Audacity

I’m impressed by boldness in declarations of sexual interest. Something in me perks up at the audacity of desire. I don’t necessarily want to be responsible for fulfilling it, but there’s something about the bare exposé of longing that I find exciting. And a contrast to my flickering tentativeness. From the young taxi driver who asked if I’d like to see his cock, to the older man who, after lunch, told me he wanted to fuck my brains out, to the blond tarot reader who asked me to go home with him in Mexico. My yes hides behind my shoulder blades in the propriety of no, yet secretly I’m impressed. And sometimes I say yes, not necessarily to the request, but to their audacity and my curiosity.