I Wanted Him to Desire Me, Not Just the Transvestite

Rafael waited for me leaning against the bar every Friday, with that half smile he thought was irresistible and that, to my misfortune, it was. We had met at the club where I sang two nights a week, and from the very first exchange of glances I knew he was going to complicate my life.

—And well? —he said that night, coming closer until his breath brushed my ear—. How much longer are you going to keep me waiting?

—Until the time is right —I replied, without taking my eyes off the empty stage—. I want us both to be ready.

—Ready for what? —he laughed softly—. Look at me. I’ve been here half an hour just to watch you walk.

—I want you too —I admitted, and it was true—. But I need more time. I got out of something that left me broken, and I don’t want to repeat the story. Try to understand me.

Rafael looked at me differently then. Not with that easy hunger from the first few weeks, but with something more patient.

—What if I promise you it won’t happen again with me? —he said.

—Promises are cheap at one in the morning —I shot back, and turned my back on him before he could see I was blushing.

***

The problem with Rafael wasn’t that he desired me. I had more than enough of that: men who wanted to shove me into their car, whisper filthy things to me, and forget my name by dawn. What disarmed me about him was something else.

—Tell me about the love that hurt you —he asked one night, while we shared a cigarette outside the venue.

I raised an eyebrow.

—Do you really want to know, or is this your new tactic to get me into bed?

—I want to know —he said, and by the way he said it, I believed him.

So I told him. I told him about Marcos, who for two years introduced me as his “friend” and hid me from his family as if I were a bad habit. I told him about the nights he used me and the mornings he pretended not to know me. I told him he had promised me the whole world and that the day I finally gathered the courage to ask him for it, he simply stopped answering.

—I don’t want someone who desires me in secret —I told him—. I want someone who looks me in the eye.

Rafael crushed the cigarette against the wall. It took him a while to speak.

—I don’t know how to hide anything —he said at last—. Ask anyone. I’m terrible at keeping secrets.

I laughed, and it was the first time in a long while that a laugh came out of me for real.

***

We started seeing each other outside the bar. Mid-afternoon coffees, long walks along the boardwalk, dinners in places where he would introduce me to the waiter by my name, Renata, without hesitating or lowering his voice. Small things. Small things that, for me, weighed tons.

—I still want to fuck you —he told me one night, smiling, as he dropped me off at my building—. Just so there’s no confusion.

—That was crystal clear from day one —I answered.

—But I’m not in a hurry anymore —he added—. It’s weird. I used to be, and now I’m not.

That sentence was what finally undid me. I grabbed his lapel and kissed him right there, under the yellowish light of the gate, and felt his breath catch.

—Come upstairs —I told him.

—Are you sure?

—I’m ready —I replied—. Which is different, and better.

***

My apartment was small, just a living room, a tiny kitchen, and a bedroom with a window overlooking the avenue. Rafael came in slowly, as if he were afraid of breaking something. I poured two glasses of wine that neither of us touched.

—You don’t have to prove anything to me —he said, standing in the middle of the living room—. If you want us to just stay here, talking, I’ll stay.

—I’ve been wanting this for weeks —I answered, coming closer—. What I didn’t want was to do it for the wrong reasons.

I kissed him again, this time without haste, and let his hands roam over my back above the dress. Rafael kissed like he spoke: attentively, without rushing. He slowly pulled the zipper down, stopping every so often, reading my face to make sure I was still with him.

—Look at me —I asked softly—. I want you to look at me. Not at what you think I am.

—I am looking at you —he said, his forehead pressed to mine—. Only at you.

The dress fell to the floor. He took off his shirt without ever breaking eye contact, and for the first time in years I didn’t feel that urge to cover myself, to get ahead of the rejection that always came. Rafael looked at me as if desiring me whole were the most natural thing in the world.

***

We fell onto the bed tangled together. His lips moved down my neck, over my chest, over my stomach, tracing a warm path that made my back arch. I buried my fingers in his hair, holding my breath each time he paused a second too long.

—Don’t stop —I murmured.

—I want it to last —he said against my skin—. You waited a long time. I waited a long time. I’m not about to rush through it in five minutes.

When I finally took him into my mouth, I did it slowly, savoring the way his body tensed, the way my name slipped from between his teeth. Rafael let me set the pace, one hand tangled in my hair without pushing, just guiding, and that difference—that one difference—set me on fire more than any roughness ever could.

—Renata —he gasped—. Stop or this will be over before it starts.

I let him go with a smile and climbed over him, feeling him whole beneath me.

—Slowly —I asked—. I’ve gone too long without this. I want to enjoy it, not endure it.

—You’re the boss —he said, and he meant it.

***

He let me set every inch. I lowered myself onto him carefully, pausing, breathing, letting my body get used to it while his hands held my hips without forcing anything. There was a moment of discomfort, that one I knew well, but this time it didn’t come alone: it came with his voice asking if I was okay, with his thumbs tracing slow circles over my skin until my body gave way and the burn became something else.

—Like that —I sighed, starting to move—. Just like that.

—God, Renata —he said, his head sunk into the pillow—. You have no idea how you feel.

I moved on him taking my time, feeling how each sway erased a little more of Marcos, the hidden nights, the version of myself that accepted crumbs. Rafael looked up at me with narrowed eyes and his mouth open, completely surrendered, and for the first time in years I felt powerful. Desired. A whole woman, no asterisks.

—Don’t rush —I warned him when I felt him trembling—. I want this to last.

—I’m trying —he laughed breathlessly—. But you’re making it impossible.

***

We changed positions without letting go. He laid me on my back, parted my legs gently, and entered me again while looking at my face, reading every gesture. I hooked my thighs around his waist and pulled him closer, asking for more with my body, and he answered by sinking all the way in with deep, slow thrusts that stole my breath.

—Look at me —I repeated, grabbing his face with both hands—. Don’t close your eyes.

—I’m not closing them —he answered—. I want to see you when you come.

And I came. I came with his name stuck in my throat and my nails digging into his back, feeling my whole body shake in waves I had never felt with anyone. Rafael followed seconds later, collapsing over me with a long, rough groan, spilling all his weight into my arms as if at last he could stop carrying it.

We stayed like that, pressed together, soaked, breathing the same air. Outside, the avenue kept humming indifferently.

***

—Are you okay? —he asked afterward, pushing a damp lock off my forehead.

—I’m better than okay —I said, surprised not to be lying.

Rafael pulled me against his chest. I felt his heart pounding, still racing, under my ear.

—Do you know what I liked most? —he said.

—Surprise me.

—That you didn’t perform —he replied—. Other times, with other people, I always felt like there was a show involved. Not with you. It was just you. Exactly as you are.

I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him.

—And you like that? —I asked—. Me, exactly as I am?

—That’s the only thing I like —he said, without a second of doubt.

I rested my head on his chest again and let sweet exhaustion take over. For the first time in a long while I didn’t calculate when he would leave, and I didn’t rehearse the indifferent smile of goodbye. Rafael wrapped an arm around me and settled in like someone planning to stay.

—I’m going back to the bar on Friday —I murmured, half asleep already—. Will you be at the counter?

—At the counter, front row, and with flowers if necessary —he said—. I already told you I don’t know how to hide anything.

I laughed against his skin. Outside, dawn was starting to break, and for once I wasn’t afraid the light would take something from me. That morning, the light only confirmed what I already knew: that after waiting so long, I had finally given myself to someone who looked me in the eye.