Seduction

When Diego closed the van door and disappeared toward the supermarket lights, I knew I had half an hour to do everything I’d been imagining for months.

Camila wouldn’t meet my eyes from the far side of the pool. That night, when I went out to get some air among the orange trees, she followed me into the dark without me asking.

When Camila put the second tequila in my hand, I knew something was going to break that night. I just didn’t know it would be everything I believed about the two of us.

When the lights went out on the 22nd floor and I knew we’d be alone with him for hours, I had no idea how far he’d be willing to go.

He met my gaze with the note in my pocket, not yet knowing that that same afternoon I’d dial his number and find out how far his offer went.

The first time was an accident. After that, every night he had company, I moved the armchair to the window and let my hand drift down on its own.

My husband doesn’t need to touch me first. He needs to see how other men look at me without permission, how they falter when I pass. Then he comes, and desire no longer fits in the bed.

Andrés locked the door even though he knew there was no one else on the floor. When he stood in front of me again, he was no longer my boss but something else.

I thought the party was over when I closed the door. But she was still barefoot on my sofa, glass on her knee and another box in her hands.

When I opened the door and saw her there, barefoot with her mascara running, I knew she hadn’t come to talk. She had come to reclaim what she’d abandoned.

I reached down without thinking, phone in the other hand and her photo filling the screen. I’d never wanted a woman like that before, and she didn’t even know I existed.

I dressed up like never before to see him: miniskirt, heels, wig. What I didn’t expect was his sister showing up and, with one look, reading everything we were hiding.

We had been flirting for months over the internal chat. When I suggested closing the office on a Saturday, I never thought you’d come. You did—trembling, but you came.

I met her through pixels and long-distance promises. She never knew that every night, alone in my hotel room by the sea, I imagined her beside me.

Three in the morning. A short nightgown. Nothing underneath. And the feeling that every park lamp was a curious eye, waiting for me to go one step too far.

We were alone in front of the mirror. I was fixing my lipstick; she was staring at me with an intensity that was no longer friendship. And then she came closer.

I agreed to dance at a bachelor party because I needed the money. What I didn’t expect was that four guys would offer me double for something more.

The phone rang just as he walked through the door. It was my boyfriend. I couldn’t hang up. And my ex wasn’t about to wait for me to finish the call.

When she told me her mother was an idiot for leaving me, I still thought it was an innocent compliment. Five minutes later I was kissing her.

I thought we were only going up to the pine grove to eat omelet and drink red wine. I never imagined my cousin would ask me to touch her among the trees that afternoon.