Lingerie

I started by filling balloons with warm water so I’d feel like I had breasts. I ended up gluing them to my nipples and finding a pleasure I didn’t know I was looking for.

I locked the door and became someone else in the mirror. I didn’t count on him having a copy of the key.

Mariana asked me whether I’d ever been curious about kissing another woman. I answered with an impulse that changed what we were forever.

I had never gone out into the street dressed like that. That morning, with the house all to myself, I decided it was the day to fulfill the fantasy that had been keeping me awake.

When I walked into the bathroom and found the flowers and that card, I knew that summer would mark me forever, even though I still had no idea how it would end.

“Don’t rush,” she murmured against the wall. “I want to feel everything you do, slowly, until the whole night feels too short.”

I walked into that apartment with my bag full of lingerie and walked out transformed into something else: the obedient little puppy of two men.

We invited him thinking he’d back out when he saw us in person. We didn’t count on that short guy, almost our age, taking control the moment he walked through the door.

She came in wearing her white uniform and her usual smile. What neither of them saw coming was that the other woman was on the sofa, three meters from the game.

When she gave me the keys to her apartment and left for work, I already knew that night we were going to debut much more than the bottle of wine I had packed in my suitcase.

I never told him about my tastes. A WhatsApp notification on his sofa was enough to change everything between us that night at his house.

When she came through the salon door, I knew that session was going to break something inside me. And I wasn’t wrong.

That woman looked me up and down, smiled, and said the line that would change my life: with a little makeup, I could pass for a real little girl.

My mouth and body were ready, my heart pounding in my chest. All that was left was for him to walk through the door and look at me the way I needed him to.

She dressed me just like her: black corset, fishnet stockings, and the same wig. That night we were going to work together for the first time, and I had no idea how far it would go.

I’d spent months watching her pass by in the back with another masseuse. That afternoon, just as the clock struck six-thirty, her name appeared on my schedule for the first time.

I went downstairs wearing the dress Mom had worn on her last vacation. When my father lifted his eyes, I knew something in him had broken forever.

I went up to the third floor in my fishnet stockings and white heels, left the door ajar, and waited for the sound of my steps to wake the hunger in the men in the hallway.

I’d spent years secretly wearing my sister’s clothes. The night he waited for me at that hotel, I stopped pretending and became who I’d always been.