Seduction

That afternoon I only wanted to correct some sketches on a terrace. I ended up sharing beers with them and, weeks later, much more than conversation.

Three gin and tonics, two coworkers I barely knew, and a sofa. What started as office small talk turned into the most unexpected night of my life.

I woke at dawn to the noise from their room. The door was half open, and what I saw left me frozen in the hallway, naked and unable to move.

She arrived in black underwear, turned on the hose, and let the water run over her skin. I knew then that that August night, we weren’t going to behave like friends.

The other side of the bed was untouched and, on the fruit bowl, an envelope with my name and my husband’s square handwriting.

I never thought my husband’s friend would teach me something about myself in a shop fitting room. And much less that we’d invite him that same afternoon.

We always slept in the same bed and told each other everything. That night, with a little too much wine, Renata took my face and kissed me like never before.

I looked down and saw her hand resting on my thigh. We’d been friends for five years, but that night, after the second glass of vodka, everything changed in an instant.

I’d been traveling for twenty hours with one thought: back in their arms. I never imagined that reunion would force me to cross a line I’d sworn never to cross.

I’d been cleaning that huge house for eight months. I never imagined what that married couple was hiding behind the row of shoes, or how far I’d go for tuition.

She wore the tightest yellow dress in her closet and her head was full of arguments against that woman. An hour later, she didn’t know if she hated her or wanted her.

When he whispered, “Go on, press yourself against him,” I knew we wouldn’t be going home alone that night. And part of me had been wanting it for weeks.

My wife always fantasized about another man having her in front of me. That afternoon, at a lonely stop on the highway, a stranger asked for a light and everything stopped being a game.

I went upstairs still carrying the smell of the hospital on my skin. The half-open door, the warm light, her silk nightgown. No words were needed: I already knew how the night would end.

I had watched her go from shy boy to stunning woman. That hot afternoon, with the pizza cooling on the table, she was the one who leaned in and kissed me first.

Carla whispered her darkest fantasy to me, and weeks later I saw her on her knees before the man we had both chosen without saying it out loud.

When the shop shutter locked, I knew there was no turning back: the three of us were alone, and my husband was looking at me with that complicit smile.

As soon as we closed the door, we came at each other urgently. Then he asked me in my ear if I could picture the two of us together, and that night changed everything.

When I asked for a full waxing, she arched a brow and her smile stopped being professional. The wax and her fingers soon became one.

It was eleven thirty at night when Daniela appeared in the hallway and asked me for help with the fire. I’d spent the whole afternoon thinking about what was in their bags.