Diogo

Voyeur. Just watch me make him happy.

“He unfolds himself from behind the hostel reception desk at half the speed of a regular human. And then I see why he needs to save energy. His smile. He smiles like the shine of sun off gold. And the light as it streams in from wide open doors to the hot pavement, and the overhead lights semi-shaded in huge constructions of woven raffia, all just bask in the reflection of the smile, and send shafts of light back to line his golden face.

“He leans forward a little, over the reception desk, and takes my hand, and tells me I am welcome before I’ve even said a word. And I don’t know if I’ve found him or he’s found me. The essential paperwork – passport details, home address, bank card – gives me time to check him out. But I see it’s really him that is doing the checking.

“If I’ve ever been given the once over so openly, so blatantly, I can’t remember the occasion. His eyes sweep from the topmost lick of my hair, down and down, all the way to my toes. They slide over the elastic of my beach shorts, the label on my backpack, the twin stiff peaks beneath my T-shirt, and then up. To my throat. To my lips.

“Blatant.”