Gay

One night, after too many beers, I said yes. What happened next forced me to rethink everything I thought I knew about myself.

I boarded the upper deck of the bus expecting to sleep the full seven hours. Thirty minutes later, a face appeared between the seats and asked where I was going.

Andrés knew exactly what he was doing with his hands. I arrived with back pain and left with something nameless—something I still think about as I fall asleep.

I’d wanted to do it for a long time: pick up a man in a public place and take him to bed. That afternoon in the café, I finally dared.

That afternoon on the beach, I knew the four of them were watching us. What I didn’t know was that that night everything Roberto and I had imagined would come true.

They told me the client was special. They didn’t tell me he was the city’s most feared man—or that once I tied him up, he would truly begin to break.

The ropes marked my skin red. Guilt marked my soul black. And that man kept looking for the crack where he could break me open completely.

The TV was on, the lights were off, a blanket covering the three of us. No one said a word. It was my friend who moved his hand first, slowly, as if he’d been waiting for that moment for a long time.

He had a notebook of verses tucked under his arm and smiled as if he knew what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have gone back. But I did.

He arrived soaked, the marks from the last session still throbbing beneath his clothes. No one in the city knew that the most feared man came to kneel before me.

I never thought getting waxed would change anything. But when he ran the wax over my buttocks and told me to get on all fours, something in me lit up.

His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. Then I knew that massage was going to be something completely different from what I’d asked for.

We had been walking for minutes when I began recognizing the streets. When he opened that door, I knew I’d been there before—though never imagined under what circumstances.

Going out in a thong and bra under my leggings was my secret ritual. I didn’t expect anyone to dare follow me. Or that I’d want them to so badly.

I met him in a park I didn’t know, in a city that wasn’t mine. He invited me to his apartment and we lost track of time.

I lived on the farm and could wear women’s clothes all day without anyone bothering me. Until a stranger wrote saying he liked my photos.

I announced myself, as we always did. He told me to come in. I found him in the bathroom, shaving, naked. He had the body I’d tried not to look at for months.

I got off the bike half a block away and slipped in through the back door. From the bedroom came voices I took a moment to recognize.

I went to fix his washing machine with a red thong under my pants. I only had to find the moment for him to notice. He said nothing, but he kept watching.

I arrived at their apartment at the agreed time. He opened the door in a bathrobe; she came down later, nervous and excited. It would be a long night.