Peeping

We thought we were alone in the hidden cove, until I noticed those three wouldn’t take their eyes off us. And we didn’t mind looking back.

My owner planted the idea like a seed: money for my body and a stranger watching every detail. That Tuesday afternoon I went to fulfill it, not knowing how it would end.

She slowly spread her knees until I understood that little show under the table was for me, and for no one else in the whole café.

From the darkness I watched her move on top of him, and I understood I no longer knew whether it hurt more to watch or to want to keep watching.

I’d entered her tower to settle an old debt. What I hadn’t expected was to stand frozen behind the curtain, holding my breath, unable to look away.

We went to Formentera so people could watch her. I never imagined how far she’d be willing to go when that foreigner spread his towel just a few meters from us.

I knew he went around the house without a bra. What I didn’t know was that he counted every time, and kept a wet souvenir under his pillow.

She came out of the water slowly, knowing the sheer fabric no longer hid a thing, and wrung the hair from her face in front of us as if she had all the time in the world.

At three in the morning I saw a masked woman force my neighbors’ door. When the light hit her face, I recognized the city’s most feared crimefighter.

I told her I wanted something stronger than her, much stronger. She wasn’t shocked. She smiled and said she knew a place where that was possible.

He climbed into my boat thinking he owned the river. By the time we touched land, he was ours: she was laughing beside me and he had no idea what was waiting for him.

I boarded the catamaran to escape the world for a while. I never imagined I’d end up naked, surrounded, and the one who didn’t want it to stop.

We’d been talking about it for months and never dared. Then a couple invited us to a liberal spa one May afternoon, and Sofía walked through that door before I did.

I arrived in the city knowing no one, and that very afternoon a stranger offered me a slice of pizza. Neither of us knew where that gesture would lead.

She arrived at dinner thinking it would be a quiet evening among friends. She had no idea that night would teach her, in a stranger’s arms, everything her body had kept silent for years.

My aunt lowered her voice as she told me that afternoon at Pilar’s house: the door had been left open on purpose, and she couldn’t look away from what was happening inside.

When Lorena let her dress fall to the floor and stood naked in front of all four of us, I knew that night we weren’t going to set any limits.

No one said aloud what was going to happen, but when the clothes began to come off, all four of us knew we wouldn’t return home that night as the same people.

I knew it before either of them admitted it: every Thursday she made up a clumsy excuse, and I let her go, knowing exactly where and with whom.

There I was on the sofa, whisky in hand, realizing I no longer needed to take part: it was enough to watch someone else do what I’d stopped doing.