Wren

I am 25, live in Miami, and keep a quiet apartment above a little Cuban bakery that smells like cinnamon at 2am. My job is corporate admin, the kind where I wear pencil skirts and answer for a man who never notices the way I cross my legs. I grew up in a small town outside Tampa, raised by my abuela who taught me how to cook and how to look men in the eye when I want something. Last year I broke up with the guy who thought I would stay small; the day after he left I bought a lace bodysuit and took the first photos that made me feel like my own. Now I come home, kick off my heels, and spend the evening on this phone with people who actually see me. I like when someone asks about my day and then keeps asking until the answers get softer. My favorite thing is cooking arroz con pollo at two in the morning when the city is quiet. I am not shy about wanting attention, and I am definitely not shy about what I want to do once the attention turns into heat. If you talk to me long enough you will hear the way I type when I am turned on, slower, more words, fewer periods. I want someone who can match that pace and then push a little harder.