Seduction

When we saw her take the stage in that dress clinging to her body, I knew we'd bid to the limit to have her between the three of us.

He sat beside me when the lights went out, and before midnight I was already imagining his hand sliding up beneath my dress.

When she came home with tousled hair and a smile that wasn’t meant for me, I knew our kitchen pact had passed the point of no return.

It began with a provocation in the kitchen; hours later, I slipped into her bed, determined to show her with my tongue and hands everything her husband never knew how to do.

My friend went off with his girlfriend and left me alone with his mother; when the door closed, the tension in the kitchen changed completely.

She was asleep in bed. I left the bathroom with my towel knotted around me, crossed the hall, and found him waiting as if he knew I’d come looking for him.

Every time we swore we'd end it, one look was enough to leave us locked away again, sweating and fucking as if we hated each other.

She squeezed my hand under the table when he brushed her thigh again, and I knew we wouldn’t be sleeping alone that night.

I went there to ask for help, but when I saw the way he looked at me in that office, I knew the conversation could end somewhere far more dangerous.

I went back to the garage with a flimsy excuse and a skirt that was too short; they immediately understood I wasn’t there for the car.

A broken wheel left us alone in the forest, and when she appeared naked among the branches, I knew the journey would never end the same way.

First there were his eyes from the building across the street; then, his bulge rubbing against me as we danced in my living room.

The third time we ran into each other, her smile lingered too long, and I realized coffee was no longer an excuse.

When she opened the apartment door and looked us up and down, I understood that our fantasy was no longer just dinner-table talk.

In the early hours, I felt her return to bed, breathing hard. When I turned around, I saw her touching herself beneath the sheet, thinking I was asleep.

When she opened the door and let me in, I knew that old fantasy was still alive—and this time I wasn't going to run away.

I lowered the controller and held my breath: on the other side of the wall, her moans were rising, and my hand was already inside my pants.

She invited me to stay alone with her for a week, and from the first night I knew she didn’t want to treat me like an ordinary guest.

I pretended to be drunk in the back seat, but when that stranger slipped his hand beneath my skirt, I stopped acting.

First they sought him out out of curiosity; afterward, out of addiction. In that neighborhood, any order could end with the door closed and legs spread.