Mature

I watched him through the window while he touched himself, thinking no one could see him. The next day I went down with the excuse of using the bike, and I wasn’t leaving without trying him.

I caught him watching me in the hotel gym and knew that older married man wouldn’t stop until he had me. What I didn’t expect was how much I wanted him to succeed.

I hated him for the way he stalked me, but that morning under the fridge light I discovered his gaze made me tremble for reasons I refused to admit.

My window was open and my hand was where it shouldn't have been when I heard her voice ten feet away. When I opened my eyes, she was already watching me.

I thought I’d buried the woman who charged for her time. One offer from my own boyfriend was enough to wake her and take control of the night.

I hadn’t set foot in a club in years, but that night my son’s friend looked at me in a way no man had in a long time.

That night, while everyone was asleep, my aunt left her glass on the sand, slipped off her sandals, and told me the water was better with nothing on.

I only meant to connect the cameras to my phone. Instead I found, recorded and dated, what my mother did every time my father left for work.

By day she humiliated me in front of her friends; by night she begged me to put her in her place. No one imagined what was happening inside that car.

I got out of the car to sit in front, and as soon as I noticed the bulge in his trousers, I knew that taxi wasn’t taking me straight home.

He opened the door in jeans only and I knew we weren’t going to watch any movie. I looked him up and down and my mouth watered.

I was forty-one and had spent months pretending nothing was happening whenever he looked at me. That night, I stopped pretending.

He stopped the car outside her building with trembling hands. She was waiting behind the window, and they both knew that glass of wine was only the beginning.

My friendship with that rough but good-natured old man took a turn one afternoon over wine in a lost village, when he whispered what he planned to do to me.

She climbed the ladder in front of me with nothing beneath her nightgown, and I knew I wouldn’t leave that apartment the same man who entered.

I’d been dry for five years, and my husband had just proposed a threesome with him dressed as a woman. The craziest part: I already knew who to invite.

I found him hiding in the garage, frozen with cold. I never imagined that a year later I’d be the one inviting him into my bed and my marriage.

I’d been running into her in the garage for weeks with that smile. The day she pressed against me in the elevator, I knew it wouldn’t stay a neighborly hello.

She crossed her legs, looked at me over the book, and I knew that woman hadn’t asked permission for anything in years. The dead hour of the metro turned into something else.

I walked into that gray office ready to beg for a document. I left knowing that that night the one who’d be begging would be him, on his knees in his own house.