sometimes she thinks about sex.

You've got a good foot over me, which is odd, 'cause I'm not used to looking up to anyone. I mean that both figuratively and literally. There have been some tall ones, who cried out at night when they kicked the baseboard. My bed here doesn't have one, so you wouldn't have to worry about that. Not that I'd want you staying there.

I wonder what your place is like. I wonder if it's messy or neat or bachelor-like. I kind of hope it's really plain with no frills, no modernity and mismatch furniture just because you couldn't care less about coordinating your living room suit. I hope there's some modest art and maybe some concert posters, but framed because you're too old to have them just taped, sorry. You seem too cool to have a lava lamp and too simplistic to have anything more than a table for a TV.

I find myself wondering what it'd be like to have you over me and to have you consume me. I wonder if your kiss is intense or really slow. I wonder if it'd make it into my book. How do you execute your kiss? Do you make a move? Or do you ask? Let it happen? These are things I'm dying to know.

I want to know if you take off your socks. Do you fumble foolishly in the dark? Or do you keep a side light on? If I did something comical in your bed, would you laugh or would you feel awkward? Are you coy? Shy? Aggressive? I tend to like a little of them all.

Do you prefer music while you fuck? Do you say fuck, sex or making love?
Here's hoping I know answers soon.