She caught me looking at her while she leafed through a Cortázar. She held my gaze for three seconds, smiled crookedly, and I knew that afternoon in the bookstore wasn’t ending among books.
He came up behind my son with Bruno pressed against my back, holding my breath. I knew it was wrong, and that was exactly why I couldn’t stop.
The request came from a shy boy, my nephew’s friend. I took weeks to answer him and a month to admit I wanted him in my bed.
I had spent half a year clinging to a memory and to my nights alone. On Friday I took off my panties at a rest stop and drove the rest of the way shaking.
When she told him she was “hanging in there,” Tino understood that word weighed the same as his own: years of cold sheets. And in the middle of the street, they decided to fix it.
I never imagined that the elegant, serene woman who raised me was hiding, at two in the morning, another completely different woman on the living-room sofa.
The first time I walked into her apartment, I found a thong hanging in the shower, and I knew that food-for-hot-water deal was going to cost me far more than a few empanadas.
I dressed in my plainest clothes so I wouldn’t give anything away. What I didn’t count on was that I wouldn’t be alone in that apartment—and that I was still the same girl as before.
Three women, one huge house, and a pool in the sun. One look between them was enough to turn an innocent afternoon into something else.
I was the one who encouraged her to accept her lover’s proposal. I never imagined she’d come back that dawn surrounded by the memory of strangers.
When she opened her eyes and Damián’s bed was empty, she knew the night wasn’t over yet for anyone in that house.
One look in the supermarket was enough for me to leave the bags behind and follow her upstairs. I didn’t know her name, but I already wanted her.
When she told me she’d been on her period for three days, I didn’t pull my hand away: I drew her closer, because her honesty was the beginning of everything that came after.
We got turned on in class and couldn’t wait until we got home. The vacant lot behind the college was the first of many places where we shouldn’t have touched each other.
Renata called me to ask for a favor, but the one who left me breathless that afternoon was the woman who finished cleaning and waited for me by the elevator.
We’d been brushing against each other all night without saying a word, and when I saw the turnoff into the forest, I knew neither of us would make it home.
She laughed and said she loved spooning, pressed her body against mine, and in the borrowed bedroom’s darkness I understood it was no game.
She accepted the shoot looking for elegant photos for her profile. She never expected that old camera to strip away much more than her body.
Her father was speaking in my ear over the phone while she silently slid my thong down. We knew a single moan could give us away, and that made it hotter.
When I got into her car that Friday, I knew we were no longer going to talk about my future. There was something else between us, and we’d both spent weeks pretending there wasn’t.
I had spent ten years resigned to the lukewarm sex of my marriage. Then Lorena locked the shower door from inside and kissed me without asking.
I opened the trunk not knowing that inside it waited another woman’s secret: her lingerie, her diary, and proof that she too loved someone forbidden.
I heard her closing her suitcases on the other side of the wall and knew she would leave with the dawn. Barefoot and trembling, I crossed the hallway to the ajar door of her room.
My hands were ice-cold in the boarding lounge, but it wasn’t the weather: in a few hours I’d see her again, and I didn’t know whether I’d run to her or hide.
I had spent six days counting down the hours to my wedding when I saw her leaving the café. I hadn’t seen her in years, but my body recognized her before I did.
The light barely came through the blinds, she was still asleep, and all I could think about was one thing: losing myself between her legs before she opened her eyes.
I’m writing this knowing you’re going to read it, even if you pretend you didn’t. And knowing, too, the exact way your body used to respond when you thought no one was watching.
When she confessed the favor she wanted to ask me, I thought she was kidding. Her best friend was broken, and Lorena had decided I was the cure.
It was almost eleven when she walked through the door with that smile I knew too well, the same one she wore whenever something forbidden had just happened between her legs.
Bruno carried me aloft, pinned to his body as if I weighed nothing, and I let myself go. What I never imagined was that someone was watching us from the window across the way, camera in hand.
I’d spent a year listening to her describe who touched her while I only watched. That New Year’s Eve, with a glass in hand, she whispered in my ear that this time I wouldn’t stay outside.
The door was half open, and while I was spying on my friend with two strangers, a hand turned me by the waist. It was him. And he smiled at me as if we both already knew.
I’d been fantasizing about dogging for years, but I never imagined she’d be the one to lead me to the far end of that industrial estate, with a surprise waiting in the hedges.
I love my wife and I know she loves me. So I never understood why the idea of seeing her surrender to another man became the fantasy I couldn't get out of my head.
