Strangers

I went upstairs with a glass of cold water and found him naked on the ladder. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there, but he turned slowly.

I’d booked the place for our anniversary, but she beat me to it: the hostel was the headquarters of a private club, and that night the red button was beside the bed.

When she opened the door in a rush, with smeared mascara and a wrinkled dress, I knew something had happened that would change everything between us.

I shaved myself smooth, pulled on the tight black thong, and painted my lips red. An hour before he arrived, I was already trembling without having seen him yet.

It was three in the morning when I heard the key in the lock. I hid behind the curtain, never imagining what my mother would let them do a meter away from me.

He crossed the city with nothing but his desire. When the door opened, he knew that man wasn’t going to ask permission for anything that happened.

Baltasar smelled the tension the second the boy asked for a lift. He wasn’t after small talk: he wanted the same thing Baltasar did, and they both knew it without saying a word.

She took my hand on the kitchen table, looked at me hard, and said what she’d been thinking for weeks. I only managed to stand up and pace in circles.

The salsa was playing louder than usual. I pressed myself against the wall, searched for the gap in the curtains, and what I saw on the other side erased forever the idea I had of my family.

I’ve spent half my life going up into the mountains alone, but that October morning I came back down with more than a basket full. This really happened, and I still can’t believe it.

Her hand moved up my thigh while I was driving. “They say people in those places don’t stop to stretch their legs,” she whispered. And I knew she meant it this time.

Yesterday I slept with my ex-wife, and it was by far the sanest thing I did all week. What happened the other four days is not something I should be telling you, but here I am.

I told him over chat I’d leave dressed as a man, but I’d enter the hotel as a woman. What I didn’t tell him was how much I wanted that night.

I arrived determined to behave. When the lights went down and that stranger’s body started moving among us, I knew something was about to spiral out of control.

It was July and we were both sweating. I’d been doing this for only a short time and still had a lot to learn, but that night the woman watched me from the chair as if I were the main course.

She suggested it in whispers one ordinary dawn: she wanted me to hold the camera while another man made her his. I said yes, not knowing what I was turning into.

I got into the car expecting an afternoon with him, but there was someone else in the back seat, and I immediately knew where this was going.

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.

The phrase we always whispered in bed was spoken in a low voice in front of a real man. And this time I wasn’t going to let it stay a fantasy.