Young

Crossing my legs at just the right moment was all it took for him to stop pretending he wasn’t looking at me. The rest was only a matter of time.

He smelled of tobacco and the countryside. He wasn’t handsome, but from the moment I first saw him, something in me stopped working normally.

She came out of the bathroom in a white blazer that barely covered anything, a red pacifier on her lips and that smile of hers. I knew that night would be different.

When she dragged me to the bathroom with one hand in my sweater, we stopped being boss and employee. There was no turning back.

I’d been under the same roof as my father’s wife for four days when she left her bedroom door ajar and told me, without words, to come upstairs.

I kissed him for the first time at nineteen, but we couldn’t finish. Eleven years later, I found him at my boyfriend’s club with another woman on his arm.

I looked in the mirror, and the face I saw wasn’t mine. It was hers. And inside that borrowed body, something began to awaken that never should have.

I went down to the kitchen at midnight never imagining he was still awake. He was in the garden smoking, with that effortless air. He looked at me and I made no move to leave.

When he opened the wrong box, he knew it was a mistake. But when she entered his office, small and frightened, doll and woman became one.

Sofía told me that night her boyfriend was too much for her. I just smiled. For me, that wasn’t a problem—it was an invitation.

Four coworkers, a pool, an entire night. The best vacation send-off I could have imagined.

I knelt between his legs in that hotel room and used my lips to say everything words couldn’t.

She came out of the bathroom wearing a white blazer with nothing underneath and a red pacifier between her lips. That night I knew Camila hadn’t come to please me: she’d come to have fun.

I climbed the gate at three in the morning, with my dress torn and my stockings bloodied, just to look him in the eye and ask whether I was making it all up.

That night I prepared like never before. Camila was coming over with her backpack and her wicked smile, and I knew exactly what I was going to ask her for.

When Marcos confessed he could help me with both things, I knew that night out dancing was going to end far better than expected.

My friends had years of experience when I had barely even brushed a guy. That night in Medellín, I made up for all of it at once.

She was thirty-six weeks pregnant and I was alone with her all week. No one knew what crossed my mind every time I helped her.

One summer night, a bottle game among strangers on the beach and no intention of stopping. What happened next was far more than expected.

At sixty-three, after a decade of masturbating alone, I never expected the girl in the spare room to change everything forever.