The Night Valentina Got What She Was Worth

Valentina had met Rodrigo three weeks earlier in a bar in the historic district. He was a man in his forties, wearing a dark suit, with large hands and the kind of confidence that comes only from money and being accustomed to having everything one desires. That first night, without much preamble, Valentina ended up kneeling in the bar’s bathroom, looking him in the eyes while he tangled his fingers in her hair. The arrangement was clear from then on, without much needing to be said.

—I know you like men who pay well —he told her, without it sounding like a question.

—I like men who know what things are worth —she replied.

From that night on, Rodrigo sent her gifts. Silk lingerie, European perfumes, cash inside manila envelopes. Valentina liked being taken without restraint, but she also loved knowing they had to give something in return. It wasn’t a matter of need. It was a matter of principle.

***

The call came on a Wednesday afternoon, while Valentina was finishing her makeup in front of the bathroom mirror. She saw Rodrigo’s name on the screen and set her lipstick on the shelf before answering.

—On Saturday I have three friends who want to meet you —he said on the phone—. I told them about you. I told them you’re the best company possible... and that you’re not free.

Valentina looked at herself in the mirror for a moment before answering.

—How many are there?

—Three. Plus me.

—Four —she repeated softly, calculating—. Each one brings his share. No exceptions. And no last-minute surprises.

—They already know. Each one is bringing a gift and money. You decide whether to accept or not when you get there. If anything doesn’t suit you, you leave. Simple as that.

Valentina rested one hand on the sink and looked at the ceiling for a second.

—Tell them yes. But the following Wednesday you deposit whatever we agree on, without my having to ask for it.

—Done.

—Then see you Saturday.

***

She got ready with time to spare. A long shower, cream on every inch of skin, the complete ritual of someone who knew she would be watched closely for hours. She chose a red satin dress that came just below her buttocks, black lace lingerie that barely covered what was necessary, fishnet stockings, and heels that brought her almost to the height of any of them. In front of the mirror, she studied herself for a long moment.

This is exactly who I am.

Slender, with broad hips and round buttocks that the dress outlined without hiding them. Lipstick the same red as the fabric. Long, wavy brown hair falling over her shoulders. Valentina didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t: she was a trans woman who knew exactly what her body and her time were worth, and that night she intended for all four of them to understand it well.

She took a taxi to the fourteenth-floor apartment overlooking the river. In the elevator, she touched up her lipstick and made sure her purse was securely closed.

***

When she walked in, all four were standing near the window, whiskey glasses in hand. Rodrigo, Damián, Sebastián, and Iván. On the dining table were four packages wrapped in gift paper and four white envelopes neatly stacked. Valentina looked at them first, then at the table, and gave a slight nod.

—Gentlemen —Rodrigo said—, allow me to introduce Valentina.

All four looked at her in the particular way people look at something that has cost money and promises to be worth every penny. Valentina recognized that look, and it didn’t bother her. It was part of the arrangement.

The protocol was simple: each one approached her, handed over his gift and envelope, and received a smile in return. Damián had brought her a silver necklace with a blue stone that gleamed beneath the ceiling light. Sebastián, a pair of finely handcrafted gold earrings. Iván, an elegant watch with a brown leather strap. Rodrigo added another envelope containing twice the agreed amount, without saying anything about it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Valentina put them all in her purse without hurrying, checking each one calmly.

—Thank you, daddies —she said, looking at them one by one—. Since you’ve paid, you have me completely available tonight.

***

Rodrigo was the first to approach. He slid his hands up her hips from behind, lifted her dress with deliberate calm, showing the others the black thong that disappeared between her buttocks. The other three watched from nearby, their glasses already forgotten on the table.

—She’s exactly as I described her —Rodrigo told his friends, without taking his hands off her—. And this is only the beginning.

Valentina settled onto the large sofa on all fours, her dress pulled up to her waist, where it would stay. Four men around her, and the sensation of that particular power possessed by someone who grants access to something she can deny whenever she wants. That tension, that margin of choice that never completely disappeared, was part of what made nights like this interesting to her.

She started with Rodrigo. She took him in her left hand while bringing her mouth to Damián, opening it slowly, letting her tongue slide along his entire length before closing her lips around him again with a wet, firm motion. She sucked the tip, traced the base with her mouth, and when she felt Rodrigo tense his hips, she looked up with a crooked smile. Damián, beside her, was already too close to pretend he was calm. Valentina took Damián into her mouth next, alternating suction and pressure with cruel patience, while continuing to squeeze Rodrigo with her hand, setting the pace with her fingers and tongue. Sebastián and Iván waited at her sides with a tense patience she found deeply satisfying.

This is how it should be.

***

When Iván positioned himself behind her, Valentina exhaled slowly. She felt his fingers taking their time, the warmth of the oil someone had left on the arm of the sofa without her asking for it. She appreciated that in men who had done this before: they knew haste destroyed what was good.

Entry was slow. Inch by inch, the pressure building patiently until something gave way and Valentina released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her body tensed first by reflex, then gradually opened, adjusting to that thickness filling her from within. Iván didn’t rush. He pushed in slightly, withdrew just enough, then entered deeper again, and that game of advancing and retreating drew a hoarse moan from Valentina that she made no effort to contain.

—There —she said softly—. Slowly at first.

Iván obeyed. His hips began to move in a measured rhythm, and she returned to what was in front of her: her mouth full, her hands occupied, her body working in several directions at once. The initial burning gradually dissolved into something dense and hot that traveled from the base of her spine down into her legs. Valentina closed her eyes for a moment and let her body find its own rhythm within the rhythm of all four men. Saliva ran from the corner of her mouth, her hair fell across her face, and still she kept moving, swallowing, circling with her tongue, squeezing with her thighs whenever another body settled close to her.

—I didn’t tell you to stop —she said to Iván when he slowed down unnecessarily.

The pace quickened.

***

Damián was the first to finish. He did it roughly, gripping her by the hair, and Valentina received him without pulling away, swallowing the final pressure with the same discipline with which she had brought him there. When he finished and leaned back, Sebastián took his place before two seconds had passed.

He was bigger than Iván. Valentina noticed immediately and drew a deep breath, letting her body take its time adjusting. Sebastián held her by the hips, carefully adjusted the angle, and began to move. After a few minutes, he found something precise without her having to point it out. Each thrust drew a louder, more broken cry from Valentina as he filled her with steady, unyielding force, making the sofa creak beneath their rocking bodies.

—There —Valentina repeated, but this time differently. More urgently.

Her legs trembled. The spot Sebastián had found continued receiving every direct, rhythmic thrust without pause. Valentina rested her forehead against the arm of the sofa and closed her eyes. The pressure grew in a way that was impossible to ignore or control, until her body decided for her: one long, deep spasm that shook her from head to toe while Sebastián kept going, without stopping or changing the rhythm, as if he had been waiting for exactly that. The trembling rose from her belly to her throat and escaped in a high, open moan, impossible to hide.

Rodrigo, whose mouth was occupied with Valentina at that moment, smiled.

—There it is —he said softly, almost to himself.

Sebastián finished shortly afterward, with a deep sound and his hands clenched around her hips. Valentina lay still for a moment, breathing with her eyes still closed.

***

Rodrigo took her by the hand and led her to the picture window. The entire city glittered fourteen floors below, unaware, indifferent. He made her bend forward, her palms pressed against the cold glass, and entered without warning.

The temperature of the glass against her palms and his heat inside her was a combination Valentina hadn’t expected to like so much. The pressure made her arch a little farther, seeking a better angle without meaning to, and Rodrigo immediately took advantage, pressing her against himself, pushing deeper, and holding her there, open and exposed in front of the window. She looked down at the miniature city and felt the contrast of both extremes of her body at once.

—Look at them —Rodrigo whispered in her ear, gesturing toward the other three still in the living room—. They all paid to be here. To see you like this.

Valentina lifted her gaze. Damián, Sebastián, and Iván watched her from the far end of the apartment, glasses in hand, with the kind of focused attention that pretended nothing. There was something about that scrutiny, about knowing she was the center of four pairs of eyes at once, that had exactly the effect Rodrigo wanted.

He began to move forcefully. Valentina’s buttocks struck his hips with a dry, repeated sound that filled the silence of the fourteenth floor. She closed her eyes, the cold glass beneath her palms, and let herself be carried completely by the rhythm. Each blow drew a brief gasp from her; each pause, a more intense need. Rodrigo gripped her hips tightly, controlling the rocking without giving her room to lose the rhythm.

—Don’t stop —she pleaded.

Rodrigo didn’t stop.

***

What followed became harder to keep in order. They changed her position frequently: on her back on the table with her legs raised and her heels pointing toward the ceiling, on her knees on the floor between two of them, sitting on one while another pulled her hair from behind. Valentina had entered the apartment with a rough idea of how the night would go, and that idea was no longer useful.

At some point, Iván laid her down on the rug. He positioned himself over her, lifted her legs onto his shoulders, and penetrated her from above, using the full weight of his body in every movement. It was a position that left nowhere to go, no room to move: only to receive what was coming. Valentina dug her fingers into the rug and accepted the rhythm without resistance, feeling the moisture, friction, and pressure gathering in her body again, drawing closer and closer to the edge. Rodrigo, at the same time, took the nape of her neck in one hand and forced her to raise her head just enough for him to kiss her hungrily, pushing his tongue into her mouth while another body continued moving inside her.

For a long while, there was no conversation. Only breathing, the creak of the parquet when someone changed position, the unmistakable sounds of bodies meeting for the first time with an honesty free of detours.

Valentina closed her eyes and thought of nothing in particular. Only the sensation, which was considerable.

***

Near midnight, all four had finished at least once, and the tone of the night had changed. The voices were lower, the movements slower. Valentina lay back on the sofa, her fishnet stockings bunched around her ankles, her red dress folded over the armrest, her hair completely disheveled. Her heels were still on, not out of coquettishness but because at some point amid the chaos she had forgotten to take them off.

Rodrigo sat beside her. Without saying anything, he put a glass of cold water in her hand.

—How are you? —he asked after a moment.

—Fine —she said, and she meant it.

The other three had spread out around the room, recovering in silence with the calm camaraderie of men who had shared something intense. Damián had found his jacket and was holding it without putting it on yet. Sebastián gazed through the picture window with his hands in his pockets. Iván had disappeared toward the bathroom, and the distant sound of running water could be heard.

The envelopes were still on the dining table. The blue necklace gleamed at Valentina’s throat. The watch was on her wrist.

***

Rodrigo stroked her hair calmly, without urgency, like a man with all the time in the world.

—Next week? —he asked at last.

Valentina finished the water before answering. She set the glass on the coffee table and slowly sat up, searching for her shoes with one foot.

—Depends on what you offer.

—Twice what you got tonight. The same four.

Always the same argument. It always works.

She stood with the kind of calm possessed by those who know the night ended in their favor. She gathered up her dress, went to the bathroom for a quick touch-up, and returned with her hair tied in an imperfect bun and her lipstick barely redone. She put the dress back on, checked that the envelopes were still in her purse, and headed toward the door without hurrying.

At the threshold, she turned for a moment and looked at all four of them from there.

—Call me Wednesday —she told Rodrigo—, and we’ll see.

Then, addressing all four with a brief, direct smile:

—It was a pleasure, gentlemen. Expensive, yes. But worth every penny, and you know it.

She closed the door behind her.

In the elevator, on her way to the lobby, she looked at herself in the metallic mirror of the car. The blue necklace suited her. The watch did too. She smiled at no one in particular and waited for the doors to open on the ground floor.