Seduction

I’d spent the whole day with my underwear damp just thinking about what was waiting for me at home. The box was still closed on the bed, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

She thought about him all day. Now, under the sheets and with rain tapping at the glass, her hand begins to explore what her imagination had already promised.

Every so often I’d type her name to see if I could find her. She never showed up. Until that morning, when the first result was her, exact, unmistakable.

I never wanted to go on cam. Until one night I gave in to curiosity and a faceless user asked to be alone with me.

He doesn’t know that when he closes his chat window, I turn off the light and let my hands do what his hands could never do to me from so far away.

I had been wearing lingerie in secret for years. That week, far from home, I decided to find out what it felt like to do it for real, in a stranger’s bed.

My wife thought the game was over when the technician left. She didn’t know the hidden camera had recorded everything, and that my excitement had only just begun as I watched from the office.

I had never dared watch myself while I touched myself. That afternoon I put my phone in front of the bed, took a deep breath, and learned something new about my own desire.

When she let the robe fall, I understood that my perfect neighbor was hiding far more than anyone imagined, and that night I no longer wanted to turn back.

I thought it would just be another chat to kill the boredom. But when he started typing, I closed my eyes and let his words do what no hand had done in months.

The lock thrown, the light off, and one single finger enough to take me where no boy my age ever knew how to lead me.

I watched her legs cross the stage and knew I wouldn’t make it through the day. Desire led me to the last bathroom stall, alone with my own need.

It was eleven in the morning, the place was empty, and my partner was asleep. When I saw him come through the door, I knew that Sunday wasn’t going to be like any other.

It had been six weeks since I’d slept well, and her scent still weighed on the sheets. That morning, in the café on the avenue, I understood how much it costs to lose someone who still smells like they’re yours.

By thirty, no one had ever kissed me. The night I spied on my roommate through the crack in his door, something inside me finally woke up.

I went upstairs to use the bathroom and he was waiting for me with his fly open. What I didn’t count on was someone opening the door just when we were on all fours.

For an entire year I lived two lives: the perfect professional beside my partner, and the insatiable lover who returned to the hotel every night. Until the TV announced his death.

I knew nobody could see me in that dark storeroom. Only the naked mannequin in the corner witnessed what I did while thinking of her, the seamstress in the shortest skirt.

She climbed into the back seat with the boss’s wife thinking she was going to find me. She got out thinking about when she could see her again.