Seduction

Of all the women who came to that party, she was the only one I didn’t get to taste. So when her name appeared on my phone the next day, I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.

She accepted the invitation to pay her cheating boyfriend back in kind and chose the fine-featured zombie, not imagining what she would discover when she took off the costume.

I got home thinking I could sleep, but my phone lit up with her name on the screen, and I knew I wasn’t going to rest that night.

I went into the bar bathroom looking for a moment of calm and found her there, eyes closed and legs open, with no intention of stopping when she saw me.

We arrived revving the bike so everyone would look. But I only had eyes for the girl in the next tent and for what we were going to share that night.

Twenty years separated Mariana from her teacher, but when that hand stopped at her hip during rehearsal, she knew the look in her eyes had changed.

When she started crying on my shoulder and confessed that her husband no longer touched her, I knew that afternoon’s massage was going to end very differently.

We’d been writing to each other every morning and every night for a month and a half. When I finally saw her sitting at that table, I knew neither of us would sleep alone.

Every month I crossed the street for a wax, never imagining the girl with the soft hands was waiting for the same signal I was.

Every time the girl came into her house, something ignited inside her. That afternoon, for the first time, no one else was there to interrupt them.

I met her on the excursions, exotic and self-assured. I never imagined that one comment from her by the pool would end with me naked in my husband’s room.

For months we’d had breakfast together after dropping the kids off. That morning she seemed different, and what she texted me changed everything between us.

I hated her the moment she walked in: tall, quiet, unbearable. What I didn’t expect was to spend the night fantasizing about her—or what would happen after, in the empty office.

It had been more than ten years since I’d seen her. I found her by the dildo shelf and, without thinking, gave her my number.

In front of the camera, the sexologist promised a simple anatomy lesson. But when the host slipped a hand under her thong, both knew there was no turning back.

The age gap should have been a problem, not an invitation. But when she kicked off her shoes and looked at me from the sofa, I knew I’d obey every order.

I was wearing a too-tight red dress and had just turned forty-two when that blonde woman put her hand on my waist and pulled me against her.

I thought the hardest thing of the year would be passing my English exam. I was wrong: the hardest thing was hiding how badly I wanted the woman teaching me.

She laughed that she liked sleeping spooning, pressed her body against mine, and in the darkness of that borrowed room I understood it wasn’t a game.

I had been away from her for a week and, the moment I stepped through her front door, I knew that lesson wasn’t going to be about any exam.