Seduction

I’d been ignoring his looks for weeks. That night at the hotel, after the pool and dancing with strangers, I couldn’t keep doing it.

That afternoon four men came to visit me. None knew about the others. I was the only one who had the full picture, and I felt no guilt at all.

I’d walked for hours, my dress torn and blood on my legs. I couldn’t stop. I had to see him, even if everything I did that night destroyed me.

I hadn’t come to Málaga looking for anything. And yet Mateo showed up with his twenty-eight years and those eyes that make you feel the world owes you something.

When Rodrigo crossed the threshold, Valentina looked at him with the calm of a woman who knew exactly what she had in mind—and that night, neither was innocent.

When she dialed maintenance for the second time that night, she already knew it wasn’t to ask him to clean anything.

When she caught me in her room with the slipper in my hand, her look mixed surprise with something darker. That day changed everything between us.

I saw him walk through that door and my heart started racing. I wore the reddest dress I owned. I wanted the first thing he saw to be me.

As soon as we left the parking lot she slid her hand inside her pants. I drove looking for the first dead-end road I could find.

She wore knee-high boots and the kind of look women have when they already know exactly what they want. I got up to give her my card before the moment slipped away.

When I went down to the garage, Valeria was waiting for me in leather pants and a smile that was anything but maternal.

He’d come in looking for the bathroom and stayed standing in the doorway, staring at me. Twenty years old, nervous as hell, and asking me something I hadn’t expected.

I went up to the garage with the envelope in my backpack, dark glasses, and my skirt blowing in the wind. That morning, I didn’t know I’d leave as someone else.

When I opened the door and saw him there, with that good-boy look and those defined arms, I knew that afternoon was going to change something for both of us.

She got on my bike in that tight leather outfit and told me to go slow. But neither of us wanted to go slow that night.

When I stepped out of the elevator, my thong already soaked and my dress clinging to my sweat, I knew that tequila wouldn’t remain just tequila.

When she arrived at the party in that dress, I knew something was going to happen. No one imagined we’d end up in her apartment, the four of us, teaching her everything.

For five years we met every January. She ran the spa, I always booked the same room. Nobody suspected a thing.

I climbed the metal staircase with my skirt pressed to my body and my backpack full of bills, feeling every gaze in the garage crawling up my legs.

She chose the man. I arranged the meetings. Neither of us knew exactly how that spring night in Barcelona would end.