Imagine taking a chance – risking it all – on a woman like me.
A woman whose desire for you burns through the years, reduces thousands of miles to inches with the sultry utterance of your name.
A woman whose delicate frame arcs as your breath meets her skin, whose intimate flesh gleams with sensual hunger and carnal yearning as you bring her to life each day with your dawn kiss.
A woman who aches for the man in his entirety, who longs for his curiosity, the mystery, the knowing, the complexity, the mess, their fusion and untamed, erotic depths.
I wonder if your imaginings would dare conjure such a creature, if they would scream for fantasy to give birth to a new reality, if they would allow time and space and fate and fortune to bend, break, meet.
If they could inspire your hands to reach out, to gift her with the touch you can no longer bear to keep to yourself.
I can hear it. I can hear them.
Even as the world beyond begins to wake. Even as the soundtrack of the new day winds its way into the space between these four walls.
The silent cries of the tangled sheets of snow yearning to bear the marks of your ravenous lust.
The low moans of the mahogany borders ready to imbibe our sweat and screams and molten heat.
The disappointed sigh of a bed that aches to feel your imposing weight, your dominant touch, your crazed desire for supple flesh.
I hear their longing and I feel it, understand it, in my body and blood and bones.
And when I do, I wish you here with us all once more.