Office

“Welcome to my beach,” his voice said behind me. I was completely naked on the towel, and he was the last person I expected to see there.

She told me, “Distrust my husband,” and I laughed. Three months later, my wife walked into my office unable to look me in the eye.

I told him to strip too. It was only fair: he’d already seen me naked on the screen, and I’d spent the whole afternoon pretending it was technical curiosity.

I’d spent months seeing her in a sweater and glasses behind the monitor. That night, in a wine-colored dress and with a few drinks in her, she looked at me in a way that changed everything.

She accepted the job to escape a dead relationship. What she never imagined was that that arrogant boss hid a man capable of taking her breath away.

She had spent months imagining his hands, his cologne, his voice. She never thought a storm would be enough to make them stop pretending they didn’t want each other.

That cock that left her trembling on Saturday belonged to the man who would sign her evaluations on Monday. And neither of them planned to stop.

When he stayed to practice a few poses, I could feel him looking at me. I hadn’t had a partner in months, and my body had decided for me long before my head did.

She had never been in a sex shop, she told me. We went into a booth together, and amid the moans on the screen, she asked me for something I never imagined hearing from her lips.

Mateo had just thrown his wife out of the restaurant when someone knocked on the office door. It was the tattooed waitress, and she hadn’t come to talk about the day’s accounts.

A guy rummaging through a dumpster whistled at me in the street, and when he told me why, I wanted to disappear. What I never imagined was how I’d end up thanking him.

I thought it was just a game of late-night messages until one afternoon he shut my office door, turned off the light, and stopped asking permission.

I dressed to impress, but once I stepped into that office I realized I wasn’t going to use my résumé to get the job.

I stopped to fix a bike chain and kept walking to the office, not knowing that stranger would cost me my job... and give me a lot more than a bad day.

I arrived alone at a freshly moved-into floor, wearing tight leggings and a thin sweater. The mover looked at me differently when he closed the door, and I knew I wouldn’t be leaving unsatisfied.

They had traveled to close a deal, not for this. But in the elevator of that hotel, Lucía understood they had been pretending not to want each other for months.

I went in to sort out some boring paperwork and came out trembling. What that man did to me with his hands behind his desk still keeps me up at night.

It was only supposed to be the cover story so his wife wouldn’t suspect. I never imagined I’d end up sitting across from them, unable to look away from what they were doing.

I’d gone almost two months without hearing from him. Then the message came: “Tomorrow come to work wearing women’s underwear.” And I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.

He lowered his voice to a rough whisper on the other side of the partition, and I knew I’d never sit across from him in a meeting again without remembering it.