You remember, the man I told you about?
Well, each week, he puts on the same soft tantric-like music.
I stretch a little to get ready.
We stand and face each other.
Our breath flows in unison.
Nothing too exciting, right?
Then his hand slides up my leg, bending me at the hips into a surprisingly salacious position.
He presses his full body into mine.
His stare lingers, insinuating a connection with a crooked smile.
I smell his maleness.
Hold it. Hold, … hold, he says.
A bead of sweat drips down onto my shoulder.
In my mind’s eye, it’s from his bare, buffed-belly.
I want to lick it.
Right then and there, I say, Maybe we can continue this somewhere a little more private?
He slides me back into an upright position,
Bows and says, It’s against my policy. Namaste.
And walks over to help another student.
What do you think?