1 - PLAYING

TechnoTF occupied the twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and twenty-sixth floors of a glass tower north of the city. There they designed, patented, and sold all kinds of technologies: home automation, biometrics, motion sensors, facial recognition microchips, interfaces worn on the wrist and others implanted in the nape of whoever could pay for them. It was a serious company, with impeccable quarterly results and employees who spoke in low voices in the hallways.

On the twenty-fifth floor, in adjoining offices separated by a frosted glass panel, two of its most valued executives worked.

Pablo was twenty-six, with a body you could notice even under his fitted white shirt: broad back, thick arms, strong neck. He was a top, and it showed in everything: in the way he walked, in the way he occupied space, in the confidence with which he closed a deal or rested his hand on the conference table. He had both forearms tattooed with black ink, geometric shapes and lettering that peeked out from under his cuffs when he rolled up his sleeves. He was direct, hot behind closed doors, and absolutely loyal outside them. He had been married to Kenny for a little over two years.

Kenny was twenty-three. He was slim, narrow-shouldered, with a thin waist and a round, firm ass that, no matter how much he tried not to draw attention, always managed to be outlined by the fabric of his dress pants. He was a bottom, and it showed too, though in a very different way: not through effeminacy or poses, but through a reserved sweetness, through a way of smiling while lowering his gaze, through that nice-boy air of never raising his voice. Kenny was kind to everyone, meticulous with his work, incapable of vulgarity. He didn't swear, didn't tell dirty jokes, didn't take part in the racy conversations by the coffee machine. He was, for everyone at TechnoTF, the perfect husband and the irreproachable employee.

They loved each other. Truly. In a serene, domestic way that was enough for them: breakfast together before leaving, mid-morning calls to ask what they'd have for dinner, fucking at night with a tender urgency that hadn't worn out yet. Pablo treated him with a mixture of protectiveness and desire. Kenny let himself be loved and gave himself completely. They were monogamous, and both had been clear about that since the first date. There were no cracks.

At least, not in the marriage.

Gerardo was sixty-two and occupied the largest office on the twenty-sixth floor, with views over the whole city and a mahogany desk that creaked under his weight when he leaned back. He was the founder and CEO of TechnoTF, a fat man with a thick double chin, wide hands, and a gold ring that sank into his ring finger. He had built the empire through forty years of work and now, at the top, he was discovering that the top was a lonely place.

He had been watching Kenny for years.

He watched him from the gallery in meetings, from the ot...