Looks are...

   I couldn’t help but feel tremendous pleasure the first time we had sex. He was one of those guys that you see around a lot, in advertisements, in television and in movies. He was very handsome and his body was almost genetically manipulated to please any living human. His pectorals were round and covered in short hairs and his abdomen was not heavily ripped but enough for anyone to look at him instantly, if he happened to be wearing no clothes on his upper body. He was that guy, the guy most of us would like to be like.

 Or be with. I had never really had a type. I had always like a variety of things and traits in men that would please me in many ways. That’s why I found the question “Is size important?” such a difficult one to actually respond. For me, it was all about the person. If the big penis was attached to a person who knew how to use it and who enjoyed having one, it would most likely end up becoming a very satisfying sexual relationship. If not, disappointment was not impossible nor very far away in time.

 And yeah, I would maybe call myself promiscuous. After a long relationship with one person, who ended up being a lying cheat, I decided that I didn’t really want to commit again, unless I felt something truly special. That has not happened since then, so until very recently I happened to use a lot of dating apps on the phones and websites in order to get dates and casual sex. I would even frequent themed parties and enjoy myself truly in them, no shame or guilt the next day. That’s who I am.

 When I met Henry, the perfect guy I mentioned earlier, I was working as an assistant photographer in a very popular magazine. The place and its people were truly unbearable but I liked the job and the amount of opportunities it could give me in the future. My goal was to become an actual photographer and to be able to have my own studio and work with important people, no matter if they were famous individuals or maybe prestigious magazines. I just wanted to be the one to make them famous, in a way at least.

 So I was the one to get coffee and also the one that practically built the set before the actual photographer came every morning into the studio. Well, it wasn’t exactly morning anymore when he came in, but you get the idea. I would prepare everything and he would just change a couple of things before shooting the actual pictures with the model of the day. It was frequently a female model or some new singer or actress. The magazine focused its attention on that area, thinking women wanted to be them and men wanted to be with them. Just like what I thought of Henry when I saw him.

 He came in one morning. He seemed lost and I actually thought, for a split second, that he was some guy looking for the employment office. But he wasn’t. Once I was closer, I realized how tall he was and how big his hands and feet were. Besides that, his eyes were beautiful and bright and his skin was obviously well taken care of. So he was a model and I had to apologize for my behavior and then made him come into the studio. It was very uncommon for a model to come in so early.

 I told Henry that Marco, the photographer, would take a couple more hours to get there. I pretended to look for a message from him, but I was actually sending texts to Marco telling him to come at once to the studio. I imagined him sleeping in his nice loft, with one or even two of the gorgeous models he had met throughout the years. He was a ladies man and everyone knew that. So I wasn’t surprised when Henry himself suggested for us to have something to drink, as Marco would take a while.

 He waited until I finished with the set, which took about fifteen minutes, and then I invited him to a coffee shop just next door. It was very strange because I felt every single person was looking our way, to Henry to be more precise. And it was true. The girl that took our order was almost to enthralled to even pay attention to what I was saying. I remember hoping that she had noted my almond milk but Henry wanted to sit down as we waited, so we did just that. And it amazed me to realize how little I actually talk to models.

 They were always there for Marco, so I would only do what he asked and then stay very quiet until the photography session was over and he left with the models laughing and talking about some party they had all been together. I would then have to clean everything up and go home. In the nights I wasn’t so tired, I would contact someone and relax with them, in a way, with a drink and a night of sex. When the woman called us to pick up the coffee, Henry laughed because my expression seemed to mark my minds whereabouts.

 He asked about my job and was very kind about it. I asked about his modeling career and I wasn’t surprised to know he was very young and had already worked for a lot of big brands. He was even the image for a perfume! It was then when I remembered his face from a bus stop and our conversation went on from there, talking about life experiences and how we each loved our work and how they were both very connected. I have to say I had a blast talking to him, probably because I would rarely speak with anyone at work. I needed someone that I could exchange at least some words with.

 Later that day, I learned from hearing Marco and Henry, that he had signed a modeling contract that would bring him a big check but would also make him an usual in our studio, as Marco would become something like his official photographer. He took a lot of headshots of Henry that first day and I noticed he would look for my gaze in order to lock his eyes with mine and share a short moment, sometimes with a smile in between it all. It was nice but, by the next day, I thought it was all in my head.

 That was until he stayed after a photo-shoot, telling Marco he needed our Wi-Fi to talk to his agent on the phone. What he really wanted to do was something much more direct and that worked too well for him: he approached me from the back and started touching me all over. His hands felt like tentacles, not stopping for a single second. Somehow, I knew that kind of behavior was not appropriate but I have to confess I decided to go along with it when I realize whom I was about to have sex with.

 And we did. It all happened on the hardwood floor of the studio and when we finished, I had no idea how to feel. It wasn’t like he did something awful during sex or that he left immediately. Henry actually stayed for a while, helping me put everything in order. He joined me in a cab and left me in front of my building. But that night, when I went to bed, I felt something was not completely right with the whole picture. I had liked it but maybe not all of it and I was simply too confused to think about it anymore.

 However, it kept happening and its still happening to this day. He has so many fans and there are even rumors that he’s dating some girl model that looks like a female version of him. It’s insane! And I haven’t asked anything about it because I don’t feel I have any permission to ask him anything about his life. After all, I’m not really part of it. I’m just the guy he decided to fuck this once and I feel this will end soon. I even think that it has happened before and I tell myself I cannot care at all about that.

 I have been living in somewhat of a safe ground for so long. I have fucked whomever I wanted and wherever I wanted. I called the shots in my life, deciding everything about it, especial how I decide to live it. I don’t let anyone else take any action in my life. Or so I thought at least…

 Every single time I’m close to him, I let go of my will to fight back. I know, somehow, that he’s not the right person for me. He’s simply not, in any way, shape or form. However, I keep going back. I keep falling and I have to ask myself if when I fall again, is the ground going to be there to stop me again?

Mundialista

   De pronto, un gruñido pareció salir de la mismísima tierra, como si algo oculto en las profundidades del planeta se hubiese despertado. Por supuesto, eso no era posible pero era la sensación que semejante sonido causó en quienes no habían estado poniendo mucha atención a los hechos del día. Aquellas personas que no tuviesen un televisor en frente seguramente habían sentido el estruendo colectivo que se expandió como una ola por el aire y la tierra, alcanzando a todos, al menos en las ciudades.

 Sin embargo, había algunas personas mucho más interesadas en la causa del sonido que las demás. En una oficina alejada, Mario miraba la pantalla de su computador que expectativa. Lo que veía era algo muy simple: un partido de fútbol, el deporte más popular en el planeta. Y eso no era algo que se pudiese debatir, era simplemente un hecho. Y por eso todo el país se había detenido durante un instante para ver que pasaba en un estadio en un país lejano, tan lejano que la diferencia horaria alcanzaba los dos dígitos.

 Mario veía el partido pero más que nada buscaba, entre tantas figuras corriendo de un lado a otro,  a una en especial. Miraba con cuidado los números de los jugadores y no descansó hasta por fin encontrar el que estaba buscando. Era el catorce, que resaltaba por su color rojo sobre un fondo negro. Arriba del número, en letras pequeñas, estaba escrito el apellido del jugador. En este caso era Martínez. Mario sonrió y se alegró de haber podido terminar la reunión en la que había estado antes de lo programado.

 No podía haber dicho que quería ver a su amante en la televisión. Primero, porque nadie sabía que a él le gustaran los hombres. Segundo, porque sería un poco increíble alardear por ahí que se está en una relación, cualquiera que sea, con alguien famoso. Y tercero, y tal vez más importante, el jugador número catorce estaba muy públicamente casado con una mujer y tenía dos hijos pequeños. En todas las revistas aparecía con ellos, feliz, con una sonrisa que alcanzaba a ocultar su verdad.

 Por eso Mario no podía forzar la reunión de ninguna manera obvia. Solo tenía que recurrir a los hechos que, afortunadamente, estaban a su favor. La reunión había sido convocada para verificar la cantidad de materiales que tenían y  resultaba apropiado que el cargamento que habían pedido justo había llegado al puerto a primera hora del día. Por eso la reunión solo trató temas más sencillos y pudo terminar mucho más rápido de lo planeado. Mario casi corre a su oficina para ver el final del partido, que afortunadamente el equipo nacional estaba ganando con dos goles a favor y ninguno en contra.

 Cuando dieron el silbatazo final, Mario pudo respirar y casi al mismo tiempo suspirar por el número catorce, que fue el primero en ser entrevistado por la cadena nacional que transmitía el partido. Estaba claramente cansado, sudando bastante y con la mirada algo perdida. Mario trataba de reconocer en él algo que hubiese visto antes, pero la verdad era que hasta ese día había evitado a toda costa ver los partidos en los que su amante participaba. Es más, jamás lo había visto jugar en ninguno de los equipos en los que había estado.

 Para Martínez eso siempre había sido algo gracioso pero en parte le había parecido atractivo acerca de Mario. Se habían conocido en una fiesta privada, de la cual habían salido juntos a una casa mucho más privada donde habían tenido una noche de sexo casual. Para Mario, eso había sido algo pasajero e increíble, algo que podría contar en el futuro a sus amigos o para alardear con ciertas personas. Cosas irreales.

 Sin embargo, durmió toda la noche con Martínez y al otro día se despertó mirando al jugador de futbol que seguía profundo. Solo lo observó un rato, hasta el momento en el que le pareció escuchar gente en alguna parte, cerca, y decidió que no podía arriesgarse. Se vistió de manera apresurada y salió como pudo de la enorme casa, corriendo por el jardín y luego saltando una cerca por su parte más baja. Le dio miedo que lo vinieran a detener algunos agentes de seguridad privada, pero eso no pasó.

 Pasaron semanas hasta que Martínez lo contactó por correo electrónico. Al comienzo tomó el mensaje como una broma, puesto que no tenía ningún sentido que una persona famosa enviara correos así como así, a cualquier persona, sin importar lo que había pasado antes. Mario borró el mensaje y decidió no ponerle atención. Llegaron algunos correos más pero los siguió borrando, cansándose de los bromistas que parecían no tener nada mejor que hacer que elaborar mensajes falsos.

 Fue cuando el futbolista apareció en su edificio un día que se dio cuenta que todo lo que había pasado hacía tantos días, todavía significaba algo. No solo para él sino también para el catorce, que había llegado con un guardaespaldas, convenciendo al portero que lo que venía a hablar con Mario era un tema de negocios muy importante y por eso la privacidad era lo primordial. Para sorpresa de todos, el vigilante cumplió su palabra de no decir nada, a cambio de un par de mercancía relacionada con la selección nacional, autografiada por el futbolista. Todo enviado a la casa del vigilante, casi al instante y con algunas sorpresas más por si eran necesarias.

 Esa vez, Martínez y Mario hablaron por largo rato. El futbolista le confesaba al otro que no había dejado de pensar en él desde esa noche de la fiesta y que se había sentido muy mal por no haber pensado en él cuando lo había llevado a la casa. No había calculado la cantidad de alcohol que había consumido y eso había causado que no se despertara a tiempo para poder ayudarlo a salir de la casa sin ser visto. Eso lo hacía sentir mal y se le notaba por su postura y su lenguaje físico, que hablaba mucho.

 Mario le dijo que no había problema pero la verdad pensaba en cual sería la mejor manera de cortar todo el asunto de una vez. Sí, había sido emocionante y muy placentero lo que había ocurrido, eso no se podía negar. Pero tampoco se podía negar el hecho de que, cada vez que hablaban de él en la televisión, siempre aparecían fotos de su mujer y sus hijos o incluso todos ellos aparecían como tal a su lado, como una gran familia feliz que nunca se aparta el uno del otro. Y para Mario eso era mucho más que incomodo.

 No solo era que no quería destruir una bonita unión familiar pero era más que todo el hecho de que no quería ser él el que causara semejante noticia a nivel nacional. Además, estaba el hecho de que él no había salido del closet ante todo el mundo, solo ante sus padres y algunos amigos, y la verdad no le sonaba muy buena la idea de que todo el país supiese que era homosexual y que, además, supieran que había sido la persona que había destruido una de las relaciones más celebradas por la gente.

 Sin embargo, y como siempre suele pasar, Martínez convenció a Mario para que pudieran seguir adelante con su relación. Aclaró que no era solo sobre el sexo, sino que también le interesaba poder llegar a conocer mucho mejor a Mario y poder hablar de él de cosas varias y compartir un poco de sus vidas, eventualmente. Mario sabía que eso no tenía ningún sentido, que no había ningún futuro en una relación que tenía que ser a escondidas. Pero se dio cuenta de su hipocresía, al no estar cómodo con ser abiertamente homosexual.

 Por eso le dijo a Martínez que sí, por eso tuvieron relaciones sexuales esa tarde y por eso hablaron por internet por mucho rato, a lo largo de todo el tiempo que Martínez tuvo para entrenar y prepararse para el evento más importante de toda su carrera como futbolista. Mario fue parte de todo eso.

 Por eso vio ese primer partido con alegría. Una alegría que le hizo doler el pecho porque sabía que no sería algo permanente. No se trataba de saber si las cosas iban o no a funcionar, sino de cuando dejarían de hacerlo y como sería ese final, para los dos. No podía terminar bien pero de resto, nada se sabía.

Onsen

   It felt very nice to be there. Outside, snow had begun to fall heavily but it was still possible to see the river slowly moving through the canyon, steam coming up from it. Plant life had been entirely covered by white and silence had fallen too from the sky, making the scene all the most bizarre and beautiful. The hotel overlooking the canyon was in the perfect place to be able to offer magnificent views of the whole natural spectacle, as well as a bird’s eye view of the little town that lay only a few kilometers ahead.

 I was looking at all of this from a private room where a Jacuzzi occupied most of the room. It was actually called an “onsen” and it was basically a hot tub filled with natural water coming from inside the mountain. It was heated by the amazing volcanic system of the islands and many people say that it has great properties that help everything from the skin to the innermost organs of the body, as well as the mind. They are normally located in big rooms, to share with others. But they have individual rooms here.

 The wind blew outside and it could be felt easily inside, as there was no glass around the room, no windows at all. Only a roof and that was it. Some of the snow was even falling inside the hot water and it was a beautiful thing to see. I walked closer and attempted to get into the bath as fast as I could, but the water was much too hot and it was better if I did it slowly, in order not to shock my body with the temperature change. After all, it was freezing outside and it wouldn’t be smart to just jump in a boiling hot tub.

 As I sat down, the sound of a bird flying in the distance made me turn my head, again, towards the outside. I saw it passing near some trees on the other side of the river. It was probably some kind of hawk or eagle. The sound reminded me of many of those animal shows I had seen all my life, where biologist and ornithologists chase after a very uncommon species of bird, normally a big one like an eagle or even a vulture. Of course, those did not live nearby but it was fun to think about something else for a change.

 I had travelled all the way to Japan only to escape my life, in a sense. It wasn’t as if everything was horrible or anything like that. I had a nice paying job and a tiny place for myself that I could afford.  I could buy whatever I wanted in the supermarket and have some drinks whenever I felt like it. Nevertheless, I had been feeling strange for a while, like I wasn’t supposed to be living what I was living. I suddenly felt bored at work, when in the past I had always loved what I did and had studied. It was such a sudden change that I didn’t know what to think or do. So I just booked a ticket and flew away.

 Japan had not been a casual choice. I had wanted to visit the country for a long while and the moment seemed perfect. I had enough savings to be there for at least a week, so money was not really a problem. I just told people at work that I was leaving and left. I couldn’t care less about the problems that I would be causing by leaving so suddenly, but the thing was I needed to take care of myself for a while and that was more important than a job I knew was not for me anymore. It had become something like a cage.

 I had been in Japan for two days and decided to get away from the city and visit a nice little town, far away from the craziness of people. Of course, I’m not adventurous enough to camp in the middle of nowhere, so I decided to stay for a couple of nights in that small and cozy hotel high in the mountains. It was fun because I didn’t speak any Japanese and they spoke no English but we managed to communicate when we needed to. People were always kind and respectful; they left room for my thoughts.

 It was not as if I had done something awful like betray someone or steal from the company I worked for. I was just lost in my own life, fed up with what I had been doing for a while. I actively wanted to change it all up, to evolve into someone else. I know people don’t really change at all but I did really want to know if I could be something else or if what I had gotten up to that point in my life was everything I could ever aspire to. Sometimes thinking about all of it made me a little bit dizzy and annoyed.

 The “onsen” was a great idea because I had always liked the idea of being naked. I was naked at home for the weekends and the moment I arrived from worked I just stripped and lay down in my sofa to watch movies or a TV series. I had always been comfortable with that. So the idea of bathing at the same time a beautiful natural scene was taking place outside, was just too good to pass. So I had come in a bathrobe from my room and put my legs in the water first, slowly getting used to the very hot temperature of the water.

 Slowly, I practically glided into the water and discovered it felt amazingly comfortable. Yeah, it was very hot and I was sweating at the same time I was in the water, which was very weird. But it was very nice. I found a nice place to sit down and enjoy the view. The eagle or hawk flew again, this time closer, and I followed its flight for a while until I couldn’t see it anymore. And then I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I felt at ease, relaxed. I had missed that because at work it was all about moving around and doing stuff every single second. But that was not the case up there.

 I actually felt I could breathe. Then, I realized I couldn’t actually breathe. I remembered the old man in the front desk trying to explain something about the temperature of the water. I think he meant it wasn’t great to stay in the water for a long time if I wasn’t used to, so I practically jumped out and stood there, close, for a while, dripping water and looking outside. There was something so magical about that forest and the river and everything that you just couldn’t pull your eyes away from it. It was amazing.

 Suddenly, I realized that I was feeling too bad for myself. Again, my life was not a mess. I wasn’t dying or needing money. My family was close and I didn’t have many friends but the few of them that stayed around were very nice and we could spend a nice amount of time talking to each other. And I had sex. Casual sex to be fair but it was usually great sex that I enjoyed and, apparently, the other person always enjoyed too. So why was I feeling so strange, so lost in such a great life? What was it? What was happening?

 I needed another soak in steamy water to realize it. As skin felt the warmth of the water, from my toes to my collarbone, I saw in my mind an idea. It was an image, like a scene from a movie or something. And in that scene, I was doing something else with my life. I was actually doing something that made me happy. I even felt it! At first, I thought it was the hot water but then it was clear I was feeling happiness feeling my from the inside, like something expanding inside of me. It felt beautiful and I wanted that.

 So the choices to make were simple: I would do whatever made me happy. Really happy and not only happy because I feel it’s the right thing to do or because I feel that’s what I should be doing. I was going to step up and just find out what would make me feel whole, like a person that has reached the top of life’s pyramid. Japan had taught me that keeping it simply was the key, so I just applied that to every single aspect of my life, the moment I came back home and had to make those choices happen.

 I quit my job and started working as a teacher for a while. I had always enjoyed doing it but, for some reason, I had distanced myself from it. Besides, I could make money to study at the same time, to do some workshops and find out new interests for me in this new life I’m still trying to build.

 The casual sex is still happening but I’ve discovered new ways to make it even better and it often involves a hot tub. Weird. As for the rest of my life, it’s still the same as before. I didn’t need to make everything different. Only the parts that were failing me, that had become someone else and not me. The real me.