Anal

I came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, knowing my father was alone. That night I wanted to see how far he’d dare go without alcohol.

I’d never been attracted to men, but that figure on the screen stirred something I couldn’t name. Then she offered to pay me.

Under my track pants I wore only fishnets and a lace thong. I wasn’t looking for just any doorway: I was looking for the place where they’d treat me like an object.

The dress hugged my body, the stockings brushed me with every step, and when that man held out his hand to dance, I knew I wouldn’t return home the same.

I only knew Beatriz because she was my wife’s friend. One night she came down to the kitchen with an unexpected proposal.

When Inés opened the door to the two men in uniform at exactly midnight, I knew the promise of a quiet night had been a delicious lie.

I arrived thinking we’d drink beer and celebrate his promotion. Carla opened the door in a tiny skirt and a sheer blouse. Damián still hadn’t arrived.

I thought I’d lost the bag containing my most intimate photos. When the doctor messaged me that night, I knew he’d already seen exactly who I was.

I crossed the living room to get a glass of water, forgetting the curtains were still open. On the other side of the glass, his eyes had already found me.

I looked at myself in the mirror wearing my wig and translucent dress, and knew that night I would let a stranger do everything I’d imagined for weeks.

I ordered a whiskey to forget the day and got served a pair of green eyes with my drink. Forty minutes later, the barmaid’s fingers covered my eyes from behind.

When he got into the car and smiled at me, I knew we weren’t going to make it anywhere decent that night. It had to be ours, even if it was only on a dirt road among almond trees.

I had spent years imagining it: getting dressed up, putting on my stockings, and giving myself to a man for the first time. That afternoon, in a hotel room, I stopped imagining it.

I was ready from four in the afternoon, soaked and aching, when that short man knocked on my door, never imagining I’d force out his nickname.

My wife came back from that visit with a different gleam in her eyes. Her cousin was the only witness, and she took months to tell me what really happened.

I walked past the booth five times before daring to look inside. The gray-haired man looked up and motioned to me without saying a word.

I have my cheek pressed against the cold tile and I can’t remember his face, only the rhythm of him coming in and out of me while his hands hold my waist.

Two months ago I started dating a girl who truly loves me. And yet, the moment she leaves, I open the contacts site and look for what she can never give me.

I needed company. Without thinking, I asked him if he wanted to get in with me. What happened next changed everything I thought I knew about myself and my friends.

“Nice ass,” she said behind me. I didn’t turn right away. That voice couldn’t be hers, not after four years of silence.