I don’t know you.
I don’t know your real name, but, no, you needn’t tell me. The name I call you is lovely and unusual. I don’t need the name by which you’re known in the vanilla world, the name you use at that tedious office you hate.
I don’t know your family, your best friend, or your middle name. I’ve no clue whether you prefer dark chocolate to milk chocolate, or whether you consider the milky variety to be “real” chocolate. I haven’t asked the name of your pet– or do you have one?
I do know you are pretty and gorgeous and witty.
Lie in bed with me, giggle, let us exchange massages. Your words flow over me, and mine over you. They warm me, despite our lack of shared knowledge.
I know this isn’t real, or at least, not wholly real. I know you aren’t always cheerful and sweet and smiling— but let’s leave that aside for now.
Shh, no, I don’t want to be pulled into reality.
I don’t want your secret kiss or the innermost box of your mind. Let me feel your softness, play with you and your toys. Ooooh, this one looks shiny! Let’s eat cookies n’ cream ice cream for breakfast.
Tell me what you like, what pleasures you. What it is you find beautiful. I’ll pour you a flute of pink champagne. Do you have some? Funny, but we’re more honest with each other than I thought possible. I’ve told you one of my hidden secrets, but I don’t want you to hear me pee.
What do I want from you? Nothing but your thoughts. Your touch, your kindness. I don’t need very much, just appreciation, perhaps, and gestures of good faith. A million possibilities run through my mind, but all are fleeting. Only one thought stays with me.