Oral

That Saturday he came over to correct my posture without being asked. By Monday, we already had a silent arrangement and I had chosen the right thong.

We shut the door, turned on the console, and my brother lay back on my legs with that nervous smile he only gets when he’s hiding something he’s dying to tell.

Carla came out from between Lucía’s thighs with shining lips, looked at me from the sand, and I knew my quiet afternoon was over for good.

I’d been on the paper for twenty minutes when I saw her walk through the door. High boots, camouflage dress, a smile that wasn’t accidental. I had just enough time for one call to make my move.

I’d promised myself a quick one before getting back to work. We came twice, with his taste still in my mouth when I went downstairs for coffee.

I went to his house just to help him install an app. I never imagined his gallery concealed a secret that would completely shake me.

When my husband left town, the two old men from the fifth floor invited me to celebrate a birthday. What happened on the dining table never should have happened.

We’d been fantasizing about him for months. When he accepted our dinner invitation, we knew that night wouldn’t be about the master’s program only.

I got on the bus thinking I’d just have one beer. By the time I wanted to get off, it was already too late to pretend I didn’t want to stay.

For years he treated other people’s minds without being able to get close to anyone. Then the doll arrived—and with it, the obsession that would consume him.

When my parents left for the village, my uncle Andrés took off his trunks and asked if I minded. I didn’t mind. Not at all.

Roberto humiliated me for years in front of everyone. When the Association offered to train him, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with him.

Valeria was waiting for me in the kitchen in a T-shirt that barely covered her and a smile that no longer belonged to my little sister. I tried not to look. I failed.

Marco thought they were going to the cinema. He had no idea she had planned every detail weeks in advance, including which pocket he kept the key in.

The doorbell rang just as I was starting to get bored of my perfect life. It was him—the neighbor my husband hated—with a clumsy excuse and a gaze that wasn’t clumsy at all.

I’d spent twelve years pretending that what happened in her apartment that afternoon meant nothing. My own wedding’s open bar proved otherwise.

Twenty-two years keeping her composure behind the hotel desk. One guest in red heels was enough to reveal what lay beneath her uniform.

When Ataq explained that Inuit hospitality included sharing wives, my wife and I looked at each other in silence. That night, the heat came from somewhere else.

The fourth round of daiquiris lowered everyone’s defenses, but nobody expected Daniela’s confession to end with all of us tangled up on the living-room rug.

She had just had her first experience with another woman when two strangers appeared through the zipper, and she realized the night was only beginning.