Women

Marina hadn’t slept from excitement. What none of the three of us imagined was that that hidden cove would strip us of a lot more than our clothes.

He thought parading around half-naked would rattle her. What he didn’t expect was to learn that night, the hard way, who really held the power in that house.

He thought he would be the one in charge that night. The moment he crossed the door, the ropes were ready and their smiles were anything but innocent.

You didn’t plan to work that day, but the message sounded like an order. What you didn’t know was that your coworkers had been waiting weeks to see you walk in like that.

She came to buy my book and sat on my lap with her back to me. “Read it slowly, out loud,” I asked, as my fingers began moving down her belly.

When she told me she’d been on her period for three days, I didn’t pull my hand away: I drew her closer, because her honesty was the beginning of everything that came after.

When Mariela took the microphone and said the bar was closed for just the women there, I knew none of us was going home the same.

Every morning she watched her come out of the kitchen in a nightgown clinging to her body and settled for crumbs. Until the coffee grove left them alone all day.

She had spent years going to that club alone, waiting for a glance that would stay on her. That night, unknown fingers took her hand and dragged her into the dark.

“Normally, you’d have to kneel and wait in silence,” she said as she fitted the collar around my neck. She didn’t know I’d be the one ending up in charge.

“Relax, let go,” she told me at the door, and I knew that night I was going to learn something no man had ever shown me.

She left me breathless in front of the mirror, my clothes half straightened and a promise hanging in the air: this wasn’t over.

The cove was almost empty when Carla stripped off her dress without a trace of shame, and Lucía realized that this summer wasn’t going to be about work alone.

I remember her at the door of her bookstore, with her almost white hair and those impossible eyes. Ten years passed before I had her near me again, and this time I wasn’t going to let her go.

Of all the women who came to that party, she was the only one I didn’t get to taste. So when her name appeared on my phone the next day, I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.

We arrived revving the bike so everyone would look. But I only had eyes for the girl in the next tent and for what we were going to share that night.

Every time the girl came into her house, something ignited inside her. That afternoon, for the first time, no one else was there to interrupt them.

I met her on the excursions, exotic and self-assured. I never imagined that one comment at the pool would end with me naked in my husband’s room.

I hated her the moment she walked in: tall, quiet, unbearable. What I didn’t expect was to spend the night fantasizing about her—or what would happen after, in the empty office.

In front of the camera, the sexologist promised a simple anatomy lesson. But when the host slipped a hand under her thong, both knew there was no turning back.