Close the Door and Do What I Tell You Tonight

Lock the door. Turn off your phone for everyone except me. And now, slowly, take off your clothes.

I know you’re alone. I know you’ve been waiting days for this message, for that voice note I promised you when I went away on a trip and left you half-frustrated. Here I am. You can’t see me, but I’m looking at you in my imagination, and believe me, what I’m imagining is enough to have me restless already.

Do you want to get off with me even though we’re five hundred kilometers apart? Then there’s only one rule: obey.

I didn’t come dressed for this call either. I’m wearing the set you like so much, the black lace one with two little red bows over the chest. I put it on thinking of you, in front of the mirror in a hotel room that smells like a stranger. It fits me better than last time. It enhances everything, lifts, tightens where it’s supposed to tighten. If you could see me right now, you’d stop breathing for a second, I know it.

Have you undressed yet? Don’t make me repeat myself.

I want you to start slowly, without rushing, as if we had all night, because we do. Put one hand on your chest and stroke yourself. Don’t laugh, do it. Play with your nipples, run the tip of your finger in slow circles until you feel them wake up. Smile. Enjoy it. I’m doing the same, sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other and my heart already pounding against my throat.

Now put your middle finger in your mouth. Lick it. From top to bottom, unhurried, the way you’d lick me if I were in front of you. Taste it. Imagine it’s my skin, that it’s the taste I left on your lips the last night before I got on the plane. While you do that, I’m moving for you. If you could see me, you’d say I’m dancing, but it’s slower than that, it’s the way someone sways when they know they’re being desired.

And I know you desire me. I hear it in the way you’re breathing on the other end.

Take your hands down to your thighs. Massage them, squeeze them firmly but without hurting yourself. Not yet. Don’t go up yet, don’t touch it yet, even though it’s screaming at you to do it. Patience is half the pleasure, my love, and tonight I want you to learn to wait as much as I learned to miss you.

While you hold your thighs, I’m stroking my breasts. I squeeze them, let go, let them fall and bounce slowly. I’ve had my nipples hard ever since I started recording this for you. Pinch them too. Gentle first, then a little harder. I want you to feel in your body the same thing I feel in mine, for us to be on the same wavelength even though half a country separates us.

***

Now lie on your side. Yes, like I’m telling you. Put one hand on your ass and stroke it. Spank yourself. Again. Don’t hold back, no one can hear you except me, and I’m not going to judge you: I’m going to turn you on. Squeeze yourself, play, run your open palm over yourself. Imagine it’s my hands roaming over you, that I’m the one deciding how much and how.

My ass is warm from provoking myself so much thinking about you. I stroke myself while I talk to you, and every word I say gets me wetter.

Lick your index and middle fingers. Get them good and wet. Bring them back there and stroke yourself there, on that spot you pretend you don’t like when I’m the one touching it. Don’t lie, you enjoy it. I know you. Glide your fingers around it, not going in, drawing circles until your whole back prickles. Do you feel it? That creeping tingle is exactly what I want to trigger in you.

If you’re brave, try going in slowly. Just one finger, don’t force anything, take it easy. Breathe. Push it in and pull it out at your own pace. If you want more, add another. And if tonight you’re feeling brave, find that spot that makes you see stars, the one we discovered together one dawn I still remember. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

Are you hard already? I’ll bet you are. Let me imagine myself kneeling in front of you, hungry to taste you for days. If I were there right now, I wouldn’t ask permission. I’d take you with my whole mouth, without warning, until your legs trembled. But since I’m not there, it’s your turn to do what I would do.

Take yourself in hand. Just the base, nothing more yet. Squeeze slowly and let go. Again. I want you to feel the wait as much as I felt it all these days, sleeping alone in beds that weren’t ours.

***

Lubricate yourself a little. With spit, with whatever you have, it doesn’t matter. I want it to be smooth, for you to glide without fighting against your own skin. Now press it against your belly in that position, and with the other hand play with your balls. Squeeze them slowly, one, then the other, tug them carefully. Enjoy that too, don’t neglect it, because there you keep half of what makes you moan.

I’ve already started touching my clit. It makes me tremble to hear you breathing like that, broken, held back, as if you’re about to ask permission to finish. I’m not giving it to you yet. I’m dying to put my fingers in myself, dying to feel you inside, but I want to stretch this out, I want it to last, I want you to have no strength left when you’re done.

Stroke the tip. With the pad of your finger, in small circles, gently. Just wet the shaft a little and slide up and down, slowly, as if you had all the patience in the world. Don’t rush. If you feel close, stop. Take your hand away. Breathe. When you come down a little, start again. Like that, over and over, until you can’t stand the waiting any longer.

I’m opening my legs now. If you could see me, you’d know exactly what you do to me. I’m soaking wet, and all of this is your fault, for talking to me in that voice, for breathing like that, for letting me imagine you obeying me from so far away.

Imagine I’m sitting on top of you. That I lower myself onto you slowly, that I feel you going in centimeter by centimeter while I dig my nails into your chest. Move your hand to that rhythm, the rhythm I’d have on top of you, unhurried at first, measuring you, getting used to it. Then faster. Then the way you like it, when I lose my mind and stop pretending I’m in control.

Faster. Ride me with your hand, fuck me with your imagination, make me yours even if you don’t have me. In my head I’m screaming your name, and the people in the room next door must already know I’m thinking of someone, because no one makes me sound like this except you.

***

Hold on. Just a little longer. I know it’s hard, I know because I’m the same, trembling, my fingers slipping, biting my lip so I don’t finish before you. I don’t want to come alone. I want us to cross this line together, on the count of three, like two people sharing a bed even if today they’re sharing distance.

Touch me, you’d say. And I’d tell you I already am, that I’ve got one hand down there and the other squeezing my breast, that I’m so close, that don’t let me go now.

Go faster. Squeeze. Me too. I’m trembling.

Imagine me biting your neck, sinking my teeth slowly into your shoulder as the first spasm shakes me. I’m there. I’m getting there. I’m coming undone thinking about you, your voice, that look you get right before you give in.

Now yes. Let go. Don’t hold anything back, don’t be selfish tonight. Give me everything, every last drop, as if you could fill my hands and my mouth from where you are. I want to hear how you finish. I want to know we came together, that even if you don’t have me, it was me who took you all the way.

That’s it. Just like that. Stay there a second, trembling, not moving.

***

Now go slower. Stroke yourself lightly, with your palm open, demanding nothing. Take a moment to thank your own body for everything it just gave you. I do the same, sprawled on my back on a bed that suddenly doesn’t feel so empty, my breathing gradually finding its place again.

Oh, my love. You made me feel so good, and you weren’t even here. That should tell you something about what you do to me, about what happens when your voice alone is enough to leave me like this.

Did you like it? Don’t answer me yet. Stay a little while with your eyes closed, remembering everything I asked you to do, imagining that next time there’ll be no screen or distance, that it’ll be me and not your hand deciding when and how.

Because there will be. And I don’t plan to be that patient.

I’m coming back in three days. Three. And when I walk through that door I don’t want you to waste a second asking me how the trip was. I want you to push me against the wall, to finish in person what we started tonight in the dark and at a distance.

Until then, save this message. Listen to it as many times as you want. And every time you do, remember who’s in charge here, even if I’m far away.

I can’t wait to have you for real.