Marisol_picante

Months ago, Esteban ceased to exist. Every morning I wake wrapped in pink silk, ready to serve the woman who rewrote my entire mind.

I thought I had the whole house to myself for four days. I didn’t count on him having keys, cameras, and a curiosity he’d never confessed.

When she came out of the shower and took off the scarf, I discovered Daniela was hiding something that was going to change our beach weekend completely.

I looked in the mirror, bit my lip, and knew that photo would have consequences. It didn’t take three minutes for the key to turn in my lock.

I’d spent years dressing in secret, but that night I put on the boots, the fishnets, and the velvet dress, and walked out the door as her.

I followed her out into the street convinced it would be just another night. I had no idea what she was hiding under that tight dress or how far she would take me.

Nobody knows. Not even the person I sleep with every night. But when I close my eyes I see myself in front of the mirror, transformed into someone else, ready for him.

I found an old photo tucked away in a drawer, and all at once I knew exactly what I wanted to ask each of them for that vacation.

I touched it for only a moment, and the softness of the lace awakened something dormant. That night I dreamed of wearing it, and knew I would return for it sooner or later.

In the mirror I stopped being Sebastián. I put on her stockings, her skirt, her perfume, and became the woman nobody knew I carried inside.

I saved his number as “S.1.” Two days to regret it, and not once did I want to: I wanted them to use me again, worse than the first time.

The young master’s wardrobe held a black uniform with a white cap, and Don Aurelio told her that once she put it on, she would cease to be Marcial forever.