Voyeur

The doorbell rang just as she finished hanging the laundry. I hid in the bedroom and watched her go answer it wearing nothing but wedges and a smile.

She wore a miniskirt, black stockings, and sunglasses that kept me from knowing when she’d caught me watching. Until she stopped pretending and started playing with me.

The receptionist winked at him when he handed over the towel. That gesture was only the beginning: in every room, a different body and a new turn-on waited for him.

I thought it was a secret date with my girlfriend’s cousin. What I didn’t know was that the phone beside the bed was streaming everything live.

Lucía was the most proper girl in the school crowd. That night I saw her walk into the birthday party in a miniskirt and realized the Sunday-Mass girl was gone.

I turned the living-room light down so she wouldn’t see me, but when the sheet started moving beneath her hips, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping that night.

She went down to dinner without panties or a bra. She said she didn’t know what was wrong with her, but I was starting to understand: that day she was going to cross every line.

I arrived at the concert expecting him to take me to bed. It never crossed my mind that it would be his girlfriend who would drag me into the bathroom after the third song.

That night I went downstairs for a glass of water and never made it to the kitchen. What I saw in the shadows of the corner left me frozen for an hour.

When Bruno looked up from his monitor and saw his boss staring at his mother, he knew he had two options: make a scene or stay silent.

My friends were strolling past the display windows laughing. I stopped in front of hers and, by the way she looked back at me, I knew that night wasn’t for them.

I’d only been in the alley for a month when I was put in charge of the punch with house 207. I didn’t expect the woman who opened the door and her husband to change my idea of desire that very night.

For two days I had been lowering the curtains to hide what I was doing. That last morning I decided to leave them open, and the woman in uniform stayed planted on the other side of the courtyard.

When we got there that night, my wife was already wearing the plug. What we didn’t expect was to run into a nineteen-year-old who would change the routine.

We’d sworn the playroom would be oral sex only. We hadn’t counted on the man next to us watching—or on his wife’s hands on my back.

When I leaned out the car window to see if my sister was still awake, I found him in his window, smoking. And I knew he wasn’t going to look away.

I wanted people to watch her. To devour her with their eyes. What I didn’t expect was that one of the strangers in the back would dare to chase her into the showers.

I went up the stairs, opened the main bathroom door, and there she was, in the tub with the baby, barely covered by a thin layer of foam.

I went out to smoke in the dark and saw him: crouched behind the palm tree, eyes fixed on the window where she was undressing, unaware she was being watched by two.

We’d been drinking beer around the pool for hours. When I went into the house looking for ice, the moans were coming from inside—and they weren’t hers alone.