Erotica
A Spanish Inquisition
A scheduling conflict turns into an opportunity for introductions… and for an MFM fantasy to be realized
A firm knock on my front door pulls me out of a comatose slumber. It’s Sunday morning, midsummer, and the bright light through my tall altbau windows offends my heavy eyes. It’s far too hot for my down duvet this time of year, and even the thin cotton sheets I’m using in their place are sticking to my damp skin.
There’s another knock on the door.
Next to me, a body rustles. Mateo! I almost forgot he was here.
Things got far more festive than I had planned last night, but then again, nighttime, when the temperatures finally dip under 25 Celsius, is when I come to life. My Nordic complexion wasn’t made for this climate, and neither was Berlin for that matter, but the summers here only seem to get hotter.
Another knock.
I finally manage to peel myself off the bed and slip into a long black silk robe. Opening the front door slightly, I peek my face through the crack to see Pablo.
—Buenos días, bonita! Am I disturbing?
—Oh hi, I mumble, confused for a second, until I remember that we had made plans to hang out. I open the…
