Strangers

I couldn’t tell whether what I felt was jealousy or arousal. Probably both at once, and that frightened me more than anything else.

When he pointed the camera for the first time, he told himself it was the last. Six weeks later, he was still filming. And Laura was still smiling on the other side of the lens.

I was walking alone in the rain, my clothes clinging to my body, when he saw me from the construction site. Neither of us said much. We didn’t have to.

Carlos was looking at me from the other table with that smile of a man who thinks he knows what he wants. He had no idea what he was about to discover.

I had never been with a woman. When I opened the door and saw her standing there, I knew something in me was going to change forever that night.

I never thought getting waxed would change anything. But when he ran the wax over my buttocks and told me to get on all fours, something in me lit up.

She showed up in red heels, leather leggings, and no underwear. From the moment she arrived, I knew that morning with my mother-in-law would be different.

His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. Then I knew that massage was going to be something completely different from what I’d asked for.

We had been walking for minutes when I began recognizing the streets. When he opened that door, I knew I’d been there before—though never imagined under what circumstances.

When the stranger in the seat beside her started staring at her legs, she didn't close them. Neither did I do anything to stop him.

Going out in a thong and bra under my leggings was my secret ritual. I didn’t expect anyone to dare follow me. Or that I’d want them to so badly.

Natalia had her legs spread on the table and the doctor was pretending to apply cream. I watched from the corner, motionless, not wanting him to stop.

I met him in a park I didn’t know, in a city that wasn’t mine. He invited me to his apartment and we lost track of time.

I lived on the farm and could wear women’s clothes all day without anyone bothering me. Until a stranger wrote saying he liked my photos.

My friends were late and he appeared without my calling him. Ten minutes later, we both already knew where we were going to end up.

I’d filtered through dozens of profiles before getting to Marcos. Everything I asked for, and the patience that’s never in surplus. But someone always shows up too early.

When the canvas opened in the middle of the night, we knew what had begun between us was turning into something much bigger.

I didn’t realize what kind of neighborhood I’d wandered into until Valeria stopped in front of the hostel. Then I understood everything—and went in anyway.

We’d spent months talking about that fantasy: being watched. That night at the motel, we turned it into a game with rules and no turning back.

I was at the end of my rope. Out of money and out of options, I dialed Rodrigo’s number knowing exactly what it meant to see him again.