A Peculiar Thirst
Sitting on the couch, she felt a peculiar thirst—one that water could never quench. It was a faint, gentle itch, humming just beneath her skin. She barely noticed it when she was busy talking, working, or otherwise occupied. But it would always steal upon her, catching her off guard during those rare, heaven-sent moments of quiet leisure.
Summer was a season of revelation, though the sticky sheen of sweat on her skin brought a constant, muggy discomfort. Inside her, however, burned a small fire, entirely untethered to the weather outside.
R. pulled the fan closer—or more accurately, angled it directly beneath the hem of her skirt. She felt the cool draft brush against her skin, mimicking the whispered breath of a lover. Only, this intimacy was cold.
Bathed in the cool breeze of the fan, R. closed her eyes. She recalled the sweet smile on his face—innocent as a newborn. He was a young man, fit and toned, with well-defined abs, radiating the freshness of the morning sun. She imagined him walking along the beach, with beads of sweat tracing the contours of his chest, gleaming with a dizzying, velvety luster under the twilight sky.
She took several deep breaths, feeling the tension coil deep down. Her core muscles pulsed and contracted gently in tandem with her imagination, until she could almost feel the first tremors of pleasure blooming deep inside her. Slipping her left hand to her breast, she massaged its soft weight while her right fingers found her nipple, squeezing it with a sudden, firm pressure. A delicious shiver ran through her entire body. She wanted more, right now. She wondered, with a desperate throb of curiosity, just how big he was...
Yes, he was adorable, but thirty-eight felt entirely unfair to twenty-five. Looking at his vibrant youth was like admiring a delicate glass sculpture—one she shouldn’t touch lest she leave smudge marks. Though, secretly, she knew it would feel exquisite to defile it with tainted hands. Getting involved would feel like she was taking advantage of his unblemished worldview. Should she? Shouldn’t she? That was the dilemma.
A buzz on the coffee table broke her fantasy; her phone screen illuminated the dim room, casting a glow on her slightly flushed face.
“What are you doing? I’m at the other mountain—it’s really beautiful. Check it out,” the text read. Attached was a photo of a sun-drenched valley.
She smiled, a sudden warmth blooming in her chest. Picturing you naked, of course, she thought. On screen, her fingers moved with practiced decorum, typing out a reply that was gentle and restrained, perfectly suited for the polite “older sister” persona she had adopted when their paths first crossed a few days ago:
“It’s beautiful indeed. Thank you for sharing. What are your plans for today?”
Do you want to climb me instead? ran the parallel thought inside her brain.
His response came back almost instantly, as if he had been waiting with the phone in his hand.
“Not much, just hanging around the mountains. How about you?”
“Work, as usual,” she replied cordially, sending a perfectly proper, polite answer that effectively closed the door on any further intimacy—an overcompensation that only made her secret guilt more obvious.
Her mind drifted back to the day they first met. It was the final day of her trip—a journey meant for healing after the collapse of a ten-year relationship. The mountains hadn’t really been her first choice, but on that day, through coincidence after coincidence, she had somehow magically taken a right turn. It led her straight toward the mountain—the very peak where he was standing, atop a summit called Moonlight.
He had been staring at the scenery in the distance. He looked so quiet, yet so loud; so solitary yet complete. She found herself utterly captivated, lost not just in the breathtaking view, but in him—he was seamlessly woven into the scenery. She hesitated, loath to shatter his peace. It wasn’t like her at all, yet an inexplicable urge overtook her in that moment. And so, for the first time in her life, she took a breath, approached a stranger, and simply said, “Hi.”
He turned around, momentarily startled to be approached. A slightly nervous but undeniably radiant smile broke across his face.
“Could we... take a picture together?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. It was such a tired, awkward cliché, and she instantly regretted the clumsy icebreaker.
But to her surprise, his eyes lit up. He agreed happily—eagerly, in fact, with a faint, endearing thrill in his voice.
“Are you traveling by yourself?” she asked, clearing her throat, desperately trying to steer the interaction back to normal, casual ground.
“Yeah,” he nodded, his gaze sweeping over the rugged peaks. “The mountain is stunning. I’m always drawn to places like this... but honestly, I sometimes feel a bit lost and confused by it all.”
She chuckled, letting her mature, older-sister persona slip comfortably into place. “Well, do you need a guide? A tutor, perhaps?” she offered, intending it as nothing more than polite banter.
He looked back at her, his blue eyes surprisingly intent. “Yes. That would be lovely.”
She blinked, slightly taken aback. He said yes? Just like that?
They ended up hiking down the mountain trail together. The path was steep and uneven. Halfway down, her foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel.
“Whoa—”
Before she could stumble, his arm shot out, catching her firmly by the waist. The sudden momentum pulled her flush against his broad, solid frame.
They stared into each other’s eyes, suddenly breathless, their faces mere inches apart. Pressed against his chest, she could feel the heat of his skin through his thin shirt, and beneath it, his heart hammering—frantic, loud, and incredibly fast.
It felt as though they connected mentally the moment their eyes met. She caught a glimpse of vulnerability deep within his ocean-blue eyes—a stark contrast to his broad frame—which sparked her desire to uncover what lay hidden beneath. She was drawn to the complex signals this boy gave off, yearning to explore the naked truth of him, and perhaps, his naked body as well. Displaying an older sister’s warmth and care, she took him sightseeing and showed him around. Yes, she was simply being hospitable to a visitor. At least, that was how she convinced herself in the beginning.
The atmosphere grew thick with tension during a local fireworks show when they were picked from the audience to go on stage and play the roles of bride and groom. The flickering amber glow of the fire against the dark night cast an ambiguous, romantic spell over them. They stood hand in hand, their fingers tightly intertwined. She could feel the roughness of his fingers, and his gentle caress against her skin sent a faint flutter through her heart.
In reality, however, she merely gripped his hand nervously and tightly, as if trying to conceal her racing thoughts.
They walked off the stage and strolled in silence for a while. The boy escorted her back to the entrance of her hotel. As they were about to part ways, he smiled and asked, “Do you want to travel around Europe in a few days? I could be your guide. Just let me know, I’m a really good guide.”
He looked at her intently, as if expecting an invitation to go upstairs with her.
She just smiled and replied, “I’ll consider it. Thank you for the offer, J. Good night.”
It had been a wonderful night, and she was genuinely happy to have made a new friend—but that was all it was ever going to be, boy.
But she was wrong.
After flying back home, she couldn’t stop thinking about that night. What if... what if? I should have at least kissed him. A kiss wouldn’t have hurt anything. She regretted it immensely.
I guess it’s time, she thought, as her eyes drifted back to her actual surroundings. She wasn’t working. She stood up, staring at the half-packed cardboard boxes, sorting through the bitter emotional wreckage of a relationship that had shattered six months ago. It was time to finally sweep up the broken pieces left behind by her fiancé—ex-fiancé, to be precise.
