I've realised that the feeling of vague irritation that takes hold of me every time I look at a particular woman in my kung fu class is in fact lust. She's so beautiful, this one; her skin is the colour of milky coffee and flawless. She invariably wears a pair of trousers slung so low around her slim golden hips they're practically falling off; between those and the hem of her t-shirt is a lot of skin. I find it hard to take my eyes off the small of her back, hard to stop the train of thought that starts with my fingers brushing the silky skin of her perfectly curved belly. She moves with grace but for all her delicacy she's strong: the muscles of her arms are well-defined. She looks newly turned out of some perfect mould... I'm not the only one, I see the way the men watch her too. I feel like a bit of a pervert, but the feeling is pleasant. Does she know the effect she has, I wonder? At some times she seems supremely self-aware, at others entirely innocent. There is a sweetness to her; I hope she can keep it.