Cooper Madrid 2003

I was never able to feel that mixture of desire and terror. I was 18 years old, that night I finally gathered the courage to stand in front of the establishment, with my nerves overflowing and my heart racing. I called the door, praying that no one would open it, but the typical doorman, a huge, bald, scowling man, opened it with a dry gesture.

—Age? —he growled, scrutinizing my body as if he could smell the novice from kilometers away.

—Eighteen… —I whispered, barely believing it myself.

He looked me up and down and laughed, as if he already knew that I was giving myself to the lions.

—Pass. Here the first-timers prove it by entering as god brought you into the world. Get undressed right there at the door —he ordered, pointing to a miserable coat rack.

I let out, almost begging:

—Uh... I just came to see the atmosphere, to have a drink at the bar...

The doorman didn't even blink, only let out a "yeah..." full of sarcasm, sure that I would give in before I could turn around.

With trembling hands, I took off my shirt and pants, until I was left in my underwear. Another snort.

—Everything off, kid.

I had to take everything off. As I left my clothes on the coat rack and stood completely naked under those lights, I felt that first shock of humiliation and fear that settles in your chest and won't let go.

I entered. Inside, everything was in darkness; at the bar, three or four older men were lined up, one already looking like a vulture, and two others walking slowly, looking at me shamelessly up and down. I sat huddled at the bar, barely breathing, feeling their eyes scanning me as if I were exposed in a display window. The bartender —another guy in his forties, with a two-day beard and a tight-fitting shirt— approached me with a smile:

—What can I get you, handsome?

—A drink, whatever... —I whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

—You're very tense, that's what we take advantage of here —he said, leaning in closer, putting his arms on the bar and lowering his voice so that only I could hear—. After the drink, go to the back and let yourself go.

I felt my cheeks burning, I swallowed saliva and grabbed the glass like it was a lifeline. The men at the bar didn't take their eyes off me. One of them elbowed another and whispered, laughing, while looking at my nipples and legs.

Finally, I gathered the courage to move to the back of the establishment, where there was hardly any light: the black fabric of the dark room hanging like a threshold, the air dense and hot, smelling of sweat and sex, almost no noise except waves of breathing. I couldn't see a thing. I was feeling my way with my hands, palpating the walls and searching for signs of life. I thought I was alone there, trembling, about to turn around, when I bumped into a body.

—Sorry... are we alone? —I asked un...