I don't know exactly what made me leave the party that night. Maybe the noise, maybe that strange emptiness I've been carrying around for days. Or that dull heat in my belly, that familiar tension I can't ignore anymore. I needed air. Or maybe just an excuse to run away.
My steps led me, without thinking, through a silent hallway, a bit out of the way, far from the laughter and clinking glasses. Far from him, too. My boyfriend was somewhere, probably talking, smiling at others. And me, I just wanted to disappear for a few minutes. To erase myself. Or maybe… to find myself again.
I entered a room. The handle turned without resistance. An empty office, dimly lit. The screen of a still-on computer cast a bluish light on the walls, and the keyboard blinked softly. It was the kind of room you weren't supposed to be in. And maybe that's exactly why I stayed.
I sat down without really thinking. The chair creaked softly under my weight. The silence was dense, almost thick. The kind of silence where you can hear your own breath, the blood in your temples, your heart pounding for no apparent reason.
And yet, I had one. I could feel it coming, that moment. My body knew it BEFORE I DID.
I turned on the camera. The screen lit up instantly. I called my boyfriend. Why? I still don't know. Maybe to reassure myself. Maybe to provoke. Maybe because, without realizing it, I was already starting to lose myself.
The door opened behind me.
A man entered. Tall. Vague silhouette, sculpted by shadow. I'd never seen him before. And yet, there was no hesitation. No words. Just his gaze. A gaze that froze me in place. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. I knew. I understood that he'd grasped what I was looking for. What I didn't dare say. What I'd come here to find, alone.
I DIDN'T SPEAK EITHER.
He made the first move. Slowly, without any violence. A silent walk, yet it made the air around him vibrate. My hands trembled just slightly. I could've ended the call. I could've gotten up. Left. Said no.
I STAYED.
His fingers brushed my thigh. A simple touch. But I shivered from head to toe. It wasn't fear. It was anticipation. An almost electric tension. Pure excitement. Raw. The kind you can't control, the kind you hide from everyone but yourself.
He kissed me without a word. Without hesitation. And I responded. My body responded. My lips, my hands, my hips, all of me. I pressed against him like I'd been waiting for him all my life. The camera was still rolling. The call was still active. And I didn't move. I didn't run.
I remember everything. The tension in my muscles. The fire growing between my legs. The soft bite of his lips against my skin. He didn't speak. He took me. Slowly, at first. Then harder. Faster. And I let him. I held on to him. My eyes were closed, my head empty, my body ON FIRE.
And I knew. I knew my boyfriend was seeing it all. That he was there, behind the screen, a powerless witness. But I kept going.
It was wrong.
But it felt GOOD.
SO GOOD that I forgot the world.
For a few minutes, I wasn't me anymore. Or maybe I was FINALLY ME. That hidden, silent version I suppress every day. The one who's not afraid to want. Who doesn't apologize for taking. Who's not ashamed to come. Who lives through her body, not through regrets.
And then, suddenly, a voice.
— I'M HERE.
Cold. Sharp. Real.
Like thunder on a summer night. Like an invisible hand wrapped around my throat.
I opened my eyes. My body tensed. The man froze inside me. But I didn't move. I stayed there, straddling him, naked, exposed, offered. HEARD. SEEN.
And I whispered, without thinking:
— Oh fuck.
The camera. The call. Him.
I had forgotten. Or I had pretended. But now, he was there. He had seen. HE HAD SEEN EVERYTHING.
And me… I had liked it.