Bali High
I look at myself in the dull, yellowish mirror in the tiny plane bathroom en route to Bali, holding my own gaze, searching. I can see a glimmer of life coming through my eyes, just the faintest twinkle— she hasn’t been there in years. I smile to myself, the left side of my mouth always curving a bit more up, while my right cheek dimples ever so slightly. My eyes move slowly down over my body, my shelter, my safe place. I notice my chest rise and fall as I take long deep breaths. I know deep down into my being, right behind my navel, this is exactly where I need to go.
I lock eyes with my reflection and promise to be open to adventure, be open to receiving, be open to feeling abundance. “It’s nice to meet you again,” I say to the mirror.
I’ve come to Bali for yoga, surfing, and to eat Nasi Goreng until my heart, body, and stomach are satisfied. My first week in Ubud, I spend completely alone. I want to be quietly with my thoughts and learn how to be by myself again—I figured it would take some time to get reacquainted.
My 9 year marriage has just ended—a struggle of codependency mixed with my fear of being alone made me lose myself in him. My thoughts, opinions, even likes and desires, were constructed on his world. My womanhood and feminine power were so diluted by the end of our marriage, I fear I may never feel a spark again.
But in Bali, I am relearning my own pleasure—pleasure from my senses. My body turns on when I walk the busy streets. In the middle of chaos, I see the most electric green leaves with budding pink lotus flowers. The new smells emanating from small food carts on the side of the road make me hungrier than I’ve been my whole life. The consistent sunlight warms my skin and sends beads of sweat down the small of my back.
I crave the sea. I desire the waves and saltwater. I need to be held by the world, encapsulated in the depths of the ocean. The cold water wakes me up every day as I reunify with my body. I feel so free to move in the ocean. So open. So easy. Feeling the wetness of the sea between my toes, in my mouth and between my legs, I am roused. I want to stay in this awakening forever.
By the end of my fourth week in Bali, after an exhilarating day surfing, I make my way back to my hostel but I am caught off guard by two new arrivals sitting in the lobby area. I introduce myself; they are brothers from New Zealand. A group of us decides to grab beers at the beach that evening.
At the beach, I end up sitting next to one of the brothers, Luke. Our conversation over crisp beers trickles from politics and religion, to sex and relationships. He listens to my opinions, and unlike in my marriage, he is interested and intrigued. On our third beer, we begin talking about my marriage. How did you lose yourself? he wants to know. He listens compassionately when I get choked up, unable to give him a clear answer. His attention makes my blood heat up throughout my body, pulsing into my clitoris. I watch his lips move as he talks. They’re slightly crooked. His sun-kissed body is toned and strong. I want his arms wrapped around me.
After a week of conversational foreplay, Luke and I decide to spend the weekend south in Uluwatu. He rents a villa and we drive the 2 hours down late on a Friday afternoon. I watch his hair blow around his face from the open windows, and I make the decision to have sex with him. I can feel his unspoken hunger for me, his desire. He makes me feel wanted in a way my previous relationship did not. I feel chosen—for exactly who I am relearning to be.
I feel my feminine re-entering my body. My sun-kissed hair falls around my shoulders, tickling my deeply tanned skin. My inner thighs prickle, as I imagine his lips on my neck, his grip on my legs. My strong surfer’s body sways, sexy and uninhibited, as I softly sing along to Tom Misch’s music playing in the car. I feel liberated. I feel grateful. And in this moment, I feel unconditional love—for myself.
By the time we enter the villa, the unspoken tension between us hangs like humidity in the air. We stand on the balcony for a moment looking at each other, each of us with a sly smile. I nod my head ever so slightly and he moves towards me.
His lips hit the back of my neck and I shiver despite the heat. He seamlessly unties my halter dress, and I feel it fall instantly onto the ground. His hands slowly learn my collarbone, then my shoulders, then my breasts. His broad chest pushes up against my back, his hips move up against my ass, and his knees bend into the back of my legs. He moves intentionally and respectfully, clearly in charge. I want to be ravished.
He spins me around. He smells of sunscreen and sweat and tastes like salt water and aloe. I take off his shirt and slowly start kissing his chest and neck. His stature is much bigger than mine; I feel small and safe. He moves his body into mine, backing me up against the balcony's edge.
His hands move all over me. He caresses my hard nipples, bending down to kiss each one, holding eye contact as he softly groans with pleasure. His hair tickles my stomach as he gets to his knees and starts pulling off my bathing suit bottom. He wraps his hands around my hips and starts kissing my stomach. I feel him, hard, against my leg through his swim suit as he kneels before me. My yoni is pulsing, engorging.
He stands up and kisses me, his mouth moving slow and deep. His tongue plays lightly with mine, while his cock pushes into my naked skin, his swimsuit the only barrier between our bodies. We start moving towards the bed as one entity.
He lays me on the edge and his lips move slowly down my body again, this time though, he doesn’t stop until he reaches my clitoris. He licks me hungrily, first in long strokes making sure every part of my vulva is wet, then his tongue moves slowly over my clit, slightly pushing on it, making my legs tremble. He uses his hand to delicately fondle my g-spot. I relax my legs onto his shoulders and breathe into the pure joy I’m experiencing. It is a pleasure I’ve forgotten.
I am so close to an orgasm when Luke stops—he retreats to kissing my inner thighs and tells me to take a deep breath. I can feel my sexual energy course through my body, thick and real as the blood flowing in my veins. He lets another few moments pass, then starts licking my clitoris again. I edge closer and faster to an orgasm. Right when I get so close, again he backs off. He lets me drip with desire, inserting his fingers into me, massaging my g-spot then licking his fingers.
He comes up to pant in my ear teasingly, “Do you want to cum?” My entire body says yes, without a spoken word. I slide his bathing suit bottoms off and tell him to get a condom. I need him inside of me.
He is hard and big. His cock ever so slightly curved to the left. I massage the tip of his cock for a moment before grabbing the condom from him and putting it on myself. We lock eyes, passion connecting us.
I want to come, so I push him on the bed and slowly lower myself onto him. I sit with him fully inside of me and start grinding my clit on his pubic bone, while his cock stimulates my g-spot. His hands are moving between my breasts and ass, as he allows me to use him for my personal pleasure. Between the desire building all week and him edging me to the brink of orgasm for the last 30 minutes, I finally allow myself to come, giving into the sweet, sweet release.
I’m panting for air. He lifts me slightly and lays me on my back, still inside me. My hands find his shoulders, neck, the back of his head, where there is thick hair for me to hold onto. He starts thrusting slow and deep, whispering “fuck, you’re so wet” into my ear, tickling me with his beard stubble.
I push his chest slightly off of mine so I can see his face as he cums. He keeps my eye contact as he breathes deeply. His breath gets faster and faster, then he moans, “I’m cominggg.”
~~~
I arrive back in New York City tanned and calm. I carry my bags up the three flights of stairs in my building and re-enter my home a new woman. I stand in the door frame and simply observe, standing between who I was and who I’ve become. I look around my space seeing lifelessness and boredom—my apartment didn’t transform in Bali with me. It was beige, just as I had been before my trip.
The sound of honking traffic and the smells of the hot dog cart below wafts through my apartment as I open the window; so different from the sounds and smells of chicken satay and ocean waves I had grown accustomed to. I look at my white linen bed and smile, just playing around with the idea of Luke sitting naked on top of it. But I knew I’d never see him again, I didn’t need to.
Photo by Mariana Montrazi