Lovers

I returned the apartment keys and, without planning it, that week ended with the confession I never thought I’d tell anyone: two men, a friend, and a single night.

I told him I’d come in sweaty and needed a shower. He carried me to the sofa and whispered that, with my scent, he liked me even more.

I never promised you more than I gave you, and maybe that’s why you came back. This is the story of the woman I never truly got to know.

When I got into the car and saw that man in the front seat, I never imagined my lover had brought me there to hand me over to someone else.

I opened the door wrapped in a towel, still wet, convinced it was a package. It was him, with flowers in one hand and a smile that promised nothing innocent.

It started with a message about one of my stories. It ended with me in bed, in the dark, obeying every thing she wrote from the other side of the screen.

I knew he’d wanted me for months, and I wasn’t going to stop until I had him in my bed. What I didn’t count on was who would catch us afterward.

I was furious, trembling, with an almost empty bottle beside me. I dialed his number at three in the morning just to hear him breathe on the other end.

When her number appeared on the screen as a missed call, I knew that night in the mountains was going to break something in her that could never be put back together.

I’d spent weeks avoiding her, convinced what we had was over. Then the phone rang and her voice was enough to tell me I’d fall again.

I came home at six in the morning with her perfume clinging to my body and my ass still red. My wife was waiting, smiling, suspecting nothing.

She lied to me about everything: her name, her job, the reason she came close to me. The only truth was how she trembled when I touched her again.

I turned fifty, I’ve been married for thirty years, and I’ve never been faithful. These are the secret getaways that kept my marriage alive.

I learned early that my body was worth more than any degree. What none of them knew is that I never felt a thing while they paid me.

When the zipper came undone on her dress, I understood that night in the dressing room would change everything between us—and that I didn’t want it to stop.

When the downpour flooded the city, everyone ended up at my place. I never imagined I’d feel Damián inside me again that night—or that we wouldn’t be alone.

That morning I didn’t get dressed or dry my tears. I just dialed his number and asked him to come without telling my husband.

I kept that dress at the back of the closet for no one. That night, when he rang the bell soaked through, I knew I was finally going to wear it for someone.

I’ve spent years getting paid to sleep with strangers. I never thought I’d be the one begging to see her again.

She was the only woman at the club who charged to dominate men. Until a rich client sat beside her and, instead of stripping her, only wanted to listen to her until dawn.