Mature

No one expected me to come back so soon. What I saw in that garage—my mother, shirtless, with her fists wrapped—could never be unseen.

I thought the nap would leave the beach empty. When I returned from the sea, she had one hand inside her bikini, eyes closed, unaware I was watching her.

I went into the bathroom with Camila’s underwear still warm in my hands. I never imagined that minutes later her mother would be kneeling in front of me.

I’d been up all night studying with coffee, until a squeak in the wall beside me made me lower my pillow and realize who was making that noise.

I went downstairs barefoot for a drink of water and found her sprawled on the sofa, her legs braced against the backrest. She never turned her head. I didn’t move.

The first time I found the wrapper in the trash, I thought I was mistaken. By the fourth time, I knew exactly what was happening in that room.

I thought Sonia was the past. Until I saw her getting out of that car with a stroller, and realized nothing had ended the way I thought.

I went to visit my submissive, but it was her maid who opened the door. Something in her look made me forget exactly why I’d come.

Tomás watched her from the living room with a calm that was anything but innocent. Lorena knew it. And instead of ignoring him, she kept cooking without stepping away.

I had five university students who paid well and started missing class. The solution came when my wife walked into the study and they all forgot their derivatives.

From my rooftop I had a direct view of my neighbor’s yard. I’d been watching her for weeks when I noticed something strange in her movements. I never imagined what I would discover.

Her trousers traced every curve as she crossed the courtyard under that May sun. Magdalena knew they were looking. What she didn’t know was what two of them were planning.

She was seventy years old and had a body that defied every one of them. When she told me in my ear she hadn’t been touched in ten years, I knew the night wasn’t over yet.

Sandra took the wine bottles, looked at me, and whispered: “It’s going to be needed, trust me.” Her smile was the kind that already knows how the night will end.

She was 37, had a stunning body, and nearly a year of loneliness built up inside her. When she chose me at the gym, I knew some nights aren’t planned.

I came to Madrid to make beds and mop floors. No one warned me I’d also learn to kneel before two women who would decide everything about me.

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.

On the drive, she put her hand on my thigh and didn’t take it away. At dinner, she looked at me as if I were dessert. Going upstairs was only a matter of time.

She was 67 and had the smile of someone who’d seen it all. When I got her into bed that New Year’s Eve, I never guessed I’d end up watching her for hours.

Claudia thought of herself as a respectable, religious, faithful mother. But that afternoon, kneeling in front of her own son, she understood she could no longer ignore the darkness in her.