Voyeur

The beds squeaked in sync. If she moaned, my girlfriend got louder. It was a silent competition between four people separated by a few inches of drywall.

No one expected me to come back so soon. What I saw in that garage—my mother, shirtless, with her fists wrapped—could never be unseen.

When I realized that what turned me on wasn’t looking but being watched, I sought out the empty shed behind my house on New Year’s Eve and deliberately dropped my panties.

Three beers, a joint, and a secluded table on the balcony. The thrill of knowing anyone might look over was exactly what we wanted that night.

I offered her my seat when she got on, and a few stops later her hand was already reaching for my fly while the nurse across from us watched without hiding it.

I got out of the car convinced the house was empty. Then I heard moans upstairs and turned on the bedroom camera.

It was two in the morning, I opened the window looking for air, and saw her lying on the sofa across the way, with no idea anyone was watching her.

When I got out of the car with the blouse clinging to my body and my thong showing through my pants, I didn’t expect that man’s gaze to stay locked on me through the whole interview.

I thought the nap would leave the beach empty. When I returned from the sea, she had one hand inside her bikini, eyes closed, unaware I was watching her.

The glassed-in terrace lets my silhouette show from the outside. That morning, while I was hanging laundry naked, I heard two girls’ voices laughing right below my window.

I’d been up all night studying with coffee, until a squeak in the wall beside me made me lower my pillow and realize who was making that noise.

Three friends, a dance floor, and one decision that changed the night. This is what happened when I stopped looking for Renata and found her exactly where I shouldn’t have been looking.

I went downstairs barefoot for a drink of water and found her sprawled on the sofa, her legs braced against the backrest. She never turned her head. I didn’t move.

I parked on the emptiest level of the underground garage and asked if she was still sure. She nodded. I handed her the envelope and asked her to just watch, nothing else.

I knew he was already seated by the window, waiting for us. All my husband and I wanted was to make me his obsession for one night.

Damián swore we knew how to have fun. I never imagined his invitation would lead us to a hallway of red curtains where my wife would decide for both of us.

The first time I found the wrapper in the trash, I thought I was mistaken. By the fourth time, I knew exactly what was happening in that room.

I thought he was just as self-conscious as I was. Until he came out of the shower, dropped his towel half a meter away, and started drying himself as if nothing were wrong.

I went upstairs with a stranger and, when the door closed, I knew my neighbor was already posted behind the curtain, ready to watch every detail.

The moment she saw herself in the mirror wearing the dress, she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk five peaceful yards without people following her.