Sunday night. And no reprieve from this bubbling undercurrent of sexual desire that has been threatening to pull me under since “Running high“. I’ve tried reading erotica, writing erotica, looking at sensual paintings, running, masturbating (many, many times). Nothing works. I am conscious of my heart beat with every breath. I feel the tension in my shoulders and neck. There is that place just between my shoulder blades that tingles at the merest thought of touch. I catch myself looking longingly at men passing by. I have to stop myself from accidentally touching the man at the next table as I reach for the sugar (I don’t even use it in my coffee!).
I drink a glass of wine at night, in the hope it will help me fall asleep. Anything to take the edge off this rawness, this heat. And in the midst of this fever, hidden desires seem to bubble to the surface. What would it be like to be out of control, to let someone else take control? Be controlled, titillated, teased, pleasured by someone, a stranger? I crave so much. But there is no reprieve.