Seduction

The prince’s convoy rolled in unannounced between the cranes. He got out of the second car, took off his sunglasses, and I knew those three months of silence would break tonight.

We saw him among the lilies, watching us from the shadows. Daniela knelt without warning, and I knew that night would change everything we were as a couple.

I’d been lying to Mateo for months, and when he understood that I knew everything, I didn’t fall apart. I put on the blue dress, left the house, and crossed the city to meet Adrián.

I told her she could bathe on her own now. She lowered her head and whispered she was still scared. I never imagined how far that shower would go.

I kept their numbers in the drawer and knew I would never call. But I also knew my husband would never touch me the way he had before that night at sea.

I set the cup on the bedside table, knelt beside the bed, and understood that that morning nothing in this house would ever be the same again.

When the downpour left us soaked, she ordered me to take off my wet clothes and started undressing without shame. I tried to hide the tremble in my hands.

I went up the stairs, opened the main bathroom door, and there she was, in the tub with the baby, barely covered by a thin layer of foam.

I was eighteen and had never been with anyone. My mother’s aunt ended up sleeping beside me that night, and everything I thought I knew about desire broke in silence.

When his hand settled on my hip and he whispered “Hi, baby,” I thought he meant one of my friends. When I turned around, I knew the night wouldn’t end as expected.

My mother had sent me to ask her for a couple of eggs. Doña Marisol opened the door in her robe, her hair still wet, and looked at me in a way I would never forget.

I ripped the dress, tossed a shoe, and rubbed my thighs until they were red. When I called him crying from the phone booth, I knew he’d come without thinking.

When I saw her get off the bus with the pink backpack over her shoulder, I understood that she had already made up her mind—and that I was only going to play my part.

I went out to smoke in the dark and saw him: crouched behind the palm tree, eyes fixed on the window where she was undressing, unaware she was being watched by two.

I spent twenty-eight years married to a man who treated me like furniture. At fifty-two, a delivery man rang the bell and gave me back things I didn’t even know were lost.

We’d been talking on WhatsApp for almost a year without ever meeting. That afternoon, in the hotel room, she sat down in front of me and started taking off her clothes.

The burgundy curtain separated me from the empty street. Mara leaned in to fasten the bodysuit’s clasps for me and, without warning, her fingers lingered a little too long.

We had been sharing a roof for months when, one afternoon, she looked up from her computer, saw my shoulders tense, and said something I’ll never forget: “Come on, take a while to relax.”

I opened the curtains, turned on the corner lamp, and knew he’d be peering in from the next terrace over. That night, we were going to give him something he’d never dare ask for.

By my fifties, I thought nothing could shake me anymore. Then she walked into my son’s room with her hair tied up and a smile I wasn’t expecting.