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“And now we enter our final pose: Sarvasana,” Zeke said in his deep voice.

I lay down, spreadeagled on my cerise yoga mat and breathed deeply. This was my favourite part of the class I attended every Saturday morning with the luscious yogi, Zeke. His crinkly kind eyes and open demeanour had brought me in to try his weekly sessions, but it was his thoughtful attention to the students that had kept me there. It was a tough class with lots of inversions, and handsome Zeke was always on hand to help adjust postures and gently offer corrections. His flawless toned body and broad shoulders certainly helped matters too.

The first time he had used his big hands to straighten my wobbles, Zeke had asked if it was OK to touch me. I’d never had a teacher be hands-on like that, so I hadn’t known how it would sit with me, but I loved it. There was something hugely attractive about the way he was so sure in his touch, and I’d luxuriated in the heat of his hands too, like a kitten unfurling into pleasure. Maybe this was why my crush on him had developed to the point it was almost painful—though in a delicious, desiring way.

Zeke touching me each class, made me ache with need in my nether regions and it resulted in the final pose of Sarvasana being a time of lurid fantasy for me. I thought about Zeke’s green eyes focusing on my body—and imagined he used this quiet time to stare at my lithe form without being caught. I’d started dressing more and more provocatively each week too, with short-shorts or leggings that ran mesh panels right up to the crotch and backless crop tops that didn’t exactly hide my non-sports-bras.

Today I had dressed in a dusky pink bralet that was all lace and promises, peeking through the sheer ivory of my vest. My belly-button piercing shone from under the knotted top and all that bare flesh enticed looks. Against my raven-dark hair, which I wore long and loose, the contrast of my clothing’s light shades looked almost virginal. I loved the contradiction that these alluring, revealing wisps of fabric I wore, which were barely holding me in were designed in such girly, innocent colours.