Oral

When the first moans crossed room 412’s door, she was still holding the champagne bucket with both hands. Ten minutes later, she wasn’t thinking about the hotel anymore.

I’d been watching him in the locker room for months without daring to act. That afternoon, when he asked if I wanted to go up to his place, I knew it was now or never.

I’d been ignoring his looks for weeks. That night at the hotel, after the pool and dancing with strangers, I couldn’t keep doing it.

That afternoon four men came to visit me. None knew about the others. I was the only one who had the full picture, and I felt no guilt at all.

There were nights when I didn’t look at the face of whoever came in. I counted the money and waited for it to be over. But once, everything was completely different.

The test had been on the bathroom shelf for twenty minutes when he opened the door. One look at his face was enough to know everything between us had changed.

When Rodrigo crossed the threshold, Valentina looked at him with the calm of a woman who knew exactly what she had in mind—and that night, neither was innocent.

I thought the fire drill would last minutes. Two hours later, in a basement classroom with no signal and no witnesses, I understood it was no drill.

Living in a cage, obeying without question, belonging completely to someone. That’s what I wanted, and when I got it, reality surpassed any fantasy.

When she dialed maintenance for the second time that night, she already knew it wasn’t to ask him to clean anything.

When Diego stopped the car in front of the motel, I knew that late-night conversation about my most secret fantasy had changed everything.

I saw him walk through that door and my heart started racing. I wore the reddest dress I owned. I wanted the first thing he saw to be me.

She wore knee-high boots and the kind of look women have when they already know exactly what they want. I got up to give her my card before the moment slipped away.

I went up to the garage with the envelope in my backpack, dark glasses, and my skirt blowing in the wind. That morning, I didn’t know I’d leave as someone else.

When I stepped out of the elevator, my thong already soaked and my dress clinging to my sweat, I knew that tequila wouldn’t remain just tequila.

When she arrived at the party in that dress, I knew something was going to happen. No one imagined we’d end up in her apartment, the four of us, teaching her everything.

For five years we met every January. She ran the spa, I always booked the same room. Nobody suspected a thing.

I climbed the metal staircase with my skirt pressed to my body and my backpack full of bills, feeling every gaze in the garage crawling up my legs.

She went into Diego’s room wearing only a black thong under her robe. He was asleep. She sat on the edge of the bed and her hand went there on its own.

She chose the man. I arranged the meetings. Neither of us knew exactly how that spring night in Barcelona would end.