bare legs

October 28th, 2022

It’s been weirdly warm these past few days. It’s around 22°C and we’re one weekend away from November. Very unusual. The long, thick jackets have been out since the beginning of the month, as autumn pretended to settle. But now, with the quick and sudden return of the warmth, I got reminded of one of the most peculiar aspects of summer, to me at least: exposed body parts.

There's a guy at the office who, even in the cold, wears shorts. He’s a bit older than me, I can tell, and he’s not on my team so we’ve never even talked. I honestly don’t even know his name, but he sits a couple of tables behind me.

He wears a cap that hides his face a bit, which to be fair, might be for the better - not that he’s ugly, just not very appealing to me. I actually think the cap enhances his masculinity, which I actually do find attractive. Paradoxal much? But his legs, they hypnotize me.

I noticed throughout the years that I don’t have a specific type, but rather random body parts that really appeal to me, specific to each person. When it clicks, it clicks. I see it, and it grabs my attention. It tingles a bit, and I suddenly can’t wait to go home and release myself, thinking of those ankles.

My desk faces the wall, so there’s not much to look at. Though every time I turn, I see under the table a pair of calves that make me moan inside. He usually takes off his shoes when he’s by his desk, exposing his white, crew-length socks.

I noticed a few times, when he walks by, that his jean-shorts are ripped on his upper right thigh, right below the cheek. What a turn on. And guess what, I never saw even an inch of underwear, which leaves me speculating if there is one at all. Even bigger turn on.

Sometimes, when it really is cold, he comes in pants and then changes back to shorts once he knows he’ll stay inside for 8 hours. Goddamn.

I don’t want to sleep with him. I don’t even know how to focus on legs when I’m in bed. It’s usually the middle section we tend to focus on - if you know what I mean. I don’t find him handsome, or intellectually interesting so I know this is barely a fantasy and it frustrates me. All I can do is look. And even if this was outside of work, it would be the same. All I could do would be to look at his legs.

I feel this is often the case with me and lust (I won’t call it romance; I refuse). I never act on it, it always seems like a mere exposition. Look, don’t touch; or get too near. Just appreciate it from afar. In silence, for just a little bit, until you find another piece of art that catches your attention. On the train, on the streets, at the dentist’s office. Common, everyday places. That's where you have these moments.

I’m afraid that one day my real identity will be revealed, and everyone will know who Ms. Rodwell truly is, and writing about a sexual fantasy with someone from work could put me in trouble. But I’ve been attempting not to worry in advance, as I usually do - and as they say, there’s no harm in looking (if discreetly, I must add).

Obviously, I’m way too busy to even think about sex when I’m at the office. But I have frames of his legs engrained in my memory, almost hauntingly, and I can always come back to them outside the office.

- Ms. Rodwell