Rivalry

She had hated him for years, but when she saw him sitting in that café, all she felt was heat between her legs and a desire she thought buried forever.

He went in believing the showers were empty, but the steam concealed someone else. His teammate had not heard him arrive, and he could no longer look away.

I read the name on the corpse tag and my heart lurched: it was her, the same girl who had humiliated me for six years. And now she was still, at my mercy.

I hated her with all my might, and yet with her body bound over mine and the gag swallowing her insults, my body betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Neither said it out loud, but both knew it: every gesture under the sun was a challenge, an invitation no one on the beach could ignore that afternoon.

Two gleaming bodies, a circle of men watching, and one unanswered question: would they fight for attention or split it like accomplices?

Confessing how many partners we’d had was only the beginning. What she proposed that night, with my taste still in her mouth, was unlike anything we’d discussed before.

I came three times on the locker-room bench before I understood my promotion no longer depended on my goals, but on how long I could stay on my knees.

She was twenty days late and still wearing that same look of superiority. That night, she learned that in my house, rent could be paid another way.

I’m not telling this to ease my conscience, but to confess how far I was willing to go that afternoon, with him asleep on the table and her only feet away.

We were never friends, but she looked at me with contempt every time her boyfriend kept staring at me. So I decided to give her a real reason to hate me.