The night was colder and darker than usual for this time of year. There were almost no people on the road. He passed through a police checkpoint, but they didn't stop him. He was glad about that. He wanted to arrive as soon as possible.

Was it madness to go back there? Yes, it was. This wasn't what was expected of a man like him. He was a real man, with a good job, money in the bank, his own motorcycle and car, access to influential people. What was he doing going in the middle of the night to an apartment in Trinitat Vella to be mistreated by a woman older than him? Did she really mistreat him? No, it wasn't fair to say that. She treated him as he wanted, put him in his place. But why did he desire her so much? It wasn't just how she treated him; it was her. Since he saw her photographs, he began to imagine her. What was her scent, what perfume would she wear, what was her voice like? Borja's worst nightmare was not the condescending, almost disdainful way she treated him during their first meeting; it was that she turned out to be more attractive than he had imagined.

During the two weeks that separated their first meeting from the second, he tried in vain not to think about her. It was impossible. And every time he did, he relived the memory of the heat that emanated from her skin, the aroma of it mixed with a citrus fragrance, the whitish color of her skin, the crimson of her lips. He desired her senselessly and senselessly he desired her.

He still couldn't understand how he desired that being, who he knew showed herself as a man in her daily life, who he knew had a penis, who towered over him in heels, who contained her flesh in a corset to emulate a more feminine shape. He had been with enviable women; he had made love to them in all positions. In some cases, they had fallen in love with him, in the unfounded blind faith that some women have, believing that they could change him. They had suffered for him, and he had secretly enjoyed it.

He parked his motorcycle in front of the building. Just as she had ordered, he sent a message upon arrival. Jennifer took several minutes to reply. He didn't know it, but she was watching him from the window. She enjoyed watching him become desperate, impatient, constantly looking at his phone, waiting for a response that didn't arrive.

Ten minutes passed before she replied. He felt terribly uncomfortable. He imagined that someone he knew would see him there in the middle of the night. He didn't want to have to give explanations. He looked at his phone at intervals and then at the deserted streets.

- “Take off all your clothes except your shoes. When you do, I'll open the door, and you come up. Bring your helmet and clothes in hand.”

Borja was stunned by the message. She had already made him go out naked to the street the last time, but he didn't want to relive that embarrassment. He didn't want to. He didn't want to. Did he want to? Why was...