she wanted to be the first to do it to me, in person, in her bed.

Lucía never told that part. That Thursday she dressed the only way she knew how and made sure that virgin nephew wouldn’t leave without leaving something inside her.

I opened the room door and there was Renata: exactly like her photos, but with nerves on edge that no image can capture.

I arrived with my recorder and my questions ready. She welcomed me with a cup of coffee and a smile that was not exactly professional.

Four weeks watching her move between the tables, wanting what I didn’t dare name. After that, nothing was ever the same.

We had been studying for hours when the cold became unbearable. Sofía invited me into her bed to warm up. Neither of us expected what came next.

Lorena had a reputation for liking women. I never paid it any mind until that spring morning when we ended up trapped together.

Vera went to the pool to escape the July heat and ended up finding Noa, the lifeguard, waiting with the gates already locked and her eyes already on her.

We sat facing each other with a martini each. One rule: see, talk to, smell each other. Touching was forbidden. And she had an ice cube in her hand.