Alejandro
Juan’s isn’t a large house by any means. Just a living room s***h kitchen, a bedroom and another room he calls a guest room, but is actually his study, or the place where he keeps everything he has no space for anywhere else. Like his motorbike, or his knife collection. Or his stash of porn and toys, but I am not sure he knows I know about that. I wonder what his new buddy, the padre, would say if he knew all the kinks our Juan actually is into.
Somehow, the big wooden chest is the first thing Katerina notices. Of course it is.
“I wouldn’t suggest you open that,” I tell her with a voice that sounds nothing like my own. It’s gravel, lower, filled with pent up need.
She turns to face me again, the shadows of the house doing nothing to dim the bright light of her eyes. “And why
