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When he knocked on my door that afternoon, I knew he'd seen everything: the wig, the dress, the woman I kept hidden. And in his eyes there was no mockery, only hunger.

I accepted the invitation because I felt special. I woke up naked, with a collar on my neck and a woman who had already decided what she’d turn me into.

I knew exactly what crossing my legs in front of his desk would do. What he didn’t know was the surprise I was hiding beneath my skirt.

That night I didn’t want to wait for anyone. I wanted the guard who had undressed me with his eyes all afternoon, even though he didn’t know what I was hiding.

In front of the mirror, adjusting my garter and blonde wig, I allow myself the most dangerous luxury of all: imagining someone who stays afterward.

I texted him, “Door ajar, if you dare,” and turned off almost all the lights. When he came up the stairs, I knew there was no turning back.

I didn’t sleep all night. At dawn she would dress me, make me up, and take me to the place where they would decide what kind of man I would remain… if I remained one at all.

I arrived at the temple half dead, convinced my body was a curse. That same night the priest whispered that I was actually the chosen one.

When the DJ said my name and the whole club sang, I never imagined the best part of my birthday would begin much later, far from the dance floor.

I mapped a jungle where no one spoke my language, yet among clay-painted bodies, I finally stopped feeling like a ghost.

I had spent months becoming someone else in front of the mirror. That night, in a stranger’s bed, I discovered how far my new skin could take me.

Before the mirror in that room, a box of unfamiliar garments opened, and each one he put on erased a little more of the man who had entered.

Most of the time I’m the man I was born as. But some nights I put on the wig, look in the mirror, and let Sabrina go out looking for what she really wants.

The corset hugged his body like a second skin and the satin tightened around his wrists. In front of the mirror, Adrián stopped pretending and finally became who he wanted to be.

I took a seat in the third row with a cold coffee and my skepticism folded inside my notebook. I didn’t know every word she said would rewrite who I was, down to the last button.

Under the torch I go over my sketches and feel my body burning for her. My contract is ending, and I already know one thing: I’m not leaving this jungle without Yuma by my side.

I dressed up for the first time, got in the car with the other two girls, and crossed half the province without knowing that night would teach me to endure contempt with my head held high.

When the mirror showed me a face that wasn’t mine, I understood that I no longer ruled this house. I only obeyed and wanted to please her.

That night I wasn’t the host, I was the ornament. My wife picked my dress, put me in heels, and ordered me to smile while her bosses appraised me.

When she opened the door in that black lingerie and that cold smile, I knew there would be no talk tonight: only orders, and I was ready to obey every one.