Eye Sex
It was 2 am in the East Village on a mid-winter's Saturday night. Outside the weather was wickedly ablaze with a teeming, tempestuous blizzard. I was in the dark downstairs area of a tiny downtown club. The air inside sharply contrasted with the air outside. It was thick, and hot, and teeming with sexuality and glistening dancing bodies.
I had ingested somewhere between a couple of drinks cocktails, two is my limit. I was just the right kind of buzzed. I had finally shaken off the backbreaking stress and relentless heartache of an all-consuming workweek and was blissfully holding court on the dance floor with my best girlfriend.
I took a moment to catch my breath and take in the sea of dancing and bending bodies, when my eye accidentally caught the eye of a faceless stranger..
But it didn't stop a bolt of electricity from sifting through the entirety of my body.
Who was this mysterious creature whom I had indirectly made eyes with? I was as embarrassed as I was turned on, exhaled and averted my eyes upward. It was the DJ. He was staring at me. This time I didn't blink. I let it happen. He was undressing me with his eyes -- slowly, carefully. Moment-to-moment. Not in a violating way, I met his stare and fully consented. It was nothing like the heaps of creeps who invade your personal space with their aggressive stares at 7 am on the subway. I liked it. In fact, I was loving every second of it.
His soft gaze penetrated mine, and something was starting to happen. Feelings of irrepressible desire were starting to slowly unfold within me. I was suddenly overcome with unexpected pinpricks of wild lust. The tension was slowly building. The longer we looked into each other's eyes, the more and more I wanted him. It was the best kind of torture. Our eyes were speaking their own wordless language made up entirely of sex, and lust, and heat and chemistry.
We were having eye sex. Right there. In lower Manhattan. Through the smoky haze of a crowded dance floor. The fact that it was in public made it oh so much hotter. Not a single entity in the room was aware of what was happening between the DJ and I. It wasn't forward like a touch. Or keen words. It was as if we were sharing an intimate little secret. Secrets are seductive. They're a collaborative exchange between two consenting people, sort of like sex.
*Eye contact is more intimate than words could ever be.*
_Ashley the eyes are the windows to the soul xx_