Drenched in sex.
There is nothing like New York City in the summer. The humidity clings to your skin like the sweat of an affair. The sun ceases all time, and the only thing I can think of is languidly chasing my longings. Everything’s drenched in sex here in the summer. Even my cold glass of wine drips with the anticipation of my touch. It’s as if I am being called to reach out and seduce my world, right here in front of all who will watch. I take one graceful finger and slowly stroke from the bottom of the glass up to its rim. I want to taste its wet as I would the sweetness of my crush and her parting lips. I take my finger and glide it across my lips, I can feel the cold condensation gathering and tickling the corner of my mouth, it falls and I can’t help but feel this ravenous thirst. I don’t want to cool down anymore, I want to be suffused in someone’s ferocity, beads of fallen sweat evaporating on my hot skin. I want someone to join in my affair with this city air.