After months of consuming edibles on the regular to dull our senses as we anxiously waited for the vaccines to become available, my boyfriend and I decided to leave our pricey San Francisco apartments and move to the Lake Tahoe area together. Then the whole world changed as we faced a global pandemic and its consequences. That evening, I was awarded the title of “Sexiest Facials.” I couldn’t stop smiling on the metro on the way home. I led with my hip, giving them an emphasized view of my behind, and punctuated the movement with a wink. In response to their encouragement and screams, I arched my back in a mermaid-like pose and took my time languidly getting up. “Okay, I see you, Chin!” my friends yelled in delight as I danced, as they sat in a row in front of the wall-to-wall mirrors. At first, I looked coyly away from the audience, then turned my gaze back to meet their eyes with a sly grin. We took turns in small groups, playing friendly rivalry rounds of freestyling, while the rest watched and sipped on sparkling wine in red Solo cups.Īs seductive R & B played-something along the lines of “Distraction” by Kehlani or Ella Mai’s “10,000 Hours”-I leisurely rolled on the hardwood floor and caressed my own neck all the way down to my torso. I was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants in an Oakland dance studio along with the all-female dance team I was a part of: me, twenty other women, and our gay male codirector, having a bonding night. Contrary to what lingerie ads might suggest, the sexiest I’ve ever felt was not in a bedroom with incredibly flattering lighting, in matching lace underwear and stilettos.
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