It is the burning question on every burning lip nowadays. These are the results of an exhaustive survey. Serious students may wish to take notes.

What makes a woman sexy:

It is a matter of taste, spread out like a picnic;

it unravels in stages like a blossoming open;

it is all full moon and dazzle; it is a subtle implosion;

it is water soluble like you and like me;

it is a sudden sound of throaty laughter;

it is requited self-love; it is the softest impeachment;

it is inlaid and comely, abundant, botanical;

it is a slippery bridge over slippery ground;

it is all the suggestive drama of a four poster bed;

it is soft and it is swell; it rises and falls like a curtain;

it knits out from the center like an afghan rug;

it is butch and/or femme; it is persona most grata;

it is rhythmic sculpture; it is the best piece of the rock;

it is the fruit of the tree and the loin and the loom;

it is warm iron to the soul and back of the tongue;

it is give and it is also take; it is dynamic tension;

it breaks every rule and every exception;

it is sauce picante and it spreads like contagion;

it is energy and humor and a raging libida;

it is an estrogen high with a progesterone chaser;

it is free delivery from evil; it is femme fatale attraction;

it is a mistletoe belt and it’s not even Christmas;

it is every major sign on each major highway,

Soft Shoulders, and Yield, and Slippery When Wet;

it is the grand prize behind the curtain; it is the daily double;

it is the secret “woid;” it is the $64,000 question;

it is the exact price of each item randomly selected;

it is sweet serendipity; it is the cast of the dye;

it is each delicate hue, alabaster to cocoa;

it shoots straight from the hip; it is the closest horizon;

it is under the covers;  it is holy of holies;

it is the birthplace of angels; it is kneeling devotion;

it is an attitude of prayer; it is an alternative bible;

it is a song of Sirens; it is a loud rumble of thunder;

it is a flourish of strumpets and a crashing of waves;

it is spontaneous combustion and a movement like dancing;

it is whatever makes you scream, always when you least expect it;

it is equal measures of surprise and surrender;

it is politically irreverent but anatomically correct;

it is all parts of the whole and vice versa, and so

it is an oxymoronic metonymy

(at least just think about it?)

It is every region of delights;

it is a scent like a bearing of fruit;

it is that sweet deja-voodoo that you do

all over again.

Also this: it is personal power, which is remarkably sexy.

It takes years for women to learn about power.

Women with power are direct, never devious;

they are able directly to get

what they want.

To sum:  what makes a woman sexy? It is in the eye of the beholder, as the sages inform and the poets will agree, adding that it is a snatch of grace well beyond the reach of artifice, although that may just be poetic licentiousness. What makes a woman sexy is what she knows and will tell you but sometimes it is just a wild inarticulate longing. It is the look of her face flushed with the wind and every phase of the moon in the slate of her brow. It is the full gorgeous length of her down on her knees.   It is the deliberate quick bonny cut of her nails,  the plenitude of warm flesh bunching under your hands.  It is the deep look of her eyes gently smiling, those fine timeworn grooves at the edges where the lashes meet. It is a mixture of slightly militant, slightly vulnerable charm. It is the way she makes up her mind, the way she unravels and comes together again. It is what she gives to herself because she knows she deserves it and it is what she is willing to share without fear of depletion. It is the courage of her conviction, because sexy is as sexy does.

What makes a woman sexy? It is not a simple question to answer. It is a difficult thing to define. It is like trying to trace the shape of the wind through the trees. Look down: the answer is stuck in the cracks of the pavement. Look up: the answer is stuck in the velvet throat of the night. Aim and shoot the question up to the sky like a quizzical arrow. It always drifts down a different answer like disparate feathers, kind of like falling leaves, kind of like snowflakes.

What makes a woman sexy? Here is our final conclusion: whatever it is, it is a most excellent thing.

© 2010-2012 THE LOVE CHILDE WALLIS STERN: A THINLY VEILED AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Ed. Note: This post first appeared in Epochalips in July of 2012. Quite worthy of a do-over. 🙂