She never really knew a Saturday night. The kind where girls she knew would rim their eyes and wrap their torsos in colors. She knew attention for sure, but being pious was safe and getting married was even safer. She felt the burden of responsibility and wanted to hedge her bets.
But it’s Wednesday afternoon a few years later, and she has the house to herself for two more hours. She can’t stop thinking of what it would feel like to reach for that attention. To play those little games of hiding and revelation. She pours a glass of wine and grabs a pair of sunglasses she found at the park. She imagines the sun on her breasts, her body all her own. She imagines that slippery territory between desire and its realization. She imagines taking pleasure in the gaze and returning it. She imagines pleasure.
Text: SM Simões