The Forbidden Connection

Noelia showed up at the wedding in a red dress that seemed designed to ignite all the senses.

The right neckline, the cut that hinted at more than it showed, and that way of walking, confident and elegant, as if the whole world were at her feet. I noticed her before I knew her name, even before our eyes met. She was on the arm of her husband, a tall, serious man, who seemed too self-absorbed to notice how all eyes followed his wife.

I was behind my camera, capturing every moment, when our eyes finally met. It was like a spark, a jolt of electricity that ran through my body. She held my gaze a second longer than necessary, and her smile, discreet but full of intention, left me breathless. During the night, every time I moved around the room, I felt her gaze following me, a presence that burned me from a distance.

Destiny, or perhaps something else, brought us together in the toast. As I set up my camera near the main table, she approached, apparently to get a glass of wine.

“You’re very good with that camera,” she said in a soft voice, but with a tone that hinted at more than she was saying.

I smiled at her, letting my eyes roam her face for a moment. “I’m just trying to capture what really matters.”

Her laugh was almost imperceptible, but her eyes sparkled with something I understood instantly. There was a game between us, a dangerous one, but impossible to resist.

The first meeting: the stationery store

Days later, the message arrived: “When you have time, stop by my business. Papelería Luna, near your studio. I’d love to see you.”

When I entered the store, Noelia was behind the counter, wearing a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and a tight skirt. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and that smile, the same one I had seen at the wedding, appeared again.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” she said, inviting me to come closer.

The atmosphere was charged. Every word, every movement, seemed to be imbued with a tension that neither of us could ignore.

When our hands brushed while looking through a catalogue, everything fell apart.

I took her by the waist, pulling her closer to me. She didn’t resist; on the contrary, her lips found mine in a hungry kiss, charged with weeks of repressed desire. Her body pressed against mine, and my hands began to explore, moving down the curve of her back to her hips.

“Not here,” she whispered, panting, but she didn’t let go.

I led her to a small room behind the counter. There, with the door barely closed, I leaned her against the wall, and our bodies met with an urgency that we couldn’t control.

Her breathing was fast, ragged, as my hands ran over her skin. She let out a moan as I slid my lips down her neck, slowly moving down, as her nails dug into my shoulders.

The second encounter: the hotel

The text arrived two days later: “Hotel

Send golf, room 204. Tomorrow at 3.”

When I walked in, Noelia was already there. She was wearing a tight, black dress that left little to the imagination. No words were needed. As soon as I closed the door, she threw herself into my arms, kissing me with an intensity that took my breath away.

I led her to the bed, where I slowly undressed her, enjoying every second. Her lingerie was black, delicate, but her attitude was anything but restrained. As I ran my lips over her body, she arched, her moans filling the room.

“You’re a fucking danger,” she murmured, pulling at my hair as I made her lose herself in pleasure.

Our bodies met again and again, in a perfect mix of wildness and tenderness.

There were times when I held her tightly, bending her over the edge of the bed, her hands clinging to the sheets as my rhythm made her scream my name. But there were also moments of gentleness, when I looked into her eyes, kissing her slowly as our breaths mingled.

At one point, I pinned her against the wall of the room, holding her thighs as she wrapped her legs around my waist. The force of our movements made the pictures shake, but nothing mattered more than the heat between us.

I never thought I would dare something like this —she said, panting, as we rested together in bed.

And yet, here you are —I answered, caressing her face.

The aftermath

When she dressed in front of the mirror, I stared at her. There was something about her, a mix of guilt and satisfaction, that made her even more irresistible. She turned to me, adjusting her dress.

This can't happen again —she said, but her gaze said something different.

Whatever you say, I replied, knowing we were both lying.

As we left the hotel, she said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind the scent of her perfume and the memory of her skin against mine. Her life would continue at her husband's side, but at that moment, she was not his. She was mine.