Strangers

I arrived shattered by my parents’ death. Verónica promised that in Brazil I’d learn to forget, but I never imagined how my own sister meant to comfort me.

They were paid double if they adapted the act to something more adult. Marisol thought of the debts; Camila, of the way the host looked at them.

I was alone at home, opened the app, and a Romanian trucker replied with a photo that got me out of bed and into his trailer.

I reached the entrance not knowing if I’d have the courage to go up. My name is Esteban, I’m 48, and upstairs a couple I only knew by messages was waiting for me.

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.

I went upstairs with a glass of cold water and found him naked on the ladder. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there, but he turned slowly.

I’d booked the place for our anniversary, but she beat me to it: the hostel was the headquarters of a private club, and that night the red button was beside the bed.

When she opened the door in a rush, with smeared mascara and a wrinkled dress, I knew that night had changed everything between us.

I shaved myself smooth, slipped into my black thong, and painted my lips red. He’d arrive in an hour, and I was already trembling before I’d even seen him.

It was three in the morning when I heard the key in the lock. I hid behind the curtain, never imagining what my mother would let them do a meter away from me.

He crossed the city with nothing but his desire. When the door opened, he knew that man wasn’t going to ask permission for anything that happened.

Baltasar smelled the tension the moment the boy asked for a ride. He wasn’t looking for conversation: he wanted the same thing Baltasar did, and they both knew it without a word.

She took my hand on the kitchen table, looked at me hard, and said what she’d been thinking for weeks. I only managed to stand up and pace in circles.

The salsa was playing louder than usual. I pressed myself against the wall, found the gap between the curtains, and what I saw on the other side erased my idea of family forever.

I’ve spent half my life going up into the mountains alone, but that October morning I came back down with more than a basket full. This really happened, and I still can’t believe it.

Her hand slid up my thigh while I was driving. “They say people in those areas don’t stop to stretch their legs,” she whispered. And I knew this time she meant it.

Yesterday I slept with my ex-wife, and it was by far the sanest thing I did all week. What happened the other four days is not something I should be telling you, but here I am.

I told him in the chat I’d leave dressed as a man, but that I’d enter the hotel as a full woman. What I didn’t tell him was how badly I wanted that night.

I arrived determined to behave. When the lights went down and that stranger’s body began moving among us, I knew something was about to spin out of control.