This is an exercise from the wonderful writing book Room to Write. We were to write about a forbidden desire, whether it was indulged in or not. This is my take on the forbidden fruit.

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I’m distracted by the way you move. I keep missing easy returns because I stare at the muscles moving in your arms and legs, as you leap to send the ball flying. For a moment, I imagine things I shouldn’t, things that will never happen, things, however, that I desire.

You notice something’s up, and ask if I need a break. Yes, I do, but not because the exercise is tiring. Perhaps some water will clear my mind. We leave the glassed-in court for a minute to sit on a bench and sip from our water bottles. We talk about work, colleagues, vacation plans, and all the while I don’t say what’s on my mind: would you like to come home with me tonight?

Twenty more minutes before the court belongs to someone else. We head back to play, and I tire myself out. I run for balls, jump into the air and try not to notice too much when you pass closely behind me. Perhaps I’m trying to impress you with my athletic abilities, since my wit and physique do not seem to have the craved reaction. If that’s what I’m doing, it isn’t working. When we leave the gym, we agree to play again next week, before parting as easy friends.

On the road home, I let myself think about what could be, but never will. Then I lock my desires away again, until next week.