Office

The white leggings were see-through under my sweatshirt, and I knew that night, in the empty van, the driver was going to look at me differently.

I started with mirrors on the floor and ended up discovering my naked neighbor from my terrace. Each fleeting glimpse became a drug.

When she sat on my couch with smeared mascara and a trembling voice, I knew a whiskey and a few comforting words wouldn’t be enough.

I thought I’d put her in her place. That afternoon, as I came out of the bathroom, I heard a zipper coming down behind the half-open office door.

Adrián walked into that office as a senior analyst and knew, from the director’s smile, that he’d leave as something else: something pretty, docile, and nameless.

His hug sent a rush of heat through my whole body that I couldn’t explain. I only knew that, as soon as I was alone, I’d have to finish what he had started.

It all started with a picture on my phone. Ten days later I can’t get out of bed without thinking about when I’ll get to touch myself again.

I kept it in my bag because I was in a hurry, but that afternoon I took it out for another reason: I was alone, bored, and way too horny to hold back.

I had finished all my work, no one was left on the floor, and the heat had me restless. That afternoon I decided to play with fire on the desk.

The video came without warning: him in his car, the light red and one hand not on the wheel. I knew I wouldn’t make it home in time.

She had never masturbated at work. But that morning, with her phone full of pictures of her neighbor and the door unlocked, she discovered how much risk turned her on.

I knew nobody could see me in that dark storeroom. Only the naked mannequin in the corner witnessed what I did while thinking of her, the seamstress in the shortest skirt.

That night I went down to the studio with the excuse of the copier. In her personal folder there were three files that changed everything I thought I knew about her.

Renata entered the dean’s office expecting a suspension. The dean locked the door, told her to stand up, and said the punishment would be very different.

No man ever made me finish. I found that out late, after years of other people’s hands and faked orgasms: the only body that knew exactly what mine wanted was my own.

In the elevator he brushed my arm as if by accident and smelled of expensive cologne. That same night, while I dressed in the dark, he was already planning how to leave Tomás.