Desire
May 31, 2026
If desire had a physical form, it would be draped in the deep velvet reds and exotic greens of that place.
The walls, drenched in the color of sin, closed in around us — shielding us from the outside world like a fortress, sealing us within an open-air courtyard, our own secret Babylon, open to the stars yet hidden from everything beyond.
Ivy and all kinds of lush tropical palms climbed all the way up to the second floor terrasses, weaving through grand white columns and statues of Roman gods above — men and women frozen in marble, watching over us like silent deities.
The lights were so cinematic, so dramatic, so seductively precise, it felt as if we were the cast in a scene unfolding around us by design — as though we were being watched, captured, somewhere in the shadows past the glow.
Under the summer sky, just outside the massive floor-to-ceiling French doors, William and I sat and talked passionately, bathing in crimson lights.
Everything — the humid air soaked in perfume, the music, the glances exchanged across tables, the electric hum of conversation — screamed SEXY with capital letters. Here, people don’t just eat — they observe. They hunt, as part of the ritual.
We were two fortunate wanderers, free of cares in the city of pleasure, savoring every moment.
As we talked and drank our rosé, growing accustomed to the dance of eyes and fever around us, he slipped away for a moment.
And somewhere between my eyes smiling at him, and my hand reaching for my wine glass — his seat was already taken…
A lion past his prime, but still aware of his power, who’d been watching me all evening, finally made his move. Like an experienced hunter, he waited for the right moment, then stood up, shuffled over and sat right in William’s seat – claiming it as his own.
I was stunned. Apparently, there were still men out there with some balls. He certainly had plenty!
Completely startled, my body froze between disbelief and amusement. He was old. Really old… maybe in his 70s or 80s!
He started talking, but all I could focus on was the way his hands trembled as he tried to express his fascination — the kind of quiver that comes after a lifetime of summers and speaks of the many stories he carried with him.
He said: Miss, you’re incredibly beautiful! I would like to take you out…
It did take me a second to process everything.
There’s something about older men that you just can’t find in our generation — their determination and boldness. I LOVE it! For God’s sake, the boys my age can hardly manage to TEXT! I have no idea what has happened somewhere in between, but manhood is totally extinct – I was thinking.
I smiled, not being able to conceal my surprise and shock. “Thank you,” I said, “but I’m with someone”.
He nodded graciously, like a real gentleman. “Of course. Enjoy your night.”. And just like that, he was gone, retreating back to his séparé as if nothing had happened.
Later that night, I was still processing it. Like a true Virgo, I had to examine it from every angle, dwell on it, and, of course, extract lessons.
What really puzzled me was his hunger and drive even at that age. I thought people lose that over time, eventually becoming less and less sexual creatures with age, the same way childhood innocence dissolves into adulthood.
Perhaps it’s unfair, but most of us don’t picture our grandparents as active participants in the great affairs of romance. Or is it just me?
The next day, I even did my research. And guess what? Sexual desire and activity persists well into older age. Turns out, lust doesn’t really die — it lingers quietly beneath everything time strips away…
I even brought it up to William. “I can’t believe men his age still have that drive, that kind of desire. Do you think it ever really fades? And let’s say I did go out with him.. What would we even do? Could he perform?”.
He laughed, leaning back in his chair, eyes glinting with something mischievously wicked.
“He could still do this”, he said, mimicking that unmistakable hand motion a man makes while deep in a French kiss.
We both burst out laughing.
“Trust me,” he said, “it never does”. With a smirk, he added, “And if it did, I’d still have enough in me to hold your hair back.”.
That was enough I wanted to know, indeed. But really is that a blessing… or a curse? I guess it would have been easier for us human beings to slowly shake off that fiery passion and eventually transcend above it…
We like to think of sexuality as something youthful, something tied to smooth skin and perfect bodies. But apparently, desire doesn’t fade, it lingers long past our prime. Maybe it’s eternal, buried so deep inside us that even time can’t erode it completely.
I guess the body may get weathered, but those bodily impulses, the need for closeness? The craving for touch? That aspect of us doesn’t seem to age. For better or worse…
Thank you for reliving this moment with me!
See you next Sunday at 4.
Love, Kiki