THE PERFECT CUCKOLD; Chapter 6: Suspended Between Two Worlds

Two weeks of silence.

Marcel disappeared as if he had never existed. No message, no call, no sign of life. Mateo obsessively checked his phone every five minutes, re-reading their last conversation as if he could extract some clue about when Marcel would contact him again. Each day he became more desperate and debated between writing or waiting, but Marcel had set a rule. Only answer his messages. Never write to him directly.

The abstinence was brutal. He had tasted something that his body and mind now considered essential, and the deprivation was driving him crazy. With Sebas, he tried to pretend normality, but each kiss felt like a betrayal of what he really desired, each caress like a reminder of what he lacked.

Work had become a torture of failed distractions. The plans blurred before his eyes as he fantasized about Marcel. Meetings with clients became simulations where his body was present but his mind wandered through forbidden territories. And the gym was the only thing that calmed his anxiety.

Sebas had noticed the change, of course. The questions started softly: "Are you okay, love? You seem distant." But Mateo had become an expert in deflecting them with forced smiles and kisses that tasted like lies.

* * *

The message that changed everything.

In the afternoon of the fifteenth day after the encounter at the bar, when Mateo had begun to wonder if Marcel had been just a hallucination, the message arrived:

Marcel: Have you missed me, puppy?

Mateo was in a café near his office, and his phone almost fell out of his hands. His fingers trembled as he wrote:

Mateo: Yes. A lot. What happened?

Marcel: How much?

Mateo: I haven't been able to think of anything else. Why did you disappear?

Marcel: Because you needed time to realize what you really want.

Mateo: I think I already knew what I wanted.

Marcel: But not with the certainty you know now.

The response came with a photo: Marcel in what seemed to be his apartment, without a shirt, his muscular torso shining with a thin layer of sweat. The photo was taken from above, showing his chest, his marked abdominals, and the hint of what was below.

Marcel: My house. Tomorrow at 8. If you come, it will be to give me everything. Not for games in bar bathrooms.

Mateo: Everything?

Marcel: Your body, your obedience, you. Are you ready for that?

Mateo looked at the screen for ten full minutes. He knew that saying yes meant crossing a point of no return.

Mateo: Yes.

Marcel: Address: Velázquez Street 47, 1st B. Come alone. And puppy...

Mateo: Yes?

Marcel: Shower well. It's going to be a long night.

Mateo lied to Sebas with an ease that disturbed him. A company dinner, an important client, a get-together with friends, any excuse was valid now. Sebas barely lifted his gaze from his book when...