Oral

When my mother called to say she’d be alone that weekend, I had no idea what she had planned for me that night.

I had tried on the plaid skirt and the shirt knotted at my navel a hundred times in my head. That afternoon, with the house empty, I finally did it for real.

She had done nothing wrong, and he wanted to see her on her knees with a cloth in her hand. She would do it, because that was what she had chosen to be for him.

It was the first time I went to the transport base to look for him. What I didn’t know was that Rodrigo was already waiting for me with a smile that wasn’t innocent.

When night falls in this house, I turn off the light in his room, close the door, and stop being only his mother to become something more.

When the masked guide separated me from Mateo at that colonial hacienda, I knew the fantasy we had whispered in the dark was about to become flesh.

She was famous, perfect, and in her fifties. I was the striker of the moment. That night I went up to her suite and learned what it means to play above your league.

I knew it wasn’t sensible. I circled the bridge anyway, climbed down the wall, and found him sleeping exactly where I’d left him.

Under the shower, her fingers finished what he had started in that room. And she knew three days would not be enough.

When I handed over the thong folded like a note, I knew there was no turning back. All that was left was to wait for Friday and open the envelope he would return to me in class.

Carmen was sleeping naked in the sun while I made the worst and best decision of my life. When she woke and saw the state she was in, she didn’t react as I expected.

When I passed by the bus stop, Don Rodrigo saw me from the bus. What started as a birthday beer ended in a way I never expected.

I’d been putting up with his looks in the office for months. The day I read his private messages, I made a decision his wife should never have provoked.

That night I understood that teaching someone to feel their own body can be the most intimate act of all.

Rodrigo told me there would be six. I stood up and left. Nine days later I called him back to say I’d thought about it and yes.

Every time she accepted one condition, the next one appeared. By the end of the day, neither of them knew exactly what had happened — but both wanted it again.

Fifty-four years old, suitcase packed, and a week on the coast. She wasn’t looking for anything. But a blue-eyed waiter had a way of looking at her that changed everything.

When Mateo came out of the water in soaked trunks, I knew my wife wouldn’t let that afternoon pass without biting into something that didn’t belong to her.

For years I kept my backpack in the car with all my lingerie inside, just in case. That Thursday, the moment finally came.

I walked fifteen minutes to his hotel in the shortest dress I owned. I knew exactly what I was there to do and I didn’t care if it showed.