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It’s not the obvious that I get excited over, it’s the hint of what I can’t have. Catching someone’s eye in a crowd is a great turn-on because two lives are momentarily rubbing against each other — whole worlds of pleasure could unfold between them — but it would be much harder to pull off, much more dangerous. The suggestion of a thong under baggy jeans. The swinging of breasts under a loose tank top. The marks of tattoo barely seen indicating the curve of a stranger’s ass. That’s what makes it erotic; everything I can’t have but want. A whole world denied to me, leaving me hungry, famished, alive.