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Some nights I lie on the floor and imagine a mouth close to me, close enough that I could feel every word on my skin if it dared to speak. My legs stay apart longer than I ever plan for, and my anklet slides higher with each slow movement of my hips. I imagine soft, forbidden words staying near me, warm breath pressing against the space I keep hidden, and my body goes still as if I am listening for something I shouldn’t hear. The heat under my abaya grows until I can feel it in every part of me, and my thighs tighten from nothing but the thought of a voice there. I stay in that position, waiting too long, imagining words meant only for me. And, it feels like the silence is touching me more than any hand ever has. I wonder if anyone will ever know how much I want this, but I can only write it here, because saying it out loud would make me blush until I couldn’t move. If you want to see the face behind these nights, and the friends who share my secrets, my private world is waiting for you.
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