Prohibited Passion

Raquel’s POV

The first time I ever considered having sex with a stranger was just one month after burying my husband… right when the woman who had been with him during the crash started sending flowers to my house.

I didn’t plan it. I wouldn’t have imagined it. I didn’t even crave it. It just happened. Like an internal explosion. Like rage that had been caged for far too long. Like a cry no one ever heard.

At 45, mother of five, my life crumbled in a single night.

Manuel Santodomingo didn’t just cheat on me with another woman—he left me with a failing business, massive debt, and a last name dragged through scandal. Since his death, the media won’t leave me alone, the banks harass me, and my children look at me, searching for answers I don’t have. And to top it off, she—the mistress who survived—is still in my life. Breathing. Talking. Moving through my world like she was the widow… when in truth, I am the rightful wife.

I—who always did the right thing.

Who never missed a parent-teacher meeting.

Who built a business beside a man who laughed at our reality.

Until that day… I stopped being that woman.

“A swinger party?” I repeated in a flat voice, barely believing what I was hearing. “Celeste, you’ve completely lost your mind.”

“And you are completely broken,” she replied without hesitation, arms crossed like a queen who didn’t fear scandal. “What’s the worst that could happen, Raquel? That someone finds out you still have desire?”

I covered my face—not out of shame, but from sheer exhaustion. I felt empty. Shattered. Dragging the pieces of a life I no longer recognized as my own.

“I have five kids. My reputation is in ruins. My name is all over the news for fraud. And you want to take me to a place full of… debauchery?”

“Exactly,” she said boldly, dropping a black silk bag onto my lap.

“Because it’s your birthday. Because you’ve been surviving instead of living. Because hiding behind bills and crying in the bathroom won’t save you. Tonight, Raquel, we’re going to remind you you’re still a woman.”

I opened the bag with trembling hands. Inside was a black dress—tight, shiny, provocative. Beneath it, a lace lingerie set so daring my cheeks flushed just looking at it.

“You’re insane…” I whispered, though my voice already sounded less certain.

“Maybe. But tonight isn’t about morals or logic. It’s about feeling. As simple as that—feeling.”

I’m not sure when I stood up. I just remember following her to the bathroom like a robot. I clumsily undressed and stared at my reflection with doubt. I hadn’t really looked at myself in years.

My hips were wider now, that was true.

My breasts—firmer than they should be—thanks to the plastic surgery Manuel “gifted me” after the birth of the triplets.

I put on the lingerie, then the dress. The soft makeup Celeste had done on me earlier finally made sense. In the mirror, I didn’t see the widow.

Or the mother.

I saw me. Raquel. The woman.

And that woman… wanted to breathe without guilt.

I stepped out of the bathroom. Celeste clapped like I’d just won an award.

“Look at you! If you weren’t my friend, I’d hate you—you’re a goddess.”

I gave a dismissive gesture, but I smiled. Barely. But genuinely.

The limousine was waiting downstairs. Black and gleaming, like something out of a movie. Inside, two glasses of champagne were already poured. Celeste silently handed me one.

“Where are we going?” I asked, feeling the bubbles rise in my throat.

“To a place called Paraíso. A private club for the exclusive circle. No cameras. No phones. No rules beyond consent. Think Vegas… with less clothing and more pleasure.”

“I’m not interested in sleeping with anyone, Celeste.”

“That’s not what this is about,” she said softly.

“It’s about remembering you’re still alive. Even if it’s just for one night.”

I said nothing. I just drank.

The ride was a blur of city lights, fragmented thoughts, and memories that stung. I closed my eyes, and there she was: the mistress in a white dress at the funeral, with a martyr’s expression she didn’t deserve. The audacity. The lies. The expensive flowers. And the silence of those who knew… but never told me.

The limo stopped in front of an unmarked building. Subtle. Shadowed. A place that seemed not to exist.

We were greeted by a tall woman in a deep red dress, skin like porcelain, voice like silk.

“Welcome. I’m Aphrodite. I’ve been expecting you.”

We signed papers. Got checked in. Everything was methodical, elegant. Controlled to the last detail.

I felt out of place.

Or dangerously free.

When the main doors opened, the atmosphere shifted. A dancer twirled barefoot in the center of the room—like an angel who had landed with grace. The music was soft, the scents intoxicating.

Each room we passed looked like something out of a secret dream:

Round beds, leather swings, chairs with straps, shadowed bodies moving slowly.

“What is all this?” I whispered.

“What we never dared to want,” Celeste answered, smiling wistfully.

We entered the main hall. A luxurious restaurant disguised as a high-end brothel.

We sat. Ordered cocktails.

And that’s when they arrived.

Two men.

Tall. Sophisticated. Striking.

Eduar Hilton and Luis Rincón.

I knew them. Everyone did. Heirs to the two most powerful companies in the country—and always at the heart of controversy. They moved through the room with the ease of men who knew they owned it.

And Eduar… his eyes locked on mine.

Not on Celeste.

Not on the room.

On me.

Like he was forming a deep judgment. Like he could read right through me.

Like it was impossible for him not to see me.

“Celeste,” he said as he approached our table. “Glad you made it.”

“Eduar. This is Raquel,” Celeste replied in a playful tone. “My best friend. And tonight, she’s available—if that interests you.”

He didn’t laugh.

He just studied me.

Intensely. With desire.

“Mind if we join you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He sat beside me.

His scent was like a forest after rain.

He spoke to me about art.

About music. Politics.

Everything—except me.

And I was grateful.

He made me laugh.

He made me feel… again.

We danced. Drank.

And when I returned from the bathroom, he was still there.

Waiting for me.

“Do you really want to have some fun, Raquel?”

I looked at him.

And I knew the answer.

I wanted to.

My body had already decided.

I nodded.

And I stepped across a threshold…

from which there would be no return.