Desire

I parked behind the trees, spread the towel over the back seat, and thought I was completely alone. I had no idea what I’d see when I switched on the headlights.

Your message arrived before the coffee: “What would you do to me?” And I, naked and half awake, knew that question was going to cost me the whole morning.

The whole house silent, the keys still in my hand, and an idea crossing my mind as I looked at the fruit bowl on the kitchen table.

I came home from the gym burning up, stripped in front of the mirror, and knew that shower wasn’t going to be like the others: a freshly opened package was waiting for me.

It’s three in the morning, the sheets are brushing my naked skin, and your memory won’t leave me in peace. I confess what I do when you’re not there to do it yourself.

I’ve been writing for half an hour and I no longer know whether the hands running over that skin are the character’s or mine on my own body.

The moment the last guest closed the door behind them, I knew I wouldn’t sleep that night until I’d emptied myself out in front of the mirror.

I had the house to myself, two toys in the drawer, and an idea that had been haunting me for weeks. That night I was finally going to dare.

I turned off the alarm with one thought in my head, and I knew that shower was going to take far longer than it should.

The alarm went off at ten and I wasn’t getting up. What I didn’t know was that that Saturday I’d discover how much I can want myself when no one is watching.

I closed my eyes thinking I was alone. When I felt the shadow at the door, it was already too late to pretend I wasn’t thinking about him.

I thought I had the jacuzzi to myself. With two guys watching me from the sauna, my imagination ran wild and my hands kept pace.

I had never been an exhibitionist, but that afternoon I opened the curtain, placed a chair in front of the glass, and stripped naked not knowing who was watching.

Two weeks alone, with no one knocking at the door. I took out the red lingerie, opened a cold beer, and promised myself I wouldn’t stop until I was shaking.

It was nine in the morning, I was wearing a dress that could be pulled aside easily, and a secret was vibrating between my legs. No driver beside me imagined what I was doing.

I made two pigtails, wore a tiny dress with nothing underneath, and put on my favorite sneakers. I played at being an innocent girl and ended up discovering something about myself I didn’t expect.

I shut the bathroom door, let the uniform fall to the floor, and knew I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else that afternoon but his hands.

No man ever made me finish. I found that out late, after years of other people’s hands and faked orgasms: the only body that knew exactly what mine wanted was my own.

I promised myself I wouldn’t touch myself until I got home, but between work, the gym, and one way-too-hot stranger, my body had other plans.