Lovers

She left the cake untouched, brushed against me under the table, and smiled as if she had already chosen how the night would end.

I asked him to fix a window after class, but we both knew it wasn’t only wood that was about to give way.

I’d had three whiskeys and no reason to go home when the amber-eyed redhead asked me to insure her night.

I masturbated in the shower thinking about his return, but I never imagined what he’d do to me once we closed the hotel-room door.

Every message on the screen brought her closer to me, until she summoned me to the third-floor bathroom and I knew there was no going back.

When she came home with tousled hair and a smile that wasn’t meant for me, I knew our kitchen pact had passed the point of no return.

Every time we swore we'd end it, one look was enough to leave us locked away again, sweating and fucking as if we hated each other.

When he answered the video call from his office, I was already naked in the hotel—and had another man waiting off-camera.

I rented the room, douched, and turned on the erotic channel. At exactly two, someone knocked: it was him, sweaty from work, his bulge already showing beneath his pants.

I entered the room convinced it would be a quick fuck for revenge. I left at dawn without remembering my own name.

I was indisposed, but when he told me he only wanted my mouth, I knew I would end up on my knees swallowing everything.

I went into the garage in the tightest dress I owned, with no panties underneath, determined to make that son of a bitch return every last peso he’d stolen from my husband.

My dress was too short, he couldn’t stop staring at my legs, and before midnight I already knew how the party would end.

I closed the door, kissed him against the wall, and knew that night I wasn’t giving him dinner: I was giving him the filthiest gift he’d been silently asking for.

No one at the university imagined what she did after class, much less what happened whenever her husband was away.