I Agreed to Be a Whore for One Night in That Hotel

During a period of my life, while I was alone and free of any commitment, I let many men and women into my house and into my bed. Caresses, kisses, dicks, cunts, tongues, fingers, without asking anyone’s permission. A way of discovering what my body still didn’t know how to ask for.

It was an intense stage, without guilt. I learned more in those months than I had learned in years. I got to know different mouths, different hands, cocks of every size, cunts that tasted different, ways of coming that were nothing like my own.

Among all those passing bodies, Iván appeared. I met him at an art gallery on a Saturday afternoon and, without really knowing how, I ended up at his apartment that same night. As soon as he closed the door, he shoved me against the wall, hiked up my dress, and slid his hand between my legs without asking. He found I was already wet and let out a soft laugh against my neck. He yanked my panties off in one pull and shoved two fingers deep inside me, moving them with a calm that made me tremble. When I knelt down to take it out, I found a thick cock, hard, warm, that filled my mouth at once. I sucked it slowly, coating the whole thing with saliva, while he grabbed my hair and set the rhythm. Then he took me to bed and fucked me in a thousand ways: from behind, face down, sitting on top of him with my tits bouncing in his face. We came three times that night. The last time he came inside me and I felt the warm semen dripping down my thighs while he held me. It was the best sex I had had up to that point.

He had something the others didn’t: imagination. He gave me clothes I would never have bought myself, left me notes with instructions, proposed games that made me laugh first and tremble afterward. It was like discovering the body all over again, now in another language.

One afternoon, coming home from work, I found a white box on the bed. I recognized the kind of gift. I recognized the smile that spread on my face all by itself.

Inside was a nurse’s uniform with matching fishnet stockings and a handwritten card. You’re a professional masseuse. Cold as marble. I’m a patient with an urgent problem.

That night we played until dawn. I made him believe I was treating a muscle spasm and ended up sucking him off with the cap on, with the fishnets torn at the crotch so he could finger me while I swallowed. I rode him on the couch until he came inside me twice, and after that I even took him in my ass for the first time, slowly, enduring the burn, while he bit the back of my neck and whispered that I was a beautiful whore.

***

The first summer together we spent on the coast, in a small hotel facing the sea. We walked along the shore at sunset, barefoot, while he made up stories about the people passing by. One of those afternoons, after a long silence, he stopped and looked at me with that same smile.

—Did you notice how men look at you when you walk by? —he said.

—I notice.

—And you never thought they might pay for something more than looking?

I laughed, but I didn’t answer.

—I want to propose a game —he went on—. Tomorrow you’re a whore for one night. I watch. You choose the client, you set the price, you set the rules.

I looked at him for a few seconds without blinking. The idea lit up inside me like a match in a closed room. But one word he’d used didn’t sit right with me.

—Whore, yes. Prostitute, no.

—What’s the difference? —he asked.

—A prostitute gets paid to do what the other person wants. She gets paid to obey. A whore gets paid to do what she knows how to do, what she likes. The whore is in charge. I want to be in charge.

Iván kissed me on the forehead, then on the mouth. That night he didn’t touch me. He said he preferred to wait until the next day, that he wanted to see me hungry.

***

The bar was three blocks from the hotel. It had low lights, soft music, and a long dark-wood counter where some men drank alone. We got there around eleven. I was wearing a short black dress, no stockings, no panties, and a red lipstick I almost never use because it intimidates me to see myself so awake in the mirror.

We ordered drinks at a secluded table. While he talked about anything at all, I scanned the bar. It didn’t take long to find him. He was sitting at the far end, in a light blue shirt rolled up to the elbows, staring into his glass. Dark hair, big hands. No ring. Something in his posture told me he was waiting for something without knowing what.

—That one —I told Iván without pointing.

He glanced over and smiled.

—Good choice. Go on.

I finished my drink in one gulp. Adrenaline was already running down my legs, mixed with the dampness beginning to gather between my thighs. I stood up, walked slowly to the bar, and leaned beside the guy. He looked up, looked at me, looked down at the dress, and looked back at my face. I paused a long moment before speaking.

—I’ve got a weird proposition —I told him.

—Try me.

—I need my first client. This is my first night as a whore and I like you.

He laughed, then realized I wasn’t laughing and got serious. He swallowed.

—Are you serious?

—Very serious. I’m just as nervous as you are, I’m warning you. If you like the proposal, I’ll give you the hotel address and I’ll wait for you in half an hour. I don’t want money to get rich. I want to know what it feels like to have a stranger pay me to let him suck my cock.

The guy looked at me steadily for several seconds. Something moved in his throat when he swallowed again. Then he took out his phone and held it out to me.

—Give me the address.

***

We walked back to the hotel quickly, without speaking. Iván opened the room door, switched on a lamp, and put on a record playing softly, almost a whisper. He poured me a glass of water and kissed my forehead again.

—I’ll sit over there —he said, pointing to the armchair in the corner—. I won’t talk. I won’t interrupt. If you need me, look at me.

I locked myself in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror longer than I thought I would. I touched up my lipstick, let my hair down, adjusted my bra. I slipped my hand under the dress and touched myself just enough to make sure my cunt was already soaked. I looked for the woman who had only ever lived inside me in dreams and let her out. When they knocked on the room door, she was ready. I wasn’t, but she was.

I came out of the bathroom and saw him standing in the middle of the room. Tomás, he’d told me his name was. Tomás, in the light blue shirt and with his hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Iván had welcomed him and served him a whisky he was holding without drinking.

I circled him slowly. I positioned myself behind him, laid my hands on his shoulders, and felt his body trembling beneath the fabric. I spoke into his ear.

—Relax. You don’t have to do anything. I work.

I took the glass from his hands, set it on the table, and began unbuttoning his shirt, button by button, unhurried. I kissed his neck, his shoulder, the line of his chest. I ran my tongue over one nipple and felt the shiver rise up his back. He was breathing deeply, as if it were hard for him to remember how to do it.

—I charge half now and half at the end —I said—. Deal?

He nodded without speaking. He took money from his pants pocket and left it on the table, next to the glass.

I took a menthol lozenge from the pocket of my bra, put it under my tongue, and knelt in front of him. I pulled down his zipper, pulled down his underwear. It was soft, nervous, almost ashamed, hanging between his thighs as if apologizing. I took it in one hand, held it at the base, and slid it into my mouth slowly, running my tongue from the balls to the tip, sucking the head with tight lips, spreading the menthol coolness over the whole skin.

I heard him let out his breath sharply. His knees loosened a little. He braced both hands on the dresser behind him so he wouldn’t fall. I kept going, alternating quick movements with long pauses, sucking and letting go with wet sounds, spitting on him so the saliva ran down to his balls, grabbing them with my free hand while I took him down my throat. I felt him harden inside my mouth until he filled it, felt the vein underneath start throbbing against my tongue, felt the head become shiny and purple.

I pulled him from my mouth with a click and gave him a soft slap across the cheek with it. I took him back into my mouth until my nose touched his pubis and he let out a broken moan. I had him hard as a rock, soaked with saliva and menthol, trembling against my palate.

I stood up without letting go of him. I grabbed his jaw with my other hand and made him look at me. With the other, I kept stroking his cock slowly, squeezing at the base, twisting my wrist over the head. Out of the corner of my eye I looked for Iván in the armchair. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at me. He’d already unzipped his pants and was stroking his cock while watching me work.

—The whore here is me —I said, looking at both of them—. I do what I want. I take no orders. You two relax and let me work.

Tomás closed his eyes and nodded. Iván smiled.

—Come here —I said to Iván.

He got up from the armchair unhurriedly, his cock out, hard and dripping. He came over until he was behind me. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, then down my back to the zipper of my dress. The sound of the zipper opening filled the room like an order.

The dress fell to the floor. I was left in a black bra and nothing else, my shaved cunt shiny under the lamp. Tomás opened his eyes and let out something between a sigh and a groan when he saw I wasn’t wearing panties. I took his hand and made him touch me, shoved two fingers between my lips so he could feel how soaked I was. I yanked them out and stuffed them into his mouth.

—Suck —I told him—. Taste your whore.

He sucked them like a hungry boy. I grabbed the back of his neck and knelt again. This time without menthol. This time with everything. I devoured his cock again, all the way down, until my eyes filled with tears and my mascara started running. Behind me, Iván knelt too and opened my legs. I felt his tongue enter my cunt in one long lick, from clit to ass, and I let out a moan with my mouth full. He licked me slowly, calmly, while I sucked Tomás with the same calm. Then I felt myself being filled from behind: the tip first, probing, then the whole cock sinking into my cunt until it hit bottom. I screamed with my mouth full. Tomás grabbed me by the ears and fucked my throat at the same time.

I was the bridge between the two of them. I felt one at the back of my throat and the other opening me from the inside, driving with his hips, gripping my hair, forcing me to push my ass back to meet him. The idea of doing that for money, in front of a stranger chosen at random, with another man’s semen threatening in two mouths at once, turned me on more than anything else. I felt the first shiver of orgasm climbing up from my legs.

Tomás clung to the dresser, knuckles white. Iván whispered in my ear, things only I could hear, things no client should hear. My whore, my whore, look how you suck it, how they’re fucking you between the two of them, look at that ass you’ve got. I came the first time there, kneeling, with a cock in my mouth and another buried deep inside me, biting down so I wouldn’t scream and shaking as if I’d been shocked with electricity.

We changed positions two, three times. I threw them both onto the bed and climbed on top of Tomás, guiding his cock inside myself, sitting down slowly until I felt it hit the back of me. I started moving as if I were dancing, with my hands on his chest, looking him in the eyes. I took his hand and placed it on my tits so he’d squeeze my nipples. Iván got behind me, shoved my back forward, and spat between my butt cheeks. I felt the tip push against my hole and loosened my breath. It entered little by little, hurting only slightly, until both were inside, one in my cunt, the other in my ass, separated by a membrane of flesh that made me feel every throb of both cocks. I froze for a second, mouth open, unable to breathe. Then I started moving between the two of them, and at some point I found myself on top of the bed, with one in front and one behind, the three bodies synchronized as if we’d rehearsed it, me moaning louder than any of them.

—Come inside me —I whispered to Tomás—. You paid. You’re my client. Come in my cunt.

His face went slack. He gave three more thrusts, deep, brutal, and I felt the hot jet bursting inside me, beat after beat, as he came with his mouth pressed to my neck. Iván came behind me at the same time, filling my ass, gripping my hips with both hands and biting my shoulder.

We came almost at the same time. It was long, loud, burning. I collapsed onto the bed laughing, breathless, feeling my chest rise and fall as if I’d run miles, feeling the semen from both of them slowly run down my thighs.

***

Tomás got dressed in silence, his legs still trembling. Before leaving, he took out the rest of the money and left it next to the first stack on the table. He came to the bed, leaned down, and kissed me softly on the lips. A goodbye kiss, not a client’s kiss.

—Thank you —he said quietly—. I don’t know what you say to a whore when you’re leaving, but thank you.

—Someday you’ll know —I answered.

He laughed, this time a full laugh, without nerves. He closed the door behind him.

Iván flopped onto the bed, wrapped me from behind in his arms, and kissed the nape of my neck. He said things in a low voice that I won’t repeat here. A few minutes later he fell asleep, breathing heavily like a satisfied man.

I couldn’t sleep. I got up, went to the bathroom, got under the shower, and stayed a very long time under the hot water. I watched the semen run down my legs and disappear down the drain. I touched myself thinking about what had just happened. I slipped two fingers into my still-sensitive cunt and rubbed my clit slowly, leaning against the tiles, and made myself come once more, alone, biting my lip so I wouldn’t wake him. I touched myself thinking of me, not of either of them. Of the woman who had come out of the bathroom two hours earlier and behaved as if she knew exactly who she was.

The next day I got up early. Iván was still asleep. I took the wad of bills from the table, put it in my purse, and left the hotel without making a sound.

I spent the morning in the downtown shops, spending every last peso. I didn’t buy anything expensive. I bought silly things, perfumes I didn’t need, yellow sandals, a book I was never going to read. I wanted that money to dissolve into tiny things, spread across as many bags as possible.

When I got back to the hotel loaded down with packages, Iván was drinking coffee on the balcony. He looked up, looked at my bags, looked at my face, and laughed.

—Did you spend it all?

—Every last cent.

—And? Did you like being a whore?

I set the bags on the floor, stole the coffee from his hand, and sat on his lap.

—I liked being me —I said.

And it was true.