Lingerie

Standing in front of them in nothing but the pink lace set, I waited for the order. The bag with the dress weighed in my hands, and I was already trembling before it all began.

She was sipping her gin and tonic when two men sat beside her and told her about a film. By the time she finished her drink, she had already signed.

When I opened the door wearing the dress and my hair freshly done, he was left speechless. That night I stopped hiding and gave myself completely.

I was turning thirty-nine and had the day off. I was waiting for a lover; the man who knocked at midmorning was the last one I should have let in.

I’d spent weeks choosing the dress, the perfume, the lingerie. That night he would walk through the door and finally see me the way I’d always dreamed.

The ad said: closeted transvestite looking for a mature friend. That same week I got into a pickup with tinted windows, not fully knowing what was waiting for me at the end of the trip.

I thought it would just be a few more photos in exchange for a few dollars. But when I got on all fours in front of the camera, I knew tonight the desire would be mine alone.

She used to tan topless by the pool, sure no one could see her. Until she felt his gaze fixed on her naked skin.

My friend couldn’t take his eyes off her. I pretended to be annoyed, but the truth is I understood perfectly what he felt when he looked at her.

I cornered her on the sofa amid drunken laughter, and when my fingers slipped beneath her kitten pajamas, the ice woman finally gave in.

I had begged her a thousand times and she always stopped me with the same excuse. Until that night, in the dim bedroom, she said yes.

When I opened my suitcase at the cabin, there was nothing of mine inside—just lace thongs, short skirts, and makeup. Carla looked at me calmly and said this was my only chance.

When my daughter walked through the door laughing, I was still wearing the trace of the man she was going to marry on my skin.

When the apartment was empty, I opened my mother’s drawer and became someone else. That afternoon, a shadow in the window changed everything.

Every time he looked at my face he remembered my mother. And I learned to use that resemblance, a short skirt, and a too-close greeting to erase the line between us.

I shaved myself smooth, pulled on the tight black thong, and painted my lips red. An hour before he arrived, I was already trembling without having seen him yet.

For my whole life I’d seen her in heels and stockings, but until that night on the sofa I never imagined what her feet could make me feel.

I had spent years receiving messages with no substance, until a young couple wrote to me asking for something specific: for me to take control of both of them for an entire afternoon.

I asked for the phone and started recording. I wanted them to remember that night every time they looked at the screen, far more than their wedding video.

That afternoon I only wanted to correct some sketches on a terrace. I ended up sharing beers with them and, weeks later, much more than conversation.