The Thin Wall

**The Thin Wall** The apartment smelled of fresh paint and aged wood, a scent Lúcia associated with new beginnings. The walls, painted a milky white, reflected the pale afternoon light filtering through the linen curtains, still creased from their packaging. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the kitchen table, freshly unpacked, and sighed. Thirty-four years old, a move to a new city, a new job at an elite private school. Everything meticulously planned to be *right*. But the building, ah, the building was old. The hallways echoed with footsteps as if time itself had layers, and the doors creaked on hinges that seemed to whisper secrets. The janitor, a man with calloused hands and an easy smile, had warned her: *"Here, Dona Lúcia, the walls are as thin as tissue paper. But you get used to it."* She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, too busy checking if the fridge was plugged in, if the shower heated up. It was on the first night that she noticed. The silence in the apartment was thick, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock she’d inherited from her grandmother. Lúcia lay in bed, a book open on her chest, her glasses slipping down her nose. Then it came. A muffled sound, almost imperceptible, as if someone were holding their breath on the other side of the wall. She frowned, adjusting her glasses. Another sound. A low, raspy moan that coiled around her spine and made her fingers tighten on the edge of the sheet. Lúcia sat up slowly, her heart beating faster than it should. The apartment next door. The neighbor. *Daniel*, according to the brass nameplate on door 302. She’d seen him only once, on moving day—a tall man with broad shoulders, descending the stairs with a toolbox in hand. Dark hair, slightly gray at the temples, a stubble that gave him the air of someone who’d just woken from a deep sleep. He’d greeted her with a nod, his green eyes—*green?*—fixed on her for a second longer than necessary. Now, he was there. On the other side of the wall. And he wasn’t alone. Another moan, longer this time, accompanied by a sigh that seemed to drag out the words: *"Fuck, like that…"* His voice was deep, modulated, as if every syllable were calculated to provoke. Lúcia felt the heat rise in her neck, her cheeks burning. She turned onto her side, pressing the pillow against her ear, but the sound cut through the fabric, the wood, the space between them. A rhythm began, steady, wet, and she knew, with embarrassing clarity, what was happening. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could block out the sound. *It’s none of your business. It’s none of your business.* But her body wouldn’t obey. Between her legs, an insistent pulse, a tingling that spread like hot mercury. Lúcia bit her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh. The book slipped to the floor with a dull thud. On the other side, a muffled laugh, feminine, followed by a *"Shhh, someone might hear."* *Someone is listening.* She got up, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug. She walked to the wall, hesitant, and pressed her palm against the cold surface. The wallpaper, a faded floral pattern, seemed to vibrate under her fingers. Another moan, louder, more urgent, and then a name—*"Camila"*—uttered with an urgency that made her stomach clench. Lúcia stepped back as if the wall had burned her. She returned to the bed, lying on her stomach, her fingers tangled in the duvet. But her imagination had already taken over. She saw Daniel, his large hands gripping a woman’s hips, the muscles in his back tensing with each movement. She saw his parted lips, his teeth biting his lower lip, his green eyes—*green, definitely green*—half-closed in pleasure. The orgasm came fast, almost violent, torn from her by the combination of sounds, images, and the feeling of invading something intimate without permission. Lúcia buried her face in the pillow, stifling her own moan, her nails digging into the fabric. When her breathing returned to normal, a hot shame spread through her body. *What’s wrong with me?* In the following days, she tried to ignore it. She turned on the radio in the kitchen while making breakfast, cranked up the TV volume at night, even considered buying one of those white noise machines her sister had recommended. But the building had a treacherous acoustics. The sounds found gaps—in the pause between songs, in the silence between movie lines, in the exact moment she turned off the shower and the water stopped falling. And Daniel seemed to have a sixth sense for it. On Tuesday, she heard him moan while reading a school report, her glasses slipping down her nose as the words blurred on the page. On Thursday, he was on the phone, his voice low and raspy saying *"I know you like it when I do it like this…"*, and Lúcia dropped the spoon, the metal clinking against the tile. On Friday, he was with someone else—a male voice this time, and the dynamic was different, slower, more exploratory. *"You’re so hot when you relax…"* Daniel murmured, and Lúcia felt her entire body shiver. On Saturday, she found herself leaning against the bedroom wall, her fingers tracing circles on the wallpaper, as if she could feel his heat on the other side. *Who are you, Daniel?* The question echoed in her mind, mixed with others, more dangerous: *What would it be like to touch you? To be touched by you?* That was when she heard the door of the apartment next door open. Footsteps in the hallway. A light knock on her door. Lúcia froze. Her heart raced. *He knows.* No, it couldn’t be. Impossible. But what if…? The footsteps receded. The elevator door opened and closed. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. But the curiosity, ah, the curiosity had roots too deep to be pulled out. The next morning, Lúcia spent the day avoiding the wall. Not out of fear of what she might hear—though she still felt the blush rise to her cheeks just remembering that male voice, Daniel’s drawn-out moans—but because she needed to prove to herself that she was in control. That this was nothing more than a passing distraction, a side effect of living alone after so long. She picked up a book, turned on the radio to a jazz station, even tried meditating. But the apartment seemed smaller, the walls thinner, as if the very air carried his scent: a mix of citrus soap and something darker, woody, that she couldn’t name. It was in the late afternoon, when the sun was lazily tilting over the buildings, that she ran into him. She was returning from the laundry room, her arms full of freshly ironed clothes, when the door to 302 suddenly opened. Daniel stepped out with a grocery bag in one hand and a set of keys in the other, and for a second, they both stood still in the narrow hallway, as if the universe had jolted. Lúcia felt the weight of the clothes slip from her fingers, but before she could react, he stepped forward, catching the pile of fabric before it hit the floor. — Sorry — he said, his voice low, almost intimate. — I didn’t see you. She looked up. He was barefoot, wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and worn jeans that fit perfectly on his hips. His dark hair, still damp, left droplets trailing down his neck, and Lúcia had to restrain herself from following their path with her eyes. — It’s okay — she managed to say, taking the clothes back. — I wasn’t paying attention either. A silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged, as if they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. Daniel tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. — You’re new here, right? — Moved in two weeks ago. — And you’ve already discovered the best and worst of the building — he murmured, his dark eyes fixed on hers. — The thin walls. Lúcia felt her face burn. *He knows.* The certainty hit her like a shock, followed by a wave of something more dangerous: excitement. But before she could respond, he continued, his voice soft, almost amused: — No need to be embarrassed. I hear things from your side too. — What? — she blurted out, horrified. — Like what? Daniel laughed, a deep, warm sound that reverberated in her chest. — You sing in the shower. *Girl from Ipanema*, the Astrud Gilberto version. And sometimes… — he paused, his eyes sparkling — …you moan when the water’s too hot. Lúcia opened her mouth, but no words came out. He was teasing her. He had to be. But the way he looked at her, as if he could see through the thin blouse she was wearing, left no doubt: he wasn’t lying. — You’re a jerk — she said, but there was no anger in her voice. — And you’re a liar — he shot back, taking a step closer. — Because I know you like listening to me just as much as I like listening to you. The air between them grew thick, charged with something Lúcia didn’t dare name. She should have slammed the door in his face. Should have laughed and gone on her way. But instead, she found herself trapped in that gaze, in that smile that promised things she had only imagined in secret. — Coffee — he said suddenly, as if the word were a spell. — Care for some? She should have said no. Should have made up an excuse, anything. But the truth was she wanted to stay. She wanted to know what it would be like to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin, to find out if the scent she imagined was real. — Only if you promise not to blackmail me with my own moans — she replied, surprising herself. Daniel laughed again, and the sound wrapped around her like an embrace. — No promises. --- His apartment was smaller than hers but more lived-in. Books stacked in corners, a guitar propped against the couch, dirty dishes in the tiny kitchen sink. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with something sweet—*cinnamon?*, she thought—and Lúcia felt her stomach clench. — Sorry about the mess — he said, clearing the grocery bag from the table. — Didn’t expect company. — No need to apologize — she replied, running her fingers over the spine of a book of Drummond’s poems. — I like places that feel lived-in. Daniel watched her for a second, as if assessing something. Then, with a quick movement, he pulled out a chair for her. — Sit. The coffee’s almost ready. She obeyed, crossing her legs and trying to ignore how the fabric of her jeans rubbed between her thighs. Daniel moved around the kitchen with a naturalness that fascinated her—turning on the stove, stirring sugar into the cup, cutting a piece of carrot cake with a knife that looked like it had seen better days. Every gesture was precise, economical, and Lúcia found herself imagining how those hands would feel elsewhere. — Do you cook? — she asked, just to break the silence. — When I have time. — He poured coffee into two chipped cups, placing one in front of her. — And you? — Just the basics. — Lúcia wrapped her hands around the cup, feeling the heat spread through her fingers. — But I like to eat. Daniel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile forming. — Is that an invitation? She nearly choked on her coffee. *Damn.* He was teasing again, testing boundaries. And the worst part was she didn’t know if she wanted to back down. — Depends — she said, holding his gaze. — Do you usually accept invitations from nosy neighbors? — Only the ones who lean against the wall listening to my… hobbies. The air between them turned electric. Lúcia felt her entire body react, as if every nerve ending were tuned to him. Daniel leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked on hers. — Seriously, Lúcia. — His voice was a rough whisper. — Have you never wondered what it would be like? — Like what? — This. — He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the back of her hand. A minimal touch, almost innocent, but it made her hold her breath. — You and me. On the other side of the wall. She should have laughed. Should have said no, that it was ridiculous. But the truth was she had thought about it. *Many times.* Ever since that first night she’d heard his moans, ever since the first time she’d touched herself imagining it was him making her tremble. — And if I said yes? — she murmured, surprising herself. Daniel smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. — I’d say you’re a very brave woman. He stood up, circling the table until he was beside her. Lúcia felt her heart pound so hard she was sure he could hear it. Daniel leaned in, his lips almost touching her ear when he spoke: — Or very reckless. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling his warm breath on her skin. When she opened them, he was standing, offering his hand. — Let’s go. — Where? — To the couch. — He pulled her gently. — Unless you’d rather stay here, where anyone could see us through the door. Lúcia let him guide her, her fingers intertwined with his. The couch was old, worn, but comfortable, and when Daniel pulled her to sit beside him, she didn’t resist. His body was warm, solid, and she caught the scent of his skin mixed with coffee and cinnamon. — You’re dangerous — she murmured, her fingers tracing circles on his arm. — And you like it. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And he was right. Daniel held her chin, tilting her face up. His eyes were dark, intense, and Lúcia felt her entire body surrender as he leaned in. — May I? — he asked, his voice rough. She didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes and waited. The kiss was soft at first—a brush of lips, a slow exploration. But then Daniel deepened it, his tongue seeking hers, and Lúcia moaned against his mouth, her hands rising to grasp his hair. He tasted of coffee and sin, and she felt her entire body ignite, as if every cell were begging for more. Daniel pulled her onto his lap, his large hands gripping her waist, and Lúcia let herself be carried, straddling him without thinking. The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against the sensitive skin of her thighs, and she ground against him shamelessly, feeling the hard bulge between his legs. — Fuck, Lúcia — he groaned, his hands sliding down to squeeze her buttocks. — You’re going to kill me. — Not before I kill you first — she replied, nipping at his lower lip. Daniel laughed, a low, guttural sound, and then kissed her again, more urgently. His hands slid under her blouse, his calloused fingers lightly scratching her skin, and Lúcia arched her back, offering herself. — Take it off — she pleaded, her voice choked. He didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he pulled her blouse over her head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes roamed her body, devouring every inch, and Lúcia felt her chest heave under his gaze. — Beautiful — he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of her lace bra. — So beautiful. She leaned in to kiss him again, but Daniel held her by the shoulders, keeping her at a distance. — Wait. — His voice was rough, his eyes dark with desire. — I want to look at you. Lúcia felt her face burn, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall between them. Her nipples were already hard, sensitive, and she saw Daniel’s eyes fix on them, his breathing quickening. — Damn — he whispered, his right hand rising to cup one breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and Lúcia moaned, arching against his touch. — You’re perfect. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she took his hand and guided it downward, to the button of her jeans. — Please — she pleaded, her voice trembling. Daniel didn’t hesitate. He unbuttoned her jeans with a quick movement, pulling them down along with her panties. Lúcia stood up just enough to kick them off, then straddled him again, completely naked. He pulled her into a hungry kiss, his hands exploring every inch of exposed skin. When his fingers found the center of her legs, Lúcia moaned against his mouth, wet, ready. — You’re soaked — he murmured, his fingers sliding easily. — For me. — Yes — she admitted, her nails digging into his shoulders. — Only for you. Daniel groaned, his fingers working in slow circles, and Lúcia felt her entire body tense. But before she could reach the edge, he stopped, pulling his hand away. — Not here — he said, his voice rough. — Not like this. Lúcia opened her eyes, confused. — What? He held her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly and laying her on the couch. Then he knelt between her legs, his eyes locked on hers. — I want to taste you — he said, his voice a sinful whisper. — I want to feel you on my tongue. Lúcia didn’t have time to respond. Daniel lowered his head, his warm mouth covering her sex, and she arched her back with a cry. His tongue was relentless, exploring, licking, sucking, and Lúcia felt pleasure coil inside her like a spring about to snap. — Daniel — she moaned, her hands gripping his hair. — Please, don’t stop. He didn’t stop. He increased the pace, his fingers joining his mouth, and Lúcia felt the orgasm approach like a wave. When it hit, it was intense, overwhelming, and she cried out his name, her entire body trembling. Daniel stood up, his lips glistening, and Lúcia pulled him into a kiss, tasting herself on his mouth. He kissed her hungrily, his hands moving to unzip his jeans. — Now — she pleaded, her voice rough. — I want you inside me. Daniel didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he pulled off his jeans and underwear, freeing his hard, thick cock. Lúcia wrapped her hand around it, feeling the silky texture, the pulsing heat. — Condom — he murmured, but she pulled him back, kissing him urgently. — I’m on the pill — she said between kisses. — And I’m clean. Daniel hesitated for a second, his dark eyes fixed on hers. — Me too. And then, without another word, he entered her. Lúcia moaned, her body adjusting to his size, and Daniel let out a rough sigh, his hands gripping her hips tightly. — Fuck, Lúcia — he groaned, beginning to move. — You’re so tight. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, faster. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the apartment, mixed with moans and whispers, and Lúcia felt pleasure build again, more intense, more urgent. The wind howled against the windows of the old apartment, rattling the glass as if trying to tear it from the frames. Lúcia sat on the couch, a book open in her lap, but the words danced before her eyes, meaningless. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil inside her—the thunder echoed the rapid beating of her heart, and each flash of lightning illuminated the room for an instant, revealing shadows that seemed to whisper forbidden secrets. Then, the lights flickered. Once, twice. And suddenly, darkness. The silence that followed was abrupt, as if the world had held its breath. Lúcia remained still, her fingers still gripping the edge of the book. The scent of rain filled the room, mixed with the aroma of old wood and the faint lavender perfume she wore. For a moment, she thought about lighting a candle, but the idea of getting up, of moving, seemed like too much. Then, she heard it. A soft *tap-tap* at the door. It wasn’t the wind. It wasn’t the creaking wood. It was real. She stood up slowly, her bare feet sinking into the worn rug. The darkness was thick, but her eyes were beginning to adjust, making out the outline of the door, the cold metal doorknob. Another knock, more insistent this time. — Lúcia? Daniel’s voice cut through the thin wood, low and rough, as if he, too, were holding something back. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the lock. It wasn’t fear. It was something more dangerous—anticipation that made her skin tingle. She opened the door. He stood there, drenched by the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his body, outlining the muscles she had imagined so many times. In his hands, a bottle of red wine, the label stained with moisture. His eyes met hers, and for a second, neither said a word. They just looked at each other, as if seeing one another for the first time. — I thought you might need some company — he said, finally, his voice laced with something that wasn’t just courtesy. — And some light. Lúcia stepped aside, letting him in. The apartment seemed to shrink with his presence, as if the space between them were something alive, pulsing. — You brought wine — she remarked, trying to sound casual, but her voice came out lower, more intimate than she intended. — It’s the least I can do — Daniel replied, raising the bottle. — After all, I’m a helpful neighbor. She laughed, a light sound that was lost in the rumble of another thunderclap. He watched her for a moment, as if memorizing every detail—the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the way her lips parted when she breathed. — You’re shivering — he murmured. — It’s not from the cold. The words escaped before she could stop them. Daniel smiled, a slow, dangerous smile, and took a step forward. The scent of him enveloped her—rain, soap, something deeper, more masculine. Lúcia felt the air catch in her lungs. — Neither am I — he admitted. She took the bottle from his hands, their fingers brushing. A brief contact, but enough to send an electric current through her body. She went to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses, and when she turned around, he was right behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. — Do you always show up at my door on stormy nights? — she asked, trying to ease the tension, but her voice came out shaky. — Only when I know you’re alone — he replied, his eyes fixed on hers as she poured the wine. Lúcia handed him a glass, and when their fingers touched again, neither pulled away. Daniel raised the glass to his lips but didn’t drink. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. — I hear you, you know? She swallowed hard. — What? — At night — he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. — When you touch yourself. I hear you. Lúcia felt her face burn, but it wasn’t shame. It was something more primal, more urgent. She should have denied it, should have feigned outrage, but the truth was she *wanted* him to hear. Wanted him to know. — And you? — she asked, her voice almost a moan. — What do you do when you hear me? Daniel didn’t answer with words. Instead, he set her glass down on the counter, along with his. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pulled her against him, his hands sliding around her waist, gripping her tightly. — This — he said, his mouth inches from hers. — Exactly this. And then he kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, desperate, as if they had both been waiting for this moment for weeks—because they had. Lúcia moaned against his mouth, her hands rising to tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer. Daniel pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers, and she felt every inch of him, hard, hot, *ready*. — I fantasize about you — he confessed between kisses, his mouth trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. — About your moans. About the way you bite your lip when you’re turned on. Lúcia arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders. — I do too — she admitted, her voice breaking. — About you watching me. About you touching me. Daniel let out a rough groan, his hands sliding under her blouse, his fingers finding her already hard nipples. He pinched them, drawing a sharp gasp from Lúcia, who clung to him tighter. — Fuck, Lúcia — he murmured, his mouth returning to hers. — I want to hear you now. She didn’t need any more encouragement. With a quick movement, she pulled her blouse over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Daniel watched her, his eyes dark with desire, before kneeling in front of her. His hands slid down her waist, over her hips, and then he pulled her panties down slowly, as if unwrapping a gift. Lúcia held her breath as he kissed her there, his warm, wet tongue exploring her with an intimacy that made her tremble. She braced her hands against the wall behind her, her legs weakening as Daniel devoured her, each movement calculated to push her to the edge. — Daniel… — she moaned, his name a plea. He didn’t stop. Not until she was breathless, her fingers tangled in his hair, her entire body trembling on the brink of orgasm. Then he stood up, his lips glistening, his eyes burning. — I want you in my bed — he said, his voice rough. — Now. Lúcia didn’t answer. She just took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom, where the storm outside seemed distant, insignificant, compared to the fire burning between them. The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, but the sound reverberated in Lúcia’s body like thunder. Daniel’s room was smaller than hers, narrower, with a double bed pushed against the wall that separated them from the neighboring apartment—the same wall that, for weeks, had been a silent witness to their desires. Now, it would be the stage for something far more intense. Daniel pulled her against him before she could take another step. His large, warm hands encircled her waist, and she felt the heat of his skin even through the thin fabric of his shirt. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His dark eyes, nearly black in the dim lamplight, spoke for themselves: a promise of pleasure, of surrender, of something that went far beyond what they had imagined. Lúcia raised her arms and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him into a kiss. Daniel’s mouth was demanding, his tongue sliding against hers with an urgency that made her moan softly. She felt the taste of the wine they had shared, mixed with his unique flavor—something salty, masculine, addictive. His hands slid down to her buttocks, pressing her against him, and she felt his erection pressing against her belly, hard, insistent. — You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this — he murmured against her lips, his voice rough. — How much I’ve heard you from the other side of the wall and imagined what it would be like to touch you like this. Lúcia shivered. Knowing that he desired her as much as she desired him, that he fantasized about her just as she fantasized about him, was a powerful aphrodisiac. She bit his lower lip, pulling it gently, and felt him groan, his entire body tensing. — I have too — she confessed, her words coming out in a breathless whisper. — Every time you moaned, I touched myself thinking of you. Daniel let out a guttural sound, something between a growl and a sigh, and pushed her against the wall. Not the thin wall—yet. But the other one, the one separating the bedroom from the hallway, solid and cold against her back. He pinned her wrists above her head, his body pressing against hers from top to bottom. — You touched yourself? — he asked, his voice a rough thread of silk. — Tell me how. Lúcia arched her body against his, feeling his erection rub between her legs. The fabric of his jeans was a cruel barrier, but the friction was delicious. — I imagined it was you — she said, her eyes locked on his. — That it was your hands, your fingers… your mouth. Daniel released one of her wrists and slid his free hand down her body, stopping only when he reached the button of her jeans. With a quick movement, he undid it, and his fingers dove inside, finding her wet, ready. — Like this? — he asked, his thumb circling her clit while two fingers entered her slowly. Lúcia moaned, too loud, and bit her lip to stifle the sound. But Daniel shook his head. — No — he ordered. — Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. She couldn’t resist. When he began to move his fingers, entering and withdrawing in a slow, torturous rhythm, she let out a long moan, almost a sob. The wall behind her seemed to vibrate with the sound, as if responding. — That’s it — he murmured, his mouth brushing her earlobe. — Let me hear you. Lúcia felt the orgasm approaching, a hot, pulsing wave, but before she could reach the peak, Daniel withdrew his fingers. She opened her eyes, confused, and saw him bring his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers with deliberate slowness. — You taste like sin — he said, his voice rough. — And I want more. Before she could respond, he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. The bed was just a few steps away, but he didn’t make it that far. Instead, he pressed her against the thin wall, the one that, for so long, had been a boundary between them. — Daniel… — she protested, breathless. — Someone might hear. He laughed, low and wicked, and bit her neck. — I know — he whispered. — That’s what makes it better. And then he kissed her again, hard, while one hand slid under her blouse, finding her lace bra. His fingers were skillful, unclasping it with ease, and soon her breasts were free, her nipples hard under the rough touch of his palm. Lúcia arched her back, offering herself, and Daniel didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his free hand moved to unzip his jeans. She felt his erection pulse against her hand when she touched him, hot and silky, and a groan escaped his lips. — Fuck, Lúcia… She stroked him slowly, exploring every inch, feeling him tremble under her touch. But Daniel didn’t let her control him for long. With a quick movement, he turned her around, pressing her against the wall, her hands braced against the cold surface as he pulled her jeans and panties down, leaving her naked from the waist down. — Look at you — he murmured, his voice full of admiration. — So beautiful like this, all mine. Lúcia felt his hands slide down her back, following the curve of her spine until they reached her buttocks. He squeezed them, parting them slightly, and she felt the cool air against her wet skin. A shiver ran through her body. — Daniel, please… He didn’t make her wait. With a fluid motion, he entered her from behind, filling her in one stroke. Lúcia cried out, the sound muffled against her arm as he held her firmly, his hips moving in a slow, deep rhythm. — That’s it — he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. — Moan for me. Let them hear. And she moaned. She couldn’t help it. Each thrust was a wave of pleasure, more intense, more urgent. The wall behind her seemed to vibrate with the impact of their bodies, as if it were alive, as if it were participating. Lúcia turned her head, seeking Daniel’s mouth, and he kissed her hungrily, his tongue invading her mouth as his hips continued to move, faster and faster. — I’m going to come — she warned, her voice breaking. — Come — he ordered, his voice rough. — Come for me. And she obeyed. The orgasm hit her like a storm, a lightning bolt of pleasure that made her tremble from head to toe. Daniel didn’t stop. He kept moving inside her, prolonging the sensation, until she felt him reach his own climax, his body tensing, his fingers digging into her hips as he whispered her name like a prayer. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the pounding of their hearts. Lúcia rested her forehead against the wall, feeling the sweat trickle down her back, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Daniel pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her, and turned her to face him. His eyes were dark, intense, as if he, too, were surprised by the intensity of what had just happened. — That was… — he began, but didn’t finish the sentence. — I know — she replied, because she did. There were no words to describe what they had just shared. He kissed her again, softly this time, his lips gentle against hers. But even in that kiss, there was a promise—that this wasn’t the end. That there was more. And when he carried her to the bed, laying her carefully among the rumpled sheets, Lúcia knew that the thin wall would no longer be a barrier. It would be an invitation. The morning light invaded Lúcia’s room like an intruder, filtering through the thin curtains and drawing golden stripes across the tangled sheets. She woke with Daniel’s arm draped over her waist, his warm breath against her neck, the scent of sex and sweat still lingering on her skin. For a second, she let herself sink into the feeling of safety, into the warmth of his body pressed against hers. But then, like a punch to the stomach, reality hit. *What if someone heard?* The question echoed in her mind as her fingers clenched around the sheet, pulling it up to her chin as if she could hide from the world. Beside her, Daniel stirred, his dark lashes fluttering before his eyes opened. His sleepy gaze met hers, and for a moment, all that existed was the lazy smile that spread across his lips. — Good morning — he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and everything they had done the night before. Lúcia didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned onto her side, facing him with an intensity that made his smile falter. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, following the path of her nails from the night before. — Do you think someone heard? — she asked, finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Daniel frowned, as if the question had pulled him from a dream. Then, a short laugh escaped his lips, and he leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. — Probably — he admitted, without a trace of shame. — But I don’t care. She pushed his shoulder lightly, just enough for him to back away. — *I* care — she said, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. — I’m a teacher, Daniel. I can’t… I can’t be *that* neighbor. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her with an expression that mixed amusement and frustration. — That neighbor? — he repeated, raising an eyebrow. — The one who makes noise or the one who sleeps with the guy from 302? Lúcia shot him a glare, but couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her neck. He laughed again, louder this time, and before she could protest, he pulled her back into bed, pinning her under the weight of his body. — Relax — he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. — No one’s going to know. Unless *you* tell them. She sighed, giving in to his touch but not to the reassurance. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if she could keep this moment just for herself. — We need rules — she said between kisses. — If we’re going to keep doing this… — *If*? — Daniel interrupted, lifting his head to look at her. — You really think you can stay away from me after last night? Lúcia bit her lip, feeling the heat spread between her legs just from remembering. He was right. She was already addicted to his taste, to the way his hands marked her, to how their moans blended until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. — No — she admitted, finally. — But we need to be careful. Daniel nodded, serious now, and rolled onto his side, leaving her room to breathe. Lúcia sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, while he leaned against the headboard, his eyes fixed on her. — First rule: no meetings in the hallway — she began. — If we’re seen together, it has to look casual. A *hi*, a *good morning*, nothing more. — Agreed — he said, reaching out to play with a strand of her hair. — Second rule? — No compromising messages. If we need to talk, we use codes. Like… *I need sugar* means you come over. Daniel laughed but nodded. — And if I need *flour*? — he asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Lúcia felt her body respond before she could even process the question. He noticed, of course, and his smile widened. — Flour is when I want you in my apartment — he explained, his voice low, dangerous. — And, Lúcia… — his fingers slid down her thigh, slowly — I always want flour. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine. — Third rule — she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. — No excessive noise. Daniel raised an eyebrow. — Excessive? — he repeated, as if the word were absurd. — Babe, the wall is thin. If we’re doing this again, someone *will* hear. — Then we do it quietly — she shot back, but her voice faltered when his fingers found the sensitive spot between her legs. — Quietly? — he murmured, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. — You really think you can stay silent when I’m inside you? Lúcia closed her eyes, feeling her body betray her. He was right. Ever since the first time she’d heard his moans through the wall, she’d known there was no resisting. And now, after tasting him, she knew she didn’t want to. — Then… — she began, but the words died when he pulled her onto his lap, her legs automatically parting around his waist. — Then we find other places. Daniel smiled, slow and predatory. — Other places? — he repeated, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her closer. — Like where? Lúcia bit her lip, feeling the heat of his body against hers, his erection pressing exactly where she wanted it most. — Like… the laundry room — she whispered. — Or the elevator. Or… — she hesitated, but boldness won out. — Or against your apartment door, while you pretend to help me with a heavy box. Daniel’s eyes darkened, and he kissed her hard, his hands gripping her waist possessively. — Fuck, Lúcia — he groaned against her mouth. — You’re going to kill me. She laughed, low and satisfied, and pushed him back, straddling him. — Not yet — she murmured, leaning in to kiss his neck. — But I intend to keep trying. --- The following days were a dangerous dance. Lúcia found herself watching the clock, counting the minutes until she could send an innocent message asking for "sugar" or "flour." Daniel, in turn, showed up at her door with flimsy excuses—a borrowed book, a burnt-out lightbulb, a bottle of wine "left over from a friend’s party." They met in the dark of the elevator, their hands brushing in a way that was too casual to be innocent, their bodies pressing together as they pretended not to notice. Once, Lúcia found him in the laundry room, and within five minutes, they were locked in the service bathroom, their clothes scattered on the floor, their moans muffled against the cold wall. But the more they gave in, the harder it became to maintain control. One night, after a quick dinner at his apartment, Lúcia stood up to leave, but Daniel pulled her back onto the couch, trapping her between his arms. — Stay — he pleaded, his lips brushing her ear. — Just a little longer. She should have said no. Should have remembered the rules, the danger of being seen. But when he kissed her, when his hands slid under her blouse, finding her already hard nipples, all reason dissolved. — Just a little longer — she agreed, pulling him on top of her. They made love right there on the couch, their bodies moving in sync, their ragged breaths mingling with the sound of the rain beginning to fall outside. When they finished, Lúcia nestled against his chest, listening to Daniel’s heart beat strong under her ear. — You need to go — he murmured, but didn’t let her go. — I know — she replied, but didn’t move either. They stayed like that, in silence, until the sound of footsteps in the hallway made them freeze. Someone stopped in front of Daniel’s door, and for a second, Lúcia was sure they’d been caught. But then, a key turned in the lock, and a female voice called out: — Dani? You in there? Lúcia shrank back, her eyes wide as they met Daniel’s. He cursed under his breath and stood up, pulling on his pants in a hurry. — It’s my sister — he whispered, tossing Lúcia her blouse. — Hide in the bedroom. I’ll get rid of her. Lúcia obeyed, running to the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Outside, she heard Daniel’s voice, casual, as if nothing were wrong. — Hey, Manu. What are you doing here? — I came to bring you the car keys you forgot at my place — his sister replied. — And I also wanted to know if you’ve eaten yet, because— Her voice trailed off, and Lúcia held her breath, imagining what was happening on the other side of the door. Then she heard Daniel’s sister laugh. — Oh, *damn*, Dani. You’ve got someone in there? Lúcia closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard she was sure they could hear it. But then Daniel answered, his voice calm: — It’s none of your business. His sister laughed again, and Lúcia heard the sound of footsteps moving away. — Alright, alright. But you better tell me later. And don’t forget to lock the door when she leaves. Lúcia waited until she heard the front door close before stepping out of the bedroom. Daniel was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. — Sorry — he said, finally. — I didn’t know she was coming. Lúcia put on her blouse, feeling the weight of the situation settle over her. — She suspected — she murmured. — She always suspects everything — he replied, pulling her into a hug. — But she won’t tell anyone. Lúcia didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled away, grabbing her bag. — I need to go — she said, avoiding his eyes. Daniel didn’t try to stop her. He just nodded, serious. — Lúcia… — he began, but she was already at the door. — We’ll talk later — she said, and left before he could respond. In the hallway, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. But when she reached her apartment, one thing became clear: the rules weren’t working. And the worst part? She didn’t want them to. The rain beat against Daniel’s apartment window like impatient fingers drumming, a rhythm that for weeks had blended with the sounds of their bodies tangled in the sheets. Lúcia lay on her side, the curve of Daniel’s hip nestled against hers, his hand splayed over her stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles. The scent of sex still hung in the air, mixed with the earthy aroma of the coffee cooling on the nightstand. — You’re quiet — he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and everything they had done the night before. Lúcia closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her skin. It wasn’t silence; it was weight. The kind of quiet that precedes a decision, like the pause before diving. — I was thinking — she said, slowly turning to face him. Daniel’s eyes were dark, nearly black in the dim lamplight, but there was a clarity in them she had never seen before. It wasn’t just the spark of curiosity or the fire of forbidden desire. It was something deeper, more dangerous. — About what? — About how we pretend not to notice the looks in the hallway. About how you lock the bathroom door when your sister comes over. About how I lie to my mom when she asks if I’m seeing someone. Daniel didn’t look away. He just lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her jawline. — And what do you want to do about it? Lúcia bit her lower lip. The words were there, stuck in her throat, but she let them out anyway, because there was no more room for doubt. — I want us to stop pretending. A slow smile spread across his face, but it wasn’t one of relief. It was recognition. As if, deep down, he had known this moment would come. — Are you sure? — No — she admitted, laughing softly. — But I’m tired of being sure about everything in my life and still feeling so… incomplete. Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft, almost chaste, but carried the promise of everything that would come after. — Incomplete — he repeated, his voice a whisper. — I know that feeling. And then he pulled her closer, and the kiss deepened, no longer urgent like in their first encounters, but slow, deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, and Lúcia felt the heat of his body against hers, solid, real. When they pulled apart, Daniel held her face between his hands. — If we do this, there’s no going back. — I don’t want to go back. He studied her face for a long moment, as if searching for hesitation. But Lúcia didn’t hesitate. Instead, she reached out and touched his chest, feeling his heart beat strong under her palm. — Then we do it the right way — he said, finally. --- Breakfast was served on the balcony, between laughter and the clinking of cups. The morning sun filtered through the trees in the backyard, painting golden stripes on the wooden table. Lúcia wore one of Daniel’s shirts, the buttons barely fastened, the loose fabric slipping off one shoulder. He, in sweatpants and no shirt, watched her as she buttered a slice of bread, her fingers nimble, her lips parted in concentration. — You’re staring — she said without looking up. — I am. — Why? — Because now I can. Lúcia smiled and bit into the bread, leaving a trail of butter on her lower lip. Daniel couldn’t resist. He leaned across the table and licked the residue, his tongue warm and slow, before capturing her mouth in a salty kiss. — Delicious — he murmured against her lips. — You’re such a cliché — she laughed, pushing him away lightly, but not pulling back. — And you love it. She did. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing in the world worth seeing. She loved how his hands found hers, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She even loved the way he stole bites of her bread, as if they were still playing at something secret. But it was no longer a secret. --- The decision was made on the couch, among the tangled sheets and the lingering scent of sex. Daniel sat with his legs stretched out, Lúcia between them, her back pressed against his chest. He played with her fingers, intertwining them, letting go, as if memorizing every detail. — We could start slow — he suggested. — Go out to dinner. Walk in the park. Things normal couples do. — Normal couples — Lúcia repeated, turning her head to face him. — Do you think we’re normal? — No — he admitted, smiling. — But we can pretend. She laughed and turned completely, straddling him, her hands resting on his bare chest. She felt his body react instantly beneath hers, but ignored the heat spreading between her legs. There was something more important now. — I don’t want to pretend — she said, serious. — Not anymore. Daniel held her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. — Then we won’t pretend. And just like that, with those simple words, the last barrier between them fell. There were no more rules, no more locked doors, no more muffled whispers against pillows. There was only them, and the world outside, which would now have to learn to deal with it. --- The first time they went out together was on a Saturday afternoon, hand in hand, as if they had always done it. The sun beat down hard, and Lúcia felt sweat trickle down her neck, but she didn’t care. She was too busy looking at Daniel, at the way he smiled when she pointed at something silly in a shop window, at how his fingers tightened around hers when they passed someone they knew. — Are you nervous? — he asked as they stopped at an ice cream shop. — A little — she admitted. — And you? — Not at all. — Liar. He laughed and pulled her into a quick kiss, his lips cold from the ice cream they were sharing. — Alright, I am. But it’s a good kind of nervous. The kind that makes your heart beat faster. Lúcia smiled and licked the ice cream, tasting the sweet vanilla mixed with the salt of his kiss. — I like this kind of nervous. --- Night fell, and they returned to Daniel’s apartment. There was no rush, no need to hide. Lúcia kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, while Daniel turned on the stereo and chose soft music, something with piano and whispered voices. She watched him move through the now-familiar space, and felt a wave of tenderness so intense it almost hurt. When he came back to her, he held out his hand. — Dance with me? Lúcia hesitated for a second, but then took it. He pulled her close, and they began to move slowly, their bodies pressed together, their steps small, as if they were learning to dance together for the first time. — Do you remember the first time we saw each other? — he asked, his voice low. — In the hallway — she replied, remembering the shock, the tension, the way he had looked at her as if he already knew her. — I knew right then you were going to be trouble. — And am I? — The best kind of trouble. Lúcia laughed and rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The music ended, but they stayed there, swaying slightly, as if the whole world had stopped to give them this moment. — I love you — she said, the words slipping out before she could think. Daniel stopped moving. For a second, Lúcia felt panic rise in her throat. But then he held her face and kissed her, slow and deep, as if he wanted to swallow the words and keep them forever. — I love you too — he murmured against her lips. — Since the first moan I heard through the wall. Lúcia laughed, but the sound turned into a sigh when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. This time, there was no rush. There was no need for silence. They made love slowly, exploring every inch of each other with hands and mouths and whispered words, as if they had all the time in the world. And, for the first time, it was true. --- The next morning, Lúcia woke to the sound of rain and the smell of fresh coffee. Daniel wasn’t in bed, but she found him in the kitchen, his back to her, stirring something in a pot. The shirt he wore was the same one she had put on the day before, now hanging on the back of a chair. She approached silently and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his broad back. — Good morning — he said, turning to kiss her. — Good morning. — Did you sleep well? — Better than ever. Daniel smiled and went back to stirring the pot, but kept one hand on her waist, as if he needed the contact. — I was thinking — he said after a moment. — We could take a trip. Get out of the city for a few days. Just the two of us. Lúcia raised her eyebrows. — What about classes? — You deserve a break. And so do I. She laughed and kissed him again, tasting the coffee on his lips. — I’m in. Daniel turned off the stove and pulled her closer, his hands sliding down her back until they found the elastic of her panties. — Great — he murmured, his voice rough. — Because I was already missing you. And then there were no more words. Just the sound of the rain, the heat of their bodies, and the certainty that, finally, they no longer needed walls to hide behind.