Fantasy

It’s eleven, I’m alone again, and your last message is still glowing on the screen. I turn off the light, and then my mind —and my hands— decide for me.

I don’t know who you are or where you are, but as I write this I imagine you reading me, and that idea is exactly what’s soaking my thong.

There were no doors, no windows, no tomorrow. Only her and me in that white room, and a heat between us that no longer made sense to deny.

I thought I was alone among the trees, until a crackling sound changed everything and I realized how badly I wanted someone to find me like that, naked and surrendered.

They tied me naked to a table and challenged me to an impossible shooting contest. I had no idea my salvation would come at the hands of the coldest huntress in camp.

I touched it for only a moment, and the softness of the lace awakened something dormant. That night I dreamed of wearing it, and knew I would return for it sooner or later.