That Night My Husband Made Me Feel Like a Whole Woman

I’m writing this many years later, when all I have left are memories and the scent of his beige jacket stored at the back of the closet. But there is one night I still see with the clarity of the first day, as if time had decided to spare it. It was the night Damián made me feel, for the first time and forever, like a complete woman.

That afternoon we had loved each other slowly, without haste, giving back to one another with that tenderness that only appears when two people stop being afraid. Afterward we got ready to go out to dinner. He insisted I take my time getting dressed, that I enjoy every step.

Don’t rush —he told me—. I want to see you walk out of that room and be left speechless.

And he did it.

I put on the dress he had given me that very week: wine-colored, fitted to the body, knee-length. The V-neckline opened just enough to the start of my breasts, which sat firm thanks to a low-cup bra. A delicate necklace fell over my collarbone and gave the whole look a discreet shimmer. Over it I threw on a light beige jacket of his, which smelled like him.

When I came out of the bathroom, Damián was silent for a full second. Then he let out his breath sharply.

—Wow… —he said, his voice breaking a little—. You’re gorgeous. Really, gorgeous.

I felt secure as few times in my life. It wasn’t just the dress or the makeup. It was the way he looked at me, that protective aura of his that wrapped around me and made me forget all the years I had to hide. I considered him my husband long before any paperwork. He had seduced me through respect, which is the most dangerous way to seduce.

***

The restaurant was up in the nicer part of the city, one of those places with heavy tablecloths and candlelight that he had reserved days in advance. It was Friday and the place was packed. As we crossed the dining room I felt a few stares, but they no longer mattered to me the way they once had. I was lucky that my voice had always been soft, thin, and it wasn’t hard for me to speak like the woman I was. Even so, that night I let Damián carry the conversation.

—Good evening, we have a reserved table —he told the maître d’.

I greeted him with a nod and a smile. He pulled out my chair, helped me sit, and ordered for both of us, as if he knew by heart everything I liked. He did know me. In those tiny details, the love he had for me fit entirely.

There was a small stage in the back and a band was playing old boleros. We ate unhurriedly, laughing at silly things, brushing our hands across the table. At one point he squeezed my fingers under the tablecloth and leaned toward me.

—Do you know how proud I am to be out with you? —he asked softly.

I felt my eyes fill and had to look away so I wouldn’t ruin my makeup. No one had ever made me feel this way.

When they cleared the plates, he took my hand and led me to dance. I rested my cheek on his shoulder, felt his firm hand on my lower back, and let myself be carried by the slow rhythm of the music. I closed my eyes. For a few minutes there was nothing but the warmth of his body and the promise of the night ahead. I felt dreamed, as if I were floating inside a life I had believed for years would never be mine.

During a break in the music, as we were returning to the table, an older couple seated nearby smiled at me and the lady said we made a lovely pair. I thanked her, my throat tight with emotion. Those little things, which for any other woman were ordinary, still had the weight of a miracle for me. Damián squeezed my waist as if to say See? I told you.

We spent almost three hours there. When we left, the cool air on the street brought me back to reality, but that night reality was better than any dream. We walked half a block to the car without letting go, and in every storefront window we passed I searched for our reflection, still not fully believing that the woman in the wine dress, on the arm of that man, was me.

***

We went back to the hotel hand in hand. For me it was our honeymoon, the gift Damián had prepared with a care that still moves me. We rode up in the elevator in silence, looking at each other in the mirror, holding back our desire.

As soon as we closed the room door, I hugged him. I kissed him long and deep, feeling desire slowly fall into place inside my body. He held my face in both hands, as if I were something that could break, and at the same time he kissed me with a hunger that made me tremble.

—Wait —I whispered against his mouth—. Give me a minute.

I pulled away from him and went into the bathroom. I had saved a lingerie set I knew would drive him wild. I put it on slowly, looking at myself in the mirror, recognizing myself. That night there was nothing of the insecurity from the first time he seduced me. Now I was determined. I wanted to show him everything I felt, I wanted to be for him and only for him, for him not to need to look anywhere else for what I could give him. He was the owner of my heart and I wanted him to know it with my whole body.

When I came out, Damián was sitting on the edge of the bed. He stayed still, looking me up and down, and I saw his breathing quicken.

—Come here —he said, his voice rough.

I walked over to him and gently pushed him until he was lying on his back on the mattress. I leaned down and started kissing his chest, moving down centimeter by centimeter, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten under my lips. I loved hearing him, I loved that new power of making him lose control.

I got to the place I like most and took him into my mouth with calculated tenderness, alternating slowness with more intense moments, attentive to every response from him. He tangled his fingers in my hair.

—Like that… —he gasped—. You’re one of a kind. There’s no one like you.

—I’m only yours —I answered, lifting my eyes to look at him—. Only yours.

I felt him shudder at those words. I kept going for a while longer, enjoying it as much as he did, until he took me by the shoulders and drew me up to kiss me.

***

—I want to see you —he said, guiding me so I would straddle him.

I settled astride him and took him in slowly, setting the pace myself, lowering myself millimeter by millimeter until I felt him completely inside me. I threw my head back. He held my hips with both hands, helping me rock, looking at me as if I were the only thing that existed in the world.

—More… —I asked, and my own voice sounded far away to me.

I moved over him again and again, letting myself be carried by a wave that kept growing without pause. Damián sat up a little to kiss my breasts, my neck, my mouth, never stopping moving with me. Then, with that steadiness of his that melted me, he made me turn until I was on my back.

He took my legs and rested them on his shoulders. He entered me again, this time deeper, and I clutched the sheets. Every thrust tore a sound from me that I couldn’t hold back. Pleasure became continuous, a succession of shocks running through my whole body, and in the most intense moments I felt him so deep inside me that I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

—Don’t stop —I begged him—. Please, don’t stop.

He didn’t stop. He held my gaze the whole time, and that was what finally undid me: knowing he saw me, that he wanted me exactly as I was.

—Now… —I managed to say—. Damián, now…

—With me —he answered—. Come with me.

We came together. It was extraordinary, the orgasm ripped through both of us at the same time and for an instant the world went silent. I collapsed on his chest, trembling, and he held me tight, saying nothing, letting me listen to the wild pounding of his heart.

***

We stayed like that for a long while, tangled together, catching our breath. I was stroking his chest with my fingertips and he kissed my forehead now and then. That was the full gift I received from Damián on that first night of the weekend: not the dinner, not the dress, not the hotel. The gift was feeling myself, without restraint or fear, the woman I had always been inside.

—Thank you —I murmured.

—For what? —he asked.

—For seeing me. For really seeing me.

He pulled me a little tighter against his body and didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

That night was the beginning of twelve years together. Twelve years in which Damián held me up, defended me, and loved me without ever asking me to be anything other than what I was. There were trips, silly fights, slow reconciliations, mornings of shared coffee, and comfortable silences. Everything that fits in a life for two.

Sadly, he left before his time and left me a widow, with a broken heart and a closet full of his scent. That’s why I’m writing, I suppose: so that night won’t be lost, so someone will know there was a man capable of looking at a woman like me and seeing nothing but his wife.

I’ll keep telling you our story, the good years and the hard ones, everything Damián did for me. But I wanted to start here, with the night I felt complete.

Kisses with affection to everyone who made it to the end.