“Have you ever craved desire? Not the wanting, but the feeling of being desired. Not by a lover or significant other, but by a stranger, someone who doesn’t owe you years of commitment or who doesn’t feel trapped by layers of guilt and socially acceptable notions of loyalty. Do you long to be looked at with hunger from someone you’ve never met, or perhaps from someone you’ve met only once—in the briefest of glances, the most insignificant of occurrences—but felt that spark, that pull of fate, drawing you together in a snowball’s avalanche of reckoning?
From today’s writing: Hot in Aruba
My feet moved mechanically. I was a sexually active woman. I loved sex. I craved the intimacy and high of climax, yet around Carlos, I acted like a girl who’d barely been kissed. And why? Because I was bent on us being friends. That old record was seriously wearing out its groove.
When he’d suggested we should head back, I’d wanted anything but. However, the idea of pushing him down and fucking him in the desert sand hadn’t really appealed to me, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why? Outside sex was hot. A thought burbled to the surface, and I cringed. A whiny, pouty little voice mewled that our first time together should be special.
I kicked a pebble in my path. What the hell was happening to me? I was losing my fucking mind.