Whenever I pass by tall hotel buildings, my thoughts are filled unconsciously with one, in fact the only one, sexual fantasy I have grown and groaned to like over the years. I then start to do a run-through of what it will likely be just in case it will happen.
I imagine the sun has set by then and, one after another, the city lights come to life. All imaginable neon colors surround people who, by this time, will be out to enjoy dinner in any one of the restaurants lined up along the commercial center nearby. Parents will be with kids, boyfriends will be with girlfriends, friends will be with friends. The whole sea of people outside the hotel teems with excitement and glee looking forward for night of fun. The winds blow softly.
Thirty floors up from where the people are, I come to life. Only the lamp lights are switched on in my room as I draw the curtains open. I imagine that my room is slowly transformed into a stage where I perform fluently before the world down below who becomes my audience. It's dark outside and I don't have a clue if I get them glued to me. But nevertheless, I'll do my moves by the window. I will have no qualms about being naked and figure in a role where I become a dominant sexual partner. The whole world will be treated into a lovely sight of two naked figures up in the sky who get lost in themselves as they celebrate love and intimacy and adventure.
Thoughts like this convince me that I might actually have a flare for flesh display. But then again, prudence dictates otherwise. Unless I want to hear and see people puke before me. Which I have never fantasized about.
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