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They fucked my wife in a satanic ritual.
We knew we were getting into a sex cult. Or didn’t we?
The invitation arrived in a black envelope, with no return address, sealed with scarlet wax. The paper smelled of incense and promises. “For the chosen ones only,” it said in gold letters, and below it, an address and a time. Alex had found it in the mailbox that morning, and when Valeria opened it, her eyes shone with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
“What do you think?” she asked, brushing her fingertips along the edge of the paper, as if she were afraid it would burn her.
Alex looked at her from across the table, with that crooked smile he always used to hide his nerves. They had talked about fantasies before, on the bolder nights, between whispers and nervous laughter. But this was different. This was real.
“It could be interesting,” he replied, although his voice trembled slightly. “Only if you want.”
Valeria did not answer immediately. She stood up, barefoot, and walked to the window. The afternoon light outlined her silhouette beneath…
