The Waitress Don Ramón Came to See That Afternoon

My name is Carla, though that isn’t the name on my ID. I’m a closet travesti, one of those who live a double life very carefully. I have a few friends scattered around the world, people I talk to over video call, people who are too far away for us to ever meet in person. For conventional reasons and for work, I need to remain anonymous, so those screens are almost my only outlet.

I say “almost” because there’s one exception. In the same city where I live, I have a fuck buddy, a man quite a bit older than me who carries a life as private as mine. I call him don Ramón, and we understand each other precisely because we both know what it is to hide. Every so often we slip away together and do what between us we call “a little play-acting.”

The method is always the same. We choose a hotel far from home, book it as if we were two friends spending the weekend away, and long beforehand we agree on what we’re going to play at. Once he was the boss and I was his secretary. Another time, the professor and the repeat student. We prepare it in advance, divide up the parts, and even buy whatever clothes are needed to make it look real.

What I’m going to tell you happened just a few days ago, in a roadside hotel two hours from here. This time the script was simple: a regular guest goes up to his room and the waitress who always takes care of him —an easy waitress, the kind who lets herself be loved— brings him a bottle of champagne.

I was the waitress, of course. I had bought myself a little white apron with ruffles and a tiny cap that barely held my hair in place.

***

We arrived at the hotel in the middle of the afternoon, had a bite downstairs, and, as planned, Ramón stayed in the lobby reading the newspaper while I went up to change. I took my time. A white blouse buttoned up the front, black bra, a sheer black thong, stockings with garters, and heels that forced me to walk slowly. Over it all, the apron and the cap.

I did my makeup without hiding anything, with very red lips and heavily lined eyes. When I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, there was nothing left of the person who drives to the office every morning. I sent him a message: the room is ready, you can come up.

I locked myself in the bathroom, as we’d agreed, and waited to hear the door. Ramón came in, hung his jacket over the back of the chair, and sat down on the small sofa by the window. Then I knocked on the bathroom door from inside.

—It’s me, Carla, the waitress —I said in my sweetest voice.

—Come in, please —he replied, already in character.

I came out swaying my hips and pretended to be surprised to see him.

—Good afternoon, don Ramón. It’s been a while since we’ve had you here. We’ve missed you very much.

—I’ve missed you too, Carla —he said, taking me in from head to toe with his eyes—. You’re even prettier than last time. I missed your attentions.

—It’s a pleasure to make your stay more pleasant, sir. That’s what I’m here for.

—What was a pleasure was the taste you gave me last time —he answered with a half-smile.

—Oh, don Ramón, don’t say things like that to me or I’ll blush.

—No blushing. And tell me, are you still with that boyfriend of yours?

—Yes, I am, but to be honest I’m very unhappy. The ungrateful bastard keeps me neglected.

—How is he going to neglect you? —he said, clicking his tongue—. He doesn’t know what he’s got.

—There you are. We hardly ever go out and I’m always left wanting. I go home without getting what I need.

—That man doesn’t deserve you. Not with how appetizing you are.

—At least I think of you when I get into bed. Thinking of don Ramón is the only thing that comforts me at night.

—Well, well. Are you telling me you touch yourself thinking about me?

—I can’t help it, sir —I lowered my voice—. As soon as I turn off the light, my fingers go on their own.

—Then we’ll have to do something for you this afternoon —he said, patting the sofa—. But first, be a good girl and pour us a drink.

***

I went to the minibar, where we’d left a bottle chilling. I took it out, set out two glasses on the low table, right in front of him, and poured with my back to him on purpose. I knew perfectly well what he could see: the apron barely covered me, and the thong strap traced the rest of my shape.

He didn’t even take half a minute to reach out and touch me.

—You’ve got such soft skin back here —he murmured.

—Please, don Ramón, you’re going to make me spill the champagne.

—The one about to spill is me —he replied.

I took him his glass and he motioned for me to sit beside him. I pretended to hesitate.

—I shouldn’t, sir. Hotel management forbids fraternizing with guests.

—I wipe my ass with the management of this hotel. Sit here right now.

—As you wish —I sighed.

I sat close to him. The little apron skirt barely covered anything: my whole thighs were visible, the garter straps pulling at the stockings and, higher up, the hint of the black thong. We raised our glasses.

—To a good afternoon —he said.

—To us, don Ramón.

As we toasted, he slid a hand up my thigh and caught me so off guard that a little champagne spilled onto my leg.

—Oh, I’ve gotten wet. I’ll go get a towel —I said, making as if to stand.

—Nothing of the sort. I’ll clean you myself.

He leaned down and started kissing my thigh right where the cold drop had fallen, moving slowly upward with his mouth, licking the wet skin. That wasn’t in any previous script, and it sent a real shiver through me.

—For God’s sake, sir, I’m not made of stone. No one’s ever done that to me.

—Well today I’m going to do a lot of things to you that no one’s ever done —he said against my leg—. And you’re going to like every one of them.

No sooner said than done, his fingers climbed to the buttons of my blouse. He opened it one by one while I kept holding the glass, letting him do it, pretending to be passive even though inside I was already burning.

—Have mercy, don Ramón —I panted—. I’m nothing but a poor waitress crazy about you, counting the days until you come back.

—You’re a sweetheart, Carla. But we both know you’re also pretty filthy, and that you’re going to be very bad with me.

I set the glass on the table. While he pushed my bra aside and kissed my chest, I took his hand down to his pants and felt, over the fabric, how hard he already was. I started undoing his belt unhurriedly, stretching out every gesture.

—Take me off —he said.

I didn’t keep him waiting. I opened his shirt and ran my tongue over his chest, lingering over his nipples until they stood hard. Then I pulled down his pants, brushing by the bulge in his underwear as if by accident.

***

—I brought music —he said suddenly, almost out of breath—. I feel like dancing with you.

—Whatever you want, sir.

He put on a slow song on his phone and we got up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him; since I’m quite a bit taller, I had to bend down a little. He grabbed my waist, but his hands didn’t stay there long: almost immediately he kneaded my ass and pulled me flush against his body.

—I’m going to try something new —he whispered.

—Surprise me, don Ramón.

He got rid of his underwear and, with the height difference in his favor, slid his cock between my thighs. I squeezed my legs together and he started moving back and forth, gliding against the fabric of my stockings.

—You like that, huh? —he growled against my neck—. Bet no one’s ever done this to you.

—No one, sir —I admitted, and it was true that I liked it.

We stayed like that a good while, moving to the rhythm of the song. I swayed my hips to hold him tighter, to rub him exactly where I knew it drove him crazy. From the sounds escaping him, I understood I had him on the edge, and then I stopped. I didn’t want him to finish so soon.

—You’re turning me on like crazy —I said—. But now it’s my turn to show you something.

—I figured you were plotting something. Let’s see it.

—Let’s sit down.

I left him on the sofa, completely naked, and dimmed the lights until the room was in half-shadow. I took one of the glasses, still almost full, soaked my fingers in the champagne, and moistened the tip. Then I bent down and took it into my mouth, savoring the cold and the tingle of the bubbles against my hot skin.

—You little slut —he said, his voice breaking—. No one’s ever done anything like that to me.

—I’m going to drink both glasses this way. And if you can stand it, the whole bottle.

—Shut up and keep going, whore.

I repeated the gesture several times: I dipped, licked, took him all in, and he writhed each time. On one of those, while I was bent over, he ran his free hand over my ass, first stroking and then, when I least expected it, slowly sliding in one finger.

—Oh, like this I can’t resist —I panted.

—Nor can I. Get on all fours on the bed.

—What are you going to do to me, don Ramón?

—What you’ve been asking me for all afternoon.

***

I got into position as he’d told me, with my chest resting on the bedspread and my knees spread. He came up behind me still wearing his shirt, and I asked him to take it off, because I wanted to feel his chest against my back. He did.

—Slowly, please —I begged him—. I want to feel everything.

—Whatever you want.

He pushed in very slowly, just as I’d asked. I felt him entering little by little, millimeter by millimeter, until he was pressed all the way against me. I lost my breath.

—That’s it, gently —I said, my voice muffled against the bed.

—I’m going to drive you crazy slowly —he murmured.

And that’s exactly what he did. He came almost all the way out and eased back in slowly, letting me feel every centimeter, and with each thrust I answered with a gasp I couldn’t hold in. I forgot the play-acting, the script, the name I was supposed to use. I wasn’t acting anymore.

—Don’t stop —I begged him—. If you stop, I’ll kill you.

The thrusts grew faster and faster. I felt him clench me tighter, wrap one arm around me from the front, and finally let out a rough growl while he emptied himself inside me. The hand he’d brought around was enough: with his last push, I finished too, with a long cry that was surely heard halfway down the corridor.

We stayed embraced for a while, catching our breath, until he pulled away from me.

—What a fuck —he said, laughing under his breath, now out of character.

—What a fuck —I answered, and kissed his shoulder.

The rest of the afternoon was calm, the kind that stays in your memory. We picked up the glasses, showered unhurriedly, and went down to dinner like any two ordinary friends. No one in that dining room would have imagined what had happened upstairs a little while earlier, and that was exactly the best part.

We’re already thinking about the next little play-acting. Maybe it’ll be time to switch roles.