Strangers

When she opened the door in that short dress and that alcohol-soaked smile, I knew the night wouldn’t end the way she’d planned.

When she asked me to put sunscreen on her, my hands already knew what my mouth hadn’t dared to say yet.

I had never paid for sex, much less with a trans woman. But that early morning, with the car full of gas and my head full of kink, I took one turn too many.

He told me he’d show me three moments of pleasure and send me away light. He didn’t mention the cuffs, the balcony, or the vibrator that would change everything.

The white leggings were see-through under my sweatshirt, and I knew that night, in the empty van, the driver was going to look at me differently.

I went to the club looking for a quiet night. I ended up walking through a bedroom door with another man’s wife and the promise that he’d wait outside.

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 accepted the invitation with my lingerie tucked in my bag. I never imagined there’d be no camera, and that the real plan was me.

I dialed the number with a trembling hand. A South American voice told me to go up to the third floor, that it wouldn’t hurt, that tonight I’d learn to ask for more.

That morning I opened the curtains intending to watch the maids. I never imagined a stranger in the opposite window would be the one unable to take her eyes off me.

Three mornings a week she cleaned the corridor right on the other side of my desk. And three mornings a week I learned not to look away from the glass.

I asked my husband for a photo of himself and got one of another man: a perfect stranger. That night I had no idea how far that image would take me in my sleep.

I hadn’t written to him in a year. That afternoon I opened the email, typed his name, and before I thought it through, I was already telling him exactly what I wanted him to do to me.

There was still more than an hour to go, the seat next to me was empty, and that tingling between my legs was the only thing on my mind.

I’d been turned on for days with not a single minute alone. That Friday I booked a room, took the vibrator out of the box, and decided the night was mine.

She had red hair, painted lips, and a body that stopped traffic. What I didn’t imagine was what I’d find when I slipped my hand under her dress.

She had never been with someone fifteen years older. That night, in the hotel room, she discovered that intelligence can be seductive too.

I warned her that if I didn’t like it, I’d drop her at the next corner. She smiled, reclined my seat, and asked me to close my eyes for a second.