I kept playing Tash Sultana in the background because she used to calm me down before I was meant to go to work with that mean girl that would cover for me as a barista. I had done a little yoga workout earlier that morning. I had tried to concentrate on my breath and make it deeper and try to expel all the oxygen out. It was filling my lungs and would have been able to lift me up like a balloon if I hadn’t paid much attention to it. My stomach had been killing me for a couple of days now. I just felt it beating like a heart and I had always been traumatized by people vomiting, so I feared that ending most of all. I was nervous and I couldn’t pin it down. I had met her before. Sure, we hadn’t had sex yet, we had only met once, and it was pending on this night that we would. But I had had sex with women before. I had been with plenty and they were all different and needed and wanted different things but I felt like I had done a pretty good job – except for a couple of times where the chemistry just wasn’t there.
But this girl – she was different. As Tash sang about mystic feelings, I sat down on the floor, my dress acting as a blanket, its long flower print on white polyester as decoration for my tanned legs. I imagined her running her hands up and down my thighs, my breath becoming shallow again. I had to put my mind on something else, but then the phone rang and she said she was downstairs, could I open the gate for her? I pressed the button on the remote and felt like my insides were tying a knot, and she’d have to see me naked for the first time while they’d do an autopsy on me. Yet as her face came up the stairs, one last drop of adrenaline reached my blood and I think for a moment my stomach was finally free.
*line from the lyrics of Mistik, by Tash Sultana
About the author:
I am a lesbian intersectional feminist who loves to read books and write thoughts down; I mostly travel around in search of new adventures and cultures to learn from!