“So is your sister into that too?” I ask. I’m shameless. There’s no denying it. If my mother could see me now, she’d be appalled. But in my defense, I’m just digging up more dirt to share with Oscar. He’s going to love this.
“Oh, she’s into it,” she says. “All that butt play stuff, and anal beads. I personally was never into that.”
“Well, it’s not for everyone,” I say. The conversation has suddenly turned awkward, for me anyway. I’m rubbing her feet, and staring at her pretty painted pink toes. “So, uh, how are the kids doing at college?” I ask, not so subtly changing the subject.
She tells me all about what Emily and Eric are up to, and I do my job. Before long, the conversation shifts back to Annabelle, and how she’s had a pregnancy scare again, and I get lost in the story. Next thing you know, I check the clock and realize I’ve gone over my allotted time.
“Oh crap!”
“What?!” she asks, alarmed.
“Oh, it’s just… I’ve gone over my time, and I have a yoga class to teach.”
“Oh, so sorry. I was distracting you with all my stories.”
I swiftly grab another hot towel from the steamer. “It’s not your fault,” I tell her, and quickly wipe the oil off her arms. “I’m sorry to end this session so abruptly.”
“No problem.” She looks up at the clock on the wall. “Hey, I got an extra five minutes. I’m happy.”
Lust
There are three all-powerful evils: lust, anger and greed.– Tulsi Das
Lust is a funny little thing.So strong and powerful. It makes you do crazy things. It is probably one of the most powerful emotions out there. Stronger than love, even. Strong enough to make the weak risk their life’s stability, and the stability of those around them. Lust feels good, but it can also sting. Once it has a hold of you, you can’t escape. You’re caught in its wicked grip.
A man might love his wife and children, but when he meets a beautiful, intoxicating woman, he might be willing to take the risk of jeopardizing his family. For what? Five minutes of passion? One night?
I’m fascinated by Danielle’s sister, Annabelle. What would it feel like to be consumed by lust? To be addicted to it? Is the pull as strong as heroin, or alcohol? Does the body itch for it? For that forbidden touch. Why would a woman who has it all, risk it all? It’s unfathomable to me.
I’ve experienced lust quite a few times in my life, the eager need to pleasure and be pleasured, the itch to explore, the shot of adrenaline from a lover’s touch. But I’ve never been so consumed by it that it’s made me do questionable things, or risk something, or hurt those around me.
Is lust a selfish emotion? Of course it is. It’s all about one’s self, about wanting to be desired, wanting to be adored. There is no more self-serving emotion out there.
What will happen when Annabelle’s bubble bursts? Will her actions destroy her family? Will the consequences of her addiction affect her children for years to come? Like my father’s actions affect me, still to this day.
I would like to believe that I’m in control of my emotions, and that I could never let lust lead me astray. But as humans, as mere mortals, none of us are truly safe from our emotions. One never knows how one might react in a certain situation.
Lust is an emotion, therefore it does not follow logic, or common sense. It’s wild and unpredictable. And that’s what’s so damn scary about it.
* * *
The heelof my boot breaks off as I attempt to run to my car. I curse, and limp all the way to my old Dodge minivan, a hand-me-down from Danielle — she sold it to me for a thousand dollars. It was all I could afford. “That’s what happens when you buy cheap boots, I guess,” I complain to myself, out loud.
The man who is about to hop in the SUV next to my car gives me a strange look. I ignore him — I can talk to myself if I want to.
Bugger off, buddy.
I’m really upset about the boots, over-the-knee boots I love wearing with leggings. Unfortunately, new boots are not in the budget.
To top it off, my car is covered in snow. I reach for the door handle and it sticks. The door won’t open — it’s frozen shut. This always happens when it’s really cold out. “You can’t do this to me. Not now. Please open,” I plead as I feverishly tug at the handle. Finally, it gives. I breathe in a sigh of relief. I stick my key into the ignition, and the engine stalls. This also happens when it’s cold. “Just great! I’ll never make it now.” I give it two more tries, and thankfully, the third time’s a charm.
I reach for my car brush, and wipe off the snow from my windows. February is such a dreary, miserable month. If anyone is happy-go-lucky and zen, it’s me, but even I have a hard time with February. And then there’s the whole Valentine thing. Ugh… It sucks when you don’t have a boyfriend. I wonder if I should get something for Oscar. I wonder if he’ll get me something. It’ll be very awkward if he gets me something, and I have nothing for him. That’s it… I’m going to get him something, and keep it under my bed in case he gets me something too. What should I get him?
Things Oscar loves: coffee, sweets, boxing, comedy, weird clothing, his cat, and vintage porn. Where does one even get vintage porn? And when did this friends-with-benefits situation get so complicated?
I’m still limping when I run into the gym. As I dash to the change room, I can see the yoga studio full of people waiting for me. Damn you, Annabelle, and your promiscuous ways. This is all your fault. I feel bad — these people have lives and schedules, and their time is just as precious as mine. I think I set a record for fastest outfit change. I’ve put on my tank top backwards but hopefully no one will notice.
I push the door open, completely flustered. “I’m so sorry, everyone. My car was covered in snow and wouldn’t start.” Everyone who lives in Vermont can relate — it’s an excellent excuse. Of course I don’t mention that I was also held captive in juicy sordid tales of infidelity.
I don’t notice him until I get to the front of the class. He’s grinning broadly, as always. He has the biggest smile you’ll ever see. He also has a big nose, huge brown eyes, and crazy hair. He has the kind of face that people don’t forget, a unique look. He’s taken off his hipster glasses for the class and is wearing the most embarrassing Richard Simmons inspired outfit. The man is wearing a loose pink tank top, short shorts, and neon yellow leg warmers, for crying out loud.
He likes the attention. He likes to inspire laughs. He has no shame. When God made Oscar Cohen, he forgot to insert the inhibition chip.
I can’t help but laugh. He’s actually garnered quite a few stares from the ladies surrounding him — he loves it. A few of my regulars have seen him before, and know what to expect. He will make a complete mockery of my class, but the ladies seem to love it, so I don’t complain too much.
And I will teach the whole class with a huge smile on.
