Jorji (Patreon)

I always tell myself I’m not going to wander this far into the overgrown edges… and yet here I am again, barefoot in the dry grass, pretending I don’t notice how it tickles up my legs. The air is cool, but my skin feels warm — maybe because I know how I look standing here, maybe because I like the way the breeze plays with the hem of my shirt.

I tug it off one shoulder, just enough to make the moment interesting.

Just enough to see if the world is paying attention.

There’s a thrill to being wrapped in lace out here in the open, where the trees lean in like they’re gossiping about me. I can almost hear them whispering as I run my fingers through my hair and glance back over my shoulder — slow, deliberate, like I’m daring someone to wonder what I’m thinking.

Am I looking for a way out?

Or for someone who might be watching?

Even I’m not sure.

Teasing myself is half the fun.

The wild grass brushes my thighs as I shift my weight, and I let my pose soften, hips angled just slightly, the kind that looks accidental but isn’t. The kind that says, I know exactly what I’m doing, even when I pretend I don’t.

The woods behind me feel alive, the way they hold the light and shadow, the way they frame me without trying. Maybe that’s why I come out here — because the wild has a way of making me feel bold, brazen, beautifully out of place.

Or maybe it’s just that I like the way I look in its eyes.

Either way…

I linger a moment longer, letting the breeze play with me, letting the silence take me in.

If I was teasing the world before,

now I think I’m teasing myself right back