Peeping

I opened it without thinking and couldn’t stop reading. My mom had written down everything: every detail of how she started feeling alive again after hitting bottom.

When the coach asked her to observe the boys, she agreed with a smile. No one suspected the woman in the blue suit had already chosen her two favorites.

For eons I knew only the silence of the void. Until I hooked a signal in a blue world and, without asking permission, slipped into the body of a woman on fire.

When I opened my eyes in the steam room, he was already looking at me. And I knew exactly who he was, even though I never thought I’d have him that close.

I’d done three thousand meters flat out and all I wanted was hot water on my shoulders. Then he turned under the shower next to me, and I knew that afternoon wouldn’t end like the others.

When we went in naked and dripping, the three guys soaping themselves stepped aside without a word and left us the center, as if they knew the night still wasn’t over.

I lay naked under the last September sun, offering my body to anyone who wanted to look. Then the only man I thought I’d never see again appeared.

It was only supposed to be the excuse his wife wouldn’t question. I never imagined I’d end up sitting across from them, unable to look away.

The headboard of his bed was hitting the wall at a steady rhythm, and I, awake in the dark, could no longer pretend that it didn’t affect me.

For weeks I’d been pretending not to notice his looks, his legs spread on the sofa, the bulges he made so obvious. That night I came home early and stopped pretending.

As soon as his parents went into the kitchen, the boy grabbed his cock over his jeans. No one in that house had any idea how dinner was going to end.

The bedroom door was ajar. I looked through the crack without thinking and what I saw pinned me to the floor: my father was not who I thought he was.

For weeks I’d wanted him to come looking for me again. That night I understood that if I wanted to feel that way again, I’d have to go looking for it somewhere else.

He hadn’t slept in two days, but footsteps in the dark aisle woke him: someone was going into the bathroom where another boy was already waiting, and no one else knew.

He stepped down from the podium trembling with rage. He didn’t want to be alone: he crossed the apartment hallway and pushed open the door to the suite where his two men were already waiting awake for him.

He walked in thinking the showers were empty, but the steam was hiding someone else. His teammate hadn’t heard him arrive, and he couldn’t look away from what he saw.

When he opened the door in his boxers and told me “on your knees, quietly,” I knew the Uber ride across town would be worth it.

I thought the hardest part of coming back would be the banner at the village entrance. I was wrong: the hard part was the dinner table, when we started telling the truth.

I’d sworn we were only going to watch. But when that stranger put his hand on Eduardo’s shoulder, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay still either.

I knew his schedule, the sound of his boots, the exact moment he took off his shirt because of the heat. What I didn’t know was how far that obsession would take me.