Afternoon delight...

Can I whisper to you of lechery?

Can I? Those surprising moments I am reminded of maleness outside of the cocoon of marriage?

Being directed by traffic cops (I don't know, just sigh...) but first and foremost?

Well, it's a specialized taste, I suspect.

And, due to the confines of office wear, doesn't occur often, but sometimes, on casual Fridays....

There's this little spot just below a toned belly button, that flat belly part where fuzz begins. It's horribly distracting in it's deliciousness.

In French training, there was a fella who sat directly opposite of me around the U of the table - of the bespectacled German variety I have long found to be so endearing - who was also very athletic, returning after lunch each day wet headed from the gym next door. And then, wearing low-slung jeans, he would stretch back over his chair and, oh dang...............c'est quoi, que je disais?

And then? During the first class of yoga with the more butch of the two instructors, we started the sun salutation series, and, well, if I'm going to be able to concentrate on the here and now, I'm going to have to move my mat.

Or not. shhhhh.