Lascivious Longings Come in Nude-Leggings

From far, it’s like catching a drooling, deific eye-dip of a Copacabana lady’s sequined orange bikini underneath her white netted poncho. A little closer, it’s like watching her cherry-red, upper lip dive into that pomegranate punch. Even closer is why we have private beach tents. 

Lust. It’s sensual, seductive and more often than not, scandalous. And lets face it, we all love lust. That precipitous spike of endorphin, adrenaline and testosterone (or estrogen) is like Victoria’s Secret Angles walking towards you with vodka-washed strawberries. Every corner of the eye escapes, those surreptitious sneak peaks, and guilty glances, all come down to a momentarily lapse of ‘illegal’ pleasure. 

Let’s go beyond those secondary slips of stares because quite frankly, that is neither prohibited nor taboo. It is when the fidelity becomes ‘in’ and a partner starts to play ring toss. Gay rights and lesbian marriages are at least rallied with big, bold letterhead posters on crowded New York streets that the demonstrators use as pants but the idea of protesting against polygamy is a hush-hush affair (pun intended). 

Promiscuity is like buying an iMac from the fake store in China; it’ll have its price to pay (even after the purchase). So before the bananas in the banana republic of foul play go out of control, remember that this fruit was forbidden for a reason. Apples were long sinned anyway. We all secretly hanker the hanky-panky out of movies, films (note the difference), TV shows and advertisements but when we cross the line over to the dark side ourselves, even “The Force” is out its power. 

And it turns out that the line is a napkin with a number on it.